"It's not ideal," I admit, my voice softer than intended. "But it's the right call for now."
He nods, running a hand through his hair. "I should go. EJ is outside, and Johnson is probably waiting for me in the simulator room." He attempts a smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes. "Team Principal and driver, from this moment forward."
As he turns toward the door, something inside me rebels—not against our decision, which remains logical and necessary, but against the note of resignation in his voice. Before I can overthink it, I step forward, catching his wrist. He turns back, surprise flickering across his features.
I pull him toward me, my free hand finding the nape of his neck, and press my lips to his. The kiss is neither gentle nor tentative; it carries all the frustration and longing these weeks apart have generated, all the complications we now face. William responds instantly, arms encircling me, body remembering mine despite our separation. When we break apart, both slightly breathless, I don't release him completely.
"This won't stop me," I say, voice low but fierce, "from enjoying being around you and that..." I hesitate, searching forthe right words. "That what we have won't change. I care about you, Will. A whole fucking lot. I’ll protect us. No matter what. I want you… to know that." I caress his jaw as his eyes widen slowly.
The admission costs me more than I expected, vulnerability never coming easily. But the simple truth feels necessary—a counterbalance to the pragmatic agreement we've just made.
Something shifts in William's expression, a softening around his eyes, a parting of lips as if words have momentarily failed him. His hands move to cradle my face, thumbs brushing my cheekbones with such tenderness that I nearly close my eyes against the sensation.
"I know," he says finally, matching my quiet tone. He rests his forehead against mine, our breath mingling in the small space between us. "It'll hurt to not be that close, but"—a small, sad smile touches his lips—"it's not all bad. I can still see you and interact with you. It'd be worse if we had to be separated. I’d burn the world down or… just go to Vortex HQ and slash Dominic’s tires or something."
The optimism in his voice, his attempt to find positives in this difficult situation, and even joking around, make my heart ache even more. I smile, unable to help myself despite the complexity of our situation.
"Always finding the silver lining."
"One of my many talents," he agrees, some of that familiar playfulness returning. He touches my hair again, the straightened strands sliding through his fingers. "Along with appreciating every version of you—my Violet."
As he pulls away, preparing to enact our new agreement, I suddenly realize the true extent of the risk we're taking. Not just to our careers or the team, but to our hearts. If this goes wrong, if our careful management of public perception fails, ifcircumstances force us further apart... I might end up breaking his heart.
Some connections, rare as they are, deserve the courage to protect them—not just from external threats like Dominic, but from our own fears as well. And I want to protect William at all costs. My heart be damned.
Chapter 18
Jitters and Memories in Melbourne
William
The taxi's air conditioning barely keeps up with Melbourne's heat as we crawl through early morning traffic. Next to me, EJ fidgets with his phone, his knee bouncing like he's operating some invisible pedal. Poor kid. I remember that feeling—the knot in your stomach before your first F1 race, like you've swallowed a handful of bolts.
"How you holding up?" I ask, nudging his elbow gently.
EJ looks up, his eyes wide. "I'm good. Great. Fine." He swallows hard. "Actually, I'm freaking out."
I laugh. "That tracks."
"Is it that obvious?" He runs a hand through his sandy hair.
"Your foot’s about to drill through the floor."
He stops immediately, pressing his palm against his thigh. "Sorry."
"Don't be. First race jitters are normal." I glance out the window at the palm trees lining the route to Albert Park. "I was a mess this time last year."
"You? But you—"
"My first F1 race, I was so nervous, I put my fireproof underwear on backward. Didn't realize until I was already in the car."
That draws a small laugh from him. "Seriously?"
"Drove the whole session with the seam cutting into places seams should never cut." I grimace at the memory, exaggerating slightly to put him at ease.
The taxi driver catches my eye in the rearview mirror, and I wonder if he recognizes us. Probably not. We're not Oliver Lenox or James Farrant. Not yet on their superstar level, anyway.
"I'm equal parts excited and terrified," EJ confesses, lowering his voice. "What if I fuck up? What if I crash on the first lap?"
