“Jesus, Gregor.” Christian stilled Gregor’s hand as he lined up another dart to hurl at the dart board. “Stop it already. You’re going to make the building fall down with all the holes you’re poking in the wall.”

It was true—he’d missed the board at least half the time, the darts lodging themselves in the wooden wall of the one British pub they could find in the city. But he didn’t care. It wasn’t about the score. It was about getting drunk. And distraction.

“I don’t care.” His words were slurred even to his own ears. When he reached for another dart, Christian shook his head, moving it out of his reach.

“You’re cut off from the darts.”

“Then get me another beer.”

“You’re cut off from that too.” Christian sighed, swiping his phone on. “It’s probably time you went home and apologized to Kara.”

Gregor grunted, peering at the other man’s phone. “Are you texting your fiancée?”

Christian gave him an unamused look. “Yes. I am.”

Gregor groaned. “Why did you get engaged, anyway?”

“This really bothers you, doesn’t it?”

“I just don’t understand.” Gregor’s blurry mind was eager to latch onto this, something else to complain about. Something that felt a lot like complaining about Kara.

“I got engaged because I love her. It’s that simple, friend.” Christian clapped him on the back. “Like I know you love Kara.”

Gregor scowled into his nearly empty beer. “Would you ever give up racing for her, though? I mean really.” He swiveled to narrow his eyes at his friend.

“We’ve talked about it.” Christian eyed him, as though weighing his words. “We’ve decided that when she gets pregnant, I’ll stop racing.”

Gregor blinked, unsure he’d heard his friend correctly. “Sorry?”

“It’s true.”

“And you’re okay with letting someone else dictate your life for you?” He almost spat the words out, he was so appalled. “That seems fine and dandy?”

“It wasn’t her,” Christian insisted gently. “It was me. It was us. You know as well as anyone a man should have priorities. And I know what mine are. I want to be a great dad to my kids, a great husband to my wife…and I need to stick around for both of those things. Championships and payouts are all well and good, yes, but I want to build something with the woman I love.”

Gregor scoffed.

Christian shook his head. “Right. Well excuse me while I make a phone call to my fiancée. And don’t get another beer while I’m gone.” He stood, sending a warning look Gregor’s way. Gregor sneered at him until he walked out the front of the bar.

But once he was gone, Gregor assessed his surroundings. Drunk and alone. Doesn’t this feel all too familiar? The very thing he sought to fix by chasing after nameless girls during whirlwind nights. But they barely helped, either. Even then, he hadn’t been able to avoid the sad truth of his life. That beyond the glitz and the money, beyond the wins and the high-powered company…he had an empty apartment each night.

Kara had been a gift. In a way, his grandfather truly had orchestrated something lovely. Gregor had discovered the warmth of letting someone penetrate his shell. Someone to get past the lactose intolerance and see him for the weird, bumbling, horny teen he secretly was inside. He grinned to himself. Kara would like that one.

Christian was right—building something, with somebody special…that was where the good stuff was.

Gregor let his head drop into his hands, rocking it back and forth as he considered his options. He should talk to her. Make sure she was at least at the penthouse still, since leaving the garage hours ago. But he wasn’t quite ready to hear her voice. He needed time to gather his thoughts. Brainstorm the apology. He fumbled for his phone, calling their hotel.

A smooth Italian voice answered on the second ring. Gregor cleared his throat, sitting straighter. “Hello, could you please tell me if Kara Alerby has returned today to the penthouse? This is Gregor Beaumont.”

A few seconds of tapping and clicking, and then a regretful voice. “I am sorry, sir, she checked out this afternoon.”

He stilled, pressing the phone harder to his ear. That couldn’t be right. “Did she—did she say where she was going?”

“She used the concierge service; we can check on the destination.” Hold music tinkled through the line as Gregor fought to clear his mind and sober up, at least to make sure he was processing this correctly. Where the fuck has she gone? He hadn’t believed she’d actually leave. They’d just had a fight, that was all. Or maybe that was what he wanted to believe.

Take it or leave it. His own words rang between his ears as he waited for the receptionist to return, his knee bouncing wildly. When she came back on the line, she had the name of a hotel and an address. He fumbled for a napkin, snapping his fingers to attract the attention of a bartender. He asked for a pen, miming the use of one since the bartender wasn’t great with English, and had the receptionist repeat the instructions while he jotted it down.

After hanging up, he stared at the chicken scratch on the napkin. He had to go there.

He had to win Kara back.

Two hours later, Gregor tread carefully up the steps of a small hotel near the airport, trying not to disturb the contents of his purchase. He’d brought three dozen roses, no small feat to acquire at this time of night, but he’d managed it nonetheless. After a quick chat with the desk clerk, he found Kara’s room and enacted his plan: win his darling back. The bribe he’d had to pay the florist be damned.

He unwrapped the packages carefully near room 221, hoping she wouldn’t step outside early and see him arranging petals every which way. He glanced frequently at the door as he plucked each rose, divesting each stem of all its petals only to scatter them in various colored semicircles around her door. He tossed a few whole flowers on the ground for good measure. And then he grabbed up five to hold as a bouquet, hiding it behind his back as he knocked softly on her door.

He shifted from foot to foot as he listened for a response. Soft footsteps sounded, followed by a jiggle at the door. A gasp. And then she pulled open the door, her eyes puffy and red, nose tinged pink.

“Kara,” he breathed, looking her up and down. Half a day apart, and it had felt like a week. His heart throbbed in his chest as he watched her, suddenly at a loss. All the words he’d practiced at the store and in the car evaporated into thin air. All he could say was, “I love you.”

That certainly hadn’t been part of the plan. But it wasn’t a lie either. Dammit, it was the truth. He’d never said those words to anyone but his family members. She inhaled sharply, pressing a tissue to her eyes.

“Please forgive me,” he croaked. “And please give me a second chance. I promise to do better.” He went down on one knee, revealing the roses from behind him. “I want to listen to you better, and…and this.” He propped the roses against his arm while he rummaged in his pocket for the other part of the gift. “Here. Take this.” He offered a check he’d written. “It’s for a sum worth three times the cost of the theater. I just want you to take me back. You can have everything. Anything you want, darling.”

She blew her nose, watching him silently.

“And I think you’ll be quite chuffed to know that I’m planning to enlist a team of engineers, as you had the incredible foresight to look into. Not my grandfather’s engineers, of course, but I’m arranging for a team to come out next month.”

“After the race,” she said, her voice strained.

“Well yes, of course, these things take time.”

She watched him for a few moments and then shook her head. “Gregor, nothing has changed.”

His mouth parted and suddenly his knee began to ache, as though protesting the prolonged gesture. “What do you mean? Everything is changing.”

“No. You haven’t changed your stance, not really. I can’t live my life with someone who is willing to risk himself like this. With so little regard for what your death would do to me. To everyone. To your family. Besides, I want to build a relationship with someone who’s willing to work with me. Love is a partnership. It’s not something to finagle and negotiate.”

“Another word for negotiate is ‘compromise’,” he pointed out.

“But we’re living your life.” She shrugged, sniffing. “There’s no room for me here. I’m a tagalong, an afterthought. I don’t want to play that role anymore. I don’t want to play that role ever again, actually.”

She closed the door a moment later, leaving him stunned in silence. He looked around, assessing the petals and flowers, telling himself this had to be a mistake. Nobody could turn down a gesture like this. He’d actually tried. He’d bloody said I love you. Didn’t that mean something?

He looked between the roses and the door for a while, hoping she’d open back up and change her mind. But she didn’t come.

And why would she? He scowled at the petals, suddenly embarrassed by the rejected gesture. Maybe that was the thing about Kara. She didn’t operate like the girls he was used to. Any one of them would have bent to his will at something as extravagant as this.

But not Kara.

And that was precisely why he loved her.