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“You’re so dramatic.”Yeah, but you all love me for it, don’t you?
“I know.” I smile at him, then bring my attention back to the room. “Time to break the dry spell,” I say, rolling my shoulders a little to prepare. James chuckles at my antics, sipping his bourbon.
But, at the end of the night, I go home alone, thinking about the mystery woman all over again.
Chapter 6
Nevaeh
Mr.Fenderwelcomesmewith a bright smile on Monday morning. I almost feel starstruck standing in front of him. Gillian Fender is one of the most popular reporters in Formula One. The tall, brown-eyed man with black hair and pale skin has interviewed hundreds of drivers in his fifteen years atGriffin Sports. Most of the time when I turn on the television during race weekends, I see him, that’s how well-known he is.
“Mr. Fender, it’s an honor to meet you,” I blurt out when he offers me his hand to shake.
“Please, call me Gillian. Now, let’s get you started, shall we?”
Gillian walks away without waiting for a response, and I follow him to a small desk outside of an office three times the size of an average bedroom in London.
“That’s my office, and this is your desk,” he says while pointing at both to make sure I know exactly what he means. I smile to myself, finally excited to start this chapter of my life.
“So, it’s like I’m your assistant?” I say when he reads over the things I will be doing. Gillian chuckles at my words.
“Kind of, but you won’t have to get me lunch or answer my calls. We will split our food runs, sometimes you will bring it, other times I will, but don’t worry too much about it. We will spend a lot of time traveling, and when we’re here at the office, you’ll mostly focus on writing your articles. You’re responsible for your research, editing, etc.,” he goes on before introducing me to how the printer works.
I’m expected to print everything he sends me along with highlighting the titles and doing other small tasks Gillian asks of me. I sit down in my comfortable office chair, watching him point out the drawers I can use to store my things. Then he goes on to outline what the training will look like, such as working on my areas of improvement and familiarizing myself with the publishing process on the website as well as meeting deadlines, and more.
“Have you read the article I sent in or do Mrs. Lu and Ms. Martin look over it?” I ask when I find an opening.
Gillian leans against my black, wooden desk while an easy smile lingers on his thin lips. His features are welcoming and so is his personality.
“I must say, I’m very surprised by how well you engage the reader with the text. You made it exciting to read, which is impressive for someone who is starting out as a journalist. I’m quite happy with your work, but there are small areas I’d like to point out for you to work on.”
I impressed Gillian Fender with my writing. It feels like my heart is going to bounce out of my chest from happiness.
“By the way, I don’t know if Mrs. Lu told you, but this season we are mostly going to focus on the drivers of the Velocità Rossa and Grenzenlos teams,” Gillian informs me before excusing himself and taking a call.
Fantastic.
I really cannot escape Lincoln, no matter how hard I try. Whoever is in charge of my fate loves to force him into my life. I roll my eyes before I realize this might not be the worst thing in the world. Focusing on two teams is a lot less work. Not to mention, I’m dying to meet Gabriel Biancheri. He’s an incredible driver.
And as much as I try not to be, I’m excited to see Adrian again too. I wonder if he remembers me, if he has even thought about me since we met.
A part of me thinks this is going to be his season since last year Gabriel and Adrian were head-to-head in the Drivers’ Championship. Another part of me has a feeling Lincoln will be on top.
I guess I’ll have to wait and see.
“Sorry about that,” Gillian interrupts my thoughts, and I look up at him. “That was Mrs. Lu. She informed me that Gabriel Biancheri, Adrian Romana, Lincoln Nash, and Kyle Hughes have accepted our invitation to meet the reporters who will interview and write about them. They will be here on Wednesday,” he says. I fake an excited smile.
This is possibly the worst thing he could have told me I had to do this week.
By the end of the day, I’m tired and hungry. I haven’t eaten all day because my emotions have been all over the place. I walk out of the building and toward the pickup area. Mama offered to drive me since my car is at the shop.
When I don’t see her anywhere, I turn on my phone for the first time today. A message from her pops up.
Mama: Hi, honey. I’m sorry, I won’t be able to pick you up, but I sent Lincoln instead. He should be there soon.
Nope, I’m not doing this. I hurry over to the taxi stand when his voice stops me dead in my tracks.
“Butterflyyy,” he sings, and I let out a groan so loud, I hope he hears it. “Don’t be silly and waste your money on a taxi. My car is all warm and cozy,” he says.
