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“You know Daddy Collings will make us produce it,” Marissa says. “I googled her. No design background. Her taste in fashion might be crap!” She flushes the toilet, and I hear her zip being pulled up. The door is unlocked, and then she’s at the sink.

“I feel bad for Nicola. She’s going to have to do this, even if the items have no place on our retail site. If they bomb, nobody will say anything about it because it’s a Catherine Collings idea. And if she’s so talented, why isn’t she doing something in social media? That’s what her degree is in,” Marissa continues.

“She must really be terrible if they didn’t give her a job in that department.”

“Right? So the nepo baby is coming our way, and marketing is going to be stuck with her.”

I’m so mad, I’m shaking. If they only knew. I haven’t even tried to get on the social media team because there are no available positions. If an opening happens, I will apply like anyone else.

The anger continues to build in me. I knew I had a tough road ahead, and yes, my name got me an appointment today, but my grandfather or dad would NEVER spend money on a dead-end project just so I had something to do.

And I wouldn’t let them do that even if they wanted to.

“I bet her ideas are awful,” Jules says. “What did Nicola say?”

The water turns off. I hear the automatic towel dispenser run and a sheet being torn off. “Nicola told me she’s resigned to bringing one of them to completion just to keep her family happy. I’m going to laugh so hard when her concept is a total bomb.”

I press my lips together. I want to throw the door open and greet them, but somehow, even though that’s tempting, I resist.

“Ready? I’m dying for a latte,” Jules says.

I hear the door to the toilets pull open and close. Silence fills the room. I take a moment to try to calm myself. I can’t believe Nicola actually gossiped about me to members of the team. Did she and Marissa have a good laugh at my expense in her office?

Nobody is going to give me a pity project. I’m damn well going to make a product they’ll be begging for my help to produce.

I exit the cubicle and wash my hands, my brain working furiously on a plan. I’m still going to send my email to Nicola and act like nothing is wrong. But at the same time, I’m going to show them exactly what they are missing if they blow off my ideas.

I return to the work area where I was before and sit back down, retrieving my phone as I think this through. I want this to all happen before I enter the paddock at Baku on Friday. I need another feature for my social media platform. I have Mason, and that’s great. I’ll get Caleb to shoot something with me in Monaco this week. But I need someone else with a large following in F1 for massive eyeballs.

I need Xavier Williams and his designer luggage and watch collection.

I send Caleb a text, asking if he can send me his number. I know Xavier will help me. He’s Caleb’s best mate, he loves social media, and he loves fashion. This is right up his alley. When girls see footage and photos of Xavier with his luxury duffel bags and backpacks, and wearing his watches?

It will get massive views.

I’ll launch my channel with Mason, then follow it with a Caleb feature. The next day will be Xavier, if he can meet with me before we all fly out next week. Posting three days in a row with the hottest drivers in F1 will get me clicks, saves, and follows.

Then comes the second part of my plan. I open my laptop and begin googling for inspiration, collecting images, and making notes. I finally find something that makes me think.

I’m staring at a ruched shirt. Could I use this idea? I start picturing different ways to use ruching, and then I hit on something. I wonder if we could take a Collings Motors T-shirt, crop it, and have ruching up each side of it for a fresh new look.

Yes. That’s it. It’s a piece that can be made quickly from an existing item. I begin gathering up my things. I’m going to the company shop to get a new T-shirt. Then first thing tomorrow, I’m taking it to my tailor and asking for it to be altered by next Tuesday.

Because I’m not only taking it with me to the next race, but I’m wearing it in the paddock at Baku.

And we’ll just see if I’m right about my hunch after all.

Chapter Twenty-Six

I ride the lift up to Xavier’s flat in the Côte d’Azur area of Monaco. It’s Saturday afternoon, and he has graciously invited me to come over to explore his accessories collection. Forget the very lukewarm email Nicola sent back to me, telling me she would help guide my thought process to find “appropriate pieces” for our online retail store and reminding me “whilst something might seem like a good idea, there is so much that goes into selecting each and every piece” on the site and she would do her best to work me in around her busy diary to answer questions.

I frown as I watch the numbers ascend. I know there’s a lot to it. I know there’s so much I don’t know. But I know I have some good ideas, if only she would be open to hearing them.

Nicola might as well have ghosted me for all the enthusiasm she had for helping me. Ugh. Well, forget her.

I’m moving on my own now.

Which means filming content with Xavier to launch my F1 fashion platform.