His lip curls with irritation. “Not a good one.”
He means it as an insult, but it doesn’t faze me. “I grew up with four brothers, Rookie. Try again.”
Rome jerks backward. “Rookie?”
I shrug. “You’re driving like one.”
Those blue eyes, icy and cold, narrow. I stay rooted in place, whereas he inches forward. The only thing in between us is a large computer screen, the pull from our bodies tight.
I stare at him, flexed jaw and high cheekbones. The first two buttons of his crisp, white shirt are undone, his hair a wavy mess from spending hours in the simulator.
“I’m not driving like a rookie,” he says, slow and steady. “Your engineers just suck. My car is too tight, the tires drop early, and it’s lazy on turn-in.”
Some of that may be true, and adjustments will be made, but my heart is beating too quickly to agree, so I do the opposite, like I’m seven years old again and arguing with my brothers over something ridiculous.
“The car isn’t too tight–youare. The tires are fine. The data proves it.” I lean in even closer, my long hair whisking over the screen of the monitor, illuminating our faces. “And the car isn’t lazy on turn-in…your driving is.”
Something dangerously enticing flashes across Rome’s face. His head tilts in a predatory way, and the air crackles with electricity.I’ve struck a chord, and it was way too much fun.
“You expect me to trust a single word Vanstone’s Princess says aboutmydriving andmycar?” A chuckle rolls off his tongue. “You’re good for one thing and one thing only, Tess.”
My nostrils flare, a tinge of metal on the tip of my tongue from biting down on it.
Rome’s face is inches away from mine. His hot, seedy breath does something to my stomach, sending it on a ride against its own free will.
He smirks. “You’re nothing but pit porn, baby.”
The insult is a slap across the face, but I don’t so much as blink.
“So get out of the sim room, let the engineers back in here, and go home,” he adds.
I pull my lips into a smile—something my opponent doesn’t see coming. A line appears in between his eyebrows, his breaths short and sharp.
“The only engineer you need is already here.”
I pull away from our shared space and take a seat in the head chair. I smooth my hair and place the headset on my head, adjusting the mouthpiece so it’s lined up perfectly with my lips.
Rome peers down at me, the light from the screen deepening every angry curve on his face. “Are you trying to destroy Vanstone all on your own or...”
“I’m trying to keep youfrom destroying it,” I counter. “Now sit down, and let’s get to work.”
He stands tall, his arms crossed over his chest. “I’m not driving with you in my ear. Go get my real team.”
I click a few buttons on the monitor, the large screen behind Rome changing to mimic the adjustments I’ve made. He glances backward before spinning toward me with an angry brow.
“Better be careful insulting your head engineer, Rome.”
Confusion blankets his face. “You’re not–”
I show him my phone screen, another article from Formula One’s most reliable source posted moments after the latest of him switching teams.
Vanstone’s Princess takes on a new lead at Vanstone Racing.
Rome’s lips split with shock, the color on his cheeks turning to an ashen gray.
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding,” he mumbles.
“Get back in the sim. We have some adjustments to make.”
