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)
“Barnes,” Lex calls, voice even but carrying enough urgency to make me slow down.
I glance over my shoulder as he falls into step beside me, hands in his pockets like we’re out for a casual stroll. “You’ve still got that charming habit of bailing when things don’t go your way,” he says, not quite a jab, not quite a joke.
I keep walking. “If you came to critique my driving—”
“Relax,” he cuts in. “I came to talk.”
I turn to face him, and he studies me for a moment. “That thing you said last week… about regret.”
My shoulders tighten like I’ve been handed a steering wheel in the rain. “Yeah?”
“You didn’t owe me anything,” he says after a moment, “but I appreciated it. I needed to hear it.”
“I wasn’t looking for a thank-you,” I grumble, still pissed at my failure in the sim and happy to take it out on him.
“I know,” Lex says. “That’s probably why I felt like you needed to hear it.”
The silence stretches for a second. I’m not used to this—us standing here without the sharp edges. “Still,” I mutter, “I appreciate you saying that.”
His brows lift slightly, like I’ve surprised him. “So… what are we now? Teammates who tolerate each other?”
A faint smirk pulls at my mouth. “I wouldn’t go that far.”
He huffs a laugh but then his eyes narrow a little, like he’s picking apart my tells. “You sure you’re all right?”
The question hangs between us, loaded with more meaning than he probably realizes. He’s not asking about the sim run.
I could tell him. Could say that I did the one thing I swore I wouldn’t—let someone in. That I let her see the cracked, ugly parts of me, and instead of running, she stayed. That I don’t know what to do with the fact she stayed.
But I don’t.
I can’t.
Instead, I say, “I’m good. Just frustrated at the sim.”
His steady gaze burrows into my soul. “You seem… off. Even before the run. I figured maybe it was your mum. You’ve never been good at hiding when she’s rattled you.”
I meet his eyes, holding them. Lex knows a little about Vivienne’s problems, but not the details I shared with Francesca. He’s certainly never met the woman who birthed me.
“It’s not her. Not exactly.” Not a lie, but not the full truth either.
Lex nods once, like he’ll let it go—for now.
There’s a moment where I almost leave it there, but the thought pushes forward. “Hey… about Posey,” I say. He shifts uncomfortably, but he doesn’t speak. “Let her know I regret it too.”
A slow smile curves his lips followed by a slow shake of his head. “No, mate. That’s on you. You track her down and say it yourself.”
My gut tightens. Apologies aren’t something I’m familiar with. But in my core, where the engine always runs too hot, I know he’s right.
“She’ll be at the FI charity gala in London,” Lex adds. “Plenty of time for you to make nice if you’ve got the stones for it. I assume you’re going?”
I give a short nod, though the idea of cornering Posey in a crowded ballroom knots my stomach. My gut hurts worse thinking about running into Francesca there because she’s not going to be happy when she sees me.
“All right,” he says, stepping back. “Later, man.”
CHAPTER 13
Francesca
The flashbulbs start before the car even rolls to a full stop, strobing through the tinted glass. Outside, the red carpet cuts a bold stripe toward the sweeping marble steps of the Royal Albert Hall, its iconic redbrick facade and domed roof glowing under the London lights.
Tonight’s the annual Drive for Life Charity Gala—an FI tradition as old as some of the circuits we race—raising millions for children’s hospitals in every country on the map. Attendance isn’t optional and every driver is expected to show up, smile for the cameras, and play the part of glamorous goodwill ambassador before the new season hits full speed. Oh, and we’re expected to donate too, but that’s not a hardship for any of us.
Nash slides out first, polished and easy in a midnight-blue tux that looks like it was made for him—which it probably was. He turns, offers Bex a hand, and she steps onto the red carpet in a wash of flashing light. They were gracious enough to offer me a ride, and I eagerly accepted. This is my first big event as an FI driver and I’m so nervous, I couldn’t even eat today. I slide along the seat to exit, and I’m surprised when Nash turns to help me also. He winks as we lock digits, and I step out in my impossibly high heels.
The shouts from the photographers are disorienting as we start up the sweep of crimson. Inside the open doors, I see people in tuxedos and expensive gowns milling about the lobby with drinks in hand. It’s one of many black-tie events meant to kick off the week leading to Silvercrest.