The other woman

Monaco 2

Sunday morning arrived and with it, race day at the most glamorous location in the F1 calendar. Alex had spent a bit of extra time getting ready, straightening her hair before tying it back in a simple but sleek low ponytail and putting on a bit of extra makeup. Having dodged an Aston Martin shaped bullet Friday night she'd stayed in last night but still demolished half the contents of the mini bar, thankfully she'd woken up only slightly hungover and in quite a good mood. Yesterday she'd managed to avoid seeing David and hoped to do the same again today or at least if she did see him, she was keeping everything crossed that he wouldn't be able to remember the other night. She also hoped that Seb would be in a better mood and would maybe be less cold towards her, she was sick of the silent treatment he'd given her all day yesterday. She knew why though, he was pissed off that she'd been out when he'd told her not to go. In her opinion he was being childish and an even bigger asshole than usual.

She was just about to leave when there was a knock at the door. Peeking through the peephole in her door she saw Seb standing there, his sunglasses up on his head, his black rucksack on his back and one hand shoved into the pocket of his black shorts. The scowl on his face dashed any hopes that she'd had of his mood with her being better. "Morning Seb." She tried to sound cheery as she opened the door to him, hoping that she looked reasonably fresh faced.

He didn't wait to be invited in and swept past her before standing there, by her unmade bed, with his arms now folded across his chest. "Where were you Friday night?" He demanded.

She let the door swing shut, lying was pointless, after all this was the reason he'd been silent on her yesterday. "I went back to the nightclub, it's out of work hours, I'm perfectly entitled to go out in my own time." She replied defensively, mimicking him by folding her arms across her chest too. "And anyway, that was nearly forty-eight hours ago, it's a bit late for the dad-talk now isn't it. We've could have had this discussion yesterday if you hadn't been giving me the silent treatment."

He ignored that. After stewing on it for twenty-four hours; he was wanting to talk about it now, yesterday he wasn't sure that he'd have been able to control his mouth. "I specifically told you to stay in Friday night, I didn't want you hungover for a third morning running." Noticing the empty bottles on the windowsill he huffed, "I guess this will be a fourth."

She picked up her phone and then her sports bag, carefully thinking about her reply. "Well as you can see, like yesterday, I'm not hungover. I didn't even stay out that late on Friday anyway." All thanks to David working for bloody Aston Martin. "Not that it's any of your business."

"That still doesn't change the fact that I'd asked you to stay in and not go out drinking." He moved to lean back against the vanity unit on the wall, his arms still folded, making the muscles in his upper arms bulge impressively.

She was quick to notice and her gaze inevitably lowered to them. Those arms would feel so good wrapped around me as we fucked.

"It's going to be hot today. Why aren't you wearing short sleeves?" He asked, surprising her by changing the subject.

There was no way that she was going to tell him why she didn't like baring her arms, there was no way she was going to let her scars be seen in public. "What is this? Pick on Aleksandra day?" She retorted.

"No but I've noticed you always wear long sleeves, why is that? You covered in tattoos or something?"

"Let's go or we'll be late." She sighed, heading to the door. "And I suppose that'll be my fault."

Hearing her sigh like that made him feel bad and he reached out to grasp her arm and stop her. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to sound like I was having a go at you."