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“Not in a non-sexual way, of course.”

I lifted my eyebrows higher and reveled in watching him flounder. “Well, there is a factor ofsexuallysince we used to-”

“Tian! Get. Out!” I yelled, through my reluctant laughter.

The playful grimace and him backing sheepishly away added to his charm. It seldom came through in recent years thanks to the pressures of running the firm, but when it did, it was a pop of color in our otherwise sleek, neutral world.

Resettling behind my desk, I realized then that I really was hungry. Tian’s offer of dinner became increasingly tempting. After five more minutes of trying to concentrate but achieving absolutely nothing, I packed away my laptop and slung my purse over my shoulder. I arrived at Tian’s office door less than a minute later, wholeheartedly grateful that Roxiee had gone home an hour ago and bore witness to our argument.

“Still hungry?” I asked.

His eyes cut up and a smile immediately formed across his handsome face.

“I knew you’d come ‘round.” He picked up his keys with a flourish. “I’ve already made a booking.”

Chapter 25

-Raf-

Standing in the watchtower over-looking the raceway, I balled my fists inside my jean pockets while Colton prepped Arlo in the pit lane below. This was his first taste oflegallygoing as fast as his heart desired, and fuck if I wasn’t nervous for the kid.

A part of me panged for what could have been if I’d been gifted the same opportunity as Colton, way back when. But fuck, being here emphasized just how out of place I was within the pro circuit. This simply wasn’t me. Give me the streets any day. Give me the sense of doing something I shouldn’t. The edge of risk that heightened the ever-present adrenaline flowing through my veins whenever I slid behind the wheel. It was a drug. An addiction. A part of me that would never die until I did.

The V6, twin-turbocharged Indy car with Arlo behind the wheel purred up to the checkered line painted on the tarmac, and paused. While I didn’t ‘get’ the obsession of speeding around a tight fucking circuit for five-hundred miles, apprehension for the kid swirled in my gut. So much rode on today’s practice; it was Arlo’s first exposure to the track at speed. While he’d had a few practice runs to acquaint himself with his new Indy car that handled completely different from his Toyota 86, this was the first time Colton was allowing him to open the throttle and blur the boundaries between this life and next.

Beckett—Colton’s closest and most trusted friend, and pit crew chief—bounced his leg restlessly. The entire team seemed to hold a collective breath, and the tension twisted my insides. I paced the length of the large window that overlooked the circuit while listening to the conversation between Beckett and Arlo through the headset.

“Take it easy for the first few, kid. Those corners are going to sneak up a helluva lot faster at one-eighty miles than what they do at sixty.”

“Received,” came Arlo’s shaky voice.

“Colt, you good to go?” Beckett asked.

“When Arlo is,” came his serious reply.

“Arlo, when you’re ready. Treat it like any other time; a couple of pace laps, then on my word, open ‘er up.”

“So, I can go?”

I sniggered and ran my hand over my smirk. Impatient and cocky as per usual.

“You can go, Linetti.”

On Beckett’s confirmation, Arlo’s car revved a couple of times before gaining speed along the opening straight. He sailed effortlessly through the first turn, and through the hairpin. I had to hand it to him; for all the times he ran his mouth, he was taking his tuition on the track extremely seriously. Colton had given the hard word right from their initial meeting, which left Arlo under no illusion that he wasn’t being offered this opportunity to fuck around. It was all or nothing, and Colt and his team wouldn’t accept anything less.

As Arlo tracked around the circuit, Beckett guided him in a firm but calm voice, expertly reading the screens around him and confidently relaying advice or instruction to the kid.

“Last pace lap, Arlo. Next time you pass the start line, race is on.”

“Received.”

Shit, this was the only time where the kid had minimal to say. He’d been under Colton’s guidance for a few weeks now, and every step of the way Arlo had passed the progressive assessments with flying colors. He’d even made mention about seeing out the semester at University, then pulling the pin on his studies—ultimately giving us no doubt that he was grabbing this opportunity with both hands and willing to fight to keep it.

On passing the start/finish line again, Arlo’s speed increased, and once through the first curve, he accelerated along the back straight under Colton’s watchful eye and Beckett’s careful guidance.

I had to admit; it was pretty fucking impressive to see the kid running with the big boys, and while I’d never witnessed Colton race, I was under no illusion that the cocky bastard was every part as good as he claimed to be.

Round and round Arlo went, pushing himself to the limits until Colton finally called him into the pit lane. They were working on increasing his endurance to the level needed to endure five hundred miles at breakneck speed without losing concentration. A mammoth feat in itself, and one I didn’t envy.

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