Xander Castellanos is the owner of Arete Grand Prix Racing and our former boss. His family also owns a shipping company in Greece, and his brother Yanni drives for Arete. Translation: he’s richer than Buffet and Gates combined. So of course he’d have a home in one of the most exclusive districts in the principality.
“Text me when you get there and we can make plans to get together.”
“Absolutely not,” Stefan scoffs. “As we’ve already established, you’re crap at texting. If I left it up to that, we’d never meet. I’ve made reservations for us at Nobu during race weekend. Friday, 6:00.”
“Fine. I’ll put it in my calendar.” Or I would, if I had one. But I’ll be there, even if it means shoving my guilt down deep and pasting on a happy face. I’m not about to disappoint him any more than I already have.
“And bring that new driver of yours. I want to meet him.”
“I’m not sure he’ll be available.” It’s not exactly a lie. Grady’s in some charity fashion show at the Amber Lounge that afternoon with some of the other drivers. But I have no idea how long it’s supposed to last, or whether he’s got plans afterward. And I don’t intend to find out. “And he’s got qualifiers on Saturday.”
“Don’t worry, Grossvater. We won’t keep him up too late.”
“Grandpa?” Now it’s my turn to scoff. “I’m only three years older than you.”
“Three years is three years, and older is older.” I hear Lina’s voice in the background, and he says something to her in German that’s beyond my limited comprehension of the language. “I have to go. Lina has a doctor’s appointment in an hour. See you in Monaco, mein freund.”
He ends the call, and I stuff my cell phone back in my pocket. I should head to the garage—the guys are probably wondering what the hell happened to me—but instead I close my eyes again and let the emotions unearthed by our conversation swamp me. It’s left me with more questions than answers, and I should probably come up with some of the latter before I have to come face-to-face with Stefan—and Lina—in Monaco.
I’m so lost in thought I don’t register that someone else is there until they sit down in the chair next to me, bumping my knee with theirs.
“I didn’t know you were into meditation,” Grady says cheerfully. “So am I. Maybe we could do a session together sometime. Have you ever tried Vipassana?”
My eyes fly open and my head snaps up. “What are you doing here? I thought I told you to take a break.”
“You did.” His grin is an interesting mix of cocky and sheepish. “But I didn’t listen.”
“I can see that. Is this going to be a habit with you? Because if so, it doesn’t bode well for our working relationship.”
“I’ll be a good boy on the track. Promise.” He holds up three fingers in the Boy Scout salute.
I give him my best side-eye. “Were you ever a Boy Scout?”
A brief flash of something that looks like pain crosses his face, almost immediately replaced by the sunshiny grin that I’m beginning to suspect hides some serious wounds. “Nah. Being the son of a world champion had its perks, but it didn’t leave much time for extracurriculars, unless they had four wheels and an engine.”
I mentally kick myself for asking. Our relationship is supposed to be business only, and this is getting way too personal for me.
“I should get going.” I stand abruptly and brush my hands off on my jeans. “The guys in the garage are waiting for me to go through the results of the box run.”
“Count me in.” He jumps up beside me, like an overly eager puppy who wants to show off his new trick. “I want to see how the car is performing.”
I eye him for a long moment, wanting to make him sweat a little. Of course I’m going to say yes. He’s here. It would be stupid not to have him get right to work with the crew.
But I can’t let him think he’s going to be rewarded every time he goes against my wishes. Yes, our relationship needs to be collaborative, but when push comes to shove there can only be one boss, and that boss has to be me.
“You’re here, so you might as well,” I say finally, making sure there’s an appropriate level of disapproval in my tone. “But the next time I tell you to go home and take a break, I expect you to fucking listen.”
“Fine. I’ll behave from now on.”
“Good, because we have a race to run in a few days.” I head down the grandstand, Grady hot on my heels. “And this time, we’re going to finish in the points.”
CHAPTER6
Grady
“Box, next lap. Box, box.”
Ben’s voice is loud and clear in my ear, telling me it’s time for a pit stop.
