Monza (Formula Men #1) by Pamela Ann
“Unless it’s mad, passionate, extraordinary love, it’s a waste of your time. There are too many mediocre things in life; Love shouldn’t be one of them.”
~ Dreams for an Insomniac
“Are you heading somewhere?” She gradually opened the door to the bathroom, watching me as I got out of the shower, her eyes noting everything like a hawk would their prey.
It was after all six in the morning. Rather an unusual time to shower on a Sunday. Had I not gotten the call that had made me roll out of bed, I’d still be securely fast asleep and wrapped in her body’s warmth. But alas, the call was imminent and needed my attention. “Unfortunately yes. A friend of mine is in trouble—and I think I’m the only person she’ll listen to.” Grazia was one of my closest friends, who also happened to be an ex-girlfriend of mine. She was a social drug user but ever since we broke up, she’s been spiraling out of control. Her family’s been trying to get her into rehab but to no avail. If there was one person who could convince her to get treatment, it was me. So as much as I despised leaving Kimberly after spending every waking moment with her for the past two weeks, I knew I had to sacrifice a little of my happiness to help a someone who meant a great deal to me.
Pondering as her brows furrowed, she released a sigh before making a curt nod. “If it’s really that important to you then I understand completely.” Her words meant to reassure me, and yet she was far from fine. In fact, she seemed downright uneasy about it. Her lip licking, a cute habit if I might add, easily gave her nervousness away. She was sweet, but her possessive side of her was slowly coming to light, and I must say I found it rather endearing and hellishly sexy at the same.
She had nothing to worry about. I was enamored with her truly, madly, unceasingly. I might not have voiced it out, but my actions should suffice. Going over to where she was curiously leaning against the doorframe, my chest tightened at the thought of her seeking other men’s company while I was away. I knew she was new to this country, but Italian men weren’t really subtle with their intentions when it came to women. If they want it, they would chase it—hound it until it was theirs. We were a passionate breed, and I had always lauded that fact…until this very instance. Her beauty was a weakness, and for the first time in my life, I had this urge to simply keep her somewhere safe until I was back...my unusual train of thought made me frown a little. I wasn’t sure which was more troubling; the fact that I wanted to keep her away from prying eyes or this maddening pull to always keep her safe. I was never this sort—never—so for my thoughts to tread along these emotions were rather…dangerous.
“I’ll miss you—”
Her melancholy face was doing a hefty deal tugging at my heart. “I’ll be back before you know it—behave while I’m away, per favore.”
She beamed before raising her brow to taunt me, challenge me. “I shall try.”
To her, this might all be a tease, but I had this inkling that wouldn’t seem to ebb away. “Promise me that you will, cara mia.” I wasn’t necessarily begging, but I was getting there.
She appeared amused, eyes glittering as she gazed at me before she wrapped her arms around my neck and whispered into my ear, “I promise, Luca.”
I made an animalistic growl when I felt her pull the towel that was loosely wrapped around my hips with a wicked agenda in mind. She had no idea how much it meant to me, watching her get on her knees and persistently worship me with fervor on a daily basis. I needed this—her—all of it. When I get back, she and I desperately needed to discuss where we were heading. Because from where I was standing, she was perfectly suited for me, in every sense of the matter.
Maybe this impending trip would be a good way to sort out our feelings for each other. We got together in such a heady, speedy rate, maybe it would benefit us to have some time apart. After all, they did say absence makes the heart grow fonder.
It took nothing more than a mere second—a blink, a heartbeat, a breath—for everything to drastically change, shifting your world inside out and upside down. Then, when all fight had left you, the moment you shut your eyes, you knew nothing would ever be the same again.
That thought occurred to me when my car skidded off the track, heading towards a formidable concrete wall.
Upon the moment of impact, I heard the loud bang of my car smashing against it. Along with the hair-raising sound of metal crunching upon collision, there was the acrid stench of petrol combined with smoke fumes burning into my nostrils.
My senses took it all in, acutely noting each mind-bending change in my surrounding. However, I couldn’t feel my body. Using all my might, I couldn’t for the life of me move my limbs.
In the far distance, I could hear the sirens heading towards me.
I should have panicked, yet that emotion wasn’t present. It was as if my body was not there at all, as if I was disconnected from it.
I probably was, given the speedy rate I had been going.
The sound of people running towards me made me feel somewhat hopeful. Maybe there was something to be done, and it wasn’t too late…
“Signore Luca! Per favore, riesci a sentirmi?” (Can you hear me?)
Monza (Formula Men #1)
Written By: Pamela Ann
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