Page 108 of Racing for Redemption
“He said things about Violet—”
“I don’t care if he insulted your mother, the King, and every saint in the calendar,” James cuts in. “You don’t punch a Team Principal. Ever. Even if he’s a fucking prick!”
I have no defense. He’s right.
“Fix this,” James says, his voice softening slightly. “Whatever it takes.”
The call ends, and I’m left staring at my phone screen. No messages from Violet. No acknowledgment that I just torpedoed my career defending her honor. Just silence.
I close my eyes, leaning back against the wall. Dominic Harrington’s bloodied smile floats in my memory. He wanted this. Provoked it. But why?
The answer comes with sickening clarity: to hurt Colton Racing. To hurt Violet. And I played right into his hands. Her only sound choice is to fire me, and the team is back to square one. Where Harrington wants her to be.
Some defender I turned out to be.
Chapter 30
Consequences
William
Back in my hotel room, my phone lights up with Blake’s name. Not Violet’s.
I stare at it like it’s a snake about to bite, letting it ring once, twice, three times while I gather the courage to answer. This is it—the call that ends everything. I can almost hear Violet’s voice delivering the news through Blake: “We’re terminating your contract effective immediately.” I answer and hold the phone to my ear, eyes closed, waiting for the axe to fall.
“William.” Blake’s voice is terse, but not cold. “You’ve really stepped in it this time.”
“I know.” My throat feels raw, like I’ve been screaming. I haven’t. Not yet.
“Violet’s furious.”
“I figured.” I drag a hand down my face. “Is that why you’re calling instead of her?”
“Precisely.” Blake sighs, and I picture him pinching the bridge of his nose as he does in the garage when something’s gone wrong. “If she called you right now, you’d be out of a seat before you could say ‘sorry.’ I like you a lot, William. So I intervened.”
The knot in my stomach loosens just slightly. Not fired.Yet.
“Thanks, Blake.”
“Don’t thank me yet. I need to understand exactly what happened. The media’s spinning a dozen different versions.”
I stand, pacing the small confines of my hotel room. Outside, the city buzzes with activity as team members pack up and check out, the weekend’s racing finished. For some, anyway.
“Harrington approached me after the medical center cleared me,” I begin, keeping my voice low. “Said he’d been watching my driving. Offered me a seat at either Vortex Satellite or Vortex Racing.”
Blake remains silent for a bit, as if theorizing, assessing the next steps, trying to understand where all of that came from. “Vortex Racing? Alongside Farrant?”
“Yeah.” The irony isn’t lost on me. The offer of a lifetime transformed into a career-threatening disaster in the span of ten minutes.
“And you turned it down?”
“Of course I did. I told him to speak to my manager if he was serious, that I was fully committed to Colton Racing.”
“So what went wrong? Why did you punch him?”
I swallow hard. “He didn’t like that answer. Started trashing the team. Called our car a shitbox. Said the only reason we weren’t last in the championship was because of me.”
“That’s just Dominic being Dominic,” Blake says dismissively. “He’s been throwing barbs at Colton Racing since Frederick’s days.”
