Page 89 of Kiss & Collide
Her throat felt like it was in a vise, but she managed to spit out, “I see.”
“Ms. Harper, I’ve been very impressed with your performance. I doubt Pinnacle would look nearly as appealing to Howardwithout your hard work. They’re not particularly interested in entering sports management, but the team’s increased profile excited them.”
She pressed her palm to her forehead as she suppressed a bubble of hysterical laughter. Wasn’t this just fucking ironic?
“Should the sale go through and Howard Capital restructures as I expect they will, I’d like you to come to work for me. It would be a shame for your considerable skills to go to waste.”
“That’s … thank you for the offer, Mr. Hammond,” she said, because this was still her boss and she wasn’t stupid enough to say what she was really thinking.
“We’ll talk more once things are settled. In the meantime, I’m sure I can count on you to keep this information strictly confidential. Pinnacle’s worth right now rests in its public image. We wouldn’t want that tarnished.”
“I understand.”
“Thank you, Ms. Harper. We’ll speak again soon.”
Then he was gone. Violet stared at her phone, dread settling in her limbs like concrete.
She turned back toward the garage, but stopped abruptly. Up ahead, she could see Leon pointing something out to two of the mechanics, and behind him, Rabia laughing at something Imogen had just told her.
Everything she’d done here … everythingeveryonewas doing to turn this team around, to give them a shot at becoming serious contenders … it was all about to be wiped away. And there was nothing she could do to stop it.
37
Chase was in the tiny office assigned to him at the track, changing out of his race gear after qualifying, when his phone vibrated with a call from his agent.
“Hi, Phil. What’s up?”
Most communications came via email and usually from one of Phil’s assistants. He wasn’t sure Phil had ever called him directly.
“Chase! How was qualifying?”
Phil never checked in to see how his races had gone.
“P twelve,” he said cautiously.
“Q two! Excellent, excellent. Listen, I just got off the phone with Antonio Cenelli. We’ve got official interest.”
Chase sat down hard on the folding chair behind him, blinking at the opposite wall. Fuck. This was actually happening. Allegri wanted him to drive for them next season.
He’d stopped by Allegri’s garage on Thursday, as asked. Eric had introduced him to Karl Aurbach, the head of design, and a handful of other Allegri team members. It had been a brief, superficial conversation, but now the legendary Antonio Cenelli, the owner of Allegri, had justcalled his agent.
“Now, there’s a long way to go between this and a formal contract,” Phil continued. “But it’s a good sign that Antonio reached out to me personally to initiate the conversation. I’m drawing up a list of items I think should be a part of any negotiation. If you could let me know what you’d like to have included—”
“What about Pinnacle?”
“Pinnacle?” Phil echoed. “You’ve already got an offer from them—”
“I do?”
“Of course. There was a clause in your contract automatically triggered when you moved up from reserve. And they’d be fools not to re-sign you with the increased funding you’re bringing to the table. But they can’t offer you what Allegri can.”
“I know that.” He’d been so blown away by the idea that Allegri wanted him that he hadn’t even stopped to think about Pinnacle. But now, thinking about Rabia and Leon, the amazing new car Rabia was designing, the pit crew and staff who’d rallied around him this season … Violet.
He glanced at the mirror in the corner, at himself in Pinnacle’s “silver and pewter” race suit and imagined trading it for Allegri’s red. Part of him wanted to scream in triumph at having made it, after all the struggles. But it wasn’tallof him, and that was surprising. This was much more complicated than he’d imagined.
“So start thinking about what you want out of this deal, Chase. This is the moment to think big.” Phil was still chattering, despite Chase having gone silent. “Feel free to ring me up if there’s anything you want to discuss.”
“Sure thing. Thanks, Phil.”
