Page 18 of Fast-Track Fiancé

Suddenly he realised the decision to pass Nina over in favour of signing a much more experienced driver for the remainder of this season had been completely the wrong call. He’d thought he’d been doing the right thing for the team, but he could see now with gut-churning guilt and horror that this should have been Nina’s season with her team, and they were practically allowing their biggest asset to walk into the arms of their vilest competitor. Despite it being an obvious retaliation on Enzo’s part, the senior Accardi would not be pursuing Nina for his team if she weren’t also one of the most prominent rising stars on the track. All he could hope was that his mistake wouldn’t prove too costly—for Nina, for the team...and for himself. He knew now that her skill was practically unmatched, along with her even, cool temperament. If she’d been in the number one Falco Roux seat today, she would already have been ahead, but she continued to stay behind their primary driver, defending him and allowing him to rush towards victory.

As he listened, the crowd went wild as a commentator announced Roberts overtaking into second place right behind Accardi’s number one driver. Unable to look away, he moved closer to a nearby monitor and watched as the cameraman zoomed in on where Nina and Accardi’s number two driver were now battling it out for third place. His whole body tight as a string, he watched as she edged and weaved behind the other driver as they both hurtled in the rain towards the next turn much too fast.

No! Surely she wasn’t planning to... Tristan fought the urge to shout at the screen, controlling his own panicked reaction. But hell, it was a hairpin band on a downhill slant, and surely it was impossible to keep the car under control... But he watched as, to his amazement, Nina feinted in one direction and then, in a move so skilled and sleek the entire crowd gasped, she slid neatly between the other car and the apex of the track to steal neatly into third place.

He was by no means an expert in motorsport, but whatever that was, it was pure poetry in motion. The woman had a gift. A smile transformed his face and he couldn’t help a bellow escaping his chest as he cheered along with the rest of the garage. It was the final lap, and all going well they would have two team members on the podium for the first time. The first time in fifteen years, the commentator announced wildly.

Tristan turned to their team principal, slapping the man on the back and listening as the R & D team continued to monitor their drivers and ensure they kept their positions towards the finish line.

But as Nina pushed to the max around the final lap, the Accardi driver behind her gained pace and grew reckless. Disaster came swift and ruthlessly, as it often did. One touch of his front wing against Nina’s rear tyre was all it took, sending both cars into a helpless spin.

‘No! I’ve lost it, I’ve lost it.’

Her frantic voice was the last thing Tristan heard as her car hydroplaned at speed before careening into the wall.

CHAPTER SEVEN

THE MEDICAL TEAM was quick and efficient as usual in tending to the minor bruising that Nina had incurred when the other driver had hit the back of her car. Incidents of any kind were treated with severity in Elite One, a sport that prided itself on the huge safety improvements they had developed for drivers and crew over the past couple of decades. In no time at all she’d been signed off to return to her hotel, accompanied by her trainer, Sophie, who would stay with her for the night in case of concussion.

Nina had had multiple crashes in her career, as most drivers did. She’d adhered to her safety protocols and kept her cool, much to the compliments of the team, but still...knowing she’d been so close to her first podium finish hurt more than any amount of bruising or damaged pride. She knew that she didn’t have a concussion, but still she was happy for Sophie’s company on the long walk out past the roaring crowds and into a car.

She had foolishly expected Tristan to rush to her side, considering he’d been right above the crash site and had likely had a full view of the entire incident. But he hadn’t appeared in the medical bay, nor had he shown up to check on her in her motorhome with the rest of the management team. She’d been half tempted to text him, to chastise him for jeopardising the legitimacy of their precious ruse. What kind of fiancé didn’t rush to his lover’s side when she’d been injured?

Her needy thoughts had felt silly and pathetic, and she’d angrily shrugged them off, instead opting for the far more mature option of ordering multiple fried foods and desserts to her hotel room, much to the eye-rolling of her beleaguered trainer.

‘I’m just saying there are healthier forms of ice cream on the market now,’ Sophie grumbled as they stepped out of the car service and into the foyer of the team hotel.

‘I don’t want healthy, I want sugar,’ Nina gritted, laying a gentle punch on her long-time friend’s elbow. ‘If you’re nice to me I might even share.’

‘Looks like someone else might have a different idea,’ Sophie said cryptically. ‘Like maybe a little Argentine tango for two?’

‘Tango is always for two, that’s a given.’ Nina stopped speaking as she caught sight of the someone else Sophie had just referenced.

Tristan strode across the hotel foyer, directly towards her. When she’d briefly imagined him rushing to her side while the medic had checked out her bruises, she’d envisioned a little more swoon and romance, but instead he came to a stop in front of her, a scowl transforming his usually flirty features.

‘The doctors cleared you?’ he asked, mouth tight with tension.

‘I’m completely fine. I just need to go to bed.’

‘We were supposed to attend the big party, but I offered to stay with her in case of concussion,’ Sophie said awkwardly, looking from Tristan’s furious face to Nina’s impassive one with rampant curiosity.

‘There’s no need for you to miss the event. Nina will be staying with me.’

‘I most certainly will not be—’

‘Nina,’ he gritted, turning a forced smile to Sophie. ‘Thank you for getting her back safely. Enjoy the party.’

To her horror, he simply grabbed her by the elbow and directed her towards the private elevator that led to the penthouse suite, leaving Sophie waggling her eyebrows gleefully in their wake.

‘Stop manhandling me. You’re walking way too fast.’

He paused, looking down at her with a stricken expression before returning to a slightly more gentle form of manhandling, straight into the lift.

‘This elevator only goes to the penthouse. Your things have already been delivered to my bedroom,’ he stated, punching the only button on the dial and exhaling a long breath as the elevator stuttered and then began to move smoothly upwards. ‘Don’t fight me on this. I’m already only just about holding it together as it is.’

‘I’m sorry if you had plans to socialise and be photographed this evening, but I don’t see how my injury has to change any of that.’

Midnight blue eyes narrowed upon her. ‘You think I’m bothered about us missing a photo call right now?’

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