“I think she off-loaded some stuff onto him that first night in Singapore,” I concede.“But she’s a hell of a team principal and a hell of a person, and I think she’ll be eating herself up over it.She’s too good.Too fair...”My voice trails off as I think about her.
Stavros holds his glass in midair, his mouth open.“Youlikeher.”
I shake my head, knowing it’s useless to fight him.“I do.More than like, even.”
“Have you spoken to her?”
“She’s messaged me, and I just can’t face replying yet.She says sorry.She says it was a mistake.”
Stavros laughs.“Well.Now it’syouwho has to decide whether to forgive a mistake.”
I move the white pawn forward on the board and grin at Stavros.“Yes, I’m kind of seeing the irony here, thanks.”I roll my eyes, but my mind is whirring.
“What about Arden?”he asks, ruthlessly taking my bishop on the third move.
“Arden?”I shrug.“It’s been really great building something.Next year feels exciting.”
Stavros nods, considering this.“Better than the reds?”
“Rossini?”I breathe out heavily.“It’s got a kind of wholesome family vibe.”
“I can see that,” he says, sipping on his wine, moving his rook forward.
“Why?”I ask.
“I’ve been watching Arden slowly rise to the top.You all started as a shit show, but now you look like a real team with a lot of potential.Might be worth my while to invest,” he says, winking at me.“One thing’s clear, though—you have some things to figure out with Chloe Coleman.Both on and off the track.”
“I do,” I say, nodding.
I gaze out the little window toward an olive tree, perfectly framed by the white stone wall with the bright blue sky behind it.I think about her, and everything I feel about her, and how awful it was to read those words.I also think about how I wouldn’t be here, talking with Stavros and figuring out my shit, if it weren’t for her encouragement.
Can I forgive her, though?Trust her again?
“Another drink?”Stavros says, lifting the bottle.“You don’t have to be anywhere tonight, do you?”
CHAPTER 25
Chloe
The next few days are a blur.Matt has jetted off to who knows where, and I travel to Vegas sad and defeated.My bones are heavy, my eyes permanently strained from tiredness.When I do sleep, it’s patchy and dream filled.
On one hand, I think about the career I have flushed down the toilet because I was too angry, too hurt, too juvenile to move on from feelings about a teenage unrequited love.I lashed out, a little drunk, too stupid to focus on the professional gift I’d been given.No.Not a gift.A reward for my years of grit and hard work.
And on the other hand is the impossible reality I’ve found myself in.Falling back into those feelings with Matt and having him finally, deliciously reciprocate them.My heart overruling my head.My pathetic demands that we stop, cool off, overruled by my heart and my fucking insatiable desire for him.Then I went and messed it all up.
Of all the stupid things I’ve done, this takes the cake.
As I slide open the balcony door and look out over the strip, with its garishly bright, twinkling lights in one directionand the track visible in the other, I feel the tug of two lives—one where I’m team principal of an F1 team, and one where I’m happily in love with my first driver.Deep down, I know they can never become one.
My phone rings.Barry.
“You got my gift for the event?”
“Yes,” I say, looking back inside at the dress I was sent to wear.In a couple of hours there will be a hosted party at some fancy mega-hotel on the strip.All the main sponsors will be there alongside potential new sponsors.I have to go with Barry and charm them, basically begging for money on the back of a terrible performance in Brazil.We’ve made the job so much harder than it needed to be with Matt’s catastrophic placement collapse.
Which is my fault.
His already fragile state on the track was completely upended by that article.
