Page 21 of Racing for Redemption
“Well?” I prompt.
He turns, his expression conflicted. “I… I wanted to apologize. For my behavior in Abu Dhabi. It was unprofessional and… Well, you didn’t deserve that.”
The admission catches me off guard. I study him, searching for any hint of insincerity. Finding none, I nod slowly.
“An apology? From you?”
William’s jaw tightens, but he nods. “Yes. Look, I know I have a reputation for being reckless, and a bit of a hothead, but I promise I’m committed to making this work. For the team and myself. I need this.”
I study him for another moment, weighing his words against his actions in the past. From what I know, he’s not one to apologize or admit fault easily, so this is a significant gesture.
Let's not be petty, Violet.“Apology accepted. And, for what it’s worth, I’m sorry, too. My comment about your F2 results was… unnecessary.”
“Not wrong, though.” A ghost of a smile flickers across his face. “Truce, then?”
I extend my hand. “Truce.”
As our hands meet, William’s grip is firm, warm, and his calloused palm is rough against my skin. He lets his hand linger for a moment before pulling away. “So,” he says, clearing his throat. “When do we start?”
I can’t help but smile at his eagerness. “First thing’s first, we need to announce this to the board and the press. Then, we’ll get you fitted for a seat, run some sim sessions,and—”
A knock at the door interrupts us. Blake pokes his head in, his expression grim.
“Violet, we have a problem. The board called an emergency meeting. Everyone’s here. They want you downstairs. Now.”
My stomach sinks. William looks between us, brow furrowed.
“Well, for once, they’re being extremely useful and efficient.”
“What’s going on?” he asks.
“You don’t have to come in,” I murmur.
He snorts. “And miss the fireworks? Not a chance, Colton. If possible, I want to be there.”
Despite everything, a smile tugs at my lips. I push open the heavy doors, striding in with William close behind.
The board members swivel their heads towards us, expressions ranging from surprise to outright hostility. Chairman Reeves sits at the head of the table, his silver hair gleaming under the harsh lights.
“Ms. Colton,” he says, his voice cold. “I wasn’t aware this was a public meeting.”
I lift my chin. “Gentlemen, allow me to introduce William Foster. Our new driver for the upcoming season.”
The room erupts into chaos. Board members talking over each other, demanding explanations. Reeves pounds his hands on the table, calling for order.
“This is unacceptable,” he growls. “We did not authorize this decision.”
“With all due respect, Chairman,” I counter, “driver selection falls under my purview as Team Principal.”
William steps forward, his voice cutting through the din. “If I may, gentlemen?”
Attention shifts to him. He stands tall, exuding a confidence I haven’t seen before.
“I know I’m not your first choice. Hell, I might not even be your hundredth. But I’m here because I believe in this team. In its legacy. And in its future. And I’m not gonna lie—I’m also playing my game. I needed a team, and Colton Racing was the only one available. Also, my contract was a bargain, so you can stop getting your panties in a twist. I'm not sucking your resources.” I try hard not to facepalm from embarrassment.Why would he say that?
He pauses, meeting each board member’s gaze. “But, if you want results, I’ll deliver them. You want sponsorships? I’ll grovel to bring them in. But most importantly, I’ll fight for every single point, every single position, with everything I’ve got.”
The room falls silent. The board members exchange glances, reassessing.
