“Rumours are for people who don’t win,” I said, keeping my voice even. But my pulse wasn’t. It was thudding, just a little too fast.
“And yet, here we are. You do win. A lot. Almost too much.” She bit back, a smirk tugging at the corner of her full lips.
My grip tightened. The mic creaked in my hand. I finally looked at her properly.
She had the kind of eyes that didn’t just see—they dissected. Dark, sharp, knowing. Like she already had the story written and was just waiting for me to confirm it.
“I know what I say,” I said, low and deliberate, leaning forward on my knees. “Next question.”
She didn’t move. Didn’t flinch. Just stayed there, watching me like I was a puzzle she was determined to solve. The reporters around her shifted, uncomfortable, but she didn’t care. She was still smiling, just a little, like she knew something I didn’t.
The press officer called for the next question, but I didn’t look away from her. Not yet.
The rest of the questions barely registered and I gave curt responses when required. I was itching to get out of there and get changed. My gaze kept flicking back to the mysterious newcomer.
Finally it was over and I got to my feet amid the flicker of camera flashes. She moved swiftly across the room to head me off at the exit.
“You’re new,” I said before she could ask me any more awkward questions.
“Observant,” she shot back, tilting her head just enough to make the light catch in her eyes. “And here I thought you only cared about lap times.”
I should’ve walked away. Should’ve ignored her, like I did with every other reporter who thought they could rattle me. But I didn’t.
I paused beside her and peered brazenly at her press pass around her neck. Elena Archer. I dragged my gaze away from the tantalising spot where the top button of her blouse met her golden skin.
She looked up at me, that smirk of hers firmly in place, like she was daring me to do something about it.
“You’re wasting my time,” I said, my voice just for her. “Don’t make me repeat myself.”
I allowed myself to meet her defiant gaze. Dear god, those eyes. “Oh, Champion,” she said, sweet as poison. “You have no idea what’s coming.”
I walked out. The door shut behind me with a click. And for the first time in years, I didn’t just want to win the race tomorrow.
I wanted to break something.
The door had barely swung shut behind me when Terri, my team assistant, appeared at my side like a damn shadow. She was petite and wore her black hair in a sleek bob. She thrust a fresh bottle of water into my hand, her tablet already open to my schedule.
“You’ve got a debrief in twenty, then the sponsor meet-and-greet at—”
“What rumours?” I cut in, my voice sharper than I intended.
Terri blinked, her stylus hovering over the tablet. “Sorry?”
“That woman in there—Archer. What the hell was she talking about?” I twisted the cap off the bottle with more force than necessary. The plastic crackled.
Terri’s eyebrows lifted just a fraction. “Oh. Her. I don’t know, I—”
“Find out.”
She hesitated. “I haven’t heard anything, but I’ll ask around. It’s probably just—”
“Not probably,” I snapped. “Find out. Now.”
Terri flinched—just slightly—but recovered quickly. “Of course. Right away.” She tapped furiously at her tablet, already scrolling through contacts. “I’ll have an answer before the race.”
I exhaled through my nose, the bottle crinkling in my grip. The cold water did nothing to cool the heat under my skin.
“And Terri?”
