So I take a deep breath, sit up a little straighter, and say, “Tell me about the job.”
To his credit, Alaric doesn’t look the least bit ruffled. His expression remains even, his lips pressed together as he studies me.
He’s quiet for so long I start to worry he didn’t hear me.
Or worse: that he’s changed his mind.
“It’s a year-long contract,” he finally says, putting me out of my misery. “The position is in a new department focused on collecting and analyzing data about Granata’s reputation. The ideal candidate has a strong understanding of Formula 1 but isn’t formally or emotionally connected to any specific team or driver. It’s a job that requires on-the-ground access at each race, because while much of the data we need can be found online, the team will also collect in-person comments and impressions. If you’re comfortable using Excel, and don’t mind the less glamorous behind the scenes work, it’ll be a good fit.”
“And it’s salaried?”
He nods. “With full benefits. Meals included. All expenses paid for travel, with top-tier accommodations and local currency stipends for most destinations. I can have a full offer package worked up and sent to you by this evening.”
My mind spins. My friend Beatrix works on the social media team for Kelly, and I have a rough idea of what she makes. It’s an impressive salary, although not unwarranted given the demands of her job. If the offer from Granata is anywhere close to that, I’d be stupid not to take it.
Plus, full benefits mean health insurance, which means maybe my ADHD meds would be partially covered and I wouldn’t have to scour the internet for pharmacy coupons month after month. Talk about the real American dream.
“When do you need an answer?”
Alaric grimaces. “Tomorrow.”
My stomach sinks. Oh god.
I can’t do this.
Can I?
The crushing weight of everything that’s happened today presses against my body and pins me to the seat. The force of my overwhelm is visceral—a pain in my chest I find myself rubbing at to soothe.
Alaric bends lower, resting his elbows on my open window. I squirm in my seat, feeling like he’s far too close yet nowhere near close enough.
His lips tip up into a smirk. “Would it help if we laid in the driveway again?”
I snort, then immediately slap a hand over my face to downplay the unladylike gesture.
My shoulders shake in silent laughter, all the stress draining out of me and my body finally relaxing.
“I’ll take the job,” I tell him decidedly. “I’m not sure I’ll be any good, and if I don’t meet your expectations or can’t?—”
He smacks the side of my car gently, silencing me. “You’ll be perfect.”
Straightening, he pulls his phone out of his pocket. He holds it up to his face, unlocking it, and hands it over.
“Give me your information so we can get the details ironed out. You should receive several emails tonight, and many will need your immediate attention. Once we get your information confirmed, the logistics team will send over your travel schedule. Everything will be sorted by Sunday afternoon.”
Relief drenches me with the intensity of a five-story waterfall. With each word that comes out of this man’s mouth, I’m more sure this is the right call.
Though when I look down at his phone and am met with a picture of him and a much younger Luca, I’m once again plagued with worry about the consequences of what I’m about to do.
But fuck Luca.
Screw his broken promises and his total lack of care for anyone but himself.
He did what was best for him.
Now I’m doing what’s best for me.
Before I lose my nerve, I add my contact information to Alaric’s phone and hand it back.
