Page 19 of Racing for Redemption (Backmarker Love trilogy #1)

He shakes his head, then turns to the marketing intern.

“Don’t listen to him, sweetheart. He’s the boring exception.

Most drivers know how to have a good time.

Speaking of which, what are you doing after this shoot?

” Nicholas’ smile turns predatory. He winks at her again, making a show of looking her up and down.

The woman’s shoulders tense, her eyes dropping to her screen.

Without thinking, I place my hand firmly on Nicholas’ shoulder. “Hey, dude,” I say, voice low but firm. “Stop making her uncomfortable.”

He looks at me, surprised. “What? I’m just being friendly.”

“You’re looking at her as if she’s a piece of meat,” I say, keeping my voice level but firm. “Show some respect. ”

Nicholas scoffs, shrugging my hand off. “Since when did you become the morality police? She probably loves the attention.”

The woman’s flushed cheeks and rigid posture tell a different story. Ah… I wanna punch him.

“Not from you, she doesn’t. She looks like she’s a call away from putting your ass in jail,” I mutter.

“Seriously,” Nicholas continues, “what’s the point of all this”—he gestures around the room—“if not to enjoy the perks? The money, the fame, the women.”

“The racing,” I say, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“Speed. Competition. That indescribable feeling when you nail a perfect lap, and every cell in your body is alive. To be one of the twenty people in the world who get to live this dream. To win. Not because of women, money and fame.”

“Oh fuck. When did you become such a prude? Oh wait, I know…” His voice drops to a mock whisper. “Was it around the time you were groveling to get this seat?”

A knot forms in my stomach. “What are you talking about?”

His smile turns nasty. “Word gets around, Will. I heard you begged for this drive. Really pathetic stuff. Did you come here to get into the boss’ pants? Is that your angle?”

The room goes completely still. We’re no longer being recorded.

“What did you just say?” My voice comes out low, dangerous.

“Violet Colton.” Nicholas pronounces her name with deliberate casualness. “Quite a looker, isn’t she? Cold, yet hot as hell. If that’s your strategy for keeping your seat, I can’t blame—”

“Don’t.” The word cuts through the air like a blade. “Don’t you dare finish that sentence.”

Nicholas blinks, finally registering the fury in my expression.

“In case it didn’t sink into your thick head before, I’ll say it again; women aren’t commodities, asshole.

” I stand up, towering over him despite my height.

“Violet Colton is our Team Principal. She deserves your respect, not your bullshit insinuations. And this intern is just doing her job, she’s not here to be sexualized.

Women are to treasure, cherish, love, care for, protect, laugh along and cuddle with… You asswipe.”

Nicholas’ mouth hangs open, shock replacing his usual smugness.

I lean back, eyes cold. “I’ve met many assholes in my life, but oh boy, you take the crown as the worst.”

“What? It was just a joke—”

The marketing director steps between us. “I think we’ve got enough for today. Thank you both for your time.”

The tension is thick enough to cut. Camera operators begin packing up with unusual speed.

The marketing intern slips out the door, throwing me a grateful glance.

Nicholas recovers, standing to adjust his team shirt. “Quite the white knight act, Will. Very convincing.” He leans in, voice low. “But let’s get one thing straight—I’ve been at this team longer than you. These people are loyal to me, not some desperate rookie who groveled his way into a seat. ”

I hold his gaze. “Is that why your race engineer requested a transfer to my side of the garage last month?”

His face reddens. “This isn’t over.”

“No,” I agree. “It’s just beginning. And I don’t intend to even see you during the races. Enjoy last place, and your riveting parties in Monaco or whatever.”

He brushes past me, bumping my shoulder hard enough to make his point. The door slams behind him. We still have to do so many things together for the rest of the day, and I genuinely don’t want to. Talking with him makes me feel dirty, like I need a shower and some bleach or something.

The marketing director approaches cautiously. “Is everything okay?”

I nod, the adrenaline slowly ebbing. “I’m sorry about that. It was unprofessional of me.”

“Are you kidding?” She shakes her head. “He was being a complete jerk. Most of us have wanted to say what you did for years.” She lowers her voice. “Just between us, Violet watches all these interviews herself. She’ll see what happened.”

My stomach drops. “Great.”

She pats my arm. “Don’t worry. If anyone understands dealing with troublesome men in this industry, it’s her. Also, thanks for standing up for our intern. It is her first day, and I can’t even imagine the trauma it’d cause her if no man had batted an eye at what Nicholas said.”

I nod, offering a small smile. “It was nothing. He was out of line. ”

“Still. Not many would have spoken up,” she adds.

“Just basic decency,” I mutter.

“In this sport? Rarer than you think.” She smiles and returns to her station.

I gather my things, embarrassment replacing anger. I shouldn’t have lost my temper, shouldn’t have let him provoke me. But hearing him talk about Violet that way—something just snapped.

As I leave the studio, I catch my reflection in a darkened monitor. My eyes are still bright with residual anger, my jaw set. This is exactly what got me labeled as “damaged goods” after the incident with the Apex Academy guys, and then my outburst with Violet. The inability to let things go.

But this felt different. This wasn’t about my ego, or my career.

It was about basic respect—for people, for women, for the team, for Violet.

How can a guy like him make those comments when they have mothers, sisters, or even girlfriends or wives waiting for them?

It makes no sense. And worse yet, these are the guys some women and men drool over.

Assholes that treat them as commodities.

As I head to the main garage, I make myself a promise: I’ll prove my worth on the track, not through words. So, I need to really calm down my emotions. Nicholas, Paul, the other guy who took me out whose name I don’t know, all of them—they can talk all they want. I’ll let my driving speak for me.

But I won’t stand by while anyone disrespects Violet Colton. That’s a line I didn’t even know I had until Nicholas crossed it.