A Rich Son’s Sport

Chapter 3: A Rich Son’s Sport.

The Fontaine name didn’t belong at the racetrack.

It was loud, hot, and raw. Smelling of rubber and fuel and sweat.

Marilyn stepped onto the VIP platform in heels and designer sunglasses, diamonds glittering at her throat.

No one would guess that this dressed up lady's mind was anywhere else but here.

She was still stuck on the awkward breakfast from the previous day which had ended with a furious Victor storming out of the room and Marilyn ending up with lingerie she wanted nothing to do with.

Everything had been in order. Everything was going according to plan. But now it wasn't.

And it was because of two reasons;

The first reason was Cody. And the second being that Victor had no intentions of touching her.

At their wedding, she had barely gotten a peck on the cheek from him. And on their wedding night, he made her sing for him.

The Victor Fontaine that she had studied for months would never pass up an opportunity with a pretty, young woman.

Her head was starting to hurt just trying to think of a reason why he was uninterested in her.

Cody was already in his gear, unzipped to the waist, revealing that same tattooed chest she'd tried not to fantasize about all morning.

He spotted her instantly and walked over with his helmet under his arm.

“Didn’t expect you to actually show.”

She slid her sunglasses down her nose. “I was ordered.”

“Good girl,” he said with a smirk.

She narrowed her eyes. “Don’t.”

Cody leaned in close, crowding her space. “Tell me something, Marilyn. Do you lie to him as easily as you lie to yourself?”

“What do you think I’m lying about?”

He smiled, wolfish. “Wanting me.”

Marilyn faked a laugh. “Wanting you? You're quite cocky, aren't you?”

He shrugged. “It's a Fontaine trait. Can't help it.” He leaned in, “you liked my gift, didn't you?”

“Aw. You bought me panties. That’s adorable.” She tilted her head. “Did you picture me in them while you were screwing that girl in the foyer?”

“I wasn’t picturing you in it. I was picturing you taking it off.”

“Look around you, Cody. There are lots of girls who won't mind lining up for this unwanted attention I get from you. Pick one and quit messing around with your father's wife.” Marilyn tried her best to sound convincing.

“Nah, that'll just be tempting daddy.”

That caught Marilyn’s attention.

“What do you mean?”

“You’re not his type, you know. He usually waits until I’m done with them first.”

Then he walked away.

Marilyn’s jaw was literally on the ground. She hadn't expected that response.

No one had informed her of such a messy past.

Her phone vibrated in her purse with a message from Victor.

“Smile for the cameras. Be supportive. Try not to say anything stupid. I have an event coming up in two days. You'll be coming with me.”

Marilyn wanted nothing more than to scream out loud in frustration, but the announcement of the start of the race had her swallowing her rage alongside her drink and plastering a smile on her face.

Cody Fontaine was dangerous behind the wheel.

But watching him race?

That was criminal.

Marilyn stood in the VIP suite pretending to care about the screech of tires and the blur of engines.

But her eyes had locked onto him the moment he hit the track.

Cody didn’t drive, he devoured the road.

Fearless. Reckless. Arrogant.

And every time he passed the stands, he tilted his helmet just slightly toward her box, like he knew she was watching.

Like he wanted her to.

When he crossed the finish line first, smoke trailing from his tires and the crowd roaring in a frenzy, Marilyn's pulse was already racing.

Victor would hate this.

He hated sweat and noise and grease under fingernails. And that made her love it even more.

Another message popped into her phone. Expecting it to be from Victor, she rolled her eyes as she opened the message.

But it wasn't from Victor.

One unread text.

FROM: UNKNOWN

Message: “Abort flirtation. Cody Fontaine is a high-risk variable. DO NOT GET INVOLVED.”

Her blood froze.

It was a message from The Branch.

The people she worked for.

They weren't the FBI and they weren't CIA. They consisted of three wealthy individuals who had a bone to pick with Victor Fontaine.

The Main Boss. The Master. And Nina.

Marilyn had no idea what the other two looked like. She had only seen Nina.

Nina had been the one who approached her with the offer to join them five years ago at her family's funeral that rain-soaked Tuesday.

They promised her revenge, if she promised them loyalty.

Which she did.

Until now.

All her thoughts had been destroyed by images of her enemy's son, and the Branch wasn't pleased with that.

She slipped away before the press conference began, heels clicking down the restricted-access hallways, her head still reeling from the message and the fact that someone was watching her every move.

But her pulse also thumped from something else.

Something she didn’t want to name.

What was she doing?

You’re here to destroy a man, Marilyn. Not fantasize about his son.

She turned the corner and froze.

Nina was standing there.

Cigarette in hand and a fedora hat purposefully tipped low. Her face is partially hidden except for her sharp jawline and plump lips coated in dark maroon as usual.

“Miss Stratton.”

She addressed Marilyn by her real name; Juliette Stratton.

“Nina, I didn't expect to see you here.” Marilyn looked around suspiciously.

The hallway was empty and felt colder now. Maybe it was the draft. Or maybe it was Nina’s voice, slicing through her like wire.

“The main boss sent me.” She threw the cigarette down and stepped on it. “He was beginning to think that Victor's son was a huge distraction.”

Marilyn gulped.

“He won't be. I promise.”

“Really? That is not what it looks like to them. I was sent to make sure that your head is still in the right place.”

“It is.” Marilyn was getting annoyed. “If that is all, leave before someone sees you. Especially Cody.”

Nina just smiled then pulled out a little pouch from the pocket of her cream coloured pants and handed it to Marilyn.

“What is this?”

“Have you consummated your marriage to Victor?”

“Not yet.” Marilyn replied.

“That should help kick-start the process.”

“You want me to drug him?” Marilyn’s voice cracked.

She shoved the packet back into Nina’s hand. “I’m already losing myself doing what you ask. Don’t make me cross that line.”

“Does it matter?”

“It does. To me.”

“This is from the master, Juliette.”

“I don't care. Take it back to him. Tell him Victor will seek me out when he feels like it. I won't be obeying this order.”

Nina smiled, then slid the packet back. “Very well. I hope it happens sooner rather than later.”

“He will touch me when it serves him. And when he does… I’ll be ready.”

Nina grabbed Marilyn by the wrist, her long black nails digging into her skin.

“Don't fail, Juliette. The Branch has already invested so much in you. Don't lose focus.”

“I know.”

Cody’s footsteps echoed before she heard him.

She jerked away from Nina, too late.

“Marilyn,” Cody said slowly, eyes narrowing. “Should I be worried about what I just walked in on?”