Page 69 of Downforce

“Oh no? Then I can share with Travis how you and I shared a lovely breakfast with Liam and Randy about our sponsorship deal that you were completely in favor of?”

“Are you trying to blackmail me into a dinner?”

He cocks his head. “I would never.”

“You’re full of shit.”

“I’ve been told worse,” he retorts. “Seven o’clock sound good?”

“I’m not⁠—”

“I have to go. Practice today. You know how busy race weekend gets.” He steps beside me, pausing and lowering his lips to my ears. “Seven o’clock. Don’t be late.”

He leaves me in a stupor long enough that when I come out of it, he’s gone. The only thing left of his presence is the way my ear tingles from having had him so close that his breath brushed across my skin.

CHAPTER 20

Max

“C’mon, mate. What do you mean you’re not coming out with us tonight?” James balks into the phone. He’s a mate from school. His father is also part owner of an F2 team. James now works for an investment firm in Miami.

He, along with Edwin, has been trying to convince me to go out to a party even though I have a qualifying tomorrow. Frustrated as I might be with their insistence, I can’t blame them. Every other year up until now, I had no problem going out the night before qualifying, sometimes even the evening before a race. I convinced myself that partying didn’t hamper my performance.

Maybe it was more than that.

Perhaps I unconsciously allowed myself to get in my own way. None of that is important right now.

“I have plans,” I say before thinking.

“Plans? Right.” James drags out the word. “Is it with that blonde from⁠—”

“No,” I cut him off. “In case you haven’t noticed, I’m in Miami to work. I have qualifying tomorrow and a sprint race on Saturday.” Our Miami Grand Prix is stacked.

“Since when have you⁠—”

“I have to go,” I tell him while checking the time.

A frown mars my face when I see I only have five minutes before the time I told Annalise to be here.

“Yeah, right,” James says before I disconnect the call.

Though I know no messages have come through, I navigate to my texts to make sure she hasn’t sent me anything. Then I recall that I’ve never actually given Annalise my phone number. I don’t know if she has it.

“Fool,” I curse myself for that oversight.

A beat later, there’s a knock at the door. I don’t even check the peephole before I open. My smile drops when I see that it’s the room service I ordered and not Annalise. I should be pleased that the food arrived before she did.

After directing the hotel staff to the dining area, I watch as they set the places on the glass table and place the roast duck and vegetables in a cream sauce at the center.

“Thank you.” I tell the staffer before he disappears behind the door.

It’s now five minutes after seven.

“She’s late,” I mumble at the same time my thumb scrolls through my contacts, pulling up her phone number. She might not have my number, but I have hers.

Me: You’re late.

I don’t know how many seconds tick by as I stare at the screen, waiting for her reply. My chest tightens when it finally comes.