Page 27 of Kiss & Collide
“That asshole driver who had a thing for underage girls? You did that?”
She shrugged. “He did it to himself. I just made sure everybody found out about it.”
Rabia assessed her, clearly debating something with herself.
“Spit it out, Rabia. What are you thinking?”
Once again, she and Leon exchanged one of theirglances. Honestly these two practically shared a brain. Put them in charge and Pinnacle would be unstoppable.
“No, seriously. For legal reasons, we can’t talk about it.”
“Comeon…” she groaned.
Leon leaned in and whispered, “All I can say is that Oscar’s employee file can tell some stories.”
“Stories? Like stories that could get him shitcanned?”
Leon mimed locking his lips and throwing away the key.
“But Violet?” Rabia said. “If you can”—she cleared her throat pointedly—“do something about Oscar, you’d have my undying gratitude.”
Leon raised his glass. “And mine. And the gratitude of every other person at Pinnacle.”
“Okay, then. I’ll try.”
Rabia raised her glass, too, waiting for Violet to toast with them.
Part of her still fully believed what she’d said to Chase that first night—Pinnacle was a dead end, and any efforts to change that were doomed. But goddamn it, now that she was here, she couldn’t just stand around and watch this place sink. There it was—her sheer, bloody-minded, obstinate determination.
She tapped her glass against Leon’s and Rabia’s. “Here’s to Pinnacle.”
11Silverstone, England
Violet stopped in the middle of the paddock when she saw the name lighting up her phone.
“Sylvie! Hi. Thanks for getting back to me so fast.”
“Hi, Violet. So this pitch you sent me. I’m intrigued.”
Sylvie was an editor atGQ, and Violet wanted her to write a profile on Chase. It would put him on the map in a global way.
“I’m telling you, he oozes charisma. You’ll love him.”
Sylvie chuckled. “I’m looking at his pictures. You weren’t exaggerating. He’s gorgeous.”
“And there’s the racing angle. A lot to work with here.”
“I agree, but no one outside of racing will have heard of him. I’m just not sure he’s enough to build a profile around. Not yet, anyway. He needs to be recognizable.”
Not what she wanted to hear, but she could work with it. “I just got off the phone withVanity Fair.He’s booked for a photo shoot with them in two weeks.”
“Vanity Fair? Really?”
“Well, not just him,” she conceded. “A photo spread of notable young Americans.” She’d had to call in every favor anyone ever owed her, and hustle her ass off, and it still wasn’t enoughuntil she’d managed to get his photo in front of the editor at exactly the right moment. Nobody might know who Chase Navarro was—yet—but he was beautiful and American and an athlete. And when the baseball player they’d already booked had to pull out at the last minute, it had been enough to get him in the door. Honestly, it was more luck than hustle on her part, but she wasn’t going to let anyone know that.
“If he’s dropping inVanity Fair, that might change the landscape with my bosses. Let me see what I can do.”
“I’ll send you a highlights reel of some of his racing and media appearances. Trust me, once they get a look at him, they’ll say yes.”
