Page 4

CHAPTER 4

Connor

Senna’s avoided me all week, but it’s the Shakedown tomorrow, and I need to know if I’ll be driving in the new car for its first time on a track. I always drove for that first session when I was with Vessa, but some teams don’t let both drivers try the car. And if I’m driving, I must prepare.

I’m terrified of getting in a car with everyone watching and having flashbacks of Niki on that stretcher as I grip the wheel and take on corners—something no one gets to know.

I need to sit in the new car and know it’s safe.

I clear my throat and take a breath as Senna stares at me, her eyebrows raised. Her blond hair shines under the lights of her new office. She’s so damn beautiful.

That’s when I remember my other task. As per Niki’s instructions, I need to check if Senna is okay. I’ve hung outside her office as much as possible, checking who comes in and who leaves. All I’ve learned is she stays until midnight every night, doesn’t eat dinner, and listens loudly to Harry Styles.

Niki owes me.

“What do you want, Dane?” Senna asks. She taps at her desk as if I’ve already pissed her off.

Before I respond with more than my pinching glare, Ralf jumps up and pats me on the back. He practically wallops me to the floor. “Connor, how’s it going? I hope you’re ready to ditch your showboating and risky driving now you’re finally with Coulter.”

“I can’t promise anything.” I chuckle as I hug the big man.

“And we wouldn’t have you any other way.” He laughs. “You’ll do great things with the team.”

Senna makes a noise that’s a cross between a guffaw and choking. I raise my eyebrow at her over Ralf’s shoulder, and her face flushes in a way that reminds me of when she was a teenager and Niki and I caught her spray painting “Boys suck” on Niki’s go-kart.

“I haven’t seen you in ages, including at my wedding last year.”

I do everything I can to avoid Senna’s stare. I was there but hid in the back. I ran out straight after the ceremony because of a certain blond-haired beauty. I can’t think about that now.

“He wasn’t there probably because he was too busy seducing his former trainer,” she grumbles.

“You heard that rumour, too? I thought you’d be too wise for idle gossip.” If only she knew what problems seeing her at that wedding has caused for me.

She flushes again, and I give myself a silent cheer. Score one for me.

She clenches her jaw. “So why are you here?”

“I need to talk, Coulter.”

She glowers at me. I can’t bring myself to call her boss. She’ll love it too much, and I can’t have that. It will make the amber in her eyes sparkle and her lips quirk in a way that used to make my heart beat faster. I shake my head and grit my teeth.

A waft of sandalwood chokes me as Antoine strides into the office. “I must be in the car tomorrow. I’m your shining star and leading driver, and the press want me.”

“Hold up, buddy,” I reply, squaring up to Antoine.

Ralf returns to his seat by the desk.

“You got this, Little Boss. Do it your way,” he whispers to Senna.

Antoine gets in my face. “Hey, pretty boy.”

“There’s nothing pretty about me, dipshit, and there won’t be anything pretty about you once I’ve finished.” Antoine’s clipped me several times “accidentally” over the years. I don’t know if it’s payback because his sister wanted to date me or because I didn’t grow up in a rich family like him. “I don’t trust you, and I don’t like you.”

“Number two has a big mouth for someone who’ll fail this year. What you going to do, pretty boy?”

I tip my head and raise my eyebrows in a challenge. “That depends. Can you fight like a man when you’re not hiding inside a car?”

He pulls back his shoulders and squeezes his hands. I can take this punk, and the desire to grips me when I think about how he’s been hanging around Senna and making digs about her to some of the mechanics.

“Oi!” Senna shouts, jumping up and wedging herself between us.

Fuck. Her body is against mine. It’s soft in ways it wasn’t years ago. Her breasts press into my chest, and my stomach bottoms out. She smells of the fantasies that have continued to plague me for ten years. I jump back like she’s made of blistering fire rather than beauty and strength.

“Both of you, sit down while I tell you the ground rules.”

My body twitches, and blood rushes down. I grind my teeth. Angry Senna shouldn’t pull a reaction from my body. I’m so fucked up. I’m here to protect her, not to enjoy her authority.

“Bonjour, Senna,” Antoine starts as I sit.

“Don’t ‘bonjour, Senna’ me, Antoine, and don’t walk into my office without waiting to be allowed in. That’s for both of you.” She scowls at me, and goosebumps rise on my naked arms. I push the sleeves of my hoodie down. She sees the action, and something clouds her face briefly. “You don’t fight in my office like a pathetic pair of schoolboys. You don’t fight anywhere. You are teammates, and you will behave as such. You support each other off and on the track. And if you can’t do that, you avoid each other. Am I clear?”

Her voice reverberates off the walls. I hold back my smile and shift against my grey joggers. She’s breathtaking, like the ultimate fighter, but with the beauty of a goddess.

I shake my head. I can’t have these thoughts.

“Did you shake your head at me, Dane?” she shouts.

I go to shake my head again but think better of it in case she accuses me of taunting her. “No.”

“No what?”

She stands so close that one more step would put her between my legs. I fist my hands and will my body to behave.

“No, boss,” I reply between gritted teeth. It sounds so good coming from my mouth. She’s hot as the boss, even more than when she told me what to do as a teenager. I’m nearly breathless.

“That’s right. I’m your boss, and I decide, Antoine, who does what tomorrow.” She’s staring at him, and I miss having those eyes on me. “Understood?”

He tips his head and gives a smile that a particular faction on social media calls his “panty-wetting smile.” I check Senna, relieved she’s glaring rather than fanning herself.

“Yes, boss,” Antoine says, and it’s all I can do not to smack that smirk off his face.

“Good.” Her fingers swipe her scar, revealing that, as much as she’s trying to be the big boss, she’s struggling. I don’t move, instead putting all my energy into scowling at Antoine, who licks his lips seductively as he stares at Senna. “Tomorrow, you will both get to drive. We don’t know if the car will work; that is the point of Shakedown, after all. Now, get out and wait for my call about who is starting tomorrow and what to say to the press.”

I leave with Antoine behind me. He calls over his shoulder, “I look forward to your call,” in a voice too gravelly for my liking.

As we leave the office, Ralf says to Senna, “Well done, Little Boss.”

In the reflection of her door, I see her wince and drop her head. It reminds me of my mission, and I practically drag Antoine by his designer shirt collar into the empty men’s bathroom.

“Hey!” He pushes me away and straightens his clothes. “Dilfano gave this to me personally.”

“I presume that’s a designer I don’t give a shit about,” I retort.

“Obviously. You dress like a university student, which is ironic for someone too stupid for?—”

“Just stay away from Senna.” I stand close enough to flick my fingers against his forehead, although I resist the action.

His smirk makes my stomach roll. “How do you expect me to do that, mon cheri? She’s our boss.”

I grit my teeth. “You do what you have to workwise, but don’t flirt with her or do anything that will make me slam my fists in your face. Okay?”

“She wants me, Dane. Trust me on that.”

Someone crashes through the bathroom door, which is lucky for Antoine because every neuron in my head demands I sucker-punch the bastard.

“Stay away. Or I’ll make sure you won’t drive on this or any team again.”

He shrugs as I walk out of the bathroom. I want him away from Senna because I’m protecting her. There’s no other reason.