Page 117 of Overtake
Her face flushes. “That’s not?—”
“Or perhaps we should discuss why, when similar photos have emerged from multiple teams’ garages, you’re focusing on my personal life rather than investigating the actual security breach?”
“These photos?—”
“Those photos show someone systematically gathering technical information through fan access.” The pieces click even as I speak. “But it’s wonderfully salacious to imply I’m trading sex for secrets. A much racier story than acknowledging a real threat to multiple teams’ security. How very… on brand.” I smile like I want to tear out her throat with my teeth, because I do.
“Petra, my question was a fair one.”
“We’re done.” I yank the small mic off my shirt and stand, but I hold it because I want them to record what I say next. “Though you might want to ask yourself who benefits from pushing these lies. And why.” I’m about to turn, but I pause to add, “I don’t need to put out to get on the podium, Pippa. I win races becauseI’m a fucking good driver. Not because I’m fucking a good driver.”
I want to add thatmycareer didn’t end in Formula 3, but I keep that behind my teeth.
Barely.
Bitch.
“You can’t just walk out, Petra. We’re not finished.”
“Absolutely I can end an interview when it becomes a thinly veiled character assassination.” I drop the mic on my chair. “But before I do...”
I lean close, dropping my media mask completely so she can see exactly who she’s dealing with. “Next time Graham Pritchard wants to imply I’d compromise my career and my principles, remind him that I earned my place in F1 by being better, faster, and smarter than my competition on the track. I don’t need to steal technical data, I help develop it.”
“You’re contractually obligated to provide an interview.”
“That’s right. A professional interview about racing, not whatever agenda you’re pushing.”
Cin’s right with me as I storm out of the media center. She’s been in the back of the room the entire time—all F1 teams record their driver interviews for legal and PR purposes.
“Well, that was fucking spectacular.” She sounds as pissed off as I feel. “I got every word of that character assassination attempt on record.”
“Good.” I turn on my phone as we walk. “Graham’s pet harpy suggesting I’m trading sex for technical secrets. Un-fucking-believable.”
Cin voice is sharp. “Legal’s going to have a field day with this recording.”
I check my messages. There’s an all-caps text from Dad, which he almost never does.
PIT BUILDING, VIP ROOM. PRIORITY ALPHA.
Right, then. He’s heard about these pictures and bullshit rumors.
And Nico’s also texted:
Some shit’s going down. Coy will explain. Don’t let it get in your head. We’re solid. Te amo, TenazP.
Bollocks. And this day started out so well.
“Oi!” Reece catches us and falls into step as I stride across the paddock toward the long pit building. “You look extra pissed off.”
“Graham just had Pippa try out character assassination.”
“How’d it go?”
“Not fucking well for her, I assure you.” I pocket my phone. I need to text Nico and get to VIP.
Cin adds, “That wanker father of yours should work on his timing.”
He snorts. “Always did have shit strategic planning.” He matches our pace easily. “Speaking of strategy... did Mai’s magic work last night?”
