Page 5 of Kiss & Collide (Racing Hearts #2)

H er first day at Pinnacle had been an utter shit show, and every day after looked like it was going to be just as bad. This was why, as soon as Violet escaped the factory, she headed to the nearest pub.

Eldham was grim—a featureless British town where the most cutting-edge fashion was whatever Marks & Spencer carried, and the “local” was just another bloody Wetherspoons.

But Wetherspoons served vodka. And it was close enough to her new flat that she could just stagger home on foot once she was sufficiently drunk.

Her phone buzzed with an incoming call just as she reached the door. The call was coming from someone in Hammond Holdings. If that fucker Reece was calling her now …

“Hello?”

“Violet Harper?” a woman asked.

“Yes?”

“Please hold for Carter Hammond.”

She was shunted to hold before she could even process that. Carter fucking Hammond was calling her ? Now? Why? She huddled up against the front of the pub and stuck a finger in her free ear, trying to block out the street sounds while she waited to be connected.

She’d done a little hurried research on Carter Hammond this afternoon.

American, richer than God, CEO of Hammond Holdings, which was an umbrella corporation for dozens of other companies.

He had his fingers in everything: hotels, restaurants, cable networks, several manufacturing companies, and a handful of online businesses.

Not much of a European presence, but a real mover and shaker in the States. And now he wanted to talk to her .

The line clicked. “Ms. Harper,” he said, telling her, not asking her.

Since he didn’t need confirmation, she didn’t offer it. “What can I do for you, Mr. Hammond?” She trotted out her best work voice, smoothing out the rough edges of her Essex accent.

“I trust you’ve gotten up to speed with the Pinnacle sale.”

Again, telling her, not asking her. In a weird way, she appreciated it, the assumption she was prepared for this call, even though she wasn’t. At all.

“I have.”

“Then you should know, Pinnacle came as part of a larger package of acquisitions. It is, on its own, not of much worth to me. My goal with Pinnacle is to keep the situation stable so that its value improves.”

While she respected Carter Hammond’s directness, she still wasn’t clear why he’d called her.

“Can I ask what you see my role as in this transition?”

“As you know, I’ve put my son Reece in charge.”

“Yes.”

Carter paused for a moment, a pause that spoke volumes. “You’ve met him?”

She paused, too, letting it speak for her in the same way. “Yes.”

“Pinnacle seems like it will … keep him occupied.”

Ah. Reece was the Fail Son, and Carter Hammond absolutely knew it. He’d been stuck at Pinnacle because there didn’t seem to be much more that could go wrong there.

“I see.”

“I understand the sudden sale of Pinnacle will lead to a great deal of negative speculation about the team. My expectation is that you can settle that down in the coming weeks.”

“That’s my job,” she said, keeping her voice as neutral as possible. Yes, she knew very well what her task would be in the coming weeks. That was why she was on her way to a bar to get utterly fucking obliterated.

“I very much hope there is no additional negative press about the team going forward.”

Ah, there it was. He was telling her it was her job to keep his idiot son from fucking things up. Add corporate childminder to her job description, then.

“Understood,” she said at last.

“I took the liberty of doing a bit of research on you, Ms. Harper. You handled that mess at Lennox Motorsport quite well.”

It was Mira’s story, but Violet had been the one to get the information about Brody McKnight out there, making sure the world knew Brody had taken advantage of a vulnerable girl and then thrown her to the wolves to save his own skin.

And she’d helmed the resulting flood of additional negative press about Brody just as carefully.

His racing career was in shambles now, something Violet was extremely proud of.

“Thank you.”

“I have every confidence you’ll do as well this season at Pinnacle.” Translation: Make sure none of Reece’s nonsense spreads around.

“I will,” she said, even though she wasn’t at all confident about that.

“Enjoy your evening.”

He didn’t wait for her reply before ending the call.

“Fuck,” Violet muttered to no one. She needed that vodka now more than ever.

Inside it was all wood paneling and old-fashioned lamps hanging over the booths, carefully manufactured “olde English pub” vibes.

The booths were full, so she chose a stool at the mostly empty bar and ordered a vodka on the rocks.

When she’d taken a long, steadying sip, she pulled out her phone to call Mira.

In retrospect, Violet wasn’t even sure how she’d become friends with Mira, the daughter of and assistant to Lennox Motorsport’s team principal.

In the beginning, it was because they were two young women in a male-dominated world, so forming an alliance seemed smart.

Then there was that ridiculous chemistry between Mira and Will, Lennox’s star driver and resident fuckboy.

She’d stuck around to watch Will get taken to his knees by Mira, because that was always fun.

And after that? Honestly it was just nice to have someone to talk to, someone who didn’t see her as competition or a sexual conquest. And then all that shit with Brody McKnight went down, a stark reminder of why women in a male-dominated world needed to have each other’s backs.

Once they’d come out the other side of it all, Mira had unexpectedly become her friend. She didn’t have many female friends. None, really. And not many male ones, either. That probably said something not great about her personality, something she didn’t want to think about right now.

Taking a deep breath, she hit call on Mira’s name.

“Okay, here’s what I’m thinking,” Mira said as soon as she answered. “We now work for rival teams, which means there’s a whole lot of work stuff we probably shouldn’t discuss.”

Violet sighed. “Right.” Perfect. Now in addition to having the shittiest job on earth, she couldn’t even bitch about it.

“So I propose that if we really need to vent, we speak in a cone of silence. Nothing we hear comes with us to work. Deal?”

“Deal. How do we enter this cone of silence?”

“Um, I don’t know. Maybe we have a word we use. When one of us says it, we’re in the cone.”

Violet sniggered. “Mira, are you suggesting we have a safe word?”

“You know what I mean.”

“Okay, okay.” Her eyes scanned the bar, looking for inspiration. “How about ‘maraschino cherry’?”

“Ah, I see. It’s bad enough that you’re already drinking.”

“Maraschino cherry.”

“Got it. Cone of silence engaged. Proceed.”

She glanced around the bar to make sure no one was within earshot. “Mira, you have no idea. Reece Hammond is such a fucking idiot,” she groaned. “And Pinnacle is so dysfunctional. Everyone hates everyone else. This place is a disaster.”

Pausing, she closed her eyes, biting back the wave of anxiety rippling through her chest. Generally, she never let other people see her uncertainty.

Always look confident, even if you were just faking it.

But Mira had been brave enough to turn to Violet when she needed support, and, as she had to constantly remind herself, friendship was a two-way street.

“Mira, I’m not sure I can do this,” she whispered.

“Do what?” Mira asked.

“This job . It’s too much. I should have stayed at Lennox. I knew what I was doing there. This …” She lifted her hand and let it drop. “I don’t even know where to start.”

“Hey. You are brilliant at this. I’ve been watching you up close for a year, so I know.”

“I was just an assistant, though.”

Mira scoffed. “ Just an assistant. You and I both know assistants keep these companies running. Violet, I don’t know anybody tougher or braver than you. You can do this.”

Violet sniffed and took a swig of her vodka. Fuck. Enough of being scared. It didn’t suit her. “Yeah, it’s just going to be a fuckton of work.”

“How’s your staff? Can they help lighten the load?”

She laughed bitterly, remembering the introduction to the rest of the PR department that day.

“One’s called Maisie. She looks about sixteen, but I’m told she’s actually twenty-one.

She works on ‘online engagement.’ Today she said not one word beyond ‘hi.’ I’m not exaggerating.

Not a single word. The other one is called Horace.

He’s forty-five, has all the charm of a rubbish heap, and immediately informed me that his contractual duties cover drafting press releases and no more. ”

“Yikes. Poor you.”

“And then there’s the Oscar Davies issue—”

“Notorious, I’m afraid,” Mira muttered.

“Yes, I know. Stuck in the nineties. Sexist. Open about it. Uninterested in innovations of any sort. A brilliant quality in your chief technical officer. And then, on top of all of that, Joren quit and—” She cut herself off before she spilled that other piece of bad news.

Mira chuckled. “You mean your new driver? The word’s already out. Sorry, I know he gets on your nerves.”

She pressed her forehead against her palm. “It’s just a bit … awkward.”

Mira was silent for a beat. “Violet. You didn’t.”

She sighed in defeat. This was the problem with friends. They knew you really well. “Sleep with him? Yes, I did.”

Mira let out a shocked laugh. “You don’t even like him!”

“Who said anything about liking him? I just fucked him.” And fucked him, and fucked him, and fucked him again. All night long.

“What … how … when ?”

“It was Monaco, the Hansbach party. The one you were supposed to come with me to.”

“I told you, it was an emergency—”

“It’s fine. Anyway, I was on my own, and … there he was.”

“And you just decided to sleep with him?”

“There weren’t any better prospects. And he is ridiculously fit. The body is—”

“Okay, that’s enough about that mess. Tell me about Reece. What’s he like?”

Violet laughed without humor, but she felt better, talking about all of this with Mira. “Have you got time? This might take all night.”