Free Thrust: Bad Boy Racing Romance (Fastlane Series Book 2) by Sloan Storm

Marco.

    DANI
    I arrived at Marco’s penthouse about five minutes early. I stopped just short of the door, reached in my purse and pulled out my compact. After a quick check in the mirror, I knocked. Not long after, I heard the sound of Marco’s footsteps. A couple of seconds later, the front door opened and Marco appeared.
    “Dani…” He said, smiling at me. “I um, just got home a few minutes ago.”
    He stepped to one side.
    “Please. Come in.”
    Marco wore a slate blue suit, custom-tailored to his lean frame. He’d removed the necktie and unfastened the first couple of buttons of his crisp, white shirt. It was just enough for me to catch a glimpse of his pecs beneath it. I swallowed hard and averted my eyes, careful not to stare for long.
    “Thank you,” I said, walking inside of the house. “Do you usually wear a suit?”
    Marco shut the door. The lock snapped shut with a heavy click. He walked by me, replying to my answer at the same time.
    “No, not usually, no. I had a meeting with the trust attorneys for my father’s estate and afterward some team matters to handle.”
    I swiveled my head, watching him walk away from me. At the same time, I peeked in the direction of the couch where Serena had sat the night before. To my relief, Marco and I looked to be alone.
    “I was just about to make myself a cocktail, Dani. Can I get you anything?”
    I began to walk, following him into the living room.
    “Sure. That sounds good.”
    A few seconds later, Marco made his way towards a small bar area, tucked away in a corner.
    “Dirty martini?” he asked, winking at me.
    Thinking back to the previous evening, I rolled my eyes. I’d had one too many. Tonight, I needed my wits about me, more than anything.
    “Yes, um, but easy on the vodka.”
    Marco chuckled. “Not a problem.”
    With that, I walked up to the bar and took a seat in one of the stools lining the front of it. While I did, Marco cracked open the vodka and with a flurry of pours and a couple of scoops of fresh ice, started to make our drinks.
    While I waited, I glanced behind the bar, and something caught my attention. It looked to be a strongbox and an old one at that. Perplexed, I frowned while I looked at it. It seemed to be out of place among the contemporary decor of his penthouse. I took a quick peek in Marco’s direction.
    He hadn’t seen me looking at it.
    While he finished making our cocktails, I glanced in the direction of the box again. Beyond its obvious age, the ornateness of it fascinated me. It was exquisite and from the looks of it made by hand. The box itself appeared to be covered in thick, black leather, the tops and sides of it wrapped in a latticework of iron and brass. Facing me, in the front, were several locks. A series of small holes in the box surrounded them. I cast a final glance towards it, noticing some oversized brass keys resting on top.
    Just then, Marco approached.
    “Here you go,” he began, sliding my drink across the bar with a gentle nudge. “I hope it’s not too strong for you.”
    I reached it, wrapping my fingers around the icy glass. After taking a sip, I nodded. “No, this is perfect. Sorry, I’m not much of a drinker.”
    Marco shrugged.
    “I’m not either. I only really have a chance to do it in the off-season.”
    I set my drink down. Marco leaned against the bar, looking at me. Nothing about his behavior suggested he saw me looking at the box. Even so, I found my curiosity getting the better of me. I picked up my cocktail again and took a quick sip, summoning my courage. I pointed in the direction of the strongbox.
    “That… over there,” I began, gesturing with my index finger. “It's very interesting. What’s in it? Is there a story behind it?”
    The questions sputtered from my mouth like a bad case of word vomit. Marco raised his eyebrows at me in suspicion. Before answering, he drank. Afterward, he glanced towards it and then at me once again.
    “It’s a strongbox.”
    I frowned at