Chapter 17

Chapter 1 7

There was one more race before the circuit in England. Nix had told me over a takeaway in Argentina that Silverstone was his favourite track despite crashing there more than anywhere else.

By then, I wanted to be able to move my stuff out or sell it if I had a permanent contract.

There hadn’t been time to think over those details as I had been swamped with work in response toLuca’sviral teammate behaviour. Which was only enhanced by the release of the semi-naked photos Nix had taken for a French women’s magazine. He’d printed one off for me — the one I’d told him was my favourite — and signed it ‘For my dirty girl, Livid.’

I kept it on me during the organised chaos that was the following weeks.

Photo shoots.

Interviews.

Live streams.

It was relentless.

I’d worked for sportsmen before, but my two riders were suddenly high-flying celebrities. Their schedules were packed. More so than any client I’d ever had.

Two weeks later at the Japanese track for qualifying, things were just about calming down. In my rush to prepare everything for Nix’s on-track interview tomorrow, I’d hardly had a second’s rest.

We’d spent last night apart. But, when I’d woken up, I’d seen Nix had been a busy boy.

Someone had tweeted a picture of me and him at a takeaway shop getting food and captioned it with their theory that Nix was cheating on Clara with me.

It quickly received hundreds of comments.

And then Nix responded. Directly.

@NixonArmas18: Running stupid news stories, instead of actually investigating something worthwhile. Fuck off out of my mentions.

@NixonArmas18: I have not cheated on my girlfriend. This is my publicist. Of course we spend time together. She follows me wherever I go because I’m busy. It’s her job.

@StormSprintHotNews1: Did she tell you to post that too? Sound like an upstanding client.

@NixonArmas18: Don’t you fucking dare. She’s the best publicist out there.

Unfortunately, @StormSprintHotNews1was right. People were blowing up my mentions, asking if I babysat him, if I didn’t trust him, and how I felt about his response.

So when I saw him leathered in the corridor, I grabbed his arm and dragged him to one of the meeting rooms.

As soon as the door clicked closed, my hips were in his hands, his lips on my throat. “I like the way you think, Livid.”

“No!” I cried and pushed him off.

He frowned in confusion.

“You should have ignored that tweet! Oh my god, Nix, you made it so much worse. I had a newspaper contact me about it! That’s different to a few tweets. They wouldn’t even consider writing about it if you hadn’t got involved.”

He leaned against the desk. “I don’t get it. I was defending you.”

“Yeah, and making yourself look like a fool! Making yourself sound demanding and like a shit boss!”

His frown grew further. “What the fuck? So I can’t even defend you in public? That’s ridiculous.”

“I have told you so many times, NixonArmas, you only interact with positive comments from the public. Only them.”

He stood, shook his head, and muttered, “I will not let my actions hurt you. I will defend you if I want to.”

“Your reputation is more important than mine.”

“But you actually care for yours.”

We were glaring at each other and I really wanted to throw myself at him. When he looked down at my mouth, I was so close to making our quick breaths harsher by climbing him.

Instead, I said, “Are you getting attached,Armas? Because this is just fucking, I’ll remind you.”

Words failed him and seeing him flustered, the pinch between his eyebrows, the tip of his front teeth as his mouth opened, trying to speak… it all made me feel so small.

So I stood tall.

He shook his head, sighed and slammed the door behind him.

He wouldn’t ever listen.

He just wasn’t capable.

Yes, what he had said was sweet. Yes, it had made my chest warm at the compliment. Yes, I had a screenshot of the tweet to remember forever.

But that wasn’t the point .

If being close to me meant he reacted like that, well, maybe being close to me wasn’t a good idea at all.

Which made me want to sob. I was a hormonal wreck today.

If anyone was getting attached, it was me . The other night, he’d held me down to smell his garlic breath and I squealed until he kissed my nose, neck, all the way down to my bra.

He’d booked anAirBnBwith a cinema room and a tennis court specifically so we could watch Wimbledon together and then I could teach him how to play.

Then there was when he tried to buy me amotorsportjacket, making me try on his before fucking me in his number.

And inviting me to stay at his in the upcoming break, telling me aboutZigand how he’d introduce me to her ‘slowly’ so I didn’t get scared.

Like a fucking relationship .

And that scared me more than anything.

I was still in my thoughts as I was getting a bottle of water from the VIP lounge when Abbe sat at the bar where I stood. “Sunshine,” he greeted, swilling his gin. “Go and ask him.”

“Eh?” I asked and thanked the barman for the bottle he passed me.

“AskCrisoutright for the permanent contract,” he said. “Lucatold me. Got angry for you. There’s no way he’ll turn you down.”

“It’s not the time,” I said with a passive shrug. “After the race tomorrow, maybe.”

Abbe shook his head and reached to touch my arm. “Lucasaid it’s been upsetting you.”

I didn’t have time for it to upset me. I had either been riding the wave of the media frenzy and adoration forCiclatior sneaking time with Nix.

He was very distracting.

“Lucashouldn’t get involved,” I snapped. “No one can do this for me. I don’t want to ask. I want to be offered .”

“That won’t happen,” he said and downed his drink in one swallow. “Criswould forget his own head if it didn’t have theCiclatilogo tattooed under his ear. He named his own daughter Everly after a vintage bike. Everything is the bikes for that man. I’m sorry,Livie, but you could have Nix canonised as a saint, and you would still be an afterthought. He only cares about the bikes.”

“Bike sales have increased by 12% in the last two weeks,” I told him. He could read between the lines that it was because ofLuca.

He grinned, knowing. “Indeed they have. But, in this business, you don’t ask, you don’t get.”

I sighed, throwing my head back. My landlord had sent through a new contract last week while I’d been in Nix’s kitchen, getting out a garlic bread from the oven. “Fine. I’ll ask. But you andLucaneed to not meddle.”

“No meddling,” he promised.

With a warning glance, I left him, guzzling the water as I went, furious at myself for getting to this point.

I’d been ‘gifted and talented’ in school, a reader, a do-gooder. My bedroom was covered in certificates. I’d always worked hard, to the point of burnout. Until people didn’t have the option but to recognise my hard work. I refused to be average.

Average was a repulsive word.

Though I feared that was exactly what I was.

So, if I no longer had the talent, I put in the effort. I worked night and day to do the best job I could. Eager to please, to be needed and relied upon.

Indispensable.

It’s how I’d becomeVinny’spublicist after only a couple of years in the field.

I probably could have asked for more. I didn’t have the nerve.

But now, maybe I did. Put me in front of journalists or clients and I could handle them and tell them what was what. Put me in front of bosses… well, Adam and I hadn’t ended well.

Yet, here I was, in the pit box, ready to cheekily ask.

Maybe Nix had rubbed off on me.

“Cris,” I said gently as he messed around with his headset, passing it to one of the technicians. “Cris, can I speak to you?”

“Go on, mamie ,” he said but looked over at what they were doing. “Ask it.”

“Alone, maybe?”

His head jerked up with a frown. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing is wrong ,” I said.

He took me by the elbow to the back corner, behind the partition. “Tell me what’s wrong? What’s happened?”

“Am I still on a temporary contract?” I asked, not caring for how desperate I sounded. “The lease on my flat needs to be renewed within the next month— I can either move out and put my stuff in storage or I can—”

He blinked and let out the lightest of laughs. “Livia, how are you asking that? Even Nix said he doesn’t know what he’d do without you.”

Fuck sake. I shouldn’t have told him. “He—he did? When?”

“A month ago?” he mused. “Does it matter?”

“No, I guess not,” I murmured.

“Are you not happy?” he asked. “Did you want to keep it temporary so you can leave?”

“No!” I breathed deeply. “No, I’m really enjoying it.”

He brought me to him in a big hug. One that reminded me of my dad’s, just like how he called meLivia. “Good. That’s all we want. I’ll callHRnow.”

“I—I should go and call my landlord before qualifying finishes,” I said and lifted my phone. I took myself back to the VIP lounge, where Abbe still sat. I threw him a thumbs up and dialled my brother, just to check he was still fine with me staying at his, despite the fact I’d stayed there for months already.

My call with my brother was far longer than I anticipated. We hadn’t spoken much since I visited and he filled me in on family life and Griff’s promotion before we briefly discussed Dad. It was the year anniversary of his death.

I tried to put on a brave face out in the open VIP lounge for all to see, but my voice stiffened, and I swiftly moved the topic on.

We checked storage facilities in London. We couldn’t find one that would fit all of my possessions for less than ￡7,000 a year.

Which was more than I anticipated. I’d have to sell it all.

A lot of my dad’s things were in that flat. Many sentimental furnishings and artwork. The rustic coffee table he had made for my first flat when I moved to university. The wardrobe he had come to fit. The desk I had inherited from him that was covered in cuts and grooves from the tools he used for his lino prints and paint from his little miniature models of sports bikes. The art pieces he had commissioned were in my favourite shades of pink.

He had helped me make that place my home. And not only was I leaving it, but I wouldn’t have anything that resembled it ever again.

I wasn’t going to cry. I might want to be alone for a bit.

“Hey, Livie!”

My name stopped me at the door to theCiclatipit box. I’d opened the door to see Clara pressed into Nix’s side, her arm around his waist.

Stomach dropping, I stepped back to close the door, but Nix had heard my name and was turning to see me when the door shut.

This was ridiculous .

He wanted me to communicate, but how could I communicate that the relationship I had practically forced upon him sent shivers down my back? We weren’t exclusive.

We were friends with benefits.

Without the friend part.

We were co-workers with benefits.

Fuck, I hated every part of that sentence, and at the same time, I didn’t want to lose a single part of it.

“Yeah?” I called as I turned around to see Frank.

He had a grin on his face, standing in thePrixtonorange and black leathers.

Surely, qualifying wasn’t over yet.

“My director wants to see you,” he said.

His smile took over his whole face, crinkling his eyes. He was sweet, bless him.

“Your team director?”

He nodded and started walking further down the corridor to the other pits. “Yeah, he has a proposition for you.”

“Right,” I said. I’d avoided him for a few weeks. Ever since Nix and I reacquainted, I didn’t want to give him the wrong idea. If he had any idea at all.

At the door, he gestured me in but didn’t follow.

I’d never been in another team’s pit box. The only difference was the colours; other than that, it was just the man in the leather seat.Criswas grumpy and loud, and his foul mouth could no doubt be heard from here.Prixton’sdirector sat with a grin and immediately stood when I entered, looking behind me for Frank’s support.

It was just me and him. I didn’t even know his name.

“Olivia Quinn,” he said in a thick German accent. He shook my hand. Mine was floppy, like a dead fish. The strength my dad had taught me was out of the window; I was too flustered. “I don’t think we’ve officially had the pleasure. My name isEmericGorman. Frank speaks highly of you.”

He gestured for me to sit, and as I did, I noticed his eyes hovering over my slides.

Cris hated them, too.

“I heard you didn’t have a permanent contract,” he said. “Frank thinks the world of you and… well, with what you’ve managed to pull off withArmas… if your contract is only temporary, why don’t you come and work for us? Permanent media manager, of course.”

My words faltered. Permanent? An actual title that didn’t mean I was babysitting Nix?

I wouldn’t babysit Nixanymore.

Nix.

“I, er… they offered me a permanent position today.”

He straightened, looking down at me with curiosity. “Have you already signed it?”

I nodded, though it was a lie.

Damn me for opening my mouth about that contract .

“Okay, well, let’s put a pin in this and talk at the end of the season. You can always come over to our team. We’re quite competitive in our pay.”

“Go on,” I said.

“We’ll double it. And you’d be valued,Livie. Something tells me they don’t know what they have.”

You’ll still be an afterthought, Abbe had said.

Maybe I’d never prove myself withCiclati.

“Thank you,” I said, having to force out the words because my mind was racing… but simultaneously very quiet. Like the quiet mechanical sound of a bike going at high speed. Fast white noise.

I needed to be alone.

Back in the corridor, Frank was still bouncing on the balls of his feet.

“How did qualifying go?” I asked before he could question the conversation with his boss.

“Fastest lap so far,” he boasted. His schoolboy grin reminded me ofLuca’s.

“And first out on the track, by the looks of it,” I said, lifting my wrist to eye my watch just as the reminder for Nix and Clara’s interview for tomorrow came through. My voice turned bitter. “Someone is keen.”

His hand brushed mine as we walked back toCiclati, clearly unaware of how my body stiffened. “Only cause I told myself that after I’d do this.”

“This?” I asked, unsure if my emotions were making me incoherent.

“I haven’t had the nerve to seek you out,” he said. “You were with Nix in the hospital when I won. We didn’t celebrate. So, I want to do that. With you. Just me and you. ”

“Me and you,” I repeated, sounding as dumbfounded as I felt.

“Yes,” he confirmed with a nod. “A date.”

My first thought was Nix.

Then Clara’s hands on him. Then how much I didn’t want to date Frank. Which was exactly why I should.

“When?”

“After the race tomorrow?” he asked, rocking back on his heels. “After I win again.”

I laughed at his confidence. If the storm hadn’t hit, I didn’t doubt that Nix would have won. The man was just too ruthless.

“A date tomorrow,” I repeated, just to confirm. “When you win, you might be busy.”

TheCiclatidoor flew open. Nix stood, jaw as tight as the rest of his body. “Livid, you’re needed.”

Shitting hell.

I gave Frank an apologetic smile and rushed into the pit box. “Nix—”

But everyone was inside.Lucahad clearly just got back from qualifying, and Abbe was over his shoulder with an iPad.

Everyone looked up when I shouted Nix’s name with desperation.

I tried to sound casual. “Nix, what am I needed for?”

But thenCriswas there, another tablet in hand that he pressed towards me. “New contract,” he said. He lowered his voice and put a dramatic hand to his mouth to try and hide his words, “You might want to check the salary.”

But instead, I was watching Nix get on his bike and ride down the pit lane. He was always last to ride. By the screens of the times so far, only seven riders had come back.

No one looked as shocked as me. I caughtCrisrolling his eyes. Abbe didn’t even look over his shoulder at him.

But I returned my gaze to the tablet and blinked at the price. “That—that’s quite the increase.”

Which I had to ask for.

Don’t ask, don’t get, as Abbe had said.

Though it wasn’t quite double my original salary.

I signed.