Page 57 of Overdrive (Speed Demons #1)

For reasons I probably didn’t need to name because they were obvious.

“Not bad,” I replied, forcing a smile. The truth was, the energy in the room felt distant.

My mind was stuck replaying the momentAuréliestepped out of her garage to look at me after the race, sitting at the pit wall with her crew, her suit half undone and around her waist. That little congratulatory smile she gave me had made it nearly impossible to look away.

“You’re not even listening to me, are you?” Marco teased.

“Sorry,” I muttered, swirling the drink I had no intention of finishing.

Marco followed my gaze into the crowd. “Mate, you’re not going to solve all the world’s problems tonight.”

“Maybe not,” I said, “but an early night wouldn’t hurt.”

He snorted. “Finally, some sense.”

We left through the back of the venue, flanked by our security detail. The hotel wasn’t far, but the streets were flooded with paparazzi. Flashbulbs lit up the night, cameras clicking as we approached the entrance of the hotel.

“They never miss a chance, do they?” Marco muttered, pulling his cap lower.

Our security team pushed a path through the chaos, ushering us inside where the world quieted. The hotel lobby was a calm refuge, the muted hum of conversation replacing the frenzy outside.

Marco stretched his arms over his head, yawning loudly. “I’m calling it. Early flight tomorrow, and I need my beauty sleep.”

“Right,” I said, distracted as my attention snagged on the bar off to the right of the lobby.

Aurélie. She was sitting alone, her hair loose around her shoulders, sipping from alowballglass. Her posture was tense, spine ramrod straight.

Marco followed my line of sight and snorted. “Don’t even think about it.”

“Think about what?” I asked, playing dumb, my heart—okay, and my dick, too—already tugging me toward her.

He gave me a long look and sighed heavily. “Be safe, Fraser. See you in the morning.”

Marco disappeared in a lift, and I turned toAurélie.

She hadn’t noticed me yet, her attention fixed on the pattern her fingers were traced on the bar.

She looked out of place here in the dim light—brighter somehow, a pinprick of light in the shadows.

My feet moved before I could think better of it.

“You okay?” I asked quietly, stopping next to her.

Her head snapped up, eyes widening briefly before her expression softened. “Callum,” she said, her voice quiet. “What are you doing here?”

“Same as you, I imagine. Unwinding.” Lies. I’m here for you.

She gave a faint smile but didn’t answer.

“Rough day.” It wasn’t a question.

“Yeah,” she admitted, swirling the amber in her glass as I slid onto abarstool. “But you… you were incredible today. Congratulations.”

Her words surprised me, and I was speechless for a moment. “ Thanks. You were impressive too—before the car gave out. You should be proud.”

Her cheeks flushed, and she looked back down at her drink. “Thank you.”

“What’s your poison tonight?” I asked, gesturing to her glass.

“Old fashioned,” she replied.

“Good choice,” I said, signaling to the bartender. “I’ll have one of those.”

The bartender reared back as he recognized me, then glanced toAurélie. Recognition flickered there too, but he played it cool. “Coming right up.”

When he returned with the drink, I slid a hefty tip across the counter. “Thanks,” I said, lowering my voice. “Appreciate you keeping it… discreet.”

He pocketed the cash with a nod. “Of course, Mr. Fraser.”

I turned back toAurélie, who raised an eyebrow. “Bribing bartenders now?”

“Just being polite,” I said, smirking. “Come on, let’s sit somewhere quieter.”

She hesitated for a moment before picking up her drink and rising to her feet. When she was several feet away, I leaned toward the bartender, slipping him more folded bills as I ordered four tequila shots. “Whatever you think you see tonight,” I said quietly, “you didn’t.”

He took the tip, subtly pulling it across the bar. “Got it.”

The lighting was low, the shadows casting soft angles overAurélie’sface as I slid in beside her in the round corner booth. The bartender brought the shots and lime wedges and retreated quickly. I lined them up between us.

“For every shot,” I said, grinning, “we each get to ask two questions. Deal?”

“Two?” she asked, arching an eyebrow.

“Two,” I confirmed. “Ladies first.”

“You’re going to regret this.”

“Doubt it.” I pushed a shot glass in her direction.

She picked it up, eyeing me over the rim before tossing it back without a flinch, then sucking on the lime wedge in an entirely distracting way. Fuck, maybe this was a bad idea. I wasn’t strong enough to resist her tonight.

“Alright. Fine,” she started, her voice tinged with a challenge. “Why do you race?” A glint of curiosity sparkled in her eyes as she leaned back, waiting for my response.

And God, I only wanted her closer.

I cocked my head, considering her question. One I hadn’t asked myself in a long time. “I race because it’s the only time I feel truly alive. The rush, the speed—it’s addictive. And winning… well, there’s no feeling like it in the world.” I hoped she saw the truth in my words beyond the bravado.

She gave me a thoughtful smile. “Fair enough. Second question. Who’s your real driving hero?”

“Senna,” I said immediately. “And—don’t laugh—my dad. He’s the one who got me into racing. He only made it toF2, though.”

“I wouldn’t laugh at that. It makes sense. My dad got my brother and I into racing when we were fresh out oftoddlerhood.”

Auréliereached for another shot and slid it toward me. “Your turn.”

I grinned, feeling the tension between us crackling in the air like electricity. I downed mine with ease, relishing the burn that matched the intensity of her gaze. I leaned closer, determined to reel her in.

“Who was the first person you ever beat on the track?” I asked, knowing the answer would reveal a piece of her past that she rarely shared.

She cleared her throat, clearly surprised. “étienne.”

I was immediately intrigued by the significance of that victory over her twin brother. “And how did it feel?”

A hint of nostalgia softened her features. “Exhilarating. It was the moment I knew I belonged behind the wheel. And I was only five.” As she spoke, I couldn’t help but admire the passion in her that matched my own. The one that had captured my attention since my first conversation with her.

I studied her for a moment. “Who’s your real driving hero? And this time, I want the real answer. ”

She hesitated, her gaze falling to the table, where she toyed with the edge of the coaster under her glass. “You,” she admitted, so quietly I almost didn’t hear it. “You and… Senna andProst.”

I blinked. “Me?”

She nodded, avoiding my eyes. She traced the edge of her glass—delicate, restless.

Like she needed something to hold onto, and didn’t want it to be me.

Yet. “Your consistency, the way you always find a gap when most other drivers can’t.

Your flawless execution in overtaking other drivers.

You push the car to its limits without going over the limit. It’s… inspiring.”

Heat rose to my cheeks, and I cleared my throat. “Didn’t see that coming.”

She smirked faintly, taking another shot, finally flinching before she sucked on the lime. “Alright, Fraser. My turn. What’s your biggest turn-on?”

I nearly choked. Straight to the sexually-charged questions, then. “Fucking hell,Dubois.”

Her smile deepened. What a mischievous little brat. “Answer the question.”

I shifted, my jeans suddenly too tight, my thoughts too vivid. “The way someone looks right before they break. That split second where they’re fighting it—and losing.”

Her breath hitched. So did mine.

“And?” she asked, voice softer now but no less dangerous. “If I hadn’t opened the door in Miami—what would you have done?”

Boom. Time stopped.

The world went silent. No bar. No lights. Just her.

My fingers twitched like they needed to be on her—any part of her— now. I curled them into a fist, refraining. I stared at her parted lips, soft and waiting. The shift between us was charged, desperate, and brutally honest.

“I didn’t come for a maybe,” I said slowly. “But I would’ve left if you told me to.” I leaned closer, lowering my voice. “But you didn’t. You opened the door, Auri. You let me in. You wanted it as much as I did.”

Her hand trembled slightly as she reached for her glass again, but she didn’t lift it. Neither of us moved.

Before I could stop myself, I added, “As much as I do. ”

Silence stretched. Our breathing synced. Her lashes fluttered, her gaze falling to my mouth—then snapping back up, and fuck, I needed her.

She swallowed, voice unsteady. “Your turn again.”

“What’s your favorite color?” I asked, shifting away from dangerous territory as I tipped another shot back. I'd rather feel blissfully numb instead of furiously horny in case tonight didn’t go the way I hoped it would.

She blinked. “What?”

“Color. You know—simple question, low stakes. Trying to give us a break before one of us spontaneously combusts.” I paused. Then, more softly, “Should I ask it in French? Quelleest tacouleurpréférée? ”

Auréliegasped, not answering right away—just gawking at me as though I’d peeled back a layer she wasn’t ready to bare. Maybe seeing me differently now. I didn’t know if it was the accent, or the fact that I’d said it at all. But it did something to her.

And yeah—I was almost fluent in French. I’d been holding this card close. I had also been paying attention to her. Always to her.

Finally, when her brain seemed to catch up, she snorted. She shook her head, hair moving around her in a mesmerizing way. “Pink.”

“Pink?” I repeated, laughing. “I’ve never seen you wear pink. Well, except forpre-seasontesting. And Miami.”