Page 3 of Formula Chance

But at the same time, there’s a spark in my chest, this flicker of excitement. It’s all about possibility, renewal and vindication.

Formula International.

It was always my dream to race at the highest level, and I was there once before.

Can I go back?

Do I dare?

“Okay,” I say, the word coming out quieter than I expect. “I’ll do it.”

Brienne smiles with such confidence I realize she knew that would be my answer. “Great. I’ve got my private jet waiting for us. We’ll fly to Pittsburgh, and I’ll show you the new headquarters. Did I tell you I bought us a wind tunnel?”

My jaw drops. That kind of technology can make a huge difference in the aerodynamics of the car—the difference between winning and losing. Not all race teams have them as they can cost upward of fifty million dollars and the fact that she’s just so nonchalantly throwing it out there makes me wonder what other surprises she has in store for Titans Racing.

Another thrill of yearning courses through me and for the first time, it outweighs the fear.

“You’ll get the grand tour of the new headquarters. We’ve been working hard on it since I acquired the team.”

“Are you going to close down the Guildford operations?” I ask, wondering about the team’s original headquarters based in England.

“Eventually, but there will be a transition period over the course of this season,” she says and then sweeps her hand toward the door. “Now, are you ready to go?”

I glance at Greg, who makes a shooing motion. “I’ll handle getting you checked out of your hotel, and we’ll meet up…” Greg looks to Brienne, unsure of the exact game plan.

She smiles politely. “I’ll have my jet fly him wherever he wants to go after he meets with the team.”

We spend a few minutes ironing out details. My plan was to catch a quick flight to Detroit to see my parents before I had to head off to track testing in Florida but who knows where I’ll end up now.

I know Greg will already be working up the numbers—what is my value? How will I get out of my existing contract? What is the amount that will induce me to return, assuming I’m even offered the job?

I’ll be looking to him to steer me right, but truth be told, I’d probably accept peanuts to return to formula racing. Now that I’ve made the mental leap that I can do this—I’m sure of it—I’ve got to figure out how to convince the executive team that I’m the right decision.

I’ve got a chance at redemption. I’ve got a chance to prove myself. And as much as I’m terrified, I can’t let this slip through my fingers.

CHAPTER 2

Bexley

Yes, this mustbe a dream because as I look around at the people in this room, I’m having a hard time comprehending this is my life. The long, polished conference table is bare, showcasing the intricately carved Titans Racing logo in the center, epoxied in the same purple and gray of this city’s hockey team.

I’ve never been to Pittsburgh before and I’m suffering serious jet lag, but when the Titans Racing owner, Brienne Norcross, says to cross the pond for a meeting… well, you hop across the pond.

The hum of conversation buzzes around me like the vibrating drone of a bee’s wings, yet my mind can’t seem to break through what’s actually being said. I only met these people a week ago, but I already feel the weight of their expectations.

I can also hear their discontent, and they don’t seem to care that I’m listening.

No one has made an effort to include me in the discussion, which is mostly focused on their bitter disappointment that they’ve been summoned. Instead, I focus on my surroundings and keep my ears open.

The meeting room is spacious, bright and modern, with sleek, angular furniture that stands out against the gleaming white floors. The walls are a soft, muted gray with accents that give the room an industrial yet polished feel. It’s a far cry from the headquarters in Guildford, England, where racing history hangs thick in the air.

But that was then… when this company used to be known as Excalibur Racing.

This is now, and it looks like Titans Racing will be moving to Pittsburgh.

I slide my fingers over the surface of the conference table, not willing to join in the grumbles from the higher-ups. I just got this job—chief strategy engineer—and I’m not about to do anything to muck it up.

“Brienne’s going to lose half the staff with this move,” Michel Dubois says. As the team principal and highest-ranking member of the executive team, he’s controlling the conversation, his lilting French accent at odds with his harsh tone.

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