Page 12 of Kiss & Collide (Racing Hearts #2)
C onsidering Pinnacle had finished seventeenth and nineteenth in Austria, Reece Hammond’s massive post-race party seemed wildly over the top.
Then it became clear. The parties and VIP access were pretty much the only part of Formula One he had any real interest in.
The hotel ballroom was the tragic epitome of an uncool white guy’s vision of a cool European party.
Thumping bass, a bunch of low-tier spokesmodels in matching silver minidresses and blond wigs serving drinks, and a vodka bar with dry ice smoke pouring out of it.
Despite that—or maybe because of it—the place was packed to the rafters.
Reece saw it as evidence of his own personal magnetism, but Violet could see it for what it was.
Everyone wanted to see what the deal was with the new Pinnacle.
Reece was up on a raised dance floor, dancing in that unspeakable way of his, surrounded by underpaid spokesmodels who looked like they’d rather be getting dental work.
But he was confined and content for the moment, so Violet focused on the other, larger part of her job: turning Chase Navarro into a racing superstar, irrespective of his actual results on the track. Though he’d done fine. She supposed.
She found him hanging out in a corner, chatting with Rabia and Leon. Sigh. All that money on clothes to make him look his best, and he was hiding in a dark corner talking about work .
He looked amazing, she had to admit. The new charcoal-gray suit was fitted close to his body, showing off the wide shoulders, the long legs, the tight ass.
They’d gotten him a haircut, too. Still long, but less “forgot to get a trim for three months” and more artful.
She’d texted him and told him not to shave this morning.
As a result, he was now sporting a shadow of dark stubble that outlined every dramatic angle of that gorgeous jawline.
She told herself that she was giving him a purely professional once-over, but come on … no one was that professional, especially not her. He looked good , and she sincerely hoped she’d get a chance to enjoy him one-on-one later.
“Here you are,” she said as she strode over. “You’re supposed to be chatting up Clive Pennington.”
He turned and his eyes slowly skated down her body and back up. Oh, yes, she definitely wanted to get naked with him tonight.
“Who?”
“I introduced you to him before qualifying? Head of marketing at Arrow Beverages? He told you to come find him for a drink.”
“Clive Pennington wanted to get a drink with you?” Leon asked.
“What are you still doing here?” Rabia added.
He looked around at the crowd awkwardly. “What, I’m just supposed to go up to the guy and start talking? What if he’s not interested?”
Violet reached out and grasped him by the shoulders.
“Chase, you’re a Formula One driver now.
Everybody wants to talk to you. So go have a drink with Clive.
Show him how charming you can be, and how nicely you clean up.
You need to sell yourself here. Why the hell did you think I dragged him over to introduce him to you? ”
“You wanted me to make a new friend?” He grinned, that charming grin that he used to skate through life. Well, it was time to step up his game.
“I want you to make money . Arrow Beverages has half a dozen brands in their portfolio. Astro soft drinks, Essa coffee products, Jet Energy drinks … Your current sponsorships would pale in comparison to a deal with any of those. Now go find him .” She reached up and grabbed his jaw.
“Smile. Make the most of this bloody gorgeous face. Be the charming bastard I know you can be, and land yourself a sponsorship deal.”
He stared back at her for a beat, then he leaned in to whisper in her ear, “On one condition.”
The heat of his breath washed over her cheek and she felt just a whisper of the scrape of his stubble. Her nipples got hard in response.
“What’s that?”
She felt him take her hand and press something against her palm. “My hotel room. In two hours.”
Her fingers curled around the key card and she caught her bottom lip in her teeth to hold back her grin. Cool. Play it cool. “Deal. Go land him.”
He pulled back and the heat in his eyes made her ache between her legs. “See you soon.”
She watched him weave his way through the crowded club, people stopping to stare at him as he passed. To her horror, she could feel her face was flushed. Fucking hormones. She needed to pull herself together. And keep him safely in his place.
“You think you can get him more sponsorship money?” Rabia asked.
She turned to Rabia and Leon, grateful for the distraction. “If I work this right, we could be flush with cash by next season.”
Rabia sighed dramatically. “Wouldn’t that be nice?” Rabia was dressed exactly the same as she’d been at the track earlier—gray Pinnacle shirt and black pants, which was very like her, Violet was learning. Unassuming, utterly without pretension, and she absolutely lived for her job.
“Money doesn’t solve everything though,” Leon grumbled. He’d changed into a sharply tailored black suit with a dark purple dress shirt and matching tie. Also very Leon. Not flashy or loud, but always on point.
Violet turned to face him. He was a real sleeper.
Quiet, soft-spoken, but always around, always watching.
People like him were usually the ones who knew absolutely everything.
“Okay, honesty time,” she said. “What are Pinnacle’s biggest problems?
In your opinion. I mean, I know the entire place is toxic right now. So how would you fix it?”
Leon held his hands up. “Oh, that’s not for me to say—”
“The hell it’s not. Spill.” She turned to Rabia. “Both of you.”
The two of them exchanged a telling look, which told her she was about to get the serious dirt.
“To be honest, it starts at the top,” Rabia finally said.
“Reece? I know. I’m doing my best to neutralize him—”
“Not Reece,” Leon said quickly. “I mean, yes, he’s a disaster. But we’re talking about …” He looked to Rabia again.
“Ah,” Violet said. “Oscar Davies.”
“He’s just so … set in his ways,” Rabia groaned.
“I was going to say ‘utterly lacking in vision and completely incurious,’” Leon snarked, arching one eyebrow as he took a sip of his drink.
“Yes to all of that,” Rabia replied. “Not to mention he’s a pervert and a sexist.”
“And a racist,” Leon chimed in.
“He’s positively allergic to innovation. If it was good enough for Pinnacle in the nineties, then it’s good enough now.”
“And racing technology has improved by leaps and bounds since then,” Leon said. “It’s an entirely different world. We’re being left further behind every season.”
Rabia nodded in agreement. “The lack of money is a big problem, but we could be doing better with what we have. I mean, I’ve got ideas, Leon’s got ideas … but he doesn’t want to hear them and anything we suggest just goes nowhere.”
“Okay. Let me see what I can do.”
Rabia laughed in disbelief. “About Oscar? Look, I like you, Violet. You’re tough and kinda mean, which is fun. But what can you possibly do about Oscar?”
“You’d be amazed what I can accomplish when I’m motivated. Just ask Brody McKnight.”
“That asshole driver who had a thing for underage girls? You did that?”
She shrugged. “He did it to himself. I just made sure everybody found out about it.”
Rabia assessed her, clearly debating something with herself.
“Spit it out, Rabia. What are you thinking?”
Once again, she and Leon exchanged one of their glances . Honestly these two practically shared a brain. Put them in charge and Pinnacle would be unstoppable.
“No, seriously. For legal reasons, we can’t talk about it.”
“Come on …” she groaned.
Leon leaned in and whispered, “All I can say is that Oscar’s employee file can tell some stories.”
“Stories? Like stories that could get him shitcanned?”
Leon mimed locking his lips and throwing away the key.
“But Violet?” Rabia said. “If you can”—she cleared her throat pointedly—“do something about Oscar, you’d have my undying gratitude.”
Leon raised his glass. “And mine. And the gratitude of every other person at Pinnacle.”
“Okay, then. I’ll try.”
Rabia raised her glass, too, waiting for Violet to toast with them.
Part of her still fully believed what she’d said to Chase that first night—Pinnacle was a dead end, and any efforts to change that were doomed.
But goddamn it, now that she was here, she couldn’t just stand around and watch this place sink.
There it was—her sheer, bloody-minded, obstinate determination.
She tapped her glass against Leon’s and Rabia’s. “Here’s to Pinnacle.”