Page 53 of Close Contact
I’d barely had time to process that or the fact that he’d said it without regret, like it wasn’t a mistake. He didn’t look nervous, either. Only steadfast andsure.It all stayed with me, and I wasn’t ready to let them go.
I let the question land and took my time before responding, the memories ofCallum’svoice in my ear, his arms around me, his unwavering belief in me flashing through my mind. For a brief moment, I worried how they might twist my words, but at the same time, I didn’t care any more. Professionally, I looked up to him. Personally, I cared for him. And however they decided to spin that… well, I’d cross that bridge when I got to it.
“I greatly respect and admireCallum,” I said, my voice steady. “He’s faced more adversity getting to where he is now than most people will ever understand. His career is a testament to his talent, his grit, and his drive. He is one of the greatest of all time—no question about it. And the fact that he could have been frustrated about today but instead chose to support me? That means the world.”
My love,I left unsaid, hoping he knew what I was really saying instead.
The murmurs returned, louder this time, but I didn’t let them distract me. The truth had been spoken, and I didn’t owe them anything more.
Another reporter stood, steering the conversation forward. “Aurélie, what’s next?”
The corner of my mouth lifted into a smile, the adrenaline and pride of the day still coursing through me. The rain had let up, leaving a glistening sheen on the surface under the setting sun that was beginning to evaporate. My suit, and my team’suniforms as they lingered, were soaked and catching the golden light. It was a beautiful way to end the day.
“Next?” I repeated, letting the word linger. “More. This isn’t the end of the story—it’s just the beginning.”
I steppedonto the top podium, my small hundred and sixty centimeter frame looming over the hundred and eighty-five centimeter Vanguard drivers on either side of me. I felt on top of the world up here. Rain clung to my hair, soaking into the folds of my suit, but I didn’t care. This wasmywin. I had conquered the crown jewel of Formula 1, and every drop of rain felt like champagne against my skin.
The French anthem began, a regal melody that sent shivers down my spine. I glanced to my left. Callumstood there, his face calm but his eyes warm with pride. On my right, Marco gave me a cheeky wink, his grin as wide as the Mediterranean.
And then… me on the top. Standing above two world champions while in my rookie season. It was a dream I never imagined when I stepped into the paddock for pre-season testing.
The trophy was handed to me, gleaming under the spotlights. It was heavier than I expected—heavier than theP3trophies I’d gotten. I raised it high despite the ache in my shoulders, the crowd’s cheers swelling as camera flashes lit up the drizzle around us.
Then the champagne spray began. Marco wasted no time, aiming straight for me with an impish gleam in his eyes. I squealed as the ice-cold liquid drenched me, my grip on the trophy faltering as I laughed.Callumretaliated, his spray catching Marco mid-laugh, and I used the distraction to aim at both of them. The three of us dissolved into laughter, the champagne fizzing in the air around us, mixing with the rain and the scent of victory.
I let myself revel in it. This wasn’t just a win—it was a declaration. Against the odds, against the doubts, against everyone.
My eyes scanned the crowd, soaking in every face, every cheer. Somewhere in the chaos, I spotted a young girl perched on her father’s shoulders, a handmade sign clutched in her hands:
Girls Can Win Too!
I raised the trophy higher, hoping she—and every other little girl watching—could see themselves in me. This moment was theirs, too. A reminder that they didn’t have to stay on the sidelines. That they could take the leap.
By the time the podium ceremony ended, I was drenched and shivering. The crowd was still screaming. My skin was still tingling. My racing suit was soaked—rain, champagne, sweat—and I was vibrating with something feral anduncontainable.
I ducked under the barriers, nodding at the security guard who let me pass back toward the paddock. I just needed a second. To breathe. To cry. To scream. Something.
My hands unzipped my race suit and tugged it down to my waist, but I didn’t make it more than three steps before I heard his voice.
“Aurélie.”
I turned, andCallumwas already there. Hair plastered to his forehead, his suit undone like mine, revealing soaked black fireproofs clinging to every hard line of his chest. His eyes blazed—no mask, no performance—just admiration andyearning.
I opened my mouth to say something, but he didn’t give me the chance.
He grabbed my wrist, tugged me into a shadowed edge of the hospitality compound, and then he kissed me like he’d been waiting his whole fucking life. I gasped against his mouth as he pressed me into the wall, his hands on either side of my head. The wet fabric of his suit brushed mine, zippers clashing as we collided. It was all mouths, teeth, pants.
“Callum—” I choked, breathless.
He pulled back just enough to whisper, “You win like that again, love, and I’ll fuck you on the hood of the fucking car next time.”
“MonDieu,” I exhaled, knees going weak. “I think I just came from the words alone.”
He groaned, pressing his forehead to mine, then dragged his mouth down to my jaw, my throat, biting gently at the soaked collar of my suit. His hand slid to my waist and gripped the curve of my hip.
“I couldn’t keep my eyes off you,” he murmured against my skin. “You drove like a fucking goddess. I wanted to rip this suit off you the second you overtook me.”
“You called me your love,” I whispered, my handsfistinghis suit by his hips, finally finding my words as I pulled his hips closer. “You said?—”
