Page 17 of Flat Out
Aurélie tilted her head slightly, lips still curved. Her voice was steady and calculated. “He told me to be careful,” she said simply. “I told him to come back to me.” Her smile faltered just a little, almost imperceptibly. “And then I told him about the sabotage.”
The audience fell quiet again.
She looked straight ahead—not at Ava or the crowd, but at the camera. “He didn’t come back.”
Fuck. My heart splintered. Her voice sounded… haunted.
I pressed the sticky note she’d left on my nightstand to my lips. Her handwriting, her words, her scent still lingering on it all making me just a little bit closer to her. “I’m coming back,” I whispered, my voice nearly lost in the room. “I’m coming, mon cœur. Just… give me time.”
"I thought he died, and I've been blaming myself because Itriedto stop it."
I opened my phone and tapped her contact. She was still mic’d and on camera, but I couldn’t help it. My fingers moved on their own.
You look beautiful.
Red looks fucking lethal on you. Pink is still my favorite
I miss you.
I know you're punishing me (super hot btw) but I'm dying without you.
Are you wearing pink panties under all that?
I want you melting for me, love.
Even in pain I want you more than I’ve ever wanted anything.
I'd give up my fifth title for you.
You’re doing so fucking good.
I am SO proud of you, mon amour.
Such a good girl, standing up for what you believe in.
I want to fuck you senseless for it.
You are so strong, Aurélie.
I love you so goddamn much.
I sent them one after another, every part of me yearning to be with her, burying all the physical pain with an emotional one. That was so much worse.
"So, what documentation did you bring them?"
"The most damning evidence I could!" Aurélie cried out, her composure slipping just enough for me to see below the calm exterior as she threw herself forward, hands gripping the armrests of the chair she sat in. "I overheard some of the drivers plotting in Monaco, about how to isolate me. How to keep me from finishing in the points again by targeting those I'm close to. And I recorded the conversation."
"Wait. You're saying theyopenlydiscussed this?"
"Yes, and it's not the first time. I've heard them talk about it before, all the way back to the first race of the season. Callum and I actually argued about this before the Monaco race, because he heard them too. He wanted me to go to the FIA then, but I didn't have concrete evidence, and I knew they wouldn't believe me without it."
"Because you're a woman in a male-dominated industry."
"Precisely."
"Do you have the recording with you now?"
"Ouais. I'm happy to play it." She slipped her hand into the back pocket of her jeans and pulled her phone out. She didn’t flinch on screen—didn’t break—but I saw the flash in her eyes, the quick intake of breath, and her cheeks flush. Andthatwas when I knew she’d seen the messages.
