Page 24 of Start Your Engines

“Thank you. Bye, Senna.”

“Bye, Layla.” I smile as I hang up.

I don’t know how to work through everything Layla shared.

“Jimmy, could you find out where the meet-and-greet with the competition winner is right now?” I shout to my assistant as I grab my phone.

As I leave my office, Jimmy pulls up the itinerary. “They should be in the showroom. By the way, your dad called again. He wants to speak to you about Connor’s ‘shitty driving’ during the race.”

“If he calls again, tell him I’m in meetings all day,” I reply and head to the lift.

I can’t speak to Connor about Layla’s revelations, but I need to be close to him.

CHAPTER 11

Connor

Margot,the ten-year-old I’m showing around Coulter offices and the factory, stares at the Lego car in our display area.

I smile as she investigates it from every angle, but I’m distracted by my recent chats with Senna. I shouldn’t tease her to avoid serious conversations, but I can’t talk to her about the race.

I want to be the racing driver I used to be, but there’s no chance. At least I survived my first race.

I glance at one of Niki’s old helmets sitting on a display stand. If he’d been me in the last race I’d probably tell him he needed sleep and to focus on how to stop being scared about getting in the car. I tried some tactics, like blinking several times before the race. They seemed to release enough tension so I could get in the car.

I look at the helmet again. Niki would probably tell me to suck it up and drive.

I’m training all I can, and Silas is impressed with my progress. Then there’s Senna. I’m lucky our radio conversation got me through the race, but I can’t rely on her to speak to me every time. Senna is more than a coping mechanism. Did I really declare to her that I’d rather die than hurt her? Fuckingadrenaline. I’ve replayed her big hazel-eyed stare and gasp too many times in the last few days.

And I can’t stop myself from cheeking her even when I should be an example to others and show her respect. At least I haven’t made her cry again.

I crack my knuckles, drawing a stare from Margot. I smile, and she returns to the car.

I wouldn’t know if I made Senna cry again. She hides everything and thinks she has to do it all alone. I want to support her, not hinder or protect her. Instead, I end up flirting with her.

I hold my hand to my face.

Margot squeals. The car Niki drove two years ago in the British GP draws her like a magnet.

“You could drive something like this in ten years,” I say, walking to the turquoise and black racing car.

Margot stares at me. She’s taken everything in on the tour, asking questions about my career, skills, and training. She reminds me of Senna when we raced each other.

“Your mum says you’re winning against kids older than you at karting,” I say, looking at her mum, who nods enthusiastically. “You could be just like me one day.”

“But women can’t be racing drivers,” she whispers.

“Of course they can,” I reply.

She trails her finger in the air as if she’s too scared to touch Niki’s car.

“There are no female F1 drivers, and Tawny Mackay is the only woman in F2.”

“True.” I nod.

She stares at me. “And one of the boys I race against told me there’ll never be a woman in Formula One because they’re not good enough. And he even said women shouldn’t be in racing.”

I take a deep breath and stare at Margot. “He’s wrong.”

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