Page 48 of Formula Chance

When Hendrik is far enough across the space, I tug on her sleeve. “You okay?”

Bex glares at me, but I know her ire is for someone else. “Do I look okay?”

“You look like someone who just got shit on. What Hendrik did was wrong, and we both know it. Hell, everyone watching knows it.”

Rubbing her hands over her face, she huffs out a sigh of irritation. “I don’t know what to do,” she admits.

“You should talk to Luca,” I advise, because what little I’ve seen, she has his respect and he’s the boss of it all.

She shakes her head, hopping off the stool. “I’ll handle it myself. I’m not running to Luca every time Hendrik or Matthieu undermine me.”

“Bex…” But she holds up a hand to stop me.

“I’m fine, Nash.” I’d believe her if I didn’t hear the slight waver in her voice.

I step closer, put my hands on her shoulders. “You’re not fine and it’s okay to admit that. You’re carrying a lot and running into walls. But you’re stronger than they’ll ever know. Don’t let them make you feel like you can’t do this, and more importantly, don’t let them make you feel like you have to do it alone.”

Her wide eyes hold mine for a long moment. “What if I can’t hack it?”

I don’t care who’s watching or what they think of it, but I pull her in and press my lips to her forehead. When I pull back, I tell her a truth I learned long ago. “This sport might be all about the speed, but it’s a long-haul career. This is just one test track run of hundreds you’ll face in your career. Melbourne will be just one race out of hundreds you’ll manage. You’re going to win some and you’re going to lose some. You’re going to have drivers like Matthieu with massive egos, and others who are perfect like me.”

To my relief, Bex barks a laugh. “The point is, you keep your chin up and your backbone steady, no matter what. You would have never been offered this position if you weren’t qualified.”

Bex’s entire face relaxes and I can see gratitude in her expression. “You really mean that?”

“One thing you know about me is I don’t lie. I call it like I see it.”

Her smile is warm, tender. “That you do. Thank you.”

I pull her into a brief hug, my arms tight and offering reassurance. “You’re going to figure this out,” I promise. “And I’ll be cheering you on all the way.”

She nods against my chest, her arms squeezing me briefly before we pull apart.

The session might be over, but the real work—the battles behind the scenes—is just beginning. Bex isn’t just fighting for respect, she’s fighting to prove she belongs here.

And from where I’m standing, she’s going to win.

CHAPTER 17

Nash

Melbourne in Marchis something else. The weather is perfect—warm days with a crisp edge to the evenings. The vibrant city hums with energy, a mix of urban sophistication and laid-back Aussie charm. The Yarra River cuts through the heart of it, flanked by gleaming skyscrapers on one side and sprawling parks on the other. Everywhere you turn, there’s art, street performers and the buzz of people heading to cafés or one of the trendy pubs tucked away in the narrow alleyways known as laneway bars.

And this week in particular, the city comes alive with formula racing fever. Banners for the Melbourne Global Prix drape across every street corner, the air electric with anticipation. Fans meander in their favorite team apparel, and I’m pleasantly surprised to see many in the Titans purple and silver.

We’ve been here two days and we’ve all been hard at work. The garages and temporary hospitality suites have been set up by the logistics team. We’ve had strategy meetings and press events and had our track walk yesterday. I strolled behind Bex, listening in as she analyzed and strategized for every possible scenario. She was hyperfocused and I was pleasantly surprised to see Hendrik defer to her, but that was probably only because Luca was in attendance. It told me that Hendrik knew Luca wouldn’t approve of the way he’s undermining the chief race strategist.

Overall, the team has been a well-oiled machine, and even Matthieu has managed to keep his arrogance in check—mostly.

The nights, though, have been a different kind of intense. I’ve spent them in Bex’s hotel room, because she’s a magnet I can’t resist. Being with her feels easy, natural, like slipping into an old rhythm I thought I’d forgotten. But every morning, I wake up with the same gnawing thought:I can’t promise her a future.

The truthful part of my conscience corrects me.I’m afraid to think of a future with her.

The struggle to keep emotional distance between us is difficult to navigate, as she has been clear her feelings never dulled for me. I can’t truthfully admit the same to her, so I keep a bit of a barrier in place to protect myself. The sponsor party is tonight and it’s an opportunity for me to put a little space between us.

Last night as we were lying in bed, she mentioned it casually. “Are you excited about tomorrow night?”

“It’s more of a job than anything,” I’d replied, because it’s mostly to stroke the egos of the sponsors that pour millions upon millions of dollars into the teams. Our job is to shake hands and pose for photos, as if it’s the part of the job we love the most.

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