Chapter 173
The rest area boasted state-of-the-art sound systems and broadcasting screens; its expansive, floor-to-ceiling windows offered spectators an unobstructed view of the racing spectacle below. Landon swirled his wine, his eyes tracking the blur of vehicles as they thundered past. “Since we’re here, why not make things interesting with a wager?”
“The Lykan has my bet,” Derek declared, a knowing smile playing on his lips.
Landon’s gaze darted between the purple vehicle and Derek’s confident expression; amusement danced in his eyes. He decided that, from now on, Caleb would handle all the difficult tasks.
On the track, Vivienne surrendered to the familiar rhythm of racing, pushing her speed to ever-greater heights. Her skills bore Owen’s distinctive imprint—countless nights spent racing mountain roads during their time abroad had honed her abilities to razor sharpness. Today, whether from the extended break or her turbulent emotions, she drove with reckless abandon, her speed reaching dangerous levels. The wind’s fierce howl filled her ears, bringing an intoxicating rush of pure, unbridled freedom. Owen tracked her progress from behind, astonished by her wild performance; Vivienne’s driving bordered on suicidal intensity.
As they entered the final lap, her dark purple Lykan screamed across the finish line, claiming an unmistakable victory. She guided her vehicle to a stop near the finish line, sinking back into her seat to catch her breath as the adrenaline surge swept away her accumulated frustrations. As she stepped out, letting her hair cascade freely, a uniformed staff member approached. “Miss Hayes, Mr. Hopkins requests your presence.”
The unexpected news of Derek’s presence caught her off guard. Composing herself, she nodded briefly. “Please wait while I change.”
“Of course.”
In the changing room, fragments of animated conversation drifted to her ears. A group of women huddled together, their voices charged with excitement. “Did you see that man in the VIP suite? Absolutely gorgeous!”
“Right? When I delivered drinks, I couldn’t help staring. That face, that physique—he puts movie stars to shame!”
“The manager called him Mr. Hopkins and practically groveled. He must be seriously important.”
“Someone like him probably has his pick of women. He’s definitely not the type to notice ordinary girls.”
“Well, what’s one more admirer in the mix?”
Their chatter devolved into schemes for catching Derek’s attention—orchestrated accidents involving spilled drinks, feigned injuries, and manufactured chance encounters. Vivienne found herself caught between indignation and amusement at their plots to pursue her man; the situation took on an almost comical quality. Her reflection in the mirror almost prompted a laugh.
Following the staff member to the suite, she encountered one of the women from the changing room, now impeccably groomed and approaching Derek. Her voice was honeyed with intention. “Mr. Hopkins, allow me to refresh your drink.”
“Get out!” Derek’s command cracked through the air like ice, his tone razor-sharp and brutally cold.
“Mr. Hopkins, I just—”
Impatience darkened his features as his piercing gaze cut through her. “I say get out!” he snarled, his words dropping the temperature in the suite several degrees. The woman recoiled, clearly unprepared for such an arctic dismissal. Realizing her miscalculation, she hastily gathered her belongings and fled, almost colliding with Vivienne in her rush to escape.