Page 18

CHAPTER 18

Connor

I check my watch. It’s 9:45. So what if I arrived at the offices a little early in case Senna needed my help with Antoine? Since the Spanish Grand Prix on Sunday, I’ve replayed the awkwardness with Senna in the garage. There was so much I didn’t get to say.

Jimmy tells me Senna is still in a meeting, but where’s Antoine’s familiar peacocking?

Maybe she has another driver in there, and she’s replacing me because I’m too much trouble.

I lean to the side, but my view is restricted.

I fiddle with my phone, pretending to check my socials, but my attention is on Senna’s office. My reflection from the glass confronts me: tired eyes, ruffled hair hidden with my cap, and my team hoodie.

My stomach churns, and sweat beads my forehead. Part of me wants to be fired. It means no more driving and dealing with anxiety-induced insomnia. I don’t love driving like I used to, and I perform various rituals at every race to prevent accidents. Then, I spend the rest of the race seeing hazards that aren’t there. I’m not safe to drive, but no one realises it because I’m performing well.

But then there’s the other thing. If she fires me, I won’t be able to spend time with her anymore. I want to be more than friends, but that can’t happen. I must protect her, though.

“Is Antoine still with her?” I ask Jimmy, whose head remains buried in his computer. “Hey, Jimmy. Is Antoine still with her?” I ask a little louder.

“I’m not talking to you. You got me in trouble when you overheard me discussing her dinner habits.” He side-eyes me as I step up to the desk.

“I’m sorry about that. I want to make sure Senna is looked after. I didn’t mean to cause problems for you.” His mouth drops open as he furrows his brow. “What?”

“You apologised.”

I turn my hands up.

“So?”

“You never apologise. Everyone knows that. When you mess up, you shrug and walk away. You never apologise.”

“I’m sure that’s not tru?—”

“Like never ever,” Jimmy replies, his voice slightly louder.

I roll my shoulders. Of course I apologise, like that time when Senna got hurt. I run through the things I said to her. When I did it recently, maybe I dived straight into explaining myself…

Shit. I’ve never apologised.

“I’m apologising now. I’m sorry for getting you in trouble, and I want to say thank you for caring for Senna like you do and making sure she eats breakfast and lunch. Has she been receiving the dinners I’ve sent to her office in the evenings?”

“Yeah. I’ve worked late a few nights, and they arrived while I was leaving. She paces when they’re due and then beams and eats everything immediately. I’ve told her it’s not me, but she thanked me anyway.”

The corner of my mouth turns up. “Let’s keep it our secret.”

Jimmy nods. He cocks his head. “Where’s the real Connor Dane, and what did you do with him?”

I twist my mouth to the side. I am different, but I can’t tell him why.

“Antoine left after she shouted at him for fifteen minutes. He threw a tantrum and kicked over a potted plant. Senna helped me tidy up.”

My chuckle causes a wry smile from Jimmy. “A potted plant? He’s so badass.”

Jimmy laughs. “It was hilarious. The first time, he missed and nearly fell over. Then he threw his designer jacket across the room?—”

Senna opens her door and glares at Jimmy. “Get in here now, Dane. And, Jimmy, what have I told you about discussing my business?”

I hold up my hands in surrender. “Senna, he?—”

I stop as soon as I see her outfit. The cream dress is tailored to her curves. The material stretches over her hips. I want to spend time with those curvaceous hips. The dress dips slightly in a V-neck, and there is a belt around her waist that I want to grab and drag her closer to me. Her heels are the turquoise of the team’s colours.

I turn back to Jimmy to compose myself and to remind my cock not to get the wrong idea. “Take care, Jimmy.” My mouth is so dry it sounds like I’ve just woken up.

“Hurry up, Dane.”

As I stride into her office, my stomach churns again. I take a breath as I face the door. I must remain professional even if I’m torn between bending her over her desk and pushing that dress up or finding Antoine and beating him with a plant pot.

I pull on the back of my neck and flip my cap backwards, remembering I’m here to protect her. Niki would kill me if he knew what I was thinking about her and that damn desk.

“Connor?” Her voice is a little softer.

She used my first name. She hasn’t used it like that since I was eighteen.

I sigh and turn, holding my hands up in surrender. “Before you fire me, I want to say?—”

“I’m not firing you.” Her blank tone and wide eyes confuse me.

“Did you fire Antoine?”

She perches on the edge of her desk. I get a flash of getting on my knees and pushing up the hem of her dress. I should stop sleeping with the soft toy that smells of her. My dreams are like pornos.

“I’m not firing anyone yet, and my conversation with Antoine isn’t your concern.”

I scratch my chin. Material rustles. My eyes flicker to the corner of the room, where a stranger tracks my movements. I was too distracted to see him before. He better not be who she dressed up for today.

“Who are you?” I say frostily. He doesn’t respond, and the churning in my stomach turns so fiery I tighten my stomach muscles. I flip my attention back to Senna. “Who is he, and why is he staring at me like that?”

Please don’t say another friend with benefits. I don’t want to meet another one.

I peg him as late thirties. He’s got a young George Clooney thing going on—all piercing dark eyes, chiselled jaw, and casual stance. The stranger is another guy with noticeable gym-built muscles.

I bristle and then internally shout at myself for bristling.

“He’s here to help you.”

“What?” I push up my sleeves, and Senna tracks the move. I grit my teeth. I’m seeing what I want to see. “What do I need help for? My only problem is my sex drought, and he’s not my type.”

Senna folds her arms across her chest. All she succeeds in is pushing up her breasts. My nostrils flare. I know exactly how I’d like to work through my sex drought.

“He’s a sports psychologist. I’ve seen your pre-race rituals. They look like obsessions.”

“It’s under control,” I snap, my eyes pinched and mouth tight. My face burns with shame. “I’m not discussing anything with a sports psychologist. Especially not that one.” I point my thumb in the direction of the stranger.

“Why not hi—” Senna sighs and shakes her head. “Ric, could you leave Connor and me to talk? I’ll call you.”

Ric nods. He steps closer to me, and I pull back. “Connor, it’s nothing to be ashamed of. You’re not the first elite sportsman to perform rituals. But I want the reasons behind them in case they’re symptomatic of conditions that affect your performance and safety on the track. I can help you.”

I stare Ric down.

“Bye, Senna,” Ric says before leaving.

The door clicks closed behind him, and Senna and I are left standing a few metres apart. I keep my eyes focused on hers. I need a distraction from this moment, but I can’t let it be her incredible body.

“Is he another one of your ‘buddies’?” I regret the words as soon as they’re out of my mouth.

She walks behind her desk and sits down in her chair.

My head drops, and I plop into one of her chairs. I should leave before I say anything else stupid, but part of me is desperate to tell her about the rituals and their reasons.

“Why are you still with the team, Dane?”

I hold back my sad sigh. She’s stopped calling me Connor.

“You know your brother has me in a water-tight contract.”

She presses her fingertips together and creates a bridge with her hands. “I could break that contract and pay you off so you can leave. You’d never have to see me or this team again.”

“Is that what you want?”

She rubs her scar, and I want to rip her fingers away from it. It’s like a dagger in my throat. Does she understand how deeply it hurts me every time she does that?

“Do you want me out of your life for good?” I growl.

She pushes her fingers through her hair. I want those short blond waves in my hands.

Now she knows my rituals, my thoughts are jumbling. She remains silent.

“Fine, I’ll leave because you clearly don’t want me here anymore.”

I start towards the door. The burning sensation in my chest tells me to go, but Jimmy’s words about how I don’t apologise have me turning back.

“Ten years ago, when I visited you at home after the crash, I was so adamant that I had to tell you what happened that I didn’t say sorry. I’ve never said sorry.” I swallow loudly, waiting for her to tell me to get out, but she looks at me with eyes wide enough for me to drown in. “I never meant to hurt you, Senna, but I did. I destroyed your racing career. You were the best driver, way better than Niki, me, and all those guys who went on to have F1 careers. I ruined that for you, and I am so sorry. I wish I’d told you this before. I’m more sorry about that day and the way I was after than you can ever imagine.”

For the first time, I don’t attempt to explain what happened or tell her it wasn’t my fault.

I stand by the door, my face against the glass, although my words are aimed at her. “I’ve got some things to do in the garage. I want to speak to Jacs about one of the car’s problems. But I’ll be gone by the end of the day and you’ll never have to see me again. I’m sorry for everything, Senna.”

“Connor, wait.” She touches my forearm, and her fingers burn my skin. I didn’t hear her walk over to me. She’s probably not wearing her shoes. It’s one of those cute things she does.

I turn, and she’s standing so close. The scent of orange blossom fills my lungs. But I can’t wait a second longer.

“Goodbye, Coults.”

I look at her standing at the edge of her office one last time. I’m sure her stare will haunt me in my dreams.