She crosses the room and perches on the edge of the bed, taking my uninjured hand in hers. Her fingers are cool against my skin, the contact soothing in ways medication isn't.
"You're still pale," she says, studying my face with that intense focus she usually reserves for race strategies.
I pull her toward me, ignoring the twinge in my ribs. "Come here."
She shifts closer, careful not to jostle the bed too much. I press my lips to her cheek, then the corner of her mouth, then finally her lips—feather-light kisses, gentle as whispers.
"You're working yourself to the bone," I murmur against her mouth.
She pulls back slightly, her thumb tracing circles on my palm. "I'm fine. Not traveling means I'm actually working less than usual."
"Bullshit. You've been in meetings since six this morning."
"That's normal." She shrugs one shoulder; a gesture I've come to recognize as her way of dismissing her own efforts. "It's just a side of my work you've never seen before. Ninety percent of being a Team Principal is boring meetings in odd time zones."
"And how was the board meeting? The one about—"
I stop, still unable to fully process the idea that someone deliberately sabotaged my car. That someone wanted me injured. Or worse.
"It went well, actually." Her expression brightens slightly. "Belforte was there in person. He has a way of... persuading people."
"Threatening them, you mean."
She laughs, the sound chasing away some of the darkness that's settled in my chest since the crash. "He's more subtle than that. Surprisingly."
"What did the board say about the tampering theory?"
Violet's face hardens, that familiar steel entering her eyes. "They're taking it seriously. Especially after Belforte presented his findings."
"Findings?" This is news to me.
"He has connections. People who owe him favors." She looks away, and I know she's choosing her words carefully. "All our electronics have a memory we can access to check data, when things are turned on and off, and indeed, there was someone who turned off and poorly reconnected some things that then led to… what happened. Still, we don’t know who. So that’s notenough for legal action yet, but enough to make the board listen, and to push the investigation further."
"Enough to get your suspension reduced?" I ask hopefully.
She shakes her head. "No. That stands. Six races—five now—no paddock access."
I squeeze her fully recovered hand, marveling again at this fierce, brilliant woman who threw away a third of her season defending me. "You're amazing. You know that?"
"Hardly." There it is again—that dismissal of her own worth.
I pull her closer, nuzzling against the side of her neck, breathing in her scent and sigh. "You need to value yourself more. You're managing a team remotely, and you've got awesome people making your vision happen. Blake stepping up as acting Team Principal, Belforte handling the board, two solid drivers..."
She sighs, her body relaxing incrementally against mine. "I'd love some peace and quiet, though."
I chuckle against her skin. "We'll have it. Come with me to my place?"
She pulls back, eyes widening slightly. "Really?"
"I'm not kidding. Once the doctors clear me, let's go home. My home. Together." The words come out in a rush, revealing a vulnerability I hadn't planned.
Her eyebrow arches. "Are you asking me to move in with you, Foster?"
"I'm asking you to stay with me while I recover," I clarify, though the idea of waking up next to her permanently sends a pleasant warmth through my chest. "Unless you're worried you can't keep your hands off me. In which case, I must warn you, the doctors said no strenuous activities."
A smile tugs at the corner of her mouth. "Define 'strenuous.'"
"Well"—I lower my voice to a whisper—"I'm told anything that elevates the heart rate is off-limits."
