Page 21 of Faster

Chapter Thirteen

Mostly, she settled into the imaginary bucket seats and saw Brent standing about twenty feet in front of the bumper as she pressed down on the gas pedal, and the car sprung forward.

And then, the climax of her fantasy, the clunk-clunk sound as she mowed him down where he stood.

She’d probably have to back up and hit him again, but those cars were designed to take a beating.

Brent hadn’t shown up—again—for required PR duties. And when he’d arrived at the track, he’d had an unexplained black eye. As in, he couldn’t explain how it happened to anyone, including himself.

Liam had held Paola responsible. Of course, he hadn’t said that, but his disappointment was etched in the lines between his brows. Paola had tried to flatten her elevens, but that would take some mighty Botox at this point. And that would have to wait until summer break.

When Brent had finally shown up, she’d cornered him in the team motor home, not wanting any fans or photographers to see her yelling at him. She leaned against the thin wall of Brent’s room as he said, “I think I must have done it in my sleep.”

“ Deuxmoi had pictures of you at a club opening last night, and @WAGsandSLAGs has already found the girl who was pictured grabbing your ass.” She was jealous. She hoped she didn’t sound it.

He stood up and came closer to her. If she could have backed up, she would; he didn’t smell like a bar. Maybe he was partially telling the truth. “It would be more believable if you told me that someone saw you at the club and punched you in the face because of your performance this season.”

Brent laughed, which wasn’t a sound anyone in the paddock heard very often. “You’re funny, but that’s not true. I’ve really been working on not being an asshole lately. Getting a stranger arrested for not punching me would be an asshole move, don’t you think?”

She released her face and looked up into his green eyes. His messy hair fell over his forehead, and she needed him to let her find him a hairstylist. It was too long.

“If you weren’t drinking, why are you late?” That was probably too loud and too sharp.

His smile disappeared. Yelling at this asshole did not help, but it was nearly impossible not to do at times like this.

“I told you that my alarm didn’t go off.”

“This is not helping your reputation.” He was somehow even closer to her, and she didn’t realize when that had happened.

“But you’ll forgive me?”

“Not if I lose my job. Then, I’m going to find the bruja who lives down the street from my mother in Santo Domingo and get her to curse you.”

“I’m already cursed, Paola.” He winked at her. “The girl I’m interested in is never going to give me a chance if I make her lose her job.”

Where was this coming from? How could he be interested in her? She’d just fantasized about committing vehicular manslaughter.

“Don’t do this, Brent.”

He backed off then, holding up his hands, palms out. “Do what?”

“Flirt with me.”

He laughed again, and she hated how much she liked it. “If I were flirting with you, you’d know it.”

She pressed her lips together and paused. “The pictures didn’t get much traction because Ethan and his wife were snapped by a fan leaving a restaurant bathroom together last night.”

“So, I can’t flirt with you, but you can gossip with me like one of your girlfriends?” He was teasing, but she wasn’t in the mood.

“No, I was strategizing with you like one of my colleagues.” She shook her head and moved toward the door. “In the future, I’ll direct you like one of my minions.”

“Is that what it’s going to take for you to give me a break?

” She hated that he didn’t see she could actually help him.

He could get out from under the narrative of him as a scorned lover, destroying his career and getting beaten by a girl.

He could grow up and change how the motorsports world perceived him.

He just had to listen to her.

“No, I’ll give you a break if you’ll do what you’re told until summer break. And then, you’ll come back and do what you’re told until winter break. After that, if I’m still employed with your father’s team, and you’re still my problem, you’ll do what you’re told from the car launch until I say so.”

He sat on his chair and looked up at her with a mischievous grin. She needed that grin captured on camera, so he could charm the world. “I’m going to need proper motivation for that kind of focus.”

Paola threw up her hands. He was completely impossible. “You can focus on driving. This is part of your job, which is driving. You can’t do the driving if you aren’t going to do the other stuff.”

That was only partially true. His seat was almost guaranteed, and she wasn’t sure what it would take for his father to fire him.

But part of having a profitable team was garnering sponsorships with popular drivers.

Brent could be a popular driver if he channeled some of his flirtation away from swimsuit models—and her—and toward the cameras.

She was about to explode or say all of that to him when he shocked the shit out of her. “If I cooperate until summer break, will you go out with me?”

That would be totally unethical. She would probably—definitely—get fired if she dated Brent. But no one had to know it was a date, did they? They could just be colleagues getting dinner.

Sure, that’s all it would be.

“If you cooperate until summer break, we can go out to dinner. As friends.”