Fuck. I wanna run to her. Hug her and relish in her softness. Kiss her luscious lips and probably lose myself in them. Tell her how much I’ve missed her. How beautiful she looks. How crazy she makes me. And that, if she asked for it, I’d do anything for her. Alas, I have to behave, so I’ll just smile like a fool in love.
She's wearing an oversized leather jacket over a crisp white shirt, the sleeves slightly too long for her frame. Pin-striped grey suit trousers hug her curves before falling perfectly to meet impossibly high heels that make her legs look endless. But it's her hair that truly transforms her—straightened and pulled back into a sleek ponytail that emphasizes the elegant lines of her face, the sharpness of her cheekbones, the fullness of her lips.
Christ. Three weeks without seeing her, and now this? The universe has a sick sense of humor.
Behind her stands Silas Belforte, dressed impeccably in a black three-piece suit that probably costs more than my monthly salary. His salt-and-pepper hair is styled to perfection, slightly to the side, but it's his eyes that capture attention—icy blue and calculating, scanning the room with the precision of a predator assessing potential threats. His presence makes Violet look both more approachable by comparison, and more untouchable by association.
My gaze drifts back to Violet, catching on a familiar glint at her wrist as she runs her fingers through a few strands of hair that have escaped her ponytail.
My watch.
The sight of it against her skin sends a jolt of something primal through me.Mine, it says. Even when we're apart.She’s mine.
"Is that... Violet?" Blake appears at my side, voice hushed with surprise. "I almost didn’t recognize her. She looks like a different woman."
Battle scars and all that, I think to myself.
Johnson approaches, coffee mug clutched in his hand like a lifeline. "Good different or weird different? Because I'm not sure we're supposed to comment on the boss's appearance either way."
EJ looks between us, confusion written across his boyish features. His eyes dart from Violet to Belforte and back again, like he's trying to solve an equation with too many variables.
Violet spots us, her professional mask slipping for just a second when her eyes meet mine. The softening of her gaze—momentary—as she looks at me is enough to do things to my body.Bad things.Things that have me struggling to adjust inside my jeans. Things that make my temperature rise, and my heart go into overdrive. But that gaze fades away fast as she rebuilds her composure and walks toward our small group, Belforte following a step behind.
"You can all stop gossiping," she says, her voice carrying that familiar commanding tone that causes goosebumps on my neck. "I didn't choose this look. I came straight from a photoshoot for a business magazine." She gestures vaguely at her outfit. "With Silas."
Belforte smiles, the expression transforming his intimidating features into something almost charming. "They wanted powerful and edgy. Violet delivered, as expected."
"Well, it's... different," Blake offers diplomatically.
I say nothing. Can't trust my voice not to betray exactly how much I want to peel that leather jacket from her shoulders, to release her hair from its ponytail, to feel her skin against mine after weeks of nothing but texts and brief calls.
"William."
She acknowledges me with a nod, professional to the core, but I catch the slight dilation of her pupils, the almost imperceptible quickening of her breath. She feels it too; this tension between us that didn't weaken during our separation, but instead gathered potential energy, waiting to be unleashed.
"Welcome back," I manage, my voice steadier than expected. "Nice jacket."
A flicker of amusement crosses her face. She knows exactly what I'm thinking.
"Focus, Foster," she says, but there's no bite to it. "We have work to do."
"Always working, this one," Belforte comments, clapping a hand on my shoulder with surprising strength. "Good to finally meet you in person, William. I missed the opportunity to say hello last season, but let me tell you, kid, I've been following your career for a while. Impressive how you've adapted to our car."
Ourcar.Not Colton Racing's car.Interesting.
"Thank you, sir," I reply, surprised by the warmth in his baritone voice. The man looks like he could snap my neck without breaking a sweat, but his eyes carry genuine appreciation. And only now, close to me, do I notice how fucking tall he is. "The car's getting better every day."
I swear I’m surrounded by blue-eyed giants.
"Which brings us to our first priority," Violet interjects, sliding seamlessly into Team Principal mode. "The CR-40 unveiling is in a month, after our private testing in Silverstone, and before Barcelona pre-testing. Media will be fishing for reactions to Dominic's... seasonal activities." Her lips thin slightly at the reference. "We need to prepare responses that focus on our progress, not paddock politics."
"I've drafted potential questions with the marketing and PR team," Blake adds. "We'll need both drivers to review them, practice responses that stay on message without sounding rehearsed."
EJ nods eagerly. "I've been working on interview techniques. Watched a lot of press conferences during the break."
"Good," Violet says, offering him a small smile. "We'll schedule formal prep sessions later this week."
Throughout the entire conversation, I'm hyperaware of her presence—the subtle scent of her blue lotus perfume, the wayshe stands with her weight shifted slightly to one hip, the precise movements of her hands as she emphasizes key points.I'm ridiculous.I can barely concentrate on basic conversation, because she's standing three feet away in that damn leather jacket.
