Page 91 of Start Your Engines

“Macca,” I press.

“When we’re in Austin in a couple of weeks, it’s my kid's birthday after.”

“Monday after the Sunday race. She’ll be three years old.” I don’t know the birthdays and ages of all my team, but some stick with me.

He grins. “Yeah. I know it isn’t a milestone, but I’ve never missed her birthday. Half the day will be gone when I get home from the race. I wanted to be there when she woke and opened her presents.” He shrugs again. “But it’s nothing. There will be other birthdays.”

My dad never raced home for my birthdays, and while I understand why, more than ever now I’m the boss, it’s not the life I want for my team. “Your girl matters. We’ll get you home for it. I can’t have you miss the race?—”

“I wouldn’t want to. My wife and I knew this life when I joined. She makes my dreams possible.”

Like my mum did. Always behind the scenes.

“I’m glad you’ve got her. But I have a private jet, Macca. As soon as the race ends, we’ll get you a helicopter to the airport and you’ll be home to wake up with your girl or we can bring your wife and daughter here and book a suite in my name.”

Macca embraces me with tears in his eyes. “Thank you, boss. I just…thank you. You’ve made this team a place I want to be. You’re the best.”

I hug him hard. “It’s the least I can do.”

“There’s no other bosses like you, and we’ve never had anything like your support. And thank you for what you’ve done for Connor and Tawny. You’ve made this a team to be proud of.”

“Ma belle,” Antoine calls out, and my head throbs.

I wipe a hand down my face as he walks over.

“Do you need me to get him kicked out?” Macca asks, and I nearly hug him again.

I shake my head. “I’ve got this, but thank you.”

He nods and steps away, shooing a couple of other staff so no one can overhear my conversation.

Antoine attempts to kiss my cheeks, but I step back, folding my arms. “No, Antoine. I don’t want your greetings or whatever bullshit you have up your sleeve. What are you doing here?”

“I’ve come to apologise.” His smile is as fake as his words. His eyebrows waggle. “I promise not to willy wang.”

I set my jaw and give him the sourest look in my arsenal, but it goes unnoticed. “Apologise, then.”

“You are cross with me. How can I make it up to you?”

“You can apologise and then leave. You’ll never return to this team, and I’ll never trust you again.” A dark look crosses his face, but I need to say this, or his family will keep pushing me through my dad. “I don’t care what deal you think you have with my dad. I run this team, and as long as I do, you’ll not be welcome back into my offices, garage, or anywhere else related to Coulter Racing. You’re dangerous and always have been.” I drop my voice. “I know you’re the real reason my racing career ended. You’re an arrogant prick who thinks he’s better than everyone else. Get out of my garage before I kick you out.”

Antoine grabs my shoulder hard enough to bruise it. “Senna, you’d best be careful who you’re speaking to. You might not be boss forever.”

“Get your fucking hands off her!” Connor strides over. His face burns red.

Over Antoine’s shoulder, I see every member of the garage stare at Connor and then me and Antoine.

“I can handle this, Connor,” I reply, but he’s already grabbing Antoine’s designer cashmere sweater.

“Get your hands off me, pretty boy,” Antoine replies, pulling himself out of Connor’s grasp before brushing himself down.

“Go now, or I’ll pick you up and throw you out myself,” Connor snaps.

“Connor, I’ve got this. I can do it by myself.”

“But you don’t have to,” Connor replies, and I stare at him. “You have a team that will fight for you.”

He points at the whole garage, who look at the ceiling or floor before picking up tools or their phones to appear like they’re not watching.

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