Page 7 of Red Flagged
Aurélie could start a lawsuit, and we could use the FIA’s lawyers as our megaphone.
“Mr. Fraser,” Reinhardt said, dragging me back to the surface, “you are cautioned not to let your… personal relationship interfere with your professional obligations. The sport expects objectivity.”
I met his gaze dead-on. “My obligations are to safety and integrity. Both were violated. My relationship hasn’t clouded that. It’s why I saw it first.” I released Aurélie’s hand and clasped both of mine together on the table, leaning forward with the cocky assurance that I was known for. “And in caseyou hadn’t noticed, my ‘professional obligations’ are being met in abundance. Despite needing to take time off from injury, I still lead the World Driver Championship by more than sixty points. My involvement with Miss Dubois has not impacted my performance.”
His lips flattened. He didn’t like the reminder that love wasn’t a weakness. He definitely didn’t like the implication that their failure was so obvious even a man blinded by devotion could see it. And most of all, he didn’t like that Aurélie had just planted the seed that if they didn’t act, we’d take this fight somewhere they couldn’t control. Courtrooms. Headlines. Investors.
“And yet, the abandonment of your vehicle yesterday proves otherwise,” he responded smoothly. “Should your relationship, and this goes for the both of you, interfere with your performance again, we will reconvene on next steps and consider enforcing regulations for interpersonal relationships between drivers.”
My eyes narrowed at him, the gears in my head turning once again as an idea started to form.
Reinhardt shifted back to Aurélie. “Your proposals will be noted. We will?—”
“Implemented,” she corrected, voice soft, lethal. “Noted is how we got here.”
Henric cleared his throat, trying to reassert control. “Luminis will review internal processes?—”
“With an independent audit,” she snapped. “Not another internal review that lands in your inbox and disappears. I’m not dumb, Henric. I know this will try to get swept under the rug to avoid a public scandal. But my safety—mylife—is more important than that.” Then she turned back to Reinhardt and added, “If the FIA refuses to take steps towardprotecting drivers, then drivers will have no choice but to protect themselves. Through every avenue available to them.”
A ripple moved through the room. Reinhardt’s brows dipped. One of the stewards coughed like the words had lodged in his throat. Even Dom leaned forward slightly, eyes narrowing like he understood exactly what she’d just implied.
My pulse kicked. Was she hinting at it? Suing? Taking them to court for negligence, discrimination, harassment? I couldn’t tell. And maybe that was the point. Because either way, it worked. The stillness in the room said for the first time, they actually believed she might take action.
A muscle jumped in Reinhardt’s cheek. He understood leverage when he heard it.
But my mind was already five moves ahead, watching the money trail wake up and do the talking no one in this room wanted to hear.
Reinhardt smoothed a page. “We will proceed to the next item: your interaction with Mr. Morel after the qualifying session, Mr. Fraser?—”
The storm outside rolled like distant artillery. Inside, every person in this room waited to see who blinked first. I felt Aurélie’s knee brush mine, and when our hands met once again under the table, we became the united front that no one in this sport could eradicate.
She had a crazy plan, and I had an idea to push it just a little bit further.
This is what happened when the track turned into a battlefield. When two drivers chose collision over surrender. When love refused to be a liability and stood up for what was right.
And we were just getting started.
The meeting dissolvedin a scrape of chairs, but justice didn’t follow us out the door. Dom and Henric stayed behind with Reinhardt and the stewards, already diving back into discussion. Callum and I were dismissed like schoolchildren, though I’d wager half the men in that room were rattled enough to lose their breakfast.
We walked side by side down the corridor, only our hands connected. My lungs only remembered how to properly draw air once the doors sealed shut behind us. The sound left me in a rush—part exhaustion, part disbelief.
“That’s it,” I muttered, almost to myself. “A formal investigationafterthe race.”
Callum chuckled darkly as he looked straight ahead. He wore a calculating look that I’d once mistaken for broodiness, but really, it was his brain constantly turning things over, runningthrough every scenario. “Which means Morel gets to line up on the grid like nothing happened.”
My stomach churned as I recalled his hands on me, the pain in my shoulders, the jarring sensation of my face hitting the wall. “He calls thatcompromise. It’s still negligence even with all that evidence staring them in the face! Fucking unbelievable.”
For a stretch, neither of us spoke, the echo of our footsteps louder than the words we’d just used in that boardroom. They would applaud my composure, no doubt, maybe even my tenacity. And yet, Adrian Morel would strap into his car today, and I’d be expected to do the same.
Callum tugged me to a stop, forcing me to turn to face him. His icy blue gaze searched my face for something I couldn’t name. “You shouldn’t have to share a track with him.”
“No,” I agreed. “And neither should you after what he did. But if either of us backs down now, he wins. They all win.”
He pressed his lips together, and I wondered what was going on in his head. “Reinhardt said I should be grateful he didn’t suspend me after yesterday’sincident.” He spat the statement with so much venom that I half-expected the tiles beneath our feet to corrode.
The tension in his shoulders tugged at my heart. I didn’t agree with him getting in the car at all today, but I knew his pride wouldn’t allow him to sit out another race. Besides, he’d been so busy defending me that I had completely lost sight of that fact.
I stepped into his space and wound my arms around his neck, and he blinked, eyes softening as his hands found my hips. “Mon amour,” I murmured, standing on my toes to press a gentle kiss to his lips. “Your battles are mine, and mine are yours. Always. That’s how this works, right? You and me, team forever. Racing 101.” I brushed another kiss against his mouth, feather-soft. He squeezed my hips, and I knew I was breaking through that tough exterior he put on when we were in public.“I love you, Callum Fraser. More than the sport. More than the fight. You make me proud every time you choose me, every time you choose us.”
