Page 65 of Out of Control

I chance a glance at Sofia again and she mouths that she’s sorry.

“Already on it. Probably a wing adjustment,” he says, taking me by surprise.

“It’s not a wing adjustment. Only a fucking amateur would say something stupid like that and if they did, you should fire them on the spot.”

He’s such a prick. Why do I forget shit like this all the time?

Cruz clears his throat. “I beg to differ. I’m pretty sure that’s the right move.”

I do a double take and meet Cruz’s eyes briefly. So I’m wrong unless it comes to trying to stick it your dad. Good to know.

At least I’m good for something.

“And then you’ll finish in the last half of the grid, out of the points, with your number two driver in front of you. That’s a bad look for the team. He’s two, you’re one—”

“And he’s standing right here, backing up your son’s opinion,” I say. I don’t care if he’s a prized fucking Navarro or not. I deserve the same respect he gives his son . . . then again, I wouldn’t exactly call it respect.

Mr. Navarro snorts as he eyes me with disdain.

“Papá, I think you’ve worn out your welcome in the garage,” Cruz says. “I make one exception and you overstep—”

“You shouldn’t accept mediocrity like this—”

“Out!” Cruz says, pointing to the door, his teeth gritted and the tendons in his neck taut.

“C’mon, Papá. Let’s go see what’s happening at the hospitality suite,” Sofia says without looking either of our way. Her head is down, and she ushers Dominic Navarro like an exhausted nanny who’s embarrassed by her charge’s behavior.

They leave the garage and I’m left staring after them wondering if this is the norm for this family. And if so, “Cruz—”

“Leave it,” he says, our eyes meeting briefly.

I don’t know what else to say—I’m not good at this shit. But it doesn’t matter because before I can say anything at all, Cruz stalks out of the garage without another word.

A dozen excuses run through my head.

At least your dad is here.

At least you’re not alone.

At least when you talk to your dad like I did mine earlier, he didn’t make excuses why he couldn’t be here.

But they’re all bullshit.

And I hate that it humanizes Cruz while making me understand Sofia even more.

• • •

I sit in my private driver’s room in the Gravitas hospitality suite. Most of the drivers are in media interviews, but mine was scheduled earlier. This is my moment to get my head straight before I jump on the track and qualify.

Knock. Knock.

I glare at the door but don’t answer. This is my time, my space, and most people on the team respect that without infringing. And if I’m needed, then my PR handler, Carina, will be the one to interrupt me.

Knock. Knock.

This knock is a little bit harder. With a huff, I yank the door open. I’m shoved backward when I’m met with the weight of Sofia against me.

Our lips find each other’s in a torrent of need. Of lust. Of greed. Of desperation.