But for now, I had a car to drive. A team to lead. A weekend to survive.
Jax was still talking. Something about a sushi place with a robot waiter.
I picked up my coffee and took a slow sip, letting the heat settle in my chest like a reset.
Practice first.
Everything else could wait.
Chapter Twenty Three – Seoul Friday
Elena Archer – Seoul Circuit Media Centre
The Seoul paddock was in full swing by the time I reached the media centre. The hum of conversation, the clicking of keyboards, the buzz of camera crews—it all blended into the familiar soundtrack of a race weekend. I’d passed three drivers, two team principals, and what I was pretty sure was a K-Pop idol before I even reached the coffee station.
My badge got me through the security doors. Graham had peeled off after breakfast to chase down a contact at Pulse—something about a rumour involving sponsor conflicts—and left me with a list of people he wanted quotes from before lunch.
But that wasn’t what I was really here for.
I scanned the media centre, eyes flicking over familiar faces. Journalists, photographers, a couple of team comms liaisons tapping at tablets… and then I saw her, face lit up with a laugh.
“Caroline,” I said as I drew near. She gave me a small wave and finished her conversation with one of her colleagues.
“Hey,” she said, turning her attention to me. “So apparently, Hawthorn’s new PR woman is a crisis management specialist.”
“Oh, really?” I asked, perching on the edge of the nearby desk. “Is she going to fix Moretti’s damaged reputation?”
“I believe that’s the plan.”
“Good luck to her.”
“Sour grapes, darling?” Caroline asked, fussing with some paperwork. “You two were very friendly last weekend.”
“And then he punched Aleks and didn’t take kindly to me writing about it. I was hardly the only one.”
“Aleks?” She skirted the rest of what I’d said and gave me a pointed look.
“Volkov.” I rushed to cover my tracks. “Tall, Estonian, reigning champion? I thought you reported on this stuff.”
She let out a snort of laughter and shook her magnificent hair. “Sure.”
“So, I wanted to ask…” I stalled, playing with a loose thread on my skirt.
“What?” She stilled and focused on me, a slight frown on her sculpted brow.
“If you wanted to get the best gossip from someone at the FIA, who would you talk to?”
“Oh,” she moved around the desk and perched next to me. “That’s a juicy question. I assume you mean more than the latest intern to fall into Jax Rivers’ bed?”
I pressed my lips together. “Yeah. More like, you know… Secrets?” I whispered the last word.
Caroline leaned closer. “I smell what you’re hinting at. That’s an interesting twist in the story.”
“I’m just gathering information,” I said, putting my hands up in surrender. “Nothing inflammatory to see here.”
“Yeah, sure.” She grinned and nodded. “You want to talk to Jimmy Styles.”
“Never heard of him.”
