Page 44 of Racing for Redemption
Blake nods stiffly beside me.
“We’ll discuss the details closer to the race,” I say, not fully committing, but not refusing either. We need this money too desperately to dismiss him outright.
“Excellent. Please take your time to consider. Take however long you need to be one hundred percent sure of this.” Silas’ smile broadens. “I look forward to meeting you in person, Violet. I believe we’ll accomplish great things together.”
The call ends, and I lean back in my chair, exhaling slowly.
“Well,” Blake says after a moment of silence. “That was…”
“Not what I expected,” I finish for him. “He’s very…”
“Charming? Laidback?” Blake offers. “For a mafia guy?”
“Yes.” I rub my temples, feeling the beginnings of a headache. “Toocharming and laid back, maybe.”
“You’re not seriously considering going to his villa, are you?” Blake’s concern is evident. “That seems like the beginning of a crime documentary.”
I stand up, needing to move. “I don’t know. Everything feels too perfect. Why would someone like him want to invest in us? We’re a backmarker team with a decade of failure behind us.”
“Maybe he really is a fan.”
“Or, maybe he needs a high-profile way to launder money,” I counter, pacing the small room. “Though, why choose a struggling team for that? If visibility is the goal, there are better options.”
Blake watches me pace. “He seemed sincere about admiring your father.”
“People like that are trained to seem sincere about everything.” I stop at the window, looking out at the factory where our team is building a car that might be competitive if we had the proper funding. “But he’s right about one thing—F1 has never been particularly ‘choosy’ about where money comes from.”
“There’s a difference between sportswashing for a questionable government and taking money from an actual criminal organization,” Blake points out.
“Is there?” I turn to face him. “Honestly, I’m not sure there is anymore. Also, we’re taking money from his company, not his mafia family. Although, I can already imagine people online making the wrong connection.”
Blake shifts uncomfortably. “I still don’t like the idea of you meeting him alone.”
“Who said anything about alone?” I manage a small smile. “You heard him—you’re invited, too.”
“Oh joy.” Blake deadpans. “Just how I want to spend a race weekend—playing bodyguard at a mobster’s villa.”
I return to my seat, suddenly exhausted. “I’ve been in worse situations, Blake. The biggest monsters aren’t usually the criminals, anyway. They’re the wolves in sheep’s clothing—the paddock predators with their perfect public images.”
Blake raises an eyebrow. “What does that mean?”
I shake my head. “Nothing specific. Just… I’ve seen things in this sport. Heard things. Some of those ‘gentlemen’ Team Principals have done things that would make Silas Belforte look like a choirboy.”
“That’s not exactly reassuring,” Blake mutters.
“My point is—I’m willing to give him a chance. His money could save this team. And surprisingly, I wasn’t irked by him.” I tap my fingers against the table. “Besides, if something happens to me, you’ll take over as Team Principal.”
Blake stares at me, horrified. “Absolutely not. I’m operations, not leadership.”
“Too bad.” I flash him a grin. “It’s in my will. If I die mysteriously, Colton Racing is your problem.”
“That’s not funny, Violet.”
“It’s a little funny.” I gather my papers. “Besides, I’m not married, no kids. Someone has to carry on the family business if Belforte decides to fit me with concrete shoes.” I tap on his shoulder. "You're like family, so I'm leaving the team to you."
Blake shakes his head, but I catch the reluctant smile tugging at his lips. “You have a morbid sense of humor.”
“Comes with the territory.” I stand, straightening my blazer. “Now, I need to review the aero data before I head home. The season starts in a few weeks, and mafia-tied sponsor or not, we need to be ready.”
