Miller
When we returned to the VIP box, I continuously groaned where I sat, and the box that was supposed to be a place of luxury felt like a pressure cooker.
Rhys sat on the edge of his leather seat, his eyes locked on Nico Park's navy car as it lined up on the grid.
Kayden was practically vibrating with excitement next to him, which only made Rhys look more like he wanted to jump down and sabotage the Red Bull engine with his bare hands.
Then there was Leo. He hadn't spoken since our little moment in the hallway. He was focused on the monitor, his fingers tapping a rhythmic, logical pattern on the armrest, and every time the camera panned to Alaric's red Ferrari, Leo's posture straightened just a millimeter.
"The race is about to start," Kayden whispered, leaning over to me. "You okay, Miller? You look like you are about to swallow your tongue."
"I'm fine," I lied, gripping the arms of my chair. "I just didn't realize how loud these things were."
