CHAPTER3
Ben
I knew this was a bad idea.
I wanted to meet Grady privately. Introduce myself. Get to know him, his thought process, his racing strategy, and let him get to know mine.
But no. Jacques thought it would good publicity if we—I, since Jacques is nowhere in sight—made the announcement in person. In front of four other drivers, fucking Nico Hilliard, his entire crew, and an audience of who knows how many over the airwaves.
I take it back. This isn’t a bad idea. It’s a monumentally stupid one. Doing this on TV. Doing this at all. I’m half tempted to just cut and run.
Then I remember Stefan. And the kids that his charity is going to help. And my ass stays planted on the couch next to Grady, a smile plastered on my face.
Nico inches to the edge of his seat, resting his forearms on his knees. The asshole’s practically salivating at the scoop that’s been dropped in his lap. “So, Ben, I think I speak for us all when I say welcome back to Formula One.”
I’m fairly certain he doesn’t. I wasn’t always the easiest guy to work with. Grumpy. Demanding. Sometimes a little too opinionated. I can name at least five people who won’t be happy to see me back at the track. And that’s just off the top of my head. I’m sure there’s more.
“Thanks, Nico.”
He steeples his fingers under his chin. Any second now he’s going to start drumming them together like a cartoon villain. “But—”
Damn. Why is there always a but?
“I’m curious—as I’m sure our viewers are—why now? You’ve been out of Formula One for almost two years. What made you decide to end your exile and return to racing?”
I knew he was going to go there, but I was hoping he’d throw me a few softball questions first. Butter me up before getting into the rough stuff.
No such luck.
“Things change,” I answer as vaguely as humanly possible.
“And how does Stefan feel about your new position?”
My spine stiffens and my hands ball into fists. Fuck if I know how Stefan feels. I haven’t talked to him in weeks. He’s left me a few voicemail messages, but I haven’t responded. I never know what to say to him.
So guess what, buddy? I know your racing career is over and it’s my damn fault, but I’m going back to F1 and fingers crossed I won’t fuck up some other guy’s life the way I fucked up yours.
Not that I’m admitting any of that to Nico fucking Hilliard.
I’m about to make some sort of biting comeback when Grady jumps in.
“I’m sure Stefan’s happy to see Ben back on the headset, like we all are. Ben’s a great race engineer. One of the best.”
Nico’s lips curl into a grotesque, sugary-sweet smile. This guy really is a cartoon villain come to life. “So you feel safe in his hands?”
“Of course I do,” Grady says archly. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out that he’s struggling to keep his tone civil. He doesn’t like this line of questioning any more than I do. “Why wouldn’t I?”
“You’re not afraid of a repeat of what happened to his last driver?”
I’m two seconds from jumping up and storming out of the room—fuck the cameras and the people who’ll be watching this—but Grady beats me to it, leaping out of his seat and ripping off his mic.
“This interview is over.”
“You can’t do that,” Nico protests.
“Watch me.”
Nico’s next words are lost on Grady, who’s halfway to the door. I follow suit, figuring it’s better to break protocol and go with him than stay and face more of Nico’s grilling.
