Page 16 of On The Edge

He nods, a smug look on his face. “Well, Hart. I’m glad you said yes. I wasn’t too keen on firing you and having to retrain someone new. Besides, I’ve had enough drama for one day.”

CHAPTER FIVE

Cruz

This is bullshit.

Utter and total bullshit.

I press the clutch and shift gears, the engine revving with the change.

I watch the speedometer rise slowly as the trees and fields around me become one massive blur of color.

A fucking girlfriend?

Another shift. A subtle lurch of the car as it clicks into place.

A goddamn babysitter?

“How far are you going to let me push you? Huh?” I croon to my rental Ford GT as I eat up the asphalt of the open road before me.

El patriarca not wanting to see me?

The wheel shudders under my grip. The power—pure intoxication.

This blessing and curse of a last name.

Push. Push. Push.

That’s all anybody wants to do to me. All anyone wants from me is to see how far they can push me before I snap.

Just like I am this fucking car.

Sofia: Are you okay? I’m here. You can need me, you know?

Sofia. My little sister gets it. The text she sent me earlier says as much. And no, everything isn’t fine. Far fucking from it. No matter how much she wants it to be, it isn’t. It can’t be. Not when I’m forced to live by his ridiculous standards. By his need for me to live up to what he never could be. Not when she never has had to.

The car shifts again as I add more pressure to the pedal.

I need to get back home to Monaco. Back to my car. To my team. Back to the feel of the track beneath my ass and the power of the engine whining all around me. To the roaring crowds. To the synchronized actions of my pit crew.

To the one place where I feel the most in control of everything. Ironic, really, when that is where I technically have the least control.

My chest aches like my rib cage is closing in.

El patriarca said not to bother coming home to visit before heading to Zandvoort.

My grandfather. My idol.

This goddamn deal. The doe-eyed woman who didn’t know who I was. Maddix. Who treated me with compassion when I don’t fucking deserve it.

The speedometer hits one eighteen. I ease up as tears burn the backs of my eyes and the pit of my stomach churns. As the car slows back down. No need to break it. I’ve already broken enough things that need fixing.

Fucking Kevin and his board don’t think I can do this. Walk their razor-thin line. But I will. Just to spite my father who thinks I’ll screw this deal. Simply because this is a challenge I refuse to prove him right on. I’ll walk both of their lines so damn fine, teetering on the edge of what they want and what I need.

And I’ll win them over. The contract. Genesee Capital. The hundreds of millions that will come with it.

And I’ll prove to my grandfather I’m the man he thinks I am. A true Navarro.