Page 7

AUSTRIA

A FEW DAYS LATER

NATALIA

Phaedra pushes open a heavy metal door leading to Emerald’s huge factory workshop, winging an arm out to usher me through.

The room echoes with the excited babbling and laughter of two dozen kids between the ages of six and twelve.

A quick headcount shows half boys, half girls have come to the Jump Start event the team is hosting, a STEM education program for disadvantaged kids.

Cosmin is there in his green racing suit, crouched down pointing out some features of the inside of his helmet to a group of four little ones.

Three people who appear to be mechanics—two men and a woman—stand around a sturdy table, disassembled engine parts spread in front of them as they demonstrate how it all works.

At a bank of monitors, Emerald’s engineering director and chief strategist talk tech data with a few of the older kids.

Near them, Klaus stands by two children seated on high stools, walking them through how the radio comms work.

One little girl has her hands clapped over the headset dwarfing her little blond head, nodding and grinning, eyes wide.

Beside her, a wiry red-haired boy soberly listens to Klaus, who concludes his explanation with a warm smile before slipping the headset over the boy’s ginger curls.

Phae and I pause to take in the scene, and I pull my phone from the outside pocket of my cross-body briefcase to snap some candid pics. The happy chaos swirling around the room is punctuated here and there with children’s shrieks of delight.

Pulling herself tall with a deep, fortifying breath, Phae scowls. “Welp, guess I’ve gotta go chitchat with the pint-size anarchists.”

“ Phae! ” I scold. “You’re a hero to these little girls. You could be changing lives today.”

She swivels my way, her face a mask of alarm. “Holy shitbiscuits—don’t say that to me! No pressure, right? Jesus, this is hard enough. I don’t know how to… like, talk to kids. It’s not my thing.”

“Don’t be dramatic.”

“It’s easy for you because of the tutoring you do!

” she counters. “Plus, y’know, you babysat as a teenager.

Plenty of practice. But to me, they’re—” She eyes a nearby child who’s jumping up and down like a prizefighter waiting for the bell.

“They’re unpredictable and a little scary.

You can’t… troubleshoot them like machinery. ”

“Not untrue.”

Sliding my phone back into the briefcase pocket, I set a reassuring hand on Phae’s shoulder, which she glares at as if I’ve dropped a banana slug on her. Undeterred, I give an encouraging squeeze.

“Okay, well… pro tip: Talk to them like they’re people.

And smile. No, not like that!” I add as she tests out a weird half-grimace.

“Smile like you’re telling someone about a thing you love—which you are .

You’re passionate about engineering, and your enthusiasm will be contagious.

Also, no cursing ,” I conclude in a discreet hiss.

A little girl with a dark pixie cut and a T-shirt that shows a bazillion digits of pi walks up to us, staring at a visibly uncomfortable Phaedra. Clasped under one of the girl’s arms is a spiral-bound sketchbook.

After several seconds of nervous silence, Phae manages, “Hey there, short stuff. What’s shakin’?”

I close my eyes, pressing my lips together to hide a laugh.

“You are Phaedra Morgan,” the little girl ventures in an adorable lilting accent. Her golden eyes glitter with fangirl hero worship.

“Uh, yep. Yours truly.”

The girl calls over to Cosmin, rattling off a question in Romanian. He replies, standing and walking our way.

“Cosmin tells me,” the little girl goes on, “that you are a great genius engineer.”

Phae gives Cosmin a dubious squint as he draws up to our little group. “Hmm, I’m a genius , eh? Looking to score brownie points with me, Legs?”

The girl’s lips part in an excited gasp. “We get brownies too?”

Cosmin laughs, ruffling her hair. “There will be lunch in an hour. And ice cream, I believe.” He angles a quick look at Phaedra that’s half playful, half admiring. “Liliana,” he tells the girl, “why don’t you show Miss Morgan your pictures?”

After a burst of giddy foot-tapping, Liliana pulls the sketchbook from beneath her arm and flops it open, revealing careful drawings of cars. Phae bends at an awkward angle, towering over the girl while examining the work.

I tug her sleeve and lean toward her ear, murmuring, “Another pro tip: Don’t loom over children like King Kong. Squat down to her height.”

She gives me a serious nod and does as instructed. I pull out my phone and hold it up wordlessly at her and Cosmin, letting them know I’m going to make the rounds and get some more material for an article.

I stop off at the mechanics’ table and ask a few questions, getting quotes from the children and one of the lanyard-wearing guides accompanying them, as well as the mechanics. Next I shoot a bit of video for the new YouTube show ARJ has entrusted to me.

As I make my way around the room—keeping myself inconspicuous to ensure everyone will behave naturally—I can’t ignore the prickle of awareness of Klaus’s presence.

Cutting through all the noise, his dark, satiny baritone is unmistakable, drawing my attention again and again.

Something about my reaction to it reminds me of the comforting sounds floating through the window of my aunt’s house when I’d walk up the driveway, coming home at the end of a summer afternoon of playing around the neighborhood: the familiar sigh of water in the sink, the clink of dishes, our kitchen radio playing oldies tunes.

I suspect Klaus might be sneaking similar glances at me as I pretend to be focused purely on the activities in the workshop. Gradually I make my way closer, pausing for snippets of interviews, losing the fight with his gravity like a moon being pulled into orbit.

The hour we spent together a few nights ago in Bahrain—electricity crackling across the small table in the lounge, despite my efforts to look casual—has played on a loop in my head, nagging me to reexamine every word I said ( Was that comment silly?

What about this other one? ) and every hypnotizing sentence of his, along with his minnow-quick smiles and lingering gazes.

He told me in parting that if I’d like to come to Austria to cover the first Jump Start event, he’d pay my airfare and put me up in one of the hospitality guest suites on the Emerald factory campus.

I agreed, telling him that ARJ would pay my airfare, but I’d be happy to accept the room.

It’s a lovely little modern space, all soft white with emerald-green and chrome accents, the walls hung with artsy framed engineering diagrams and black-and-white racing shots.

Phaedra came over to stay with me there last night, both of us falling asleep on the L-shaped sofa after way too many snacks and multiple hours of Love Island UK . With the pretense of asking “in a general sense” about Emerald, I slyly extracted some info about Klaus.

Trivia tidbits: He owns a flat in Copenhagen and a cottage in Santorini, but spends very little time at either during racing season; he loves animals and wishes he had dogs and cats, but travels too much for that; he has a weakness for wristwatches, shoes, and stupidly expensive sunglasses, but also a rule that for every “self-indulgent” purchase, he sends the same amount to a charity.

He looks natural with his rapt little charges as I covertly watch him from across the garage. I wonder if he has siblings or if he’s an only child like me. He seems like the type who might be the responsible eldest brother.

As he turns his attention to a mechanic who’s come up to talk to him, a little boy—maybe seven years old—sidles up to the stool where the blond girl sits.

He reaches up for the headset she’s wearing, and when she leans away to avoid his grasping hands, he takes two fistfuls of her shirt and angrily tries to pull her off her high perch.

Anticipating an injury on the workshop’s concrete floor, I dash their way, flinging one arm up with an intake of breath to shout at the little aggressor. Before I make it halfway, Klaus swivels around and takes the matter in hand with perfect ease. My steps slow, and I watch the scene unfold.

Klaus tends to the upset little girl, talking to her earnestly, turned away from the other child. Okay, smart , I think. I like how he’s checking on her first, rather than rewarding the bully with immediate attention…

Then, dropping to one knee on the floor, Klaus addresses the boy, whose chest heaves with thwarted aggression, eyes shining with tears of frustration.

“But… it is my turn ,” the boy says indignantly, his voice cracking. “It’s not fair!”

After a pause, Klaus tells the boy, “Show me your hands.”

The boy tentatively complies.

Gently cradling the boy’s hands, Klaus says, “There are so many things you can do with these. Think of it—you can make art, play music, build things, write a story. Our hands are powerful tools. Of all the things we make with them, fear and hurt must not be included. Never use these to express anger.”

A wave of emotion shifts in my chest with a feeling like one of those liquid-filled chocolate cherries cracking—sweet and slow and just a little messy.

“Now,” Klaus goes on, his tone lighter, instinctively lifting the mood for both children. “Denis, what would you like to ask Crina—after you apologize?”

With a private smile, I watch them as I wander over to the group one slow step at a time as Klaus mediates a truce. Soon the little girl has taken on a teaching role with her would-be bully, caught up in explaining the headset’s functions.

With a subtle double take, Klaus notes my approach and offers a tired smile. “Talia, welcome. Are you enjoying yourself? How are the accommodations?”

“The suite is fantastic. Thank you again for inviting me.” I tip a sideways nod at Crina and Denis. “I think my favorite part has been that. You’re really good with kids.”

One corner of those tempting lips rises. “Conflict negotiation is a large part of my job.” He leans closer as if divulging a secret. “The battles between Phaedra and Cosmin have been far more challenging to referee.”

I give a soft laugh, and as Klaus straightens, I catch the faint wake of his cologne, which makes my pulse jump.

“And children are just people,” he adds.

It’s so much like what I said to Phae minutes ago that a warm echo resounds through me. When Klaus adjusts the strap of his watch, I can’t help stealing a peek at his hands—large and strong, but with a tender skill I remember vividly.

Feeling sheepish for the way my mind creeps toward memories of the night we met, I mentally shake myself, and with a wholesome smile, look over at the two children again.

They’re chattering in Romanian, sharing with perfect cooperation as if Klaus’s words have been a magic spell.

“Well, your conflict negotiation appears to be top-notch, so it’ll probably work on Phae and Cosmin too. Just look at these two.”

Klaus follows my gaze to the now-peaceful kids. “I only reminded them of something they already knew: People think what they want most is to have their will, to triumph in life’s every small battle, but… what we truly desire is connection.”

I tip my head, studying Klaus. “That’s a funny thing for the boss of a racing team to say. I’d have assumed you think winning is everything.”

His impossibly dark eyes return to mine. “As Emerald’s team principal, I agree. But as a man, kleine Hexe, I want what everyone does.”