Page 88 of Fast & Reckless
He lifted his chin and the look in his eyes froze the words on her tongue. “You know, you made me think you believed in me, and stupidly, I was starting to do it, too.”
“Will—”
“You’d better go. Someone might see you with me, and we can’t have that.”
She’d known this would hurt, but never did she think it could feel like this, like she’d just pulled her own beating heartout of her chest. She wanted to beg him not to hate her, but cutting him loose meant cutting herself out of his life completely, no matter how ruthless she had to be to do it. She couldn’t begrudge him his anger, even if it killed her to face it.
In the end, she didn’t say anything. He was sending her away, so she went, slipping out of the room. Before someone could see.
38
Will had thought the sprained thumb was the worst fate that could possibly have befallen him.
He was so wrong.
It turned out that losing Mira hurt a whole lot more than sitting out Monza.
This morning, Paul had called at an ungodly hour. Not that the hour mattered. Will hadn’t slept all night, unable to get his conversation with Mira out of his head. Being ordered to attend an emergency team meeting—arealone—at the crack of dawn didn’t even faze him after that.
Everyone was here—Paul, Simone, Violet, Mitchell, Matteo, both reserve drivers, Connor Meade, who was the head of Lennox communications, and half a dozen suits from Lennox’s legal department. Mira was conspicuously absent. Paul didn’t comment on it and Will didn’t dare ask about her. Currently, Paul wasn’t making eye contact with him. That was a problem he’d have to face later.
“You’re sure the sprain will put Will out of Monza?” Connor asked Mitchell. “What about beyond that?”
Mitchell nodded. “Monza definitely. Beyond that, I can’t say. You never can predict how fast these things will heal.”
Paul cursed under his breath, but Connor raised a steadying hand. “This might actually be for the best.”
“We’re missing a bloody race. How can that possibly be for the best?”
Connor, in his fifties, tall and good-looking in an expensive, corporate way, leaned forward on his elbows, looking over the tops of his titanium-framed reading glasses at everyone around the table before focusing back on Will. “Deloux is kicking up a fuss about this with the FIA, calling for you to be banned for the rest of the season.”
“What? That’s bullshit!”
Connor motioned for his silence. “They’re just grandstanding. They know the FIA won’t take that kind of action about the fight, which seems to be a personal matter.”
“What about the crash?” he pressed. “Can we go after him for that?” Brody was so far down in the rankings that a penalty wouldn’t even matter, but it would sure as fuck make Will feel better.
“We can’t prove he did that on purpose,” Paul said.
“But we all know he did,” Matteo said quietly. Will looked to him. Matteo shrugged. “I saw it. He jerked his wheel, and then he accelerated into you. Every driver out there would agree.”
While he was grateful for Matteo’s backup, it wouldn’t matter in the end. Paul was right. It would be extremely difficult to prove without a doubt that Brody caused his crash.
“Your injury will shut down any speculation that you’re missing the race because they’ve barred you from driving,” Mitchell said. “At the moment, that’s good news.”
Will rolled his eyes. That definition of good news was a stretch.
Now Simone spoke up. “Now, the bad news is that Deloux isn’t just talking to the FIA. They’re talking to the media—anybody who will listen. And unfortunately this thing has gotten away from us a bit. Violet? What’s the story on social media?”
“The big F1 media sources were all over it fifteen minutes after it happened,” Violet said, casting articles from her iPad to the flat-screen in the corner. “It’s all framed to favor Brody, not Will, and Will threw the first punch, which doesn’t help.”
Of course Deloux was pumping the story out to the press. That wanker Brody probably did it himself. He had loads of experience with that game. “Violet,” Will protested. “You were there. You saw—”
“Will, what I saw and what I know doesn’t matter. There’s only how the story is being perceived. And right now, everyone seems to think this is you showing your true colors.”
Will scoffed. “I have never gotten into a fight with another driver in my life.” Before yesterday he hadn’t even thrown a punch since he was thirteen. And just like Brody, that little asshole had deserved it, too.
“The good news, if there is any, is that in the comments, where the fans debate, reaction seems to be pretty split. Plenty of Lennox and Hawley fans have come to your defense, but as these things go, no one’s changing their minds. If they weren’t a fan of yours before, they certainly aren’t now.”
