Page 5 of Downforce

It’s not even due to a current obsession but a force of habit after years of fear from my brain that sometimes likes to work against me instead of with me.

“Excited for the new season?” Drake’s wife asks.

“Can’t wait to see Travis at the top of the podium again,” I reply.

They both smile and agree.

Drake holds up his champagne flute as if cheers-ing. “He wins and I keep my job,” he jokes.

“This season should be interesting, though,” Letty says. “With the new teammate and all.” She raises her eyebrows.

My thoughts shift at the reminder of Travis’ new teammate.

“I wonder how those two will get along this season.” She looks to me as if I have the answer to that musing.

I have nothing new to report on that front. Not like I would try to speak for my brother about a teammate that’s well known he doesn’t get along with. I’ll keep my own opinions about said teammate to myself as well.

“They’ll be fine,” Drake responds when I don’t.

“There’ll be fireworks for sure,” I say without thinking.

I check the time and my heart rate kicks up. Mr. Taylor will only be here for another hour or so, if I’m lucky. I need to find out where he is to speak with him.

“Have you seen Luca Taylor tonight, by chance?” I ask Drake.

“Not certain.” He turns to his wife. “Who was it we just spoke with?”

Letty shakes her head and rolls her eyes, turning to me.

“If the conversation doesn’t involve engines, aerodynamics, or race strategy he spaces out,” she quips. “But I believe Mr. Taylor is over that way.” She points toward the far end of the room.

“Phantom of the Opera mask?” I question.

“That’s him.”

I nod and thank the couple before heading in that direction. In the twenty minutes I’ve been here, the space has filled up, making it more difficult to navigate around the couples twirling on the dance floor. The live band at the front of the room increases the energy and the volume in the room.

The worry of whether or not I’ll be able to have an actual conversation with Mr. Taylor in this space passes through my mind.

I remind myself that I actually have to find him first.

A second later, I need to sidestep a dancing couple to avoid being trampled, which then causes me to bump into a solid body behind me, nearly causing me to fall.

Before I can do a full-on face plant and completely embarrass myself, a strong, firm hand catches my arm, stopping me.

My breath hitches from the embarrassment of almost making a fool of myself.

“Th-Thank you,” I say as I regain my balance and spin into the chest of the man behind me, his hand on my elbow.

To my surprise, it’s a man in a Phantom of the Opera mask.

I brush off the voice that whispers I’ve already ruined this meeting with Mr. Taylor due to my clumsiness. That thought gets squashed like a bug under my heel as I refocus on why I wanted to speak with him in the first place.

This isn’t about me nearly embarrassing myself.

“Mr. Taylor,” I say. “Thank you for your assistance.” He slowly releases my elbow, giving me the ability to take a step back and stick out my hand. “I’m Annalise Townsend, assistant to Travis Townsend.”

Luca Taylor doesn’t respond right away. His hazel eyes—the only visible part of his face—slowly scan their way down the length of my body and back up again until his eyes catch mine.