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)
Not today.
I coast into the garage, heart pounding.
And I’m already thinking about what I’ll say to him when I see him.
CHAPTER 2
Ronan
The lights overhead are too hot.
White beams blaze down from a metal truss rig in Crown Velocity’s hospitality suite—sleek in theory, blinding in practice. They’re meant to look good on camera, but all they do is throw glare across the black tablecloth and bleach the color from everything. The silver-and-green backdrops shimmer with sponsor logos, perfectly aligned at a sloping angle. Even the water bottles at our seats have branded labels.
This is Crown Velocity’s post-qualifying media conference. I’m seated next to my teammate, Lex Hamilton, with microphones before us from which they’ll pull polished sound bites for the sports news cycles. The room is full of cameras, journalists and team-aligned press staffers.
To Lex’s left, Harley Patrick watches with her usual air of composed command. She’s Crown’s team principal and the first female ever to hold the role at this level. I learned hard and fast that she’s sharp as hell and plays the political game better than half the paddock combined. I underestimated her when she took over this season, but I don’t make that mistake anymore.
As it stands, I’m not on Harley Patrick’s list of favorite people these days—not since I blew up the Lex and Posey situation at the Bahrain race last month.
Posey Evans is a romance author writing swoony formula racing novels. To “research,” she embedded herself inside Crown Velocity as a fake journalist. Apparently, Harley knew exactly who she was and hired her anyway, because fuck if I know why.
At any rate, she and my mate, Lex, fell for each other. I didn’t like it and stirred up a hornet’s nest of trouble.
I could’ve kept my mouth shut, but I didn’t. I let my ego off the leash and handed her identity to the press, fully knowing they’d eat it alive. They ambushed Posey like a pack of rabid dogs, Lex nearly broke my jaw because of it, and okay… I deserved it.
It’s safe to say I lost my friendship with Lex, and Posey won’t even look at me if we cross paths.
Luckily, the team can’t fire me for being an asshole. I’m still here because I’m fast and the team needs me, but no one mistakes that for being liked.
At the presser, I smile when expected. Lean forward when prompted. Wait for the next question politely. I’ve done this a hundred times, and it’s never felt like anything other than a theater performance. I lean back in my seat, stretching my legs under the table while Lex fields another question with that affable charm of his.
“Lex, how’s the car this weekend? You’re P3 tomorrow. Feeling confident?”
Lex gives a relaxed half grin, his response smooth. “Yeah, it felt great. We’ve got good balance and the guys in the garage have been brilliant. Let’s just survive the launch and keep the car pointed forward. Everything after that is a bonus.”
Polite chuckles ripple through the crowd. Lex is so good at this, although I know he dislikes it as much as I do. But the camera loves him, the sponsors adore him, and even when he’s fuming, he never lets it bleed through to the surface. I could probably take notes if I cared to.
I shift in my seat and glance at the screen showing the starting grid. Nash at Titans Racing is on pole—which is huge, considering the road it took for him to return to FI. His re-entry has been making headlines since the start of the season.
But he’s not the only reason.
New ownership under Brienne Norcross—the American banking heiress and hockey team mogul. People thought it was a PR move, but I suspect that was pure business driving her decision.
Then she dropped the big bombshell by signing Francesca Accardi as Titans’ second driver.
The first woman driver in Formula International history.
She may be the first female to drive at the FI level, but she’s not unknown to me. Most of us FI drivers grew up together, starting in karting when we were kids. Those who were good enough worked their way up, edging others out with both sheer talent and lots of money. Those who were lucky to come from wealthy families had it easy. Those who didn’t scraped for sponsorships.
Accardi comes from money, as do I. Not the same level, but enough that her parents were able to let her concentrate on her craft rather than salesmanship.
Her story is well known in this sport. She clawed her way up from FI3, then dominated in FI2, and now she’s on the grid at Suzuka in her debut race weekend—starting P7 after the last qualifying round.
As much as I hate to think it, that’s no fluke. That’s pure talent.
The question now isn’t just if she’s ready—it’s if the FI world of racing is ready for a woman. Personally, I don’t care what’s between your legs, as long as you can drive well and not fuck up my game. But I doubt she’d have ever been made an offer if it weren’t for Brienne Norcross. None of the other team owners would have the balls to let a woman in the door and I don’t know if that makes Norcross brilliant or foolish.