Page 7 of Kiss & Collide (Racing Hearts #2)

T he news of Pinnacle’s sale and the new leadership had spread through the sport like wildfire. Everybody was desperate to get a glimpse of Pinnacle’s inexperienced new head, Reece Hammond, so they could start ripping him to shreds.

So Violet had designed the Pinnacle press launch to prevent that from happening.

There would be no access to Reece. Instead, she had invited a small group of very carefully chosen sports reporters to come to the factory to interview the drivers and Oscar Davies.

Oscar was a pro with the press, much as she loathed him, and he’d been with Pinnacle his entire career, signaling stability.

And to distract from the admin shake-up, she planned to feature their veteran driver Dieter Gruber, who had purportedly had extensive media training, whereas Chase had not.

Unfortunately, Dieter’s training was nowhere to be found.

Unenthusiastic didn’t begin to encompass just what a black hole of charisma he was.

She’d never seen anyone who could remain so steadfastly expressionless for so long.

One-word answers, a dead-eyed stare that bordered on creepy, and not one hint of a smile in fifteen minutes.

Kathryn, one of the journalists, asked him her next question. “So, Dieter, are there any new challenges you foresee in the second half of the season?”

Dieter blinked slowly. “No.”

Kathryn waited for him to expound on that, but apparently that was all Dieter had to say on the subject. Good lord, who had done his media training?

Violet turned to Maisie, her head of social media, who still hadn’t managed to speak more than a handful of sentences out loud. Violet had checked out her work on the socials and she seemed to know what she was doing. Great graphics, punchy captions, posts that encouraged sharing and engagement.

“Whatever you do, don’t put him on TikTok. He’ll be deadly.”

Maisie looked up from her phone, blinking her wide brown eyes rapidly from under her long, dark brown fringe, and nodded.

“Um, Violet?” Imogen was standing just inside the conference room door, clutching her iPad to her chest like a shield. “Reece wants to know what time his interviews start.”

Oh, no. If the press got so much as five minutes of face time with Reece, Pinnacle would become a laughingstock overnight.

“We talked about this. He’s not scheduled for interviews today.”

“But he wants—”

“He can’t. He’s going to be talking with Kevin in Race Strategy, who will be bringing him up to speed for the next race, like we arranged.”

“But he said he can do that any day and—”

“Imogen,” she said gently, “I’m going to need your help here. Under no circumstances can Reece enter this room. I need you to keep that from happening.”

Imogen’s eyes went wide with anxiety. “How do I do that?”

Violet sighed. “Imogen, I’m going to tell you a secret. Reece isn’t in charge here.”

“Violet, he’s my literal boss . His name is on the door—”

“Yes, but that’s just a name, isn’t it? Does he know anything about racing?”

Imogen shook her head.

“Do you know something about racing?”

Imogen nodded. “Been watching with my dad since I was little.”

“I used to watch with my dad, too,” Violet said, and even she could hear how her voice dipped into a snarl when she mentioned him.

“Really?”

“Yep. I’ve got my hands full with these guys, which means you’re the one who’s going to have to guide this ship. You’re in charge of his schedule. You actually know what you’re talking about. Are you up for it?”

Wide eyes. A tremulous nod. “If I have to?”

Violet suppressed a grin. “There you go. So take charge of him. And once he finishes with Kevin, I bet there are a thousand things that need to be signed off on all over the factory, yes? So lead him around and get him signing off. I’ll handle this in here.”

“If you think it’s best …”

“Imogen, it’s necessary. Now go.”

As Imogen scurried back out, conversation from the other side of the room caught her attention.

It was Chase, surrounded by reporters, even though she’d only slated him for five minutes at the end.

He was dressed as he always was, like a careless university student who’d just rolled out of bed—jeans, a grotty gray T-shirt, and beat-up old trainers.

“And I’m telling you, this seagull came swooping in out of nowhere—”

“While you were in the car?”

“While I was in the car! And the bastard took a crap on my visor!”

The reporters burst into laughter. She looked from Chase to the reporters, two guys and a woman. They were hanging on every word of his dumb story. They adored him.

Chase’s hands moved through the air with an innate physical grace as he continued the story.

That bright white smile of his flashed like lightning between words.

His overly long, glossy black hair managed to look both messy and perfect, falling across his forehead in a careless sweep until he unconsciously shook it back.

This was it. The key to generating positive press for Pinnacle— Chase .

Chase was beautiful, if a little rough around the edges, and he had it —charisma. That look-at-me factor you couldn’t teach or train.

She’d been up close to this kind of star quality once before. Last time, she’d gotten badly burned. But she was much smarter now.

It gave her a little thrill, having a flash of inspiration about her work. To distract from Reece Hammond, she needed to make Chase Navarro a star.