Page 111 of Over the Limit

I need to clear my fucking head. Get it where it needs to be. Get in the zone.

Once I close the door at my back to block out his footsteps behind me, I lean back against it and squeeze my eyes shut.

What the actual fuck.

But when I grab my phone to call Blair, to see how the fuck Rossi found out, I remember there’s zero service where our team suite is located this race.

None.

And so I’m figuratively and literally left in the dark.

Rossi knows.

The only question left is how I’m going to protect Blair and her job from the fallout.

CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

Blair

They drive like madmen.

Like men racing with something to prove.

Like lovers trying to win my favor by claiming the best grid position for the day.

None of it—their high finishes, the team is ecstatic that they finally finished with second-row grid positions, that this might be a turning point in their season—makes me feel any better.

Not in the least.

Instead, I stood in the Formula 1 suite with my heart in my throat and a ball of nerves in my stomach, watching the day unfold lap by lap on the telecast.

The frantic texts I sent to Lachlan hours ago went unanswered.

Clearly, he knows by now that Rossi knows about us. That’s a given.

Fuck. Just fuck.

They’re doing what they do best. Racing. Wowing the crowds. Being the incredible drivers, I know them to be.

But by the optics from the cameras panning over the garage and the drivers themselves, there was a solemnity in the Apex garage.

Rossi has had his sunglasses on the whole time and his jaw is set in that don’t fuck with me attitude he has.

Lachlan’s usual smile is missing. He keeps his head down and doesn’t joke with the cameraman like normal.

They both had their best day of the season so far—but none of that matters.

The damn mint wrappers.

The ones I thought were so cute—my constant reminder that Lachlan had made an effort to see me—were also what made Rossi see us.

The irony isn’t lost on me.

To remember me by.

Guess that didn’t turn out as well as we thought.

I stress over it as I head back to the hotel. Their work is far from done at the track, but right now it’s the last place I want to be.