He strode over to the door, his hand gripping the handle tightly as he turned back to me. His face was defeated and resigned, and the pain I could see etched across it made me feel sick. That one sad, devastated look on his face told me exactly how he felt about me, that look spoke volumes, and I didn’t doubt his love for me anymore. Only someone who was in love and felt like their heart was breaking could look like that. You couldn’t fake that look; there was no way.
“I love you,” he whispered as he pulled the door open and stepped over the threshold.
I was stunned. Frozen. Completely and utterly immobile as I watched the door close behind him. I couldn’t take it in. My mind was scrambled as I struggled to comprehend what he’d just told me. My heart slammed in my chest as it slowly sank in. Carson Matthews loves me. The realisation that I’d just let him walk away seemed to snap me out of my daze, and my muscles suddenly thawed. My stomach did a little flip as I started to believe it. Carson Matthews actually loves me! I shoved myself away from the wall and sprinted across the room as a huge smile stretched across my face.
My heart was in my throat as the ten steps it took me to streak across the room seemed to take forever. Finally, I got to the door and wrenched it open, throwing myself through with so much force I almost fell on my face and slammed into the wall opposite. My eyes flicked around, seeing Carson’s back as he strode through the building toward the paddock behind.
“Carson?” I called. My voice was weak and slightly breathless from the panic I felt seeing him walk out the door. He didn’t stop; I probably couldn’t be heard over the racket his team were making in the workshop. “Carson!” I called louder.
When he stepped from the building and into the paddock where his team and all the MotoGP girls were standing, he was immediately swarmed with people and TV cameras. He was completely oblivious to my panic-stricken attempt to catch him.
My eyes widened and then I was on the move again, streaking across the workshop, dodging around piles of tyres, tools, and wires strewn everywhere.
“Hey! You can’t go out there!” One of Carson’s team stepped in front of me so quickly I actually slammed into him where I was running so fast. I let out a little yelp as we collided, and his arms wrapped around me stopping me from falling to the floor. “What are you doing in here? Public aren’t allowed in here. It’s a safety hazard.” He frowned at me in reprimand as he let go of me.
I righted myself, looking over his shoulder to the last place I saw Carson, but he was lost in the swarm of people. “I need to speak to Carson. He’s right there,” I replied, pointing to the door and trying to step around him.
He shook his head adamantly. “Sorry, Miss, but no one goes out this way apart from the team. You’ll have to go back to the spectator area. I’ll have security escort you back to your seat.” One of his hands closed over my elbow, and he gave me a little tug in the direction I had come from.
I frowned and pushed his hand off me. “No, no. I’ll be quick. I just need to tell Carson something. I’m his fiancée.” A smile twitched at the corner of my mouth when I said that. That was the only time I had ever said it and actually liked the word being associated with me.
The guy’s eyes widened a little at my revelation, but then he shook his head. “Sorry, I didn’t recognise you, Miss Bancroft. But I still can’t let you through this way. You’ll have to speak to Carson after the race. He’ll be on his way to the starting line any second. He was cutting it pretty close already.”
My heart sank as I shook my head. “Please? It’s so important, please?” I stepped around him, meaning to head to the door anyway, but he sidestepped as well and shook his head firmly.
“Sorry. Rules are rules. I’d get in a bucket-load of trouble if they even saw you in here.” He looked over my shoulder and waved his hand. “Bert will show you the way up to the lounge where family usually watch the race.”
I groaned in frustration but knew there wasn’t anything I could do about it. The race would start in a few minutes. I’d just have to wait until after.
I COULDN’T KEEP THE SMILE from my face as I followed the guy named Bert back through the building and up the stairs. When I got to the top, a rather large, beefy guy in a black T-shirt raised one eyebrow at me before looking at Bert.
“This is Carson’s fiancée,” Bert announced, nodding back at me. “Miss Bancroft, this is Spence, our resident door ape who stops undesirables from entering the family VIP section.”
Spence frowned and slapped Bert on the shoulder. “Resident ape? Sod off,” he retorted, rolling his eyes. “Nice to meet you, though, Miss Bancroft,” he greeted, smiling warmly.
Grinning, I shook my head. I’d never had so many people call me Miss Bancroft as I had today. It was a little unnerving. “Emma is fine. Nice to meet you, too.”
He sidestepped and pulled open the heavy-looking, frosted-glass door and motioned for me to go inside. “Enjoy the race.”
I nodded in acknowledgement, even though I knew I wouldn’t. I hated to watch these things because my imagination ran rampant every time I saw Carson lean so dangerously close to the ground as he sped around the corner. “Thank you.” I smiled politely and stepped hesitantly over the threshold.
The large room which stretched out before me was extremely expensive-looking. The right-hand side of the building was pure glass, which stretched across the whole wall. Little black leather stools and small tables with black leather armchairs were dotted along the edge of it so spectators could look out over the racetrack. Massive television screens were located in the centre of the room, showing the motorbikes as they lined up at the starting line. Cameras were panning across the drivers as they sat there. I couldn’t hear any sound from there, though; it was as if they were muted. The people who stood around drinking champagne were all dressed impeccably in suits or designer dresses. The women had a full face of make-up, and not one hair was out of place. They were all a fair bit older than me.