Chapter 8

CHAPTER 8

Lex

C an’t say that I’ve ever waited for anyone in my life and yet here I am, loath to walk into the simulator room without Posey. She’s currently with Giovanni Scava, who is showing her how we manufacture the carbon fiber parts of the car. I can only imagine her pen flying furiously over that little pad of hers as Gio shows her the autoclaves—large, pressurized ovens that cure the carbon fiber components or the 3D printers we use for rapid prototyping. Not sure she’ll be able to weave any of that into her romance story but one thing I’ve come to appreciate about Posey—she’s hungry to learn it all.

The other thing I’ve come to realize… she’s not just here to get information for her book. She truly loves this sport and she knows a thing or two about fast cars from the research she did prior to coming here. I like that about her, her work ethic, because that’s always been important to me, despite my hard playing ways in my off time.

When I picked her up this morning at her hotel, I was surprised to have her eyeball my car with a gleam of pure reverence in her eyes. “A Lamborghini Urus,” she said in awe.

“I’m impressed you know what it is,” I said as I moved around the back of the SUV to put her suitcases in the boot.

“Six hundred forty-one horsepower, top speed of a hundred and ninety miles per hour, zero to sixty in three and a half seconds and still has the functionality of an SUV,” she murmured, opening the passenger door and sticking her head in to look at the interior. “But honestly… I took you for more of a two-seater kind of guy.”

She wasn’t wrong. I do love my McLaren. I closed the hatch and moved to her, tapping her on the shoulder. “Hop in. We have things to do today.”

When I got into the driver’s seat, I glanced over at her. She looked exceptionally pretty with her hair in a ponytail, no makeup on except some lip gloss, but fuck… she doesn’t need it. “Did your rental car get picked up?”

“It did,” she said with an appreciative smile. “And thank you for sending someone to do that for me. It wasn’t necessary.”

“It was nothing,” I replied, and it truly wasn’t. The name Lex Hamilton can pretty much procure anything, including the rental agency’s agreement to send an employee to the hotel to pick up the car in exchange for some merchandise.

Posey ran a hand over the leather-covered dashboard, then leaned over to peer at the electronics. “This car is sick.”

Laughing, I said, “I didn’t take you for a gearhead.”

“I wasn’t until I started watching FI, but you’d be amazed what shows up in your feed when you research formula racing. Plus, I loved the episode that featured all the drivers’ cars. I do seem to remember you have a two-seater, right?”

“A McLaren Spider.” A thought struck me as I realized she knows me better than I know her. If she watched all three seasons of that docuseries, she knows quite a bit about me. It made me curious. “Did you have a favorite driver when you watched the documentary?”

“I did.”

“And?”

She glanced at me, and I noted the sheepish smile and tinge of pink on her cheeks. “Sorry… it wasn’t you.”

“Who then?” I pressed, because weirdly, I felt a bit put out.

“Reid Hemsworth and Matthieu Laurent,” she replied almost demurely.

Both decent drivers, although Mattie is a bit of a wanker. Of course, Posey would say Ronan is a wanker too, and he is some of the time. I wanted to point out the double standard she has between the two but I let it go.

The conversation on the way to HQ mostly revolved around cars, naturally. She was curious about the ones I’ve driven, the ones I own, and what makes a good race car. I enjoyed explaining it all to her, seeing the sincere interest in her eyes.

I handed her off to Gio and we made explicit plans for him to have her back promptly at nine forty-five a.m., which was fifteen minutes before I was set to get in the simulator. It’s now almost nine fifty and I consider texting him. Getting ready for a sim run isn’t just about hopping into the seat. I have to go over the changes the engineers made to the car based on yesterday’s data and discuss what I need to focus on during this session. I’d like Posey to see that because… well, I want her to see how involved we are as drivers. For some reason, I don’t want her to think we just drive fast and try not to crash.

For the life of me I can’t understand why I want her to see me in a more professional light, especially since my modus operandi for how I live my personal life has been about leaning into my youth and wild ways. I want to impress her, which isn’t something I’ve ever felt the need to do, other than the people who sign my paycheck.

A smile comes unbidden to my face as I think about Posey and how quickly she’s gotten under my skin. I still can’t believe I managed to strong-arm her into letting me stay at her Airbnb and I’ve got no clue what I was thinking. I’ve never minded the commute from London, but I still used that as an excuse for why I wanted to stay in Woking. Whatever that unknown factor is that draws me to her had me boldly demanding she let me stay with her and to my utter fucking delight, she caved.

The door opens from the outer hall, and I turn that way. Posey steps through, all smiles as she chats with Gio. He laughs at something she says and I find that interesting. The man is perpetually dour and I’m not sure I’ve ever seen him laugh, but Posey sort of has that effect on people.

And blimey… my bloody heart rate nearly triples the minute her eyes land on me and light up with joy.

She bounces over and lays her hand on my arm. “Lex, you wouldn’t believe the stuff I saw,” she says, her voice bubbling with excitement. “Okay, maybe you would, but the carbon fiber… it’s so light but so strong! And the autoclave—it’s incredible! I didn’t know it would be that big. I got to watch one of the 3D printers create a new brake duct for your car.” She frowns and looks back to Gio, pulling her notepad out of her purse. “But I forgot to ask you exactly what that does.”

“No worries, bella,” Gio says, and my eyebrows nearly shoot off my head that he called her bella . His expression is fond, as if she’s a beloved niece or something. “We’re testing the new brake duct to improve the airflow efficiency and cooling performance.”

Gio grins at me as Posey furiously jots down notes.

“Now, if you excuse me,” he says, his Italian accent seemingly more pronounced, “I go get ready for Lex’s simulator run.” He offers Posey a slight bow.

“Thank you again for the tour. It was amazing,” she gushes.

“Anytime.”

Gio disappears into the simulator room and I grin at Posey, pleased by her enthusiasm.

“You had a good time, didn’t you?” I ask.

“It’s beyond my wildest dreams, getting this type of access.” Posey’s forehead wrinkles as she frowns. “Although… that actually makes me feel guilty.”

I wave her off. “You said you were going to write an article to submit to some publications, so you’re still doing a journalist’s job, Posey. Don’t worry about it.”

“Well, I do. I’ve never done anything so devious in my life.”

“Yes,” I say drolly with a roll of my eyes. “You’re a criminal mastermind.”

Posey snorts before jabbing me hard with her elbow, and I even like that about her. No girlie giggles or offense. Just a snort of amusement.

“Ready to see how all that comes together?” I ask her.

She nods eagerly, and I lead her into the sim room. Gio is joined by Emma Dunn and Gareth Elrod, all three sitting at a long table with their laptops open.

“Right, Lex,” Gio begins, his Italian accent less pronounced but now adding a touch of gravitas to the conversation. “We’ve made some refinements to the front wing to increase drag on the straights, particularly on the back straight of the Bahrain circuit. You should feel a bit more stability in high-speed corners without compromising top speed.”

I nod, absorbing the information. Bahrain is all about balancing speed on the straights with the grip in the corners. “So, we’re expecting less understeer coming into turn ten?”

“Exactly,” Giovanni confirms. “But I need you to push it hard through that sector. See if the adjustments give you the bite we’re expecting when you’re on the throttle.”

“We’ve also adjusted the suspension setup slightly,” Emma says. “We’re trying a nominal softer rear to help with traction out of the slow corners, especially coming out of turn one and turn thirteen. The aim is to get the power down earlier without losing the rear end.”

“Got it,” I say, mentally running through the sequence of corners. Bahrain’s a track where you’ve got to be aggressive but smart, especially with tire management.

My head turns to Gareth Elrod, our strategy engineer who’s staring at me with his usual intense focus. “Lex, keep an eye on the tire degradation simulation. We’re running medium tires in this session, and I need to know if the softer suspension is affecting wear. Also, pay attention to energy deployment. I want to see if the new mapping gives us better acceleration out of those corners.”

I take a deep breath, nodding. It’s a lot to focus on, but this is where the work pays off. “Understood.”

“Give us your feedback as soon anything seems off.”

I put on my racing gloves, the familiar material sliding over my fingers as I flex my hands. They’re lightweight but provide just the right amount of grip, giving me that perfect feel for the steering wheel. Out of the corner of my eye, I catch Posey watching me, her brow furrowed as she notices the contrast between my casual attire and the racing gear.

“Why the gloves?” she asks, her voice tinged with curiosity.

I glance down at my fitted athletic shirt and lightweight trousers. “The clothes are for comfort, but the gloves are about touch,” I explain. “They give me the right grip and tactile feedback on the wheel. And you see I’m wearing my race shoes.” I hold up a foot, and she nods. “They’re thin soled. They let me feel the pedals as if I’m actually in the car. It’s all about maintaining consistency between this and the real thing.”

She nods, writing in her notepad. I’ve noticed she doesn’t miss a detail, which is both impressive and slightly unnerving. I hope I’m doing justice to the information she needs to make her story authentic.

I reach for the headset next, sliding it on and adjusting the mic. “This is so I can talk to the engineers while I’m in there,” I say, tapping the side of. “They’ll be monitoring everything, but I’ll provide real-time feedback on how the car performs. It’s like a conversation.” I give her a cheeky wink. “Only we’re talking about what’s happening at two hundred miles per hour.”

Posey chuckles as she watches me step up to the simulator, her eyes wide with fascination. The familiar rush of anticipation washes over me because while this can’t compare to the real adrenaline of being in an actual race, the technology is so realistic, it can be a bit of a mind fuck. I’ll feel the g-forces pulling at me and every bump in the road. Bahrain’s a tricky circuit and despite being an FI driver for five years, I still marvel at all of it. “All right, let’s see what she can do.”

With a final nod to the team, I slide into the cockpit, ready to push the limits and see if their tweaks will make the difference on race day. The engineers begin their final checks, the room quiet and the atmosphere tense as they prepare to run the program. Posey stands off to the side, watching intently. The engine roars to life in my ears, and the simulator jolts forward as I take off down the virtual straightaway.

The session is intense. I focus on the adjustments made to the car’s rear wing and suspension, pushing the car through the corners, feeling the changes in the steering and grip. It’s almost like being on the real track, the simulator so precise that every bump, every shift in weight is mimicked perfectly. I can feel the improvements, especially in the handling through the fast corners, but there’s still work to be done.

After what feels like an eternity, the session ends, and I pull off the headset before climbing out of the cockpit. Posey listens in as I discuss with the engineers what we learned and what modifications we’ll try in the next round.

When we’re done, I turn to Posey, now wide-eyed and full of questions. “That was amazing. And all those changes you discussed… you’ll test them in another simulator run?”

I nod. “We’ll get some track test time next Wednesday. And I’ll do practice runs in the simulator, just continuing to memorize the Bahrain track.”

“How long will the team make adjustments? I mean… at some point, you need a finalized version you have to commit to, right?”

Laughing, I grab a bottle of water from a small fridge in the corner. “We never stop making changes. We are always trying to improve.”

The door opens and a fiery red mop of curls peeks in. “You’ve got fifteen minutes before your interview starts.”

I glance at my watch and curse. I’d forgotten that Ronan and I have an interview with a formula race influencer that will be posted to social media channels. While written articles such as the one Posey is supposedly doing is good for the older fans, the younger ones want to see and hear from us on their TikTok and Instagram pages.

But I take a moment to introduce Posey. “Maeve Dornan… this is Posey Evans. Posey, Maeve is the communications manager for Crown Velocity.”

Maeve steps all the way into the room, her curly hair bouncing as she gives Posey a firm handshake. “Pleasure. You’re more than welcome to come along if you like. Harley told me you are shadowing our boy here.”

Posey glances at me, eyebrows raised in question. “Yeah… you should come and watch.” I give her a knowing smile, a secret between us. “You might learn something more for your article.”

And yes, there it is. The blush.

We walk back over to the lobby, which is the perfect place to do an on-camera interview. The cavernous glass and steel atrium with the backdrop of shelved trophies and retired race cars gleaming under the spotlights shows the prestige and power of Crown Velocity.

Ronan sits in a director’s chair, a stylist and makeup artist flitting about him. Maeve pulls Posey over to the side to watch and I plop down in the seat next to Ronan.

Immediately, I’m being fluffed and primped by two more ladies. Ronan asks, “So, how did the simulation go?”

“Not bad,” I reply, trying to talk around a soft brush being stroked over my face with God knows what on it. “The adjustments Gio and Emma made were solid. The new rear wing angle is helping with the oversteer in the fast corners, especially in turns three and eight on the Bahrain track. The car feels more planted now, and I didn’t have to fight it as much to keep it stable. When do you run?”

“In a few hours. Anya’s working on the tire pressure changes. Balance is good and the fronts aren’t overheating as quickly.”

I lean forward, holding my fist out for him to bump. “Sounds like one of us will be stealing glory at Bahrain.”

Ronan nods, his gaze sliding past me to Maeve and Posey who chat animatedly.

“Your little shadow is back,” he mutters, his tone dripping with disdain. “Looks like she’s ready to scribble down every word. I’ve got to say, mate, she’s a bit of a plain doormat, isn’t she? Doesn’t exactly do much for our image, dragging our reps down like that.”

I feel a surge of anger rise, and I turn to him, my voice low but firm. “What’s your problem with her, Ronan? Seriously. She’s just doing her job.”

He shrugs, a smile tugging on his lips. “No problem, just sharing my assessment of the situation. She doesn’t fit in with the crowd we usually roll with, you know? Feels like she’s more of a tagalong, and it’s not exactly doing us any favors.”

I narrow my eyes, my temper flaring. “She’s not dragging anyone down, least of all our reputations. So stop being an asshole to her.”

Ronan raises an eyebrow, clearly surprised by the intensity in my voice. “Whoa, easy there, mate. Didn’t know you were so protective of her. I’m just saying—”

“I don’t care what you’re just saying,” I snap. “She’s here to do a job, just like us. So lay off and be nice.”

Ronan studies me for a moment. “All right, all right. No need to get worked up. I’ll be nice, yeah?”

“See that you do,” I mutter, turning my attention back to the camera crew, trying to push down the lingering irritation.

“Sure. Yeah. How about we grab some dinner and beers tonight, just me and you? Low-key and chill.”

“Can’t tonight,” I say, gently brushing the makeup artist away. I give her a kind smile but tell her, “Enough.”

She bobs her head and retreats.

“Come on, mate,” Ronan cajoles, giving me his patented charming smile that works better on women than me. “It will be fun.”

“I can’t,” I reply, my eyes darting over to Posey.

Ronan’s gaze hardens. “Because you have plans with her.”

I don’t miss the condescension in his words. I turn to glare at him. “Yes, with her. I’m going to be staying here in Woking at an Airbnb she rented to be closer to HQ. Cut out the commute because it’s a pain.”

“You never thought it was before,” he points out.

“Maybe I did and I’m just taking advantage of a situation presented to me.”

Ronan makes a disbelieving sound low in his throat, but I leave it. I don’t feel like explaining myself to him, and besides… his dislike of Posey irritates me. She’s a nice girl, not here to hurt anyone, and if her story is believed by everyone who thinks she’s an actual reporter, they know she’s researching to write a nice piece about Crown Velocity.

A young woman interrupts us, a pretty blond with her long ponytail hanging through the keyhole of a black and red FI hat. She introduces herself as the influencer who will be interviewing us, and I forget her name as soon as I hear it. We do dozens of these interviews, especially leading up to the start of the season.

I look over at Posey, her eyes on me. She grins, gives me a thumbs-up, and I can’t help but grin back.