I don’t even register how pushy this guy is being because my breath hitches in my throat in anticipation of Travis’ response.
“That’s not happening anytime soon. My life isn’t meant for kids and may never be,” Travis’ words drop like a stone—heavy and harsh, casting a brief silence over the conversation. “The championship is what’s most important right now.”
His finishing statement solidifies that I need to get the hell away from this group and him.
My mind reels, as if, for the first time I’m recognizing the real possibility that even if he knew about the baby I’m carrying he wouldn’t be interested in the least.
The man’s not looking to settle down given that he’s chasing a championshi?—
My thoughts scatter.
A championship. The conversation from earlier. The International Automobile Federation. Travis is speaking with the woman from earlier.
The brief conversation we had in his suite comes rushing back. His obsession with winning. The pieces coalesce as I start to puzzle together who this man is.
Travis is a motorsport driver.
I lose my balance again, but now for entirely different reasons. Images of high-speed cars, metal crushing against metal, piercing screams followed by pained cries take over all five of my senses.
My vision blurs.
“Alyssia, are you alright?” Grant’s there all of a sudden, his voice pulling me back from those horrific memories, as he holds me by the elbow.
“Wh-What?” I shake my head, pulling from his hold to right myself. “I-I’m fine.” I hold up the tray. “Need to take these back.”
On shaky legs, I move around Grant as best I can to clumsily make my departure toward the exit.
CHAPTER 7
Travis
My first public appearance since the ending of last season and I run into her again.
Run into is an exaggeration since she’s doing her best to avoid me. I first spotted Alyssia right before she collided with a man before rushing off behind the door to the kitchen.
It was only a split second, but I could never mistake her for anyone else. Everything about her and that night is etched into my memory like tread on a brand new tire.
I’ve kept my eye on the door she disappeared behind for almost thirty minutes, planning to intercept her. For what, I don’t know. Maybe to demand an explanation as to why she left my bed without so much as an explanation or a fuck you.
Pretty stupid since I’ve never demanded or wanted one of those from a woman before.
With so many people at tonight’s charity event, most of whom are clamoring to meet me to ask about my plans for the upcoming season, it’s been impossible to get a moment to myself.
The most trouble I’ve had is refraining from scowling and asking what the hell did they think my plans were for this season.
To win.
Always to win a world championship. Same as it’s been since I signed my first F1 contract five years ago.
“As I was telling Max earlier, before you walked away,” Éléanor Decaen says. “I’m grateful the teams have finally decided to come together to create greater support for the nonprofit organizations this season.”
I grind my teeth as I look down into my glass of champagne, my thoughts threatening to wander back to Alyssia.
I’m bored by tonight’s event. More than typical. The only reason I’m here tonight is because it’s a pre-season tradition that I, along with all of the other drivers, attend these types of charities to kick off the season in a couple of weeks.
“The added support of the individual teams will allow us to draw even more attention for the programs we support,” Éléanor continues.
As the former head of the Federation’s nonprofit division, her new role is to spearhead this joint venture among all ten of the F1 teams to fund and support adolescents in Europe and North America who dream of entering racing through STEM fields.
