Page 5 of Formula Chance

Her words slip into my ears but I’m still staring at Nash.

God, he looks amazing.

Different though. His dark hair is cropped short, his hazel eyes a little more lined with what one would assume were laugh crinkles since I last saw him three years ago, but it’s probably from pain and worry. His strong jaw, the familiar set of his shoulders, the way he holds himself—it’s like nothing has changed.

Except everything’s changed. We’re not the same people we were when we last spoke, when I last saw him.

I glance at his scarred hands, the brutal proof of how much he’s changed. My heart squeezes with empathy for him.

Brienne continues. “I intend to make this transition to Pittsburgh easy and it will be done over time. We certainly need to discuss logistics and I know there’s a burden with this sort of change. But before we get into that, I think everyone in this room knows my guest, Nash Sinclair.”

He stands there, hands clasped before him as his gaze drifts around the conference room table, nodding silent greetings to the stunned members of the executive team.

When he sees me, rather than sliding by with a polite smile, he remains riveted. He examines my face, as if searching for some sign that I’m anyone other than Bexley Toliver—former fiancée and heartbreaker.

And as expected, painfully so, his eyes glaze over with a frosty dismissal. His attention goes to Markus sitting to my right before moving back to Brienne.

The silence remains heavy, all the big talkers unwilling to say a word. My attention goes back to Brienne, and if I’m not mistaken, there’s a slight smirk on her face that seems to indicate she knows exactly what conversation was taking place in this room just before she arrived.

“I would like to offer Nash Sinclair the open driver’s seat rather than giving it to our reserve driver, Bernie. While he appears to be a fine backup and test driver, we need to look to a stronger future. I believe that rests with someone like Nash, who has the experience in formula racing.”

It was quiet before, but the collective shock seems almost deafening. It’s Michel who finally jolts out of his stupefaction. His face beet red as he stands up, unable to contain himself. “You cannot just make decisions like this. You are new to this sport and don’t know what you’re doing.”

“I am new to this sport,” Brienne replies, in such a friendly tone that it puts Michel further on the defensive, as evidenced by the stiffness in his shoulders. “But I’m not stupid and you shouldn’t treat me as such. However, I am not making this decision. I brought Nash here to talk about it, although it is my preference we offer him the job. I’m more than willing to hear everyone’s opinions.”

Michel doesn’t heed the warning and waves his hand dismissively. “You cannot throw away months of work that we’ve put into Bernie.” His gaze moves to Nash with contempt. “And he’s not a formula driver. He competes in the OWC. You’re going to risk our future with a driver who’s been out of the sport for years? You’re basing this on some romantic idea of redemption?”

The tension crackles on my skin. Michel is red in the face, but Brienne seems cool and collected as she stares back at him. “I’ve invited a discussion, but you seem to have your mind made up, not about Nash, but about me. I wonder why that is?”

“Because I’m the team principal,” he sneers, unable to hold back his contempt. “I’ve been leading this team for the last two years and—”

“You haven’t been able to crack the top five in the Constructor’s Shield,” Brienne says quietly.

Ouch. A not-so-nice reminder that Excalibur Racing—now Titans Racing—wasn’t competitive under his watch.

Michel fumbles for his words and I swear I see steam coming out of his ears. He draws himself up. “This team was built with tradition in mind, not rash decisions like this.”

“And I want to build a team that wins,” she says coolly, glancing over at Nash with a nod. “I think he’ll help us get there.”

“I won’t agree to it,” Michel says adamantly, crossing his arms over his chest.

Brienne’s mouth draws downward, and she shakes her head. “That’s a shame, because I was inviting discussion before a decision is made. I brought this idea to the table for us all to discuss, but you’re making your stand before even listening to all opinions?”

Michel lifts his chin. “I won’t agree to it, no matter what anyone says.”

Brienne nods in understanding. “I’m sorry then, Michel. You’re fired.”

Nadine inhales so sharply she chokes, and I scan the room to see shocked expressions that I assume match my own. Matthieu looks angry, his lips pressed into a flat line. I expect he’d be against Nash since Nash is a better driver and will probably become the number one for the team.

Everyone is simply stunned at the swiftness by which Michel is terminated.

Except for Nash. He looks thoughtful.

Michel’s mouth falls open, his eyes rounding in confusion as his arms fall by his side. “You’re… firing me?”

“That’s right. You’ve proven to me that you can’t work in a collaborative environment and well…” She motions around the room. “This is a team and we all work together for the betterment of Titans Racing. You clearly don’t have that mindset, so I’m firing you effective immediately. I’d like you to leave this room now.”

Michel doesn’t move a muscle, and I doubt anyone dares to breathe. It’s like the world stands still, two opponents facing each other down, but it’s Michel’s shoulders that sag. He grumbles in French, I’m sure unleashing expletives, and storms from the room.

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