Page 48 of Racing for Redemption
Felix winces at the nickname the press gave him after his three DNFs from leading positions last season. “Low blow, Foster. Low blow.” He kicks me in the rear and barks a laugh. “You’re such a brat.”
Felix has been there through everything—the junior championships, the struggles to find funding, the disappointments and triumphs. When other competitors became rivals, he remained a friend. My only friend besides my manager.
We reach the front door, and I unlock it, stepping aside to let him in first. The house is cool and quiet after the buzz of the Colton facility. Felix immediately makes himself at home, tossing his designer jacket over the back of my couch and kicking off his shoes.
“Nice place,” he says, though he’s been here before. “Very… rustic.”
I glance around at the exposed beams and stone walls, new additions since Felix was last here. “Not everyone wants to live in a glass box that looks like a furniture showroom.”
“My apartment is architectural genius, thank you very much.”
“It’s a fishbowl with uncomfortable chairs,” I counter, heading for the kitchen. “Drink? I’ve got that mango juice you like.”
“The one from that obscure farm market? Hell yes.” Felix follows me, leaning against the counter as I pull two glasses from the cabinet. “So, Colton Racing. How’s that going?”
I pour the bright mango juice, sliding one glass toward him. “Good. Better than I expected, honestly.”
“Considering they were dead last in the championship last year, that’s not saying much.” Felix takes a long pull of his drink. “God, that’s good. I need to find this place you get it from.”
“I’ll text you the address.”
“So, come on, details. How’d you even land the seat? Last I heard, you were persona non grata in the paddock after the Abu Dhabi incident.”
I lean against the opposite counter, sipping my juice and considering how much to share. Felix is a friend—probably my closest in the racing world—but he’s also a competitor. Still, if I can’t trust him, whocanI trust?
“I basically groveled,” I admit with a self-deprecating smile. “James, my manager, said it was impossible for her to even take me in after my stupid outburst after the Abu Dhabi fiasco. But I still asked him to set up a meeting with Violet Colton. I think she only agreed because she knew my results, but she was clear about what I need to do regarding my… anger. And she created some rules.”
“Smart woman.”
“Very.” I nod, remembering that first meeting. “I laid it all out for her—my performance data, my simulator results, myconsistency in varying conditions, especially my expertise in the rain. That I want to be the best for her team.”
“And she bought it?” Felix raises an eyebrow.
“I think she saw an opportunity. I was cheap, hungry, and desperate enough to sign any contract they put in front of me. I just wanted the seat, ya know?” I take another sip of juice. “Plus, I may have charmed everyone on the technical team during the first days I was there.”
“Ah, the Foster charm offensive. I’ve seen it in action.”
“It’s not a—” I stop at Felix’s knowing smirk. “Fine. I made sure to learn everyone’s names. Brought coffee for the garage team. Stayed late to discuss data with the engineers.”
“Classic William. You’ve been doing that since karting.” Felix shakes his head. “Always the hardest worker in the room.”
“It’s called professionalism.”
“It’s called being an overachiever.” Felix’s tone is teasing, but fond. “So, how’s the Team Principal? I’ve only seen her in passing at events. Intense woman. Slightly distant at times.”
Something shifts in my chest at the mention of her. “She’s… dedicated. Smart. Knows the business inside and out.”
“And terrifying, according to paddock rumors.”
I frown. “She’s not terrifying. She’s just focused on saving her family’s team. That’s a noble, if almost impossible, task.”
“Defensive, are we?” Felix’s gaze narrows with interest. “Is she interesting in person then? The cameras make her look like a model who accidentally wandered into the paddock.”
“She’s my boss,” I say firmly, ignoring the heat creeping up my neck. “I don’t think about her that way.”
But even as I say it, it’s not entirely true. It’s not that way, but I think about her. At times. Many things about Violet draw me in—her determination, her intelligence, the rare moments when her professional mask slips and reveals glimpses of passion underneath. The way she speaks about racing with such reverence, the subtle curve of her lips when something amuses her, the scent of her perfume lingering in a room after she’s gone…
“Will.” Felix waves his hand in front of my face. “You completely zoned out. What were you thinking about? Or should I say, who?”
