Page 107 of Double Apex

“Laskaris,” I warn.

His look is innocent. “Hmm?”

Weeks of frustration come to a head, and I can imagine viscerally how satisfying it would be to knock him down—the weight of my fist powering into his flesh.

My smile is malevolent, my voice a lethal purr, low enough that no one will overhear.

“I wouldn’t risk injury to my hands minutes before a race.But if you continue this line of discussion into disrespectful territory… the next time I find myself in your presence, I will beat some manners into you.”

A flicker of fear crosses his face. There is fear in me also as I recognize the words my uncle spoke so many times.

My God. I’m even wearing his cruel smile.The mob in my head presses closer as Andrei Ardelean joins it.

Alexander puts his phone in his back pocket and holds his hands up. “I get carried away with the friendly shit-talk. Boys’ll be boys.”

“Some of themremainboys while others become men. And we both know you weren’t being friendly. Now, if you’ll excuse me.”

“Holdonholdonholdon,” he says, almost putting a hand on my arm. “Sorry, I can’t help winding you up a little to see if I can get a livelier quote than, uh—”

I notice him glance toward Natalia, then stop himself.

“A better one than anyone else,” he concludes.

I suspect the competition between them has ramped up since Natalia started doing a show for the magazine’s YouTube channel. It’s become quite popular.

“When you find yourself behind another car,” I say casually, adjusting one cuff of my race suit, “bitterness won’t help you overtake.”

He pulls a wry face. “Yeah, well. Circumstances can make a win impossible sometimes.”

“If so, you fight for the place youcanachieve, accept it gracefully, and learn.”

“Some days that place is a DNF.” He extends a hand to shake. “No hard feelings?”

I glance at his hand before reluctantly accepting. I don’t like the man, but making enemies in the press is unwise.

“Fine.”

“Coolcoolcool. Incidentally—my advice, since you gave me yours—if you want to lock the girl down,scare her. Let the tabloids catch you cracking on with some hotties. Jealousy’s a top-notch motivator.”

He’s such an absurd parody of a human, I can’t even be angry this time.

“Mr. Laskaris, you werethisclose to being tolerable,” I say, holding my fingers a centimeter apart. “But you’ve also given me something to think about. So I thank you.”

Walking away, I pull in a deep breath through my nose as if savoring mountain air. Something settles in me, tranquil, reflecting upon Phaedra. Everyone—including this crass fool Laskaris—seems to have an opinion on the “strategy” I should employ with her.

Listen to sad songs and wear your heart on your sleeve.

Walk through the fire and get over her.

Find another girl—the hotel is full of them.

Jealousy is a good motivator. Scare her.

I cannot think of Phaedra in terms of strategy: she’s not a car, a racetrack, a puzzle.

This relationship may be a DNF. But you cannot run a racewith the car youwishyou had. Do your best with what you have, and—as I told Alexander—accept the result with grace.

I’ve been intent on asserting my position: the indisputability of our being right for each other. I’ve used my words, my will, my body.

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