Page 11 of Downforce

“Bill.” I nod and try to smile.

“Honey, this is Max Ferreira. He’s finally come over to Amato. We’re all looking forward to seeing what he’ll do this season,” he tells her. “Let’s hope you’ll have the success your father had with Amato. Wouldn’t that be special?” He smiles at me as if I should be in agreement.

I probably would if the clenching of my stomach muscles didn’t temporarily paralyze the muscles in my face, including my tongue.

“You should’ve seen Severino in his day,” the man continues. “I bet he’d be proud to see you in Amato red this year. Though I don’t think Townsend’s going to make it easy on you this season.” He goes to pat my shoulder, but I shift out of his reach.

I catch the way his smile falters.

“Thank you,” I say, the tightness in my voice reflecting the strain it took to push those two words out.

I’ve suddenly changed my mind.

I peer over his shoulder to Edwin.

“Let’s go.”

CHAPTER 4

Annalise

Reading over Norm’s latest email, I frown at my computer screen.

It’s been two weeks since the fundraiser and still no response from Luca Taylor.

There are probably a hundred different reasons why MaxWaters Suits hasn’t reached out to Travis’ team to move forward on the sponsorship, but my mind keeps coming back to one conclusion.

I messed up.

Since I was late in arriving and didn’t get to speak with Mr. Taylor the way I wanted, it has to be my fault that they’re no longer interested, right?

That’s what my brain keeps thinking, though I know that’s not necessarily the truth.

I know the reality is that Taylor is likely busy and working on other things for his business, but keeping my mind on this sponsorship deal is helping me to not think about the main reason why I wasn’t able to talk to Taylor about the facts and figures and truly pitch the way a deal with Travis would benefit his company.

Max Ferreira.

That son of a bitch who knew I’d had a case of mistaken identity, but instead of cluing me in and pointing me in the right direction, he allowed me to ramble on while we shared multiple dances.

My mind floods with the feel of my hand in his. The uncanny smoothness of his skin, the pinkness of his lips when he smiled, the mixed scent of spice with an undertone of vanilla.

Then there’s the way he danced. His moves were so fluid, so light, so not like the last man on Earth I should enjoy dancing with.

I slam my hand down on my desk to push the memories away. Max needs to be cast to the back of my mind, an afterthought that has nothing to do with the here and now.

The man is a menace who is clearly jealous of my brother.

With a shake of my head, I return my attention to my computer. My fingers are poised to reply to Norm’s email by asking him what I can do to fix this.

But I don’t.

I close out of my email and get back to trying to schedule a new flight for Alyssia and Lucky to Melbourne for Travis’ first race of the season.

He’ll have to go a few days ahead of them, and it’s been a bear finding them an appropriate flight that gets them there at the right time.

None of the flights are lining up or don’t have the right seating. After a half an hour of searching, I call up the team’s agency that I often work with when booking the flight for anyone but Travis. Most of the time, Amato books Travis’ flights to and from the races.

My call goes to voicemail. The travel coordinator is likely busy working on the other hundreds of travel preparations she has to do to prepare for the first Grand Prix of the season.