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“Let’s not react based on strong emotions.” Rick attempts to diffuse the situation.
Liam’s nostrils flare. “I’d rather be an F1 runner-up than a piece of shit who sits in an office all day acting like a dick instead of using it.”
I suck in a breath. Holy shit, Liam’s really pissed.
Peter offers a sinister smile. “At least I don’t stick my dick where it doesn’t belong.”
My stomach churns at how crass Peter is when referencing his niece. Does he have any standards?
Liam’s agent gets involved. “I’m sure there’s a better way to get our feelings out. Peter, you don’t want to say things you don’t mean when you’re angry.” Rick pats Peter on the back.
I don’t like the way Rick acts around both of them, making me wary of Liam’s agent. Managers like him remind me of used car salesmen who want to make a quick buck. They act slick and thoughtful, but their sharp eyes give away how deep their insincerity runs.
“I think you need to re-examine your driving techniques and your attitude. You’re clearly too aggressive on and off the track lately.” Peter stabs a thick finger at Liam’s chest.
That can’t be farther from the truth. I hold back a laugh at the idea of Liam being hostile because he tends to be the safest driver out there. Peter holds an obvious grudge against Liam, dangling poor choices in front of him anytime he messes up.
“I’ll be sure to do just that.” Liam gives him a mock salute before walking away.
Liam’s tightly wound body walks in my direction, nearly barreling into me when he turns the corner. His body tenses as his stormy eyes land on me. Busted. I give him a pathetic wave and a small smile which he returns with a grimace, not amused by my presence.
“Liam—”
“Not here.” His clipped tone shuts me up.
He grabs onto the crook of my elbow and pulls us in a different direction from the entrance. My short legs struggle to keep up with Liam’s long strides. McCoy’s gray and white color palette lacks the warmth of the Bandini motorhome, cold silver accents gleaming under the bright lights, matching the personality of some of the staff here. We pass the dining room and bar before entering the private suite area. Liam doesn’t stop to talk to anyone, ignoring the few people who call his name.
He remains silent until we walk into his suite and he closes the door. I step toward the shelf housing his different helmets and gear, wanting to keep my hands busy with something. The small room becomes charged with energy as I remain turned away from Liam.
“How much of that did you hear?” His sharp voice is unlike his usual self.
“I showed up when Peter mentioned contract agreements.” My finger drags across the multiple helmets lined up on the shelf. Shiny plastic coating glistens, showing off Liam’s number and the German flag.
“Lovely. So basically everything.” Liam strolls up to my side.
I pick up one of his electric-blue helmets, the headgear weighing more than I imagined, making my arm drop with it. Liam’s hand covers mine, warming my skin at his touch. Rough calluses rub against the smooth skin of my knuckles. He looks down at our joined hands like he questions how they got in this position.
Liam lifts his head. I stare into his eyes, the swirling color entrancing me. His eyes lower to my lips before his eyebrows furrow. He puts the helmet back on the shelf while I step away from him, craving space and fresh air.
I fill the silence and palpable tension. “Peter’s an asshole. My dad never talks to his guys that way, no matter what they do. I doubt Bandini’s owner does either. That guy never gets involved because he’s too busy yachting near Greece.”
Liam’s eyebrows rise at my confession. I’d hardly count my admission as a Bandini secret because everyone knows how my dad takes care of his team.
“I make one mistake, and now it’s all about my contribution to the team. It’s frustrating and a lot of pressure with every move I make becoming a question of my skills. And Peter treats me like shit despite my efforts to make him happy. Sometimes it feels like Jax and my team principal are the only ones who have my back on this team.”
I can’t imagine how difficult it is for him to race with crazy expectations, keeping up with the demands of fans and the McCoy team.
Liam settles into one of the gray couches. He runs a hand through his hair, messing it up, abandoning his usual prim and properness.
I sit beside him, patting myself on the back for my bravery to get close. “Seems like a toxic work environment. There’s no love lost between you and Peter, that’s for sure. Are you sure you want to do this for years?”
“It’s the start of the season. I hope Peter gets over it since we still have fifteen races left.” He lets out a deep sigh that makes my heart squeeze.
I lean my head back against the couch, mirroring Liam’s body posture. We both stare at the white ceiling. Liam’s deep breaths even out as his body loosens, no longer stiff from his pent-up agitation.
I don’t press him to talk anymore, preferring to sit in comfortable silence. I thought conversations were a big indication of how much two people got along. Sitting here with Liam, saying nothing, makes me consider how silence is underrated.
Liam’s hand finds mine again. His finger traces the curves and contours of my hand. My heart rate increases, my body flushing from the mere contact with him. He gives my hand a squeeze before pulling away. I frown, unsure why I feel a loss when he gives me the space I want.
