Page 35 of Break My Heart

“Older. Just older. I wouldn’t want to damage your fragile ego.”

“Speaking of egos, you’ll be in tight with Apex’s driver?” Alessandro asks.

I nod.

“Have ye met their lead driver yet, ken?” Marcus asks.

I don’t avoid the question. I just give an answer with a precise view. “Not formally.”

David’s brow lifts. “That will be…interesting.”

“Why?”

Marcus exhales a quiet laugh. “I think the three o’ us have kent ye lang enough tae say he’s gaun tae drive ye mental.”

Oh, Marcus. If you only knew. Diplomatically, I ask, “What makes you believe that?”

“He makes yer obsessive perfection look like a rough draft sketched oot by bairns,” Marcus says.

David winces. “That’s horrifyingly accurate.”

I try not to agree with Marcus, thereby spilling the beans that I know Leo in ways none of them ever will. “Wow. You think I can’t handle a little tantrum?”

David grins. “Oh, we have confidence in you. It’s him we’re worried about.”

“Don’t. I’ve got this.”

Alessandro watches me. “You’re going to remind him of that.”

I take another sip. “If necessary.”

The group shifts again. Marcus is pulled away, and David is flagged by someone across the room. But Alessandro lingers. “Your father, he saw systems before he saw people.” Then he corrects himself. “No, he saw the systems in people. You’ll have your hands full with your new role.”

I don’t respond immediately because I know I can’t disagree.

Alessandro studies me for a second longer before nodding and stepping back.

Seconds later, I hear a voice I recognize behind me. “Ms. Gage?”

Turning, I find myself looking up at Leo’s team director and best friend, Dario Morretti. “Mr. Morretti.” I hold out my hand.

He takes my hand in a quick, professional shake. “Both of our drivers are in attendance. Are you ready to meet the team…formally?”

I ignore the slight curve of his lips now that he’s put two and two together before letting my eyes sweep around the room. I find Leo staring directly at us, flabbergasted.

“Yes, I am.” With those words, I know it’s time for me to say goodbye to my sanity for the foreseeable future.

12

NUMB FRONT: NO CONFIDENCE IN FRONT GRIP

Everything at this event is designed to make people feel glamorous. From the red carpet, with the swarm of paparazzi, to the ballroom’s luxurious black-and-white design symbolizing the checkered flags every driver here hungers to capture, I used to be horrified by events like these. They remind me so much of the life I grew up in that my preference is to slink into the darkest corner and hide.

It strikes me then that Christin would have enjoyed herself. She would have made the event fun with her acerbic comments and threats about hacking the lighting to stop it from irritating the drivers because, according to the gala hosts, “It’s supposed to represent your racing blur.”

Instead, I’m trying to keep myself in neutral. Between the irritating lights and being hit on by a woman who looks like she spent more money on her facelift than her boob job, I realize Christin would have been the only real thing in this room. And I properly fucked it all up because I still let them control me.

I do my best to hide my feelings, but Dario notices when he approaches, holding out a flute of champagne. “You can’t bail yet.”