Page 78 of Over the Limit

“Okay, if that’s the good news, then what’s the bad news?” I ask.

“If something goes wrong, we’re seriously fucked,” he deadpans. “Your job. My job. Fucking toast.” He chuckles, and I’m not sure if he’s joking or being serious. I think maybe a little of both.

“Jesus, Paolo.”

“What? I’m not one to sugarcoat things. We have a lot riding on this and now the global spotlight included. I put my ass on the line suggesting you to be the part and so . . . you need to be that part.”

“Just pile the pressure on. Please.”

Monica Chamalet. She’s how this happened. Clearly, I owe her a lot more than a thank-you over a glass of champagne.

“Opportunities don’t come without consequences,” he says.

“I know but we’re talking—”

“You knew you were being thrown into the fire. This is just proof of it.”

“Lovely.” Sarcasm drips from the two syllables.

“So here’s the deal. I need your focus here. At work. On the gala. I’m going to have you skip attending the next few races until it’s over with. I—”

“That’s the best part,” I protest because it is. The adrenaline. The high of a race day. The anticipation of it all. The buzz that you can all but feel in the paddock.

And that also means not being at the track during a race. There’s nothing more nerve-wracking than watching a race from home, knowing if there’s an accident you feel like you’re a million miles away and helpless.

Truth be told you’re also helpless standing on the premises during a race, but at least you feel like you could do something if needed.

“I know it is. And I know how much you love that aspect, but I need you focused on details and deadlines. On last-minute problems and flawless execution. We have to get this right.”

“I know. I understand.” And I do.

“Great.” He rises to his feet. “This is going to be huge for us, Blair. A game changer. If it goes well, we’ll look like trendsetting heroes. The bar to set every other event against. If it goes bad though . . . Christ. Don’t let it go bad.”

On that more than ominous note, he leaves my office with me staring after him.

Holy. Shit.

When life decides to let you have new chances . . . it definitely ups its game, doesn’t it?

Global television.

“Jesus,” I murmur as I pull my hair up into a messy bun and try to grasp the magnitude of it.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

Blair

“Is now a bad time to talk?” my mom asks.

“No. I have time before they start their engines. Then I won’t be able to hear shit.” I look up at the monitor in the hospitality tent where I’m standing and watch the broadcast. There’s a poetry to the synchronized chaos of the garages. To the dozens of people milling about who all have their set places and know when and where to be. To the drivers who have their headphones on and their focus being tuned to the challenging race ahead of them.

“Good. I’ll be quick. I got your text and wanted to call and tell you how very proud we are of you. To sign that big star and to have the event be televised is such a big deal. You should be so very proud of yourself.”

“I am. And scared. And nervous.” I chuckle.

“You’ve come a long way, kiddo. Who knew volunteering at races would lead to this job that you love?”

“I know. Crazy, isn’t it?” I think back to those days where I used to dream of getting to work for the owning entity of the sport let alone segue it into my dream job.