Page 15

CHAPTER 15

Senna

I flip my shoes off and press my feet into the office carpet. It’s nearly ten in the evening, and I can’t keep staring at spreadsheets. I’ve deep-dived into our finances for hours, and every new file I open makes me want to bash my head against the desk.

My phone rings, and I stifle a yawn as I answer.

“Senna, why did Adam tell me on the golf course today that you’re having issues with finances?” my dad asks without a greeting.

“Because my board member was trying to put you off your stroke?”

“Senna,” he warns.

I bite my tongue and rub my scar. “Adam has no business gossiping about the company. He’s on the board and should be working to fix problems rather than bad-mouthing me. He should speak directly to me if he has a problem with me.”

“He said you’ve been distracted since Australia.”

I squeeze the stress ball shaped like a cat that I found on my desk the other week, staring at the way its belly pops when I do.

“Australia was a month ago. He could have come to the office if he wanted to talk to me. I’m here twelve hours a day.” It’s usually fourteen, but I don’t need everyone to know that, or I’ll never have quiet hours to finish things. “And as I have the time to speak to you four times a week, I’m sure I have the time to speak to him, seeing as he works for me.”

“You’re telling me that I’m calling too much. Coulter Racing was my baby, and I’m still the owner.”

I drop my head to my desk as my dad continues his lecture about how he successfully ran the company for years and was a leader in Formula One as if I didn’t know. What he fails to address, and I don’t confront him with, is that in recent years, his short-term planning has damaged the company. Whenever I think I’ve seen the worst of it, I pull a thread and end up with a hundred unravelled balls of wool overflowing from my hands.

I stare at the photo I keep on my desk of my smiling parents. Dad has Niki in his arms. Niki and I are both clutching trophies.

“At the end of the day,” I jump in, using one of his overused phrases, “Adam shouldn’t be talking about me. I’ve got a board meeting tomorrow, so I will deal with this then. In the meantime, you must leave me alone to run this company.”

He grumbles.

“Have you heard from Niki?” I ask, rolling the toy around in my hand.

“Not recently. Have you?”

“Not for weeks.”

“It’s a shame he never took over team leadership.”

I suck in deep breaths, but all I taste is stale air. I’ve never felt more alone. Ralf sends me the odd message, but that’s it. I can’t tell Jacs what’s happening because she’s stressed enough with her team and struggling with the cars on a shoestring budget. I need to fix everything in this place.

When I was comms director, my team had my back. They’d fight some of my decisions because they wanted the best, but we were a team, and their loyalty was unquestionable. The board barely talk to me, and now I know why.

Sensing my lack of response, my dad changes the subject. “How are your drivers? I hope you’re keeping Antoine sweet.”

“Why?”

“No reason. Is Connor staying out of trouble?”

“They both are,” I reply. “They’ve been in the top fifteen in most races, and Connor always leads Antoine. Antoine is not the best driver we have.”

“He would be if I was in charge. I should come to the meeting tomorrow. I can show you how I manage the board so you can learn from my example. They always listened to me.”

I throw the stress toy across the room. It bounces off the floor-to-ceiling windows that look out on the car park. Even though it’s the beginning of June, darkness covers the space.

“I’m fine. I run the team okay. The next time one of the board tells you things, please tell them to speak directly to me.” I’m struggling to keep the begging out of my voice.

“If you’re sure.”

“Certain. Goodbye, Dad,” I say.

“I’ll call after the board meeting to see how it went.”

I hang up to stop myself from saying more. I’ve never been able to stand up to him. I look again at the photo on my desk. I’ve spent a lifetime trying to make him proud, and look where it’s gotten me. I had a failed driving career, and now I’m a failing team boss.

I retrieve my stress toy, but gripping it and squashing it in my hand won’t shake the loneliness that fills my soul.

I peek out my door, and as I expect, I’m alone. I replace my designer shift dress with my team running shorts and hoodie.

My stomach rumbles, reminding me I forgot dinner. We’re a few days away from travelling to Spain for the next race. I stare at the ceiling as I try to recall when I last ate a hot meal. If not for Jimmy, I wouldn’t have breakfast or lunch.

I rummage through my drawers but am out of emergency chocolate bars. Half a breakfast bar with little dots of green and furry edges sits at the back. I gag as I drop it into the bin.

It joins half-chewed pen lids, a bloody staple I removed from a member of the accounting team who accidentally stapled himself when he found another file of bad news my dad hid, and an empty box of chocolates from Jacs because I haven’t had time to hang out with her.

I’m losing everything I’ve wanted and worked for.

At least we’re doing well in races. Connor beating Antoine regularly has created tension, but instead of it boiling over, it’s simmering. As Dad used to say when Niki beat me on the track, competition is healthy. It was different when I won against him, though. And when Connor beat both of us, we got a lecture.

Connor Dane.

Since Australia, our interactions have improved. He’s cordial and sometimes pleasant. We’re not besties and never will be, but I can cope.

I prop my feet on the desk and flip on Taylor Swift. With my eyes closed, I imagine falling asleep and getting the rest I crave, but I haven’t got time for that tonight. It will be another one a.m. drive home before returning at six thirty. With my new bitch boss style persona, I’ll have to be up at five thirty because doing hair and make-up takes a fucking age.

“Anti-Hero” reaches its crescendo, and I whistle along. When I was younger, I sat on my bed, listened to “Love Story,” and imagined it was about me and Connor. But Connor and I weren’t star-crossed lovers. I was an annoying tag-along.

“Still sound like a strangled ferret when you whistle, then, Coults.” At Connor’s lazy drawl, my eyes pop open, and I grip my chair’s arms so I don’t fall.

“How long were you standing there?” I reply, my face warming with embarrassment.

“Long enough to realise you’re still a Swiftie. You used to listen to ‘Love Story’ on repeat.”

He remembers that ? He winks, sending my face from warm to hot. He’s got his team cap on backwards, which reminds me of the cheeky, adorable Connor from the old days.

I raise an eyebrow in his direction as I rest against the back of my chair. “Well, some of us weren’t pretending to like Drake while secretly dancing to Katy Perry.”

Connor’s grin escalates the heat in my cheeks until my face burns. It’s the grin I remember from our teenage years when we teased, competed, and spent all our time together. I switch Taylor Swift off and attempt to erase the past.

My gaze flicks back to him, and my stomach churns. “What are you doing here anyway? Haven’t you got a woman to seduce? They’ll think you’re playing hard to get if you keep letting them down.”

His face drops. “I told you in Australia I haven’t had sex in a long time. I’m not seducing anyone. And no, I don’t want to talk about it.” His gaze runs the length of my legs, still propped on my desk. What is his problem with my legs? I’ve caught him glaring at them a couple of times. I drop my feet to the floor. “I’m here because, as I was leaving, I saw your car in the car park. I presumed you hadn’t eaten, so I got dinner for us.”

“Us?” That’s when the smell of pizza hits me hard—melted cheese, tomato sauce, and pepperoni. I hide my mouth with my hand as drool collects in the corners of my lips. We used to eat this together as teenagers in our down seasons. “Don’t you avoid food like this during race season because you need to fit into your car?”

“Are you asking as my boss or my…friend?” He stutters the last word, and I raise an eyebrow. “Are we friends?”

I shrug. “Depends how much of that pizza you’re sharing with me.”

He steps closer, looming above me. He’s wearing the same hoodie as me, although he’s combined it with jeans. He’s dressed like he was when we were teenagers, and my heart tightens. Goosebumps cover my legs at his proximity. “I’d give you all of it if you’d let me.”

He clears a space on my desk while resting the box on his hip to prove his point. When I quirk an eyebrow, he glares at me. “To avoid getting grease on your important papers.”

Then, he puts down a paper towel before resting the pizza box on it. I jump up to help, but before I can speak, he side-eyes me and says, “Stop trying to manage everything. Let me do this one thing for you.” He slaps my hands away before flipping the lid and taking out a piece.

I swallow excess saliva as the scent of fresh pizza dough fills my nostrils. He offers a slice to me, and as I move to take it, he whips it away and takes a bite from it. He laughs as he chews.

“I stand by my opinion that boys suck. I hope you choke on it,” I reply, jumping up, ripping the piece out of his hand, and shoving what’s left in my mouth. I beam proudly, and he laughs.

“The edge of that was in my mouth. It’s like we kissed.”

I freeze. That was what I used to say to Niki when one of his fangirls ate half a cookie and offered him the rest. Sitting with Connor in the quiet office brings back too many memories, and every time it does, I’m reminded how my pulse rose at his proximity and how I’d steal his hoodies to smell him close.

I shove him away, and he winks, readjusting his cap. It does nothing to stop how my tongue tickles my lips at the idea of kissing him. I huff loudly. “Sit, Dane, before I kick you out of my office.”

He sits on the other side of my desk.

“So tell me, are you still listening to ‘Love Story’ on repeat like you did when you cooked me pancakes when I came over before karting?”

“I don’t know what you mean.” I press my lips together to avoid smiling at the memory.

“That would be more believable if your lips weren’t doing that dancing thing.” He stares at my lips, and his chuckle dies.

“You okay? I expected a funny comeback.”

He chucks a serviette at me. “You’ve got a bit of sauce.” His hands are in fists as he directs me.

“You’re so fucking weird, Dane.”

“I learned from the best, Coults.” His wink nearly floors me. He’s all grown up but no less sexy than he was as an eighteen-year-old.

“Whatever.” I shrug to hide the tingles in my belly. “So if you’re not listening to Katy Perry, who are you listening to these days?”

“Various. I heard this one song you’d like. It has your big boss energy. Have you heard ‘Femininomenon’?”

I shake my head. He eats in that laddish way that’s always fascinated me. It’s like a race to the finish, even when he’s the only one eating. Everything is a competition to him.

“You should. I’ll send you a link. You’d love it,” he says, chatting like we’re two people who haven’t defined who they are to each other. “What is the worst thing you’ve had on a pizza, like ever?”

He stares at me as I sit back in my chair, folding my legs under me. “I went out with Jacs once, and they put lobster on a pizza.”

He leans forward. “You know that’s not weird, right?”

I wiggle my nose. “It is when they make you choose this big-eyed beautiful animal and then kill it in front of you. Never again.”

He winces. “I would die.”

“You’re so fucking dramatic.”

I throw my stress toy at him, but he catches it easily with one of his giant hands. He stares at it and gives it a couple of squeezes before chucking it back.

“Nice toy. Is it helping the stress?”

It’s warm from his touch, and I tuck it into my hoodie pocket as if Connor’s warmth could fill my belly.

I shrug. Is this the time to broach topics that have plagued me since I spoke to Layla?

“When are you going to ask about my pizza toppings?” he asks. “You know I’m my favourite topic of conversation.”

“Fine. What’s the weirdest pizza topping you’ve ever had?”

He’s already on his last piece, and I’m only starting on my third.

“Caramelised banana and peaches. It was a dare. You’re right to make that face. Fruit doesn’t belong on pizza.”

“Not even pineapple?”

“Especially not pineapple. Don’t tell me you’ve become someone who ruins pizza. I can’t bear it, Coults, I really can’t. You must be evil.”

I smirk at him. “I’m the worst. You don’t know the half of it.”

His grin as I wink back has me smiling. With a sassy wiggle of my shoulders, I lick the tomato sauce off my fingers. His smile falters, and his eyes darken. My eyebrows dart together as he stares at my lips and fingers and his thumb strokes down his swallowing throat. He looks at me like I’m a pudding he needs to gorge on. A flush fills my belly, and I grip my stress ball, fumbling it.

Quickly, he clears his throat and points at the photo of my family on my desk as he wipes his full lips with the back of his hand. “Have you heard from him recently?”

“Niki?” I shake my head.

“Me neither. Ralf had a message from him a few weeks ago, but Niki won’t say where he is.”

“You’ve heard from Ralf?”

Although Ralf supported Niki and Connor when we were younger, he mentored me. If Ralf remains in touch with him, why hasn’t he called me? Maybe they think I’m doing a lousy job. Imposter syndrome sneaks up on me often, and as much as I try to fight it, it doesn’t help that I haven’t got someone cheerleading or supporting me.

“Just for a racing chat,” he says, shrugging off the subject. “Do you hear from your dad much?”

“He calls me most days, checking on me. He’s decided I’m failing the company. I’ll never be Niki, the person he wanted at the helm.”

Connor rolls his eyes. “Your dad is a fool. He should believe in you and be grateful. He ran this place into the ground and then foisted it onto Niki, who doesn’t have a business head. This place would have folded by now if he was in charge. You’re doing incredible things, and your family are lucky to have you.”

My mouth is dry, and I push my hand through my short waves. I never thought anyone would say that to me, least of all Connor. I stare at him, and he pins me with his gaze as if to prove he meant every word. I pull up my legs and shift around until I can cross them in my office chair. His eyes dip as I clamber into the chair to get the perfect position. He doesn’t glare at them this time, instead licking his lips. “You’re not in your fancy outfit tonight?”

Is he wondering if I’m this odd and so at ease around everyone? I’m not, but once upon a time, Connor was one of my closest friends.

“I always prefer to be in a hoodie and shorts. You know me.” I bite my tongue. I didn’t mean to say that. Of course he doesn’t know me anymore.

But he nods. “Yes, I do, Coults. I know you.”

The spark in his eyes as he gazes at me makes goose pimples rise on my legs. I suck my lips into my mouth, and he watches the movement. He licks his lips slowly, and I remember all those times I wanted to kiss him. I shouldn’t be attracted to him now.

“How is Layla?” I ask. If I keep talking, I can avoid the Connor-shaped temptation.

“She’s doing well. I’m hoping to see her at some point, but she’s preparing to travel for a couple of months in her summer break from university,” Connor says. He looks down and then back at me. “I heard from my dad.”

I hold my breath.

“What is he doing now?”

“Still screwing his way around the world with the money I send him each month.”

My brow must furrow, because he qualifies his comment. “It’s our deal. If I send him money, he stays away from us. He can do who and what he wants, but none of my family has to hear from him. Don’t tell Layla that part, because she doesn’t need to know. Dad doesn’t get to betray any of us again.”

“I’m sorry.” He shrugs, but I implore him. I don’t know his excuse for the crash, and maybe I never will, but he was my friend once. “Layla told me your dad left after you were promoted to F2, so your mum took her to Scotland. I’m sorry I wasn’t there for any of you. You must have been lonely.”

He shrugs again, and I want to shake him.

“Niki was around. He’s not good with emotions, but he tried. Besides, it’s not like I need anyone.” He closes his eyes, and when he opens them, he smiles like he’s reset himself. “Did you like the pizza?”

I worry my lip. I could press him to share more, but we’re not there yet. We’re only just friends again. Trust takes time, and I’m not sure we’ll ever have enough.

“Yeah, it was the best thing I’ve had in ages. How did you know I hadn’t eaten dinner?” I say, blustering through the words.

“Your secretary told Jacs you work late every night and that he considered leaving dinner for you, but you don’t ask, and he didn’t want to assume. And before you get weird about people talking about you, he was worried about you. No one else heard. I happened to be in the garage.”

I open and close my mouth, grinding my teeth. I hate that people talk about me.

“Why were you in the garage?” I reply.

“I wanted to help improve the car,” he explains with his hands out. “I’m not an engineer, but I want my vehicle to be the best it can be.”

“You always were competitive.” I tip my head.

“Coming from you. Miss Karting Champion and Junior Racing Champion.”

“Until I wasn’t.”

His smile drops, and I kick myself for bringing it up. It will always be an unspoken issue between us and why we can’t be close.

“That wasn’t what you think. It wasn’t my fault. You wouldn’t believe me if I told you what happened like you didn’t believe me when I saw you.”

I shrug. “It doesn’t change anything, Dane. Nothing you say could make what happened that day okay. You never even said sorry.”

He jumps up and begins pacing the room. “I tried, but you wouldn’t listen. I tried .” His voice strains as he stares at the carpet.

I hold my hands up. Instead of sparks of joy, my stomach burns like I’ve eaten ten burritos and downed five pints of beer. I press my fist to my mouth. “Fine. Let’s agree not to talk about it, okay? Thank you for coming by, and I’ll see you in Spain.”

“You’re kicking me out of your office?”

“I’m not kicking you out. I have work to do so that I can go home.”

He cocks his eyebrow and folds his arms. “Okay. Please eat the last piece and ensure you go home soon, or you won’t be safe to drive.” He squeezes his eyes closed and shakes his head. “I didn’t mean anything by that. I wasn’t referencing the crash, I?—”

“It’s okay. Go home, and thank you for dinner. I appreciate it.”

“Are we okay?” The sadness in his eyes makes me want him close. I don’t want to hurt him.

I nod. “We’re okay. You’re driving well, and I’m lucky to have you on my staff.”

“Staff,” he repeats, slowly nodding his head.

What does he want from me? Sleepovers and braiding each other’s hair?

I bite the inside of my mouth and walk over to him. I hold out my hand. “Truce.”

“That’s not how we did it.”

“I’m not the person I once was.” I sigh. “This is how we’re doing it now.”

“I’ve not changed.” He squeezes his fists as he stares at my hand. It’s not the secret hug-handshake Connor, Niki, and I did when we were younger, a way to be friends off the track so we could leave the race competitiveness and arguments behind.

My fingers tremble, and he lifts his head to look at me.

“Please,” I beg, unable to meet his gaze.

He takes my hand. His coarse, hot skin against mine makes my belly roll. I guess I’m still some of the person I was, too. I press my lips together as his thumb briefly strokes the top of my hand. Tingles dance up my arms. My pulse quickens, and I pray that he doesn’t stroke the inside of my wrist and find out what his brief touch does to me.

“Truce.” His voice is too deep for my liking.

I swallow loudly.

Don’t let go. Hold my hand because you want this closeness as much as I do.

But he lets go and sidles to the door. I fake a yawn to hide my sadness, although it quickly turns genuine. I’m so fucking tired, although this brief moment with Connor was like a stay of execution from my future.

“Make sure you go home soon. Catch you in Spain, boss,” he says, lingering in my doorway, his arms bracketing it.

“See you then,” I reply, pulling the stress toy out of my pocket.

He nods and walks away.

“I’m glad you liked the stress toy,” he calls from the corridor.

My mouth goes dry. The toy was from him.

Once I’m sure he’s gone, I press my face against the glass of my window and close my eyes. It’s like ice on my burning cheeks. It's a shame it can’t calm the fluttering in my belly.