Page 3 of Start Your Engines

“I didn’t mean those trophies.” She points to the shiniest award in the cabinet. “I meant the one I sneaked in after your dad retired.”

I stare at the Best Communications Sports Team award from last year’s British Sports ceremony.

“Your hard work won that, and your determination will make you successful this year. With the guys in there,” shesays, nodding to the boardroom, “you need to be a bitch boss at all times, or they’ll take everything. Don’t show anxiety for a second. It’s you against them. Now, shoulders back and sass on. You’ve got an audience.”

I turn to find my new assistant, Jimmy, staring at me with raised eyebrows, tablet in hand.

“Morning, Jimmy,” I say with a nod, giving Jacs’s shoulder a quick squeeze of thanks before heading to the boardroom. “Are my board, Antoine, and Dax ready for me?”

Jimmy holds out a handful of notes, which I pocket.

“Everyone but Dax is there. Your brother left a message letting you know he’d changed something before he left. You have a new driver,” he calls out as I walk into the boardroom.

The words register slowly as I scan the pinched-lip faces of the suited men staring back at me, several of whom are struggling to hide their belief that they’re more qualified to run the team than me, a twenty-seven-year-old woman. Maybe some of them are still expecting Niki.

I bite the inside of my mouth as I search for the new driver Jimmy mentioned.

I glance at Antoine, who is frowning at the man to his side. My so-called new driver, the man my brother has replaced Dax with without consulting me, looks up from his phone. Our branded clothing covers his lean body. His black hair, beautiful blue eyes, and full lips will probably give me an ulcer. As his eyes lock on mine, he drops his phone and glares.

Connor fucking Dane despises me.

Suddenly, all my plans go straight to hell.

CHAPTER 2

Connor

Senna Coulter staresat me like I’m a piece of shit on the bottom of her shoe.

With her hands on her hips and the man I thought was Niki’s assistant behind her, she looks every inch the big boss.

I cock my head to the side in a show of ambivalence, but my hands itch to call my best friend—former best friend as of this second—to find out what the hell he’s done now.

The woman in front of me reminds me of the Senna I knew, the feisty driver who was once one of my closest friends.

The memory of the last thing she said to me weeks after she was released from the hospital slams into me, making my chest vibrate.I hope one day you know what it’s like to have your life ruined like you’ve ruined mine. I hate your guts. You’re dead to me, Connor Dane.

I can’t forget the angry tears in seventeen-year-old Senna’s eyes as I desperately tried to explain that the crash wasn’t my fault. She has no idea what that crash was truly about, and I’ll never reveal the truth.

A sour taste fills my mouth. I expected to bump into her as she is—was—the comms director, but this changes everything.

“Are you fucking telling me you’re the boss now, Jumps?” I blurt.

Her eyes twitch. She used to hate the nickname because it highlighted her early failures. I grind my teeth. I’ve used it since I was eighteen in an attempt to remove my feelings for her and turn her into a faceless enemy.

She rubs the scar from where she smashed her hand because of me. Bile rises from my gut as I stare at the action. I could destroy the lives of everyone I know and still not hate myself as much as I do now.

“Yes. Niki is gone, and I’m in charge of Coulter Racing.” She pulls her rosy lips into her mouth. Her perfect cheekbones catch my eye, and her eyes sparkle. She’s fucking gorgeous, she always has been, and aside from a wedding I sneaked into last year, this is the closest I’ve been to her in years.Get a grip.

There’s a grunt from Antoine. He despises the idea that a woman is his boss. I hate that guy.

The way her eyes pinch reminds me of how she took down the male drivers during our teenage races. There is a quiver in those eyes, though. I know that movement. I saw it when we were younger and she’d tried to act aggressively around the male drivers to prove she was as good as them. She’s anxious as hell.

“I’m more than the boss,” she says, looking at me and Antoine.

“Yeah?” I ask, standing.

“If you’re on my team, I own you for the season.”

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