Page 110 of Racing for Redemption
“We haven’t seen each other since Melbourne,” I say quietly. “Just texts. Brief ones.”
“She’s been caught up in board meetings and sponsor negotiations. Trying to save this team, William. The very few minutes she has free, she tries to rest. All this travel around the world is making her look like a zombie just going through the motions. She’s not avoiding you. She's just incredibly busy.”
Is that true? The distance in her messages suggested otherwise. She's colder, more analytical, less teasing and weird deadpan humor there. She hasn't changed how she addresses me, but everything else is off right now. Like she's deliberately pushing me away.
“The board’s been watching her like hawks,” Blake continues. “Ready to replace her at the first sign of failure. Yes, they're more open to her at the moment. That Melbourne result bought her breathing room, but they still don’t fully trust her judgment. Losing the points because of this incident has put her back on the chopping board. And now, with this Harrington situation…”
“I’ve made things worse,” I finish.
“Yes, and no. You’ve created a PR mess, certainly. But you’ve also shown loyalty to the team—and to her—that won’t go unnoticed. Once she cools down.”
I run a hand through my hair, trying to process everything. “So, what do I do now?”
“First, rest. That crash with Nicholas was serious, and you need to heal.” Blake’s voice takes on the paternal tone he sometimes uses with younger team members. “Second, prepare for the European triple-header. Imola, Monaco, Barcelona. Violet will be back in the paddock for those.”
My heart skips at the thought of seeing her again. “And then?”
“Then, you show her—and the world—why Colton Racing was right to sign you. Drive like hell, keep your head down, and don’t punch any more Team Principals, no matter what they say.”
A surprised laugh escapes me. “Solid advice.”
“I’m full of it.” Blake’s tone softens. “She’ll come around, William. Just give her time.”
After we disconnect, I sit in the quiet of my driver’s room, turning Blake’s words over in my mind. Violet wearing my watch. Touching it during meetings. Being “emotional” about the Harrington incident.
Maybe I haven’t lost her yet. Maybe I was overthinking.
I pull out my phone and type a message, delete it, type again. What can I say that won’t make things worse? That will cross the professional divide without crossing lines she’s not ready for?
Finally, I settle on simplicity:I’m sorry. I’ll make it right.
I send it, not expecting a reply. Not right away. Maybe not at all.
But as I stand to leave, my phone buzzes. One word appears on the screen:
Monaco.
Not a dismissal. Not forgiveness, either. But a location. A meeting point. A second chance, perhaps. Or, the end of it all.
I press the phone to my chest, something like relief washing through me. The European triple-header. Imola, Monaco, Barcelona. Three races to prove myself. To Colton Racing. To the F1 world. And to Violet.
I slip the phone into my pocket and begin gathering my things. The season is far from over. And so, it seems, is my time with Violet Colton. Time to put my head in the game, filter out the distractions, and hope this bad juju is over for this triple header.
Chapter 31
Belforte
Violet
The Italian morning sun hits my face as I step into the paddock, the familiar scent of fuel and rubber filling my lungs after two months away. My heels click against the asphalt—intense, determined steps that match the rhythm of my pulse. I’ve missed this, though I’d never admit it aloud. The board meetings and sponsor rejections have left a bitter taste in my mouth, but here, surrounded by the whirl of activity, there’s a sense of familiarity, like coming home.
“Feels good to be back, doesn’t it?” Blake says beside me, scanning the paddock with the practiced ease of someone who’s spent decades here.
“Better than another boardroom filled with men who can’t see past my gender to my balance sheets,” I reply, adjusting my jacket. The black suit fits perfectly—a gift from an Italian designer hoping for paddock exposure. I’m happy to oblige; thecut is impeccable, the fabric breathable despite the morning heat beginning to build. I feel good. Refreshed. Confident.
Blake chuckles. “Ah, the joys of high-level negotiations. Speaking of troublesome men…” He pauses, clearing his throat. “I had a word with William after that incident with Dominic.”
I stop walking, turn to face him. “You did what?”
