Page 94 of Downforce

“None at all,” Edwin replies, a gleam in his eyes. He sees dollar signs. Which, if he secures this sponsorship, he’ll earn. The Eluxis deal was very lucrative for my father.

My mother could’ve comfortably lived on that income and the interest from it for the rest of her life if she didn’t go through money like a bullet through flesh.

Much like the bullet, the aftermath of her ventures can be destructive.

“It will never happen,” she says with a wave of her hand, rising to her feet. “I’m staying in a suite at the Riviera with Marianne.”

One of the most expensive hotels in the country. No doubt they’ve raised their prices for this weekend, and I know my mother insisted on paying for the entire suite. After all, she has an image to maintain.

“I probably won’t see you before qualifying. I would wish you luck, but …” She trails off.

Her luck is like a death wish.

I don’t need it.

I turn away from her before she completes her thought, whatever it is.

“I have a team meeting,” I tell Edwin. I’d come back to my flat for a little bit of downtime in between interviews with my team, sponsors, and sports journalists. All of that coupled with only catching glimpses of Annalise here and there, all became too much. Not only is she busy working but all of her family is in town.

Her younger sister has been staying with her for the past couple of nights. I recall the look in her eyes when she told me her sister would be there. There was an apology in her gaze, as if she felt as torn up about not sharing our movie nights as I was.

But I can’t hide out for too long.

I have a job to do, which means I have to push everything out of my mind and focus on taking on my next race.

“Right,” Edwin says. “Afterwards, Nick and Jake want us to swing by. Nick brought his family’s yacht and⁠—”

“I have qualifying tomorrow,” I tell him, impatience lacing my voice.

“Come on, mate. It won’t be long, and I’ll have you back by this new bedtime you’re abiding by.”

“I’m not going,” I say, tersely.

Edwin’s eyes widen as he holds up his hands. “Alright. I’ll let them know. You need to focus on the race anyway. With this deal with Eloxus looming, it’s for the best.”

I don’t reply to that because this isn’t about Eloxus or any other potential or current sponsor. This is about me. I can’t rid myself of the caged lion feeling mounting inside of my chest.

Which is why I throw on a baseball cap over my head to disguise myself as I make my way down to the Amato paddock where the rest of my team is ready to meet. We go over race day strategy, how our cars were looking and feeling during today’s practice, and even the weather forecast.

We aim to leave as little as possible to chance. There’s always an element of chance taking over, which is part of what makes racing so damn mesmerizing to watch.

And to be a part of.

I do my best to focus on the team around me and the importance of what they’re telling me, but it’s difficult. The Monaco Grand Prix is one of the more technical races of the season, given the tight corners and narrow straightaways of the roads. It’s imperative to have my head on straight for this race, but it’s hard to shake my mother’s words from earlier.

She often does this before big races. Uses snide comments and remarks to get under my skin. At every opportunity she’ll bring up my father to remind me that I’ll always come up short in comparison.

She’s wrong, and I know she’s full of shit. Whatever my mum’s issue is, it’s not squarely with me. I’ve had to remind myself of this since I was a teenager. Yet, the creeping loneliness inside of my chest doesn’t allow me to brush away her words entirely.

There’s a hole inside of me that longs to be filled with something, or rather someone who I know is solely on my team. Going out to party with Edwin and our mates won’t satisfy it either.

The moment I have this realization, I peer up from our team huddle to see Annalise strolling past. She’s deep in conversation with one of the administrators from Amato. I watch her dressed in a cream pencil skirt, a sleeveless black chiffon top tucked at the waist, and a pair of black strappy heels that make her calf muscles appear when she walks.

She’s dressed professionally but I can’t stop my eyes from raking over the span where her top meets her skirt down to her shapely waist. She looks like she belongs here, not as an assistant to her brother—not that it’s not an important job—but as something more.

I’m thrown back to the conversation we had in her flat. When I asked her about becoming an agent. Annalise would make a hell of an agent. My gut tells me so.

I’m reminded of how she swiftly rattled off my statistics to me, a feat not even Edwin could do, along with her brother’s numbers and Sabrina Walters. I’ve since tested her and she knows the numbers for just about every driver on the grid. She’s also aware of who their agents are and what brands they’re working with.