Page 11 of Start Your Engines

In the reflection of her door, I see her wince and drop her head. It reminds me of my mission, and I practically drag Antoine by his designer shirt collar into the empty men’s bathroom.

“Hey!” He pushes me away and straightens his clothes. “Dilfano gave this to me personally.”

“I presume that’s a designer I don’t give a shit about,” I retort.

“Obviously. You dress like a university student, which is ironic for someone too stupid for?—”

“Just stay away from Senna.” I stand close enough to flick my fingers against his forehead, although I resist the action.

His smirk makes my stomach roll. “How do you expect me to do that, mon cheri? She’s our boss.”

I grit my teeth. “You do what you have to workwise, but don’t flirt with her or do anything that will make me slam my fists in your face. Okay?”

“She wants me, Dane. Trust me on that.”

Someone crashes through the bathroom door, which is lucky for Antoine because every neuron in my head demands I sucker-punch the bastard.

“Stay away. Or I’ll make sure you won’t drive on this or any team again.”

He shrugs as I walk out of the bathroom. I want him away from Senna because I’m protecting her. There’s no other reason.

CHAPTER 5

Senna

Jacs sidlesup to me and whispers, “Take a breath before you hyperventilate.”

I glare at her as the press meanders about the garage. Cameras flash as Antoine drives around the track. We’re in the last thirty minutes of Shakedown.

“Not wanting to jinx anything, but we might have a chance this season,” Jacs says. “The water leak fix is holding.”

“The day isn’t over yet, and Dane still needs to drive a full lap. That water leak happened when he was halfway through his first lap,” I reply as Connor paces the garage. As much as I can’t stand him, he needs this opportunity so we can give the team a chance at success. My phone buzzes with a call.

Jacs raises her eyebrows. “Your dad again?”

I nod and pull a hand down my face.

“He isn’t going to be a silent owner, then.”

Dad’s lecture about Shakedown and that I need to rule the team more forcibly when I was trying to sleep last night has left me on edge. My mum banned him from coming today, but that hasn’t stopped him from calling every hour for a progress report.

“Could you stop pacing, Dane? You’re making me nervous,” I hiss so the press, who have been watching me for hours, don’thear. I shove my hair into a messy bun and glance at him out of the corner of my eye. “We’ll get you back out there in a moment.”

He freezes in the middle of the room. His eyes are wild, and he cracks his knuckles. A question about his anxiety teeters on my tongue. I shake my head. He wouldn’t tell me the truth anyway.

“Can you come in, Antoine?” I grunt into the radio the track staff and my French driver can hear.

“Ma belle, I’m showing the press what the car can do. All is well.”

The people who can hear him chuckle, and I stare each one of them down.

The chuckles transform into coughs and sulking faces. If I need my competitors to see me as a contender, then I need my team to recognise that I’m the boss and can kick their arses. That’s what Dad said. “Antoine, Dane needs a couple of laps in the car. It’s only a fortnight before testing in Bahrain and then a week until the season starts. He needs this opportunity.”

“He’ll have that opportunity in Bahrain. I’m doing this for the press, and he can’t showcase a car like I can.” Antoine’s French accent drips through my headphones. I expect most people melt under his charm, but instead, my back freezes under tension. I pull my bottom teeth over my lip, scratching flesh.

“I need to get out there, Senna.” Dane’s gravelly voice behind me makes me jump. His breath caresses my neck, giving me a pleasant shiver, and I shake my head at my body’s betrayal. It’s muscle memory from when I crushed on him at seventeen. “I should drive the car.”

“I know,” I reply without turning. “I’ll get you in the car before the end of the session.”

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