“Room,” he managed against my lips.“We should… your room.”
“Right.Yes.”I fumbled for my key card, nearly dropping it twice as Henri’s hands stayed at my waist, his mouth finding my neck.“You’re not helping.”
“Don’t want to help,” he murmured softly into my ear.“I want to do the opposite of help.”
Finally, the door swung open, and we stumbled inside, a tangle of limbs and laughter and three years of pent-up tension.Henri turned me to face him, and suddenly the laughter faded into something more serious, more intense.He was looking at me like I was something precious and completely irresistible all at once.
Henri caught my wrists gently, bringing them to his lips.“Are you sure,ma chérie?Once we do this—”
“Henri.”I freed one hand to cup his face.“I just won Las Vegas.I’ve never been surer of anything in my life.Now stop being a gentleman and kiss me again.”
The laugh that escaped him was warm and rough and perfect.“As you wish.”
I woke to the sound of my phone vibrating against the nightstand.Sunlight streamed through the gap in the hotel curtains, and for a disorienting moment, I couldn’t remember where I was.Then I felt the warmth of Henri’s body beside me, his arm draped across my waist, and last night came rushing back in vivid detail.
My phone rang again.
I carefully extracted myself from his embrace, grabbing a T-shirt from the floor and pulling it on before padding barefoot into the suite’s living room, closing the bedroom door softly behind me.
The phone screen showed an unknown number with a German country code.
My heart stopped.I stared at the buzzing phone, my thumb hovering over the answer button.A German number could only mean one thing.
I swiped to answer, my voice rough with sleep.“Hello?”
“Lily, good morning.This is Felix Hoffmann, Team Principal of Rennen F1.”
The world tilted.Felix Hoffmann.The man who’d built Rennen into one of the most dominant forces in Formula 1.The man whose junior team I’d left when I signed with Valkyrie three years ago.The man who could give me what I’d been chasing during my contract at Valkyrie: a real shot at the World Championship.Even this year, Georgia had already won the championship by sixty-three points in last week’s Grand Prix.
I sank onto the couch, gripping the phone tighter.“Felix,” I managed, my voice steadier than I felt.“Good to hear from you.”
“Likewise.”His tone carried that same measured authority I remembered from my academy days, the thick German accent unchanged.“I hope I’m not interrupting your celebrations.Congratulations on Las Vegas, by the way.Excellent drive.”
“Thank you.”
“Do you have a moment to talk?”
“Of course,” I said.“What’s this about?”
“I think you know, Lily,” he said, and he almost sounded amused.“With Eric moving to another team, we have a seat open at Rennen.And after considerable discussion with our board, we’d like to offer it to you.”
The phone nearly slipped from my hand.The Vegas strip visible through the window suddenly seemed too bright, too surreal, for this moment to be real.
The open Rennen F1 seat was going to betheseat everyone wanted.With the car specs changing next year, Rennen F1 was rumored to have the best engine.No one knew for certain, but they had a history of dominating new regulations.
And theydefinitelyhad the money.
“You want me,” I said slowly, testing the words, “to drive for Rennen F1.”
“We want you towinfor Rennen F1,” Felix corrected.“We’ve watched what you’ve done at Valkyrie over the past three years.You helped contribute to three Constructors’ Championships and had consistent podiums—proof that you can handle the pressure and perform at the highest level.You’ve been instrumental in making Valkyrie one of the top teams on the grid.”
It had been three years of fighting for respect in a male-dominated sport, of proving that a female-run team could compete with—and beat—the established F1 giants.Three years of standing on podiums, of battling wheel-to-wheel with the best drivers in the world, of showing everyone who doubted us that we belonged.
“But we also know you haven’t been given a fair shot at the Driver’s Championship,” Felix continued, as if reading my thoughts.“Georgia is Valkyrie’s priority, as she should be.She’s a three-time World Champion, and Isabelle has built the team’s strategy around her.That’s not going to change.”
He wasn’t wrong.I’d spent my entire time at Valkyrie F1 as the second driver, and I was growing tired of it.Tired of hearing “hold position” over the radio.Tired of watching Georgia spray champagne from the top step while I stood below.
Georgia may be my best friend, but she was also my teammate, and Valkyrie would always choose her.It wasn’t personal; it waspractical.Georgia had proven herself.
