One by one, my friends file toward the doors.
Yet my feet are cemented to the floor.
As a warm hand finds my low back, I snap my head to one side and discover Stefan hovering close.
“Almosteveryone is welcome.” He darts a look at Luca and breaks into a scowl. “That invitation is not extended tohim. Not now or ever again.”
“I’ll fucking fight him if he tries to crash Sweatpants and Chill,” Flynn declares. Stepping up to my other side and wrapping one arm around my shoulders in a side hug.
“Same,” Shelby adds over her shoulder as she passes.
“You’re one of us,” Lincoln tells me softly as he rounds the table. “What Luca did was shameful and unforgivable. We’ll pick you over him every time.”
Emotion catches in my throat, and to the surprise of no one, fresh tears well in my eyes. It was one thing for Saint and Kenji to have my back—they’re both tough as nails, ruthless by nature, and always itching to go to battle with an adversary. But having Stefan, Flynn, and especially Lincoln on my side adds an extra layer of encouragement I didn’t know I needed. My heart aches from the cascade of support.
Probably sensing the need for some comic relief, Flynn gestures wildly across the room, his voice a little too loud. “We’ve got no tolerance for saggy condom energy in this group. Even Better Eleven until I die!”
Bea whips her head around, glaring at her rowdy brother.
Mia wedges next to me, pushing Stefan back a couple of steps, and loops her arm around my middle. “Come on. Let’s get out of here before Flynn gets us kicked out. Or worse—starts a social media trend.”
CHAPTER 11
ALARIC
Iignore the riotous anxiety swirling inside me as I pull open the doors of Granata’s headquarters on the paddock on our third day in Australia. With a fortifying breath, I step inside and visualize leaving all the stress and pressure I’ve been carrying outside.
I owe it to my team to show up steady, confident, and sure.
My job is to restore and revitalize Granata. I’m here to win and to remind this organization of what professionalism and respect feel like from the top down. My plan is to focus on the people in my charge, to build them up and bolster each one, then engage them to do the same. Results will follow. They have to.
I’m trying to temper my expectations, but so far the mood in the paddock has been positive. Following the strategy our public relations lead, Amira, has crafted, my initial task is to lie low until the first race is under our belts. We’re leaning into the excitement of the opening of the season and allowing our drivers to take center stage this week. It’s brilliant, truly, because by the time there’s a microphone in front of my face, I should have results in hand. From there I can explain my vision for the future, and with any luck, I won’t have to indulge too many questions about the past.
I just have to make sure we get the results we’re after on Sunday.
Eager to start the day, I take the stairs that lead to my office two at a time.
Most team members aren’t set to arrive for another hour or two, so the place is quiet. The peace calms me further. I like to be one of the first through the door, ready and available for what the day brings.
Leslie has beaten me here, but when I swing by her office, she’s on the phone, so I offer a simple wave. We’ll catch up later.
As the executive director of logistics and operations, Leslie has the skills and experience to run this entire team. We’ve worked together for over a decade. She’s also a close friend. So close, in fact, that I’m the godfather of her youngest son.
I continue my trek through headquarters, noting a few upgrades to our setup since last season. I pass my race director’s office, but Monique’s office door is closed. On the other side of the glass partition, she is sitting at a small conference table with Sandro and Heath, most likely talking strategy for this weekend.
In my office, I settle in and confirm that there are no new pressing matters in my inbox since I cleared it this morning. Satisfied that I’m all caught up, I pull up the schedule Quinn prepared for me and review it.
The first appointment of the day stops me in my tracks and my breath stalls out.
8:00 a.m. – Coffee with Luca Steele,paddock club suite 2
Phone out, I send a text to my assistant, confirming this is accurate.
I asked Quinn to try to schedule a time for me to connect with Luca this week. I didn’t expect it to happen today, or at all, quite frankly.
He messages back, confirming Luca’s personal assistant penciled me in.
I rise from my chair, the anxiety and stress I’ve worked hard to manage crushing me with tsunami strength, and zero in on the framed photo on the shelf. It’s an image of Luca and me after he won his final cadet race in the Texas Star Karting Series. He was eleven, his cheeks ruddy with color and the biggest smile on his round, boyish face.
