Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 80321 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 402(@200wpm)___ 321(@250wpm)___ 268(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80321 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 402(@200wpm)___ 321(@250wpm)___ 268(@300wpm)
“Didn’t mean to interrupt the pity party,” he says gently.
“I’m not having a pity party,” I mutter.
“Sure. Just standing dramatically in the shadows with your race suit on like you’re about to go hide in a closet to suck your thumb.”
Ouch… am I really conveying that?
That earns a dry exhale from me… almost a laugh.
He steps up beside me, resting his elbows on the barricade. We both watch the podium in silence as Nash raises his trophy.
“You did fine, Frankie.”
I cock an eyebrow. “Frankie?”
He nudges my shoulder. “My new nickname for you. Do you like it?”
“I hate it,” I reply truthfully. “And for the record, fine isn’t good enough for me.”
Carlos doesn’t argue and I’m grateful as I don’t have the energy to defend my disappointment.
“I know how much this meant,” he says carefully, perhaps afraid I might explode. “First race. All the pressure. You wanted to prove you belong.” I swallow hard, keeping my eyes pinned on Nash as he presses a kiss to the trophy in his hands. “Starting in the top ten and finishing thirteenth doesn’t exactly scream belonging.”
I turn to look at Carlos. “Is this supposed to make me feel better?”
He grins. “You made it through the whole race. A clean run on an incredibly difficult track. You brought the car home in one piece and from what I can tell, you did everything the team asked. And you did that all in your debut race. That’s a win, Frankie.”
“Stop calling me Frankie,” I mutter, even though I know he’s doing it to take my misery off the race. “I didn’t do what I asked of myself.”
Carlos looks over at me then, his expression thoughtful. “Francesca, this sport isn’t about one race. It’s not even about one season. It’s about learning and adjusting. Every lap, every call, every moment. You think Nash won today because he’s faster than everyone?”
I raise a brow. “Don’t you dare tell me it was luck.”
“No. Experience. That guy’s been through every kind of scenario and mistake. He didn’t just show up like this. Trust me… you’ll get there.”
I look back at the podium. Ronan’s uncorking his champagne but he’s not smiling the way Nash and Lex are. I wonder if he even cares that he’s on the podium, or maybe he’s already thinking about the next race.
I hate that he’s good. I hate that I care. But mostly, I hate that I wanted more—and didn’t get it.
Carlos nudges my elbow gently. “Come on. I guarantee your debrief will give you good insight. I can also guarantee everyone is going to be happy with your performance.”
I appreciate Carlos’s words and then it hits me with a wave of guilt. Carlos finished in the points, and I didn’t even bother to congratulate him.
“P5,” I say, bumping my shoulder into his. “You had a hell of a drive and I should have said congrats before I dumped on you.”
He shrugs, but I catch the flicker of pride he tries to hide. “Could’ve been worse.”
I turn toward him, sincere. “I mean it, Carlos. You were brilliant out there. And I’m really proud of you.”
“Thanks, chica.”
I hesitate. “And thank you—for having my back. Not just today. You’ve always been a good friend, but this? Being in my corner like this?” My voice dips. “It means more than you know. I won’t forget it.”
Carlos gives me a look that says I never have to ask for his support. “Always,” he says simply. Then, “But if you do forget, I’ll remind you to stop being a big baby and put your focus on the next race.”
A laugh escapes me, watery but real. “Deal.”
Not the debut I imagined.
But not the end either.
CHAPTER 5
Ronan
The wheels on my Aston Martin Valour haven’t even come to a complete stop on the gravel driveway before I regret coming to see her.
I kill the engine and sit there a moment longer, eyes pinned on the oversized front door of the manor house where my mother lives when she’s not in rehab. My father moved her to Woking when I signed with Crown Velocity as their headquarters are located here. It ensured she’d be close enough that I could check in on her but far enough from London that my father never will. Back in the city, he can keep his mistress who’s half his age. The irony is he doesn’t care who knows about her but fears a scandal if he divorces my mother. Instead, I think he rather likes her staying drunk or high because she stays out of his hair. If he were truthful, he’d say, “It’s the cost of doing business.”
And besides… he has a son who will come along and pick up the pieces of her broken life.
The engine ticks as it cools and I’d love nothing more than to start it again and drive the hell out of here. This car is only one out of a hundred and ten made in the world—bespoke paintwork, carbon fiber trim, and a naturally aspirated V12 that sounds like war when unleashed. A symbol of my success.