Page 17 of Kiss & Collide (Racing Hearts #2)
Budapest, Hungary
“S o what’d he say?” Violet asked before taking a bite of overcooked pasta. She’d spent the morning with her phone glued to her ear, hustling to get more press coverage for Chase. But in between calls, she’d finally had a second to grab lunch in the commissary.
Leon, sitting across from her and picking at a salad, sighed. “Nothing. Because I didn’t say anything.”
“Leon.”
“I know, I know.” He held his hands up in defense. “I’m a coward.”
Leon had been secretly hooking up with the team physiotherapist for Optima Racing for most of the season, except he’d gone and caught feelings and wanted to make it official. He hadn’t yet managed to say that out loud to anyone other than Violet, though.
“You have to tell him what you want.”
“And if he doesn’t want that? Then it’s over.”
Violet set down her fork and leaned forward on her elbows. “Leon, if you want a relationship but he just wants hookups, then it’s already over. You just don’t know it yet.”
Leon blinked. “Harsh. Harsh but true.”
She shrugged. “I call it like I see it.”
“So when are you having the big talk?”
“What talk? With who?”
Leon gave her a bored glance. “You and Chase.”
She swallowed around a bite of rigatoni that had suddenly turned to glue in her throat. “Umm, how did you know about that?”
“It’s kind of hard to miss the way you two look at each other.”
That was slightly alarming. It was fine if people knew they were hooking up. She didn’t much care. But the idea that the way they looked at each other betrayed feelings … well, that certainly bothered her.
“No talk to have. Unlike you, I’m good with just hookups.”
“Really?”
“Really. I’m not a commitment kind of girl.”
“What if Chase is a commitment kind of guy?”
She let out a burst of laughter. “Trust me, he’s not.”
Leon’s eyebrows hiked up as he made a show of cutting a piece of lettuce into tiny pieces. “Just be careful. Feelings have a way of sneaking in no matter what you intended—just look at me.”
“I promise, I’ve got this under control.”
If only she felt as confident as she sounded. She was always charging in, giving other people relationship advice, arrogantly thinking she had her own shit all figured out.
But now fucking Ian had taken to texting her.
She never replied, but she also hadn’t blocked him yet.
She’d always imagined that if he ever reached out again, she’d shut him down in a heartbeat.
Instead, she let every sappy fucking text glow on her screen and told herself that next time, for sure, she’d block him.
And then there was Chase. She should probably put an end to that, just to keep things clean. But just like she couldn’t seem to block Ian, she couldn’t seem to stay out of bed with Chase.
As soon as she’d arrived in Hungary, she’d texted him to come over.
Honestly, someone needed to give her the tough talk.
Behind Leon, Violet saw Imogen slip into the commissary and head in their direction.
“Please tell me Reece isn’t already drunk,” she said when Imogen reached their table.
Imogen waved her hand. “No, he’s fine. He’s watching from the garage today. Emil’s got someone sitting with him to explain how qualifying works. I think he’s really learning.”
Imogen, bless her optimistic heart, had decided Reece wasn’t beyond redemption, if only he understood the sport better. Thank god the world contained starry-eyed dreamers like her or there would be no hope for humanity.
“Speaking of quali,” Leon said, pushing back from the table, “I’d better get back to my actual job. Toss that for you?”
Violet handed him her tray. “Thanks. And remember what I said.”
“I will, I will. I promise.”
Imogen watched Leon depart, then turned back to Violet. “I have something for you.” She held out a fat manila file.
“Is this—”
“Yes.” Imogen locked eyes with her. “It’s worse than I thought.”
And then she was gone. That Imogen. Underestimate her at your own peril.
Violet hurried back to the tiny mobile office in the Pinnacle portable headquarters.
It was basically a wide hallway, set up for hot-desking.
She usually had to jockey for space alongside the engineers and strategists.
Thankfully nearly everyone was down in the garage watching qualifying on the monitors, so she had a minute to dig through the file.
Oscar Davies’s personnel file.
The first thing she encountered was “the incident” Imogen had heard about, and it was exactly, horrifically, what she’d expected. Oscar had made repeated sexual advances to a woman working in the aerodynamics department.
Turned out, the FIA, the sport’s governing body, got involved because it was only the latest in a long line of complaints from other women, one after the other, going back as long as Oscar had been at Pinnacle.
Most had been handled in-house and declared “unsubstantiated.” But not even one of those women still worked at Pinnacle, and she didn’t recognize their names from other teams’ rosters either.
By the time she got to the end of his file, she was livid. This asshole absolutely had it coming.
All these women, their careers derailed by Oscar because he saw them as no more than potential fuck buddies. And because he went so far back in the sport and had made friends with all the right people over the years, it had been swept under the rug, again and again.
She wasn’t going to feel a single bit of guilt for crushing this guy’s career.
She pulled out her phone and scrolled to Carter Hammond’s number.
“Carter Hammond’s office,” his receptionist answered crisply.
“This is Violet Harper, head of PR at Pinnacle Motorsport. I need to speak with Mr. Hammond immediately.”
“I’m afraid he’s unavailable—”
Violet cut her off. “Tell him it’s me. Tell him it’s an emergency. He’ll take the call.”
The woman paused for a bit. “Please hold.”
Two minutes later, the line clicked. “What’s he done now?” Carter Hammond sighed.
“It’s not Reece. I’ve just become aware of some extremely unsettling information about a member of Pinnacle’s upper management. I’ve also become aware that this information is in danger of becoming public at any moment.”
Because she would be the one to make it public, but only if Carter didn’t want to play ball.
“What’s the issue?”
She gave Carter a brief rundown of Oscar’s many, many indiscretions. “So you see, I’m extremely worried that this news would cast Pinnacle in a terrible light. The careers of numerous women derailed in order to protect one man. I’m sure you see my point.”
“Thank you for informing me, Ms. Harper. I’ll deal with it immediately.”
Violet ended the call. Now, to see just how fast he dealt with it. She had no doubt it would be swift. Up until now, Oscar had only dealt with other members of Formula One’s Old Boys’ Club, willing to do whatever was necessary to protect one of their own.
But Carter wasn’t a member of that club. He was an outsider.
Now, all there was left to do was wait.
Thirty minutes later, Imogen texted her.
Reece’s dad just called him. He left to talk to him.
I’ll be right there , she texted back.
Chase was back in the garage when she got there, finished with qualifying.
“How’d you do out there?”
“Made it through to Q two. P fourteen.”
“Very good.”
“What’s going on? Everybody’s gone.”
Usually the car would be swarmed with mechanics working on it. But right now, the pit crew were milling around uneasily, murmuring to each other in hushed tones. No one from upper management was there.
She shrugged. “No idea.”
He eyed her narrowly. “What did you do, Violet?”
“If I’ve played my cards right, I’m getting you a functional team.”
Just then Rabia came down from the mobile offices over the garage. She looked shell-shocked. Leon was right behind her, grinning like it was Christmas morning.
“What’s going on?” Violet asked her, faking confusion.
Rabia looked at her, stunned. “Reece just fired Oscar. I’m interim chief technical officer.”
Well, that turned out even better than she’d hoped. She knew she could get rid of Oscar, but getting Rabia a promotion was an unexpected and very welcome bonus. “Congratulations, Rabia. You deserve this.”
Rabia shook her head in amusement. “I don’t know how you did it, Violet, but I’m grateful. The whole team is going to be grateful.”
“I just do what’s best for the team.”
Leon put his arm around Rabia’s shoulders and squeezed her in encouragement. “And what’s best for this team is you, Rab. You’re going to crush it.”
Rabia turned toward the pit crew and raised her voice. “Gather around, folks. I’ve got an announcement to make.”
Chase lowered his voice and bumped his shoulders to hers. “Violet, did you just do something unselfish for this team?”
“Don’t be a numpty. I was just being practical. Oscar was in the way.”
“Admit it. You feel the tiniest bit of team spirit right now.”
“I feel like a ruthless professional, which is what I am.”
Chase chuckled and leaned in, whispering in Violet’s ear: “You are terrifying. Sexy and terrifying.”
Yeah, she should probably shut him down, but as she felt a smile spread across her own face, she knew very well she wasn’t going to do that.
“See you later tonight?” she murmured.
The look he gave her—direct, heated, and ridiculously intimate—made her toes curl. Leon was right. There was no missing this. They were both practically lit up in neon. “Can’t wait,” he said with a wicked smile.
And fuck it, neither could she.