Page 107

I stop reading. Relief seeps through me. I knew it wasn’t Mason’s fault. I knew it. This data analysis vindicates him completely.

To the media. The team. Alex. His dad.

I think on this as I walk down the stairs. Mason hasn’t heard from his dad since he hung up on him in Baku. He said he doesn’t expect to hear from him until the next race.

Singapore. It’s the most punishing race on the calendar. It’s a city circuit, with little room for error. It takes place at night, under the vibrant lights of the city. The track itself is a challenge, and the race takes about two hours to run.

But it’s the conditions that make it gruelling. It’s hot. Steamy. Humid. The air is so thick, you feel like you can cut through it. Inside the cockpit of the cars, temperatures reach up to sixty degrees Celsius.

Sixty. Degrees.

The humidity can be nearly ninety percent, and being in the cockpit is like being trapped in a sauna for two hours. Drivers wear cooling vests, but Caleb said they don’t do much for him. Of course, in every race, drivers have access to water through a straw system, but it’s so hot, it’s like sipping on scalding hot tea.

I swallow. I always get anxious for this race because it’s so physically demanding for the drivers.

If that weren’t enough to navigate, there’s the circuit itself. It has nineteen corners. There’s hardly any run-off room. The bumpy street surface. All of that makes it a very difficult race.

It’s absolutely the one race where Mason doesn’t need the toxic words of Erik Clark in his head.

I reach the bottom step, and a thought hits me. I won’t let his father interfere with his race.

I’m going to tell Mason to block his number for the weekend. He won’t receive a call or text full of his toxic bullshit. If an emergency arises, Ruby can reach him. Even Sarah can relay a message from her ex-husband if truly needed.

Singapore is going to be the first race Mason has free from his dad. And I can’t wait to see what he does with it.

Chapter Thirty-Four

The view of Singapore from this high-rise rooftop is magnificent.

It’s Friday night, and a group of us have gone to dinner, dining at the top of the hotel. The vibrant city practically shimmers around us against an inky sky, with lights from sampan boats dotting Marina Bay below us, and the steamy air lending a sultry vibe.

I’m sitting at a long table with Mason, Caleb, and Isla, as well as Xavier and Luke, and all of the drivers’ personal trainers.

The party is loud and boisterous this evening, and somehow, we’re all enjoying ourselves despite the hot weather. There’s a nice breeze, the kind that skims across my skin and ruffles Mason’s hair, and that helps. I’m grateful I’m in a spaghetti-strapped dress and my hair is pulled back into a messy bun at the nape of my neck. Mason’s hand is on my thigh, his fingers dancing across the silk fabric in slow circles.

“Xavier,” Isla says, “I have a favour to ask you.”

Xavier picks up his bottle of non-alcoholic beer and takes a sip, his hazel eyes sparkling with interest now. “Go on.”

“My best friend back in Miami is coming to the Las Vegas Grand Prix in November,” she says. “And she would absolutely love to meet you. Can you squeeze in a few minutes just so she can shake your hand and get a selfie?”

“That’s it? That’s the favour?” he asks.

“Well, yes.”

“Isla. You need to ask for bigger things. That’s nothing. Of course I’ll do it,” Xavier says. “I’ve got a club appearance at midnight at one of the hotels. I’ll get you guys VIP passes for it, and I can meet her there and hang out afterwards for a few minutes.”

“Oh my God, she is going to pass out when she hears this!”

Xavier brushes his fingertips over his lips, almost as if he were brushing away a teasing smile. “What’s her name?”

“Hadleigh.”

“Hadleigh,” Xavier repeats, a thoughtful expression flickering over his face. “Interesting name.”

“It suits her. She’s a very interesting person,” Isla says.

“You know, I’d be happy to give her a garage tour,” Mason offers. “I’m way more entertaining than Caleb.”