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“Not happening. I’m not leaving your side, Angel. So get that thought out of your head. We’re a team, okay? My past is what’s caused this mess, so I’ll be there every step of the way.”
I nod and lay my forehead against his, savoring this moment. The calm before the storm, but after the hurricane.
“Are you going to lose your drive?” I ask the question that has been eating away at me all afternoon. The thought of his career suffering because of my actions guts me. Brody pulls back and looks at me in surprise.
“What? No. Where did that come from?” He cups my face and gently forces me to look up at him.
“Summer said you were having it out with Connor. That your fighting could be grounds for suspension or even dismissal.” If he loses his drive because of me, I’ll be devastated. He belongs in that car.
He shakes his head. “Louise messaged to say the team has been fined. Improper conduct or some shit like that. The team will probably make it come out of my pocket, but none of that matters. I’d do it all over again if it meant getting you justice.”
“Thank you,” I whisper, as I sink back into his embrace.
“Always, Angel.” He lifts my chin again to drop a soft kiss to my forehead before nodding to the bathroom. “Want me to run you a bath?”
I groan. “That sounds heavenly.”
Our flight to Silverbell leaves in a few hours, and I’m looking forward to getting home. The past few days have been filled with enough drama to last me a lifetime. I feel like I could sleep for a week and still be tired. My phone buzzes on the dressing table, undoubtedly my mother checking up on me again.
The knocking at the door has Brody striding out of the bathroom, freshly shaven and looking divine. He’s in jeans and a fitted pale blue tee that stretches across his toned chest like it was made for him. “You expecting someone?”
“No,” I say, heading to the door and cautiously opening it. Marion and Olivier greet me and I invite them in with a smile.
“Look what the cat dragged in,” Brody jokes, fist bumping Olivier and kissing Marion on the cheek.
“Hardy-har-har, Spencer. We just wanted to drop in before you leave. See how you’re doing, Rosie.” His eyes meet mine and they’re kind and full of sympathy. The gossip in the paddock almost puts Silverbell to shame. Although I’m sure being the latest front-page news doesn’t help either.
“I’m doing good, thank you.” Of all the other drivers and their partners, these two are the ones I feel I’ve connected to the most. Marion has been so welcoming and I always enjoy our conversations, regardless of duration.
Marion engulfs me in a hug, her floral perfume reminding me of home. It takes me a moment, but when I recover from the surprise, I hug her right back.
“You had us worried.” We sit on the couch, and I slip my feet under me, getting comfortable. The tiredness is no joke and I’m hoping it will ease off soon.
“It all feels a bit surreal, to be honest.” I take my bottle of water off the table and take a sip, watching Brody nod at something Olivier asked him.
“Can I ask what happened? There are all sorts of rumors flying around the paddock.”
A feeble laugh leaves me and I roll my eyes, “I’ll just bet there are.”
Marion puts her hand on my knee and says, “Ignore it all, ma chérie. All that matters is that you’re okay.”
I squeeze her hand in thanks before letting go and scraping my hair up into a messy ponytail. “I’m getting there. I went for lunch with Natalya. I thought we were mending bridges, but she was evidently just trying to burn them down.”
“What do you mean?”
Brody joins in the conversation, leaning against the wall. “We believe Natalya spiked Rosie’s drink while they were at lunch.”
Marion gasps and Olivier can’t hide his disgust, the expression on his face speaking louder than words.
Looking over at her husband, she says, “I told you that woman was crazy. It’s all the Xanax going to her head, she’s folle!” Turning back to me, she clarifies, “Uh, crazy. That’s why I avoid her. She’s not right.”
“Marion. You can’t say things like that,” Olivier chastises from where he’s stood with Brody.
“What? It’s true. I’ve seen her put the stuff in her own drinks when all the girls have gone for dinner. She uses it like a goddamn cordial,” Marion insists, waving off her husband’s words.
“You’ve seen her use the stuff?” Brody asks, his posture stiffening as the anger of what transpired seeps into his pores again.
“Yeah. She doesn’t exactly keep it a secret.”
