Page 67 of Double Apex

“You would still have a role for now, of course,” Reece adds, folding her hands and donning a sympathetic voice. “Though less hands-on.”

“What, because I was so gauche as to break down a little when I thought our driver might be dead?”

Reece rubs her forehead below her small, feathery bangs. “We all know why we’re sitting here,” she says with a sigh. “Let’s be adults and not turn this into an utter farce.”

On the heels of my defensive reply, the phrasing of her previous comment sinks in. “Whoa whoa whoa.” I hold up a hand. “What do you mean I have a role ‘for now’?”

I lock eyes with Klaus, whose face holds the combination of grim resolve, reluctance, and sorrow one might see on a person who has to put down a dog infected with rabies.

It hits me hard that he absolutelycan fire me, unless my dad were to override it. Mo is technically Klaus’s boss, sure. But this is why team principals exist: to manage every moving part of the team. The buck stops there. A racing teamowneris more like the person who owns a racehorse—he doesn’t need to get his boots too dirty, because other people have been hired to wade through the shit.

Just as my panicked brain is bleating,Deny everything!I remember that Reece will certainly have disclosed what happened on the yacht in Barcelona—an event that neither Cosmin nor I denied when confronted.

The jig is up, as they say.

I’m replaceable; Cosmin isn’t. I’m out and he stays.

A flood of panic rises in me as I imagine a decade’s career destroyed.

Sitting upright, I hide my despair with calm defiance. “What I do in my free time is no one’s goddamned business,” I insist, sweeping them both with a cool glare.

It absolutelyisthe team’s business—I’m straight-up blustering. I was so caught up in the momentum of this thing with Cos that I was thinking with my pussy. If anyone else on the team had done it, I’d be calling for their head on a platter, but I can’t let that show.

“Phae.” Reece closes her eyes impatiently. “The situation all but guarantees you can no longer operate untainted by emotion. The ongoing nature of your little fling makes it clear that mature restraint is not forthcoming.”

“Why do you even have an opinion about this?” I seethe.

“I have an opinion,” she bites out, “because you hormonal delinquents made this my bloody problem.”

“This is such bullshit,” I growl. “Today was an unusual situation.Everyonewas shitting themselves over that crash—it wasn’t some girlie histrionics that only happened because I’ve seen Cos without his pants a couple of times.” I cut a glare toward Klaus. “Was my performance off in Monaco? Montréal, France, Austria?”

He sits back with a weary sigh, tapping his blue Montblanc pen against the tabletop and scrutinizing me. “Try to look atthis objectively, Schatzi. We are working with thousandths of seconds’ difference to win. Any emotion-based hesitation is a death sentence.”

“My work is solid,” I insist. “I fucking stand by it. And you know what? I’m calling y’all’s bluff: if you were gonna shitcan me, HR would be sitting here with us.”

Hoo boy.My dad’s Carolina drawl only comes out when I’m at the end of my rope, and there it is. I pause, studying them both for a reaction, and see that I’m right, which gives me the confidence to press on.

“What’d Mo say, anyway?” I ask. “Doeshewant me out? Because his opinion is the one that matters most to me right now.”

“Given your father’s condition,” Klaus says, “it would be a good time for you to fly home. Be with the family.”

“That’s not an answer. And Mo and I have discussed my coming homerepeatedly. He’s adamant that I stay here as long as possible and not let his—” My throat tightens. “Not let his health impact the season. He’s firm on that point.”

Reece and Klaus exchange a look I can’t quite read.

“Shall I call him myself and ask?” I prompt.

Klaus pockets his pen, the gesture definitive.

“He’s torn on the subject and doesn’t feel he can address it impartially. So he gave me leave, as team principal, to make the decision I feel is best.”

I’m frozen, eyes locked with his. A half minute that feels like forever passes.

“And I suppose,” I say slowly, “there’s no way that decisioncould be impacted by you wanting to buy Emerald out from under me, right?”

His expression is so genuinely offended that I immediately wish I could take the words back. As we stare each other down, I wait in vain for the gesture I hope is coming, our silent communication—your head is above your heart—to show me there are no hard feelings and he recognizes that I’ve just lost my temper out of frustration, as usual.

It doesn’t happen, and I die inside a little. For years, Klaus has not only been my mentor and friend but something like family. This distance between us is horrible.

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