Page 21 of Close Contact
“Base salary. But, it’s a decent perk,” he admitted, joining me at the railing. “Though I’d argue the company tonight makes it worth more.”
I rolled my eyes but didn’t hide my amusement. “Smooth, Fraser. Really smooth.”
He grinned, leaning his forearms on the railing, his profile illuminated by the terrace lights. “You’re the one who brought up the price tag. I’m just defending my lifestyle choices.”
I shook my head, the playful banter a welcome distraction from the storm that had been brewing inside me all day.
The warm breeze swept over my skin, carrying with it a mix of salt from the nearby sea and the faint floral scent of the city’s night air. It was soothing, as if Monaco itself was trying to erase the tension etched into my muscles.
But even as it eased, the weight in my heart remained. I traced the rim of my wine glass with my finger, the words building in my throat before I could stop them.
“I’ve been here before,” I said softly, my gaze fixed on the city below. “Monaco.”
“Most of us have,” Callum replied. “F1’s playground, right?”
“Not like this,” I said, shaking my head. “Not… like this.” All the things I couldn’t say just yet dangled between us. “I wanted to make it on my own merit.” My voice broke. “Not because I was desperate. Not because it was the only way I could keep my career afloat. I wanted it to be earned—respected. And I couldn’t even do that.”
He didn’t press, didn’t fill the silence with unnecessary words. It was one of the things I was starting to appreciate about him—his ability to just… be there. It made the next words easier to say.
“It was last year, during theF2season,” I began. “I was in a… relationship with my team principal.”
That caught his attention. His gaze sharpened, but he stayed quiet, letting me continue.
“It started in Monaco, just a few races into the season. He was always in my ear on thecomms, always found excuses to pull me aside or talk after meetings. I should’ve seen it for what it was, but I didn’t. I thought… I thought he saw me.
“He told me it had to be a secret. That no one could know, or they’d think I was sleeping my way to the top. He said he was protecting me, but now I see… it wasn’t about protecting me at all. He was older, and he… he made me feel special.” My voice faltered, and I took a deep breath, gripping the glass tighter.
“At the time, I was struggling. My parents were more focused on my brother’sF1career, and I was”—I sighed, embarrassed—“lonely. I was having my best season inF2, but the pay wasn’t great. I was traveling constantly, going back to the vineyard to work whenever I could. I wasn’t really living.”
“So Santino stepped in,”Calluminterjected, his voice steady but low. I tried to piece together the words that I hadn’t dared to say out loud before. He felt like a lifeline I didn’t know I needed.
“Yeah.” I laughed bitterly, the sound hollow.
“He was supposed to help you, not… exploit you,”Callumgrowled, his hands clenching into fists. The muscles in his jaw feathered, his simmering rage barely contained, and even in the moonlight I could see the fire in his eyes.
I swallowed, frowning down into my wine glass. “Yeah. He’d always find a reason to be near me, to talk to me. And I let him. Because for the first time, someone was offering to take care of me. It felt nice. Until it didn’t.” I stared at the city lights, the memory cutting sharper than I’d expected. “I caught him cheating near the end of the championship. With a woman closer to his age, someone…” I sniffed. “She wasn’t a driver,” I forced the words out. “She worked in finance. Sleek, polished, feminine. Everything I’m not. It hit me then—maybe men like him wouldn’t want someone like me. Someone who drives cars for a living, who could win championships. Maybe they’d resent me for it.”
I pulled my hand from his, running my hands through my tangled ponytail. “At that moment, I couldn’t help but think—was this it? Was this what men wanted? Someone effortless, polished, who could sit behind a desk and not risk breaking a nail or their bones for a living, who didn’t have grease under her nails or sweat flattening her hair after a race?”
“You can’t possibly believe that,”Callumsaid. “You are easily the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. Surely you see that.”
My girly feelings swelled inside of me, my heartpitter-patteringand my blood heating. “Oh.”
“You don’t see that,” he deadpanned, and I slowly shook my head. “How?”
“Because I’ve spent so long trying to fit into this world, trying to be taken seriously alongside men who see me as a competitor and nothing more,” I admitted, my voice carrying the years of insecurity. “I never made time for the frills, the makeup, the delicate things that seem to come so naturally to other women. I dress up when I really want to, and God do I want to more, or when I have to. Andfuck, I know how that sounds. Like I’m one of those girls who thinks I’m different or cool because Ididn’tdo that.
“But it wasn’t that. It was about armor. It was the only way I knew how to survive in a world that doesn’tmake spacefor softness. I’ve always had to be seen as serious rather than giving myself space to be delicate. I keep cutting pieces of myself off to fit into a world that never really wanted me to begin with. And now—” I cut myself off as I choked on a sob, remembering everything I overhead my team say about me today. “Not even my own fucking team sees me as a normal woman. Well, at least, not until today.”
Callumgrabbed my shoulder and turned me toward him, his touch warm and comforting—so different from all the hands that had tried to control me before. “What are you talking about?”
I hesitated, then told him what they’d said. Their comments on my body, how they hadn’t noticed it under my race suituntil that edit came out. The derogatory comments they and the internet made about me.
His eyes searched mine with a mix of understanding and something more. “You don’t need any of the frills,Aurélie,” he said firmly. “You’re incredible just the way you are. Your determination, your passion for this sport, who you are at your core—it sets you apart in a way that no amount of makeup ever could.”
His words wrapped around me like a warm embrace. It was as if he saw through all the layers I had carefully constructed to shield myself from judgment, peeling them away to reveal the woman beneath.
“And besides,”Callumcontinued, his voice turning teasing, “I highly doubt any of those men would even know what to do with a woman as fierce as you. They’d be too busy trying to keep up with your speed on and off the track.” His grin was infectious, lighting up his face. “Also, I’m pretty sure no one else can rock grease-stained nails quite like you.”
