Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 77816 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 389(@200wpm)___ 311(@250wpm)___ 259(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77816 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 389(@200wpm)___ 311(@250wpm)___ 259(@300wpm)
“Matthieu, calm down,” I say, trying to keep my voice steady even as my cheeks burn with humiliation and nausea rolls in my belly.
“Calm down?” he snarls, stepping closer and I shrink back. “I told you those tires wouldn’t work! I told you this was a bad idea! Hendrik told you it was a bad idea. But you think you know everything.”
Nash appears out of nowhere, stepping between us and taking three steps to force Matthieu away from me. “You need to back the fuck off,” he says sharply, his tone leaving no room for argument. “And show some fucking respect.”
“Respect?” Matthieu practically spits the word, as if it’s filthy. “She’s got no business being in that position and she proved that today.”
“Funny,” Nash counters lightly, but his body remains tense. “Her strategy seemed to work well for me. I’ll be thanking her from on top of the podium.”
“Yeah, about that,” Matthieu drawls, his tone dripping with sarcasm. “I’m guessing you got preferential treatment since you two are fucking.”
I gasp, looking wildly around the garage to see everyone watching this unfold, and all eyes are on us. I want to melt into the floor and die from embarrassment, but there’s no time. Nash’s hands fly out, catching Matthieu in the chest. He doesn’t push him back, rather pulls him in close. “Want to say that again to my face?”
Matthieu is beyond reasoning though and he leers at Nash, only inches apart from one another. “Everyone knows she’s sleeping her way into keeping that top position.”
Nash reacts so brutally fast I can only watch in horror as his fist plants in Matthieu’s face. The impact is so great, Matthieu flies backward over the race car, tumbling to the other side. Nash doesn’t wait to see what happened to him but strides around the side with the obvious intention of giving him another taste of his fists.
“Stop!” I screech, lunging forward and grabbing Nash’s arm. “Don’t. You’ve got everyone watching and it’s making it worse.”
Nash’s head turns back to me, vibrating with fury. “He deserves to get his ass kicked.”
“And you’re making it look like I am sleeping with you to keep my job,” I hiss at him. “This isn’t going to affect you, but people won’t look at me the same.”
I glance over to see Matthieu stand up and rub his jaw as he swivels it back and forth, grimacing. One of the pit crew takes him by the arm and leads him out of the garage, presumably to get some ice.
While that should relieve me that he’s gone, my blood turns cold as Hendrik approaches. I don’t know where he was or if he saw everything, but by the thunderous look on his face, I’m guessing he did.
“Is that true?” Hendrik asks me and doesn’t even bother looking at Nash. “Are you sleeping with him?”
“We’re seeing each other,” Nash says, but Hendrik doesn’t look at him.
“If you’re having an intimate relationship with a driver, that is a severe conflict of interest. I have to wonder why you gave Nash the easy strategy and Matthieu the riskier one.”
“To help propel Matthieu upward,” I rush to assure him. “He was too far back, and we needed a big move. Nash’s position was secure from the start.”
“But you could have had Matthieu run on the same strategy as Nash,” Hendrik says, his voice icy and cold. “And he would have stayed in the top ten and gotten us points.”
“You can’t know that for sure,” I say lamely. “But yes… it was a risk I had to take.”
“What I do know is that you fucked it up, and there’s a question of integrity in your strategy since you’ve got a relationship with a driver. I’m going to have to talk to Luca, but my recommendation is that we dismiss you.”
“Now wait a minute,” Nash tries to intervene.
Hendrik rounds on him with a glare. “You stay out of it. It has nothing to do with you.”
Nash’s lips press into a flat line, and he holds his tongue, for which I’m grateful. Any interference by him is only going to make me look bad. I’ve got to salvage this myself. “Hendrik… I made a call that many other race strategists would have made. You take calculated risks to move people up. The timing didn’t work out and we failed, but you can’t judge my abilities on that one call.”
“Can’t I?” he replies ominously.
“If you did, it wouldn’t be fair.”
Hendrik leans toward me, his voice stone-cold. “There’s nothing fair about racing. It’s only about the win. And you lost here today.”
A wave of anxiety hits me so hard, my knees wobble. In a flash, I see my entire career disintegrate. Hendrik turns and storms off, barking orders at the mechanics that send them scrambling away from his wrath.