Chapter 34
MONTE CARLO, MONACO
M iles took his earphones out when Enzo tapped on his shoulder. Standing beside his car under the beaming Monégasque sun, Miles was waiting for the race to start alongside the other nineteen drivers. The starting grid was flooded with car mechanics and engineers, photographers, and journalists.
They had just listened to the national anthem, and Miles had stood behind Charlie who looked so nervous he could’ve pissed in his racing suit. He’d clapped on his teammate’s shoulder, saying “ Prince of Monaco? You’ve got this, man. This race is yours .” Certainly, Miles always wanted to win, to stand on the highest step after every race, but not today. Today, he would defend Charlie with everything in his possession. His main goal was to overtake Thiago on the first turn to claim P2, and stay there for the seventy-eight-lap race.
Enzo jutted his chin towards the grid, and when Miles turned around, his lips broke into a smile. Indy was talking enthusiastically to the camera pointed at her, one hand holding onto the microphone as the other waved around. She looked so divine, so beautiful like this—in her element.
“Ah, and here’s our championship leader! He’s currently leading with thirty-eight points ahead of Thiago Valencia.” She stepped beside Miles, her smile growing. “Ready? The lights are going out in less than fifteen minutes, and you’re starting on the second row.”
“Never been more ready,” he said, clearing his throat, like her presence had rendered him speechless.
“Talk us through your pre-race ritual.”
“Here.” Still aware that he was on live TV, he extended an earphone out to her. When the notes rang in her ear, she smiled up at him.
It was U2’s With or Without You which they had slowed danced to this morning while watching the sun rise on the rooftop.
“Music is really important to Miles,” Indy explained to the camera. “If you want to know more about him and his love for music, you can either listen to the most recent episode on Hitting the Apex podcast, or check Thunderbolt Sports’ YouTube channel to watch the blind date with Miles.”
Her fingers grazed his hand, a secret touch of encouragement that set his bloodstream on fire.
Her brows lifted as she glimpsed at the car. One of his car mechanics was readjusting the warming blanket atop the left rear tyre. “You’re starting on soft. That’s surprising.”
He shrugged. “Just trust the process. AJ knows what he’s doing, and so do I.”
“Well, we can never go wrong with a good strategy. Good luck,” she told him, handing back the earphone. Had it not been for the upcoming Grand Prix, the cameras, and the fans all around, he would have shared more music with her. Just because it was their thing now—as though a mere string could tether and bind them together.
“Thanks, Indy.”
She smiled then walked away, the professionalism not once wavering from her demeanour. “So, this track is a little over three kilometres long. Seventy-eight laps. Charlie Beaumont is starting from pole—third one of his career—and Thiago Valencia is on the front row with him. Who’s going to win this Grand Prix?”
Miles adjusted his grip around the steering wheel, narrowing his gaze on the five red lights above the starting line. They disappeared, indicating the start of the formation lap.
Following Thiago closely by zig-zagging, switching between accelerating and decelerating, he made sure to warm up the engine, the oil, and the tyres.
Back on the grid, he took a deep, centering breath, waiting for the other drivers to line up in their respective starting position.
Though he stayed focused with his gaze zeroed in on the horizontal lights that would soon light up, his thoughts wandered off to Charlie. He needed his mate to win.He had faith in him, his skills, and his ability to lead the race in its entirety.
The first red light burst to life. Then, all five were lit. Time stood still for six seconds, the sound of engines revving loudly, then the lights went out.
Miles’ foot pushed on the gas pedal as he roared off the track, almost racing side by side with Thiago. They went through the first corner wheel to wheel, but Thiago didn’t widen his trajectory, forcing Miles to stay behind.
“Good start.” AJ’s voice came through the radio. “You’re less than a second away from Valencia. Full push. You might be able to overtake after the tunnel if you keep up the pace.”
Though it was no secret that his car wasn’t the best during qualifying this season, it was certainly a rocket ship during races.
He attempted an overtake in the hairpin, but the space was too sinuous to take the risk. He chased after Thiago, wanting to overtake as soon as he could.
Before they could finish the first lap, Miles noticed that Charlie was headed into the pit lane.
“What’s wrong with Charlie?” he asked AJ.
Thiago was now leading the race.
“He’s got an issue with his gearbox.”
His heart dropped. Broke. “No…no, no, man. You’re kidding. He’s retiring?”
“Yeah,” AJ sighed.
Goddamn it. Charlie didn’t deserve this.
“Fuck. I’m going to win for him.”
It was on the eighteenth lap that a yellow flag was announced.
“Safety car is out,” AJ said. “Collision in sector one. Be careful, there’s some debris scattered on the track.”
He slowed down, slight frustration coursing through his veins. He’d been so close to overtaking Thiago. “Is everyone okay?”
“Yes. No one’s hurt.”
“Good.”
The sky darkened, and Miles frowned. “Is it about to rain?”
“Not until tonight. We’re keeping an eye on the weather forecast, so we should be good until the end of the Grand Prix. Box on the next lap.”
The pit stop lasted for less than three seconds, and Miles grinned in triumph when he exited the pit lane with a fresh set of hard compounds on. He fell back into third place right behind Rowan. The two Primavera Racing drivers were still behind the safety car, and neither of them had pitted yet.
His heart was thumping wildly, his car vibrating against his back as he felt the engine roar like it needed to release its energy. His grip tightened around the steering wheel, his foot ready to add pressure against the gas pedal just to feel the thrill of the speed.
The smell of burnt rubber invaded his senses, the adrenaline rushing through his veins feeding his soul.
AJ’s voice rang through his earbuds a moment later. “Safety car will go in soon, I think. You’ve got this.”
“I know. Let me do my thing.”
“Yep. Safety car is going in the next lap. Fifty-five laps afterwards.”
Once the burgundy safety car was out of the track and the green flag was waved into the air, Miles accelerated and sought a slipstream, trying to eliminate the distance between him and the red car in front.
On the thirty-sixth lap, Miles locked up, causing him to nearly drive into a barrier instead of following the trajectory of the track. He grunted, activating the reverse feature as he checked his rear-view mirror. Thankfully, only Rowan managed to overtake, and when he got safely back on track, he was P3.
“You okay?” AJ asked.
“All grand. Rookie mistake.”
“Happens to the best. You’re four seconds ahead of the McMillan.”
Three laps later, there was a red flag.
“What happened?”
“Big incident in sector one again. No one is out of their car yet.”
He slowed down, following Thiago and Rowan into the pit lane. “Shit. I hope everyone’s okay.”
Accidents could be scary and dangerous. Miles hated that twisting sensation inside his stomach whenever a big incident happened.
While he didn’t know when the race would resume, he still hoped that he could win. For Charlie.
The race resumed thirty minutes later once the track was clear from the damaged cars and the debris. Three cars had been taken out in the accident, but all three drivers were okay, which was what mattered most.
Having taken advantage of the red flag, Miles’ strategist suggested changing his tyres once again. He had another set of hard compounds on as he stopped on the grid. All remaining drivers would start again, but now starting from the position they were in right before the red flag—meaning that Miles was P3 again.
He had a good start, following Rowan closely. Inside multiple corners, he managed to avoid the dirty air and the turbulences caused by it, seeking a slipstream to gain the extra speed he needed in the tunnel—the fastest zone in the circuit.
Even when DRS was enabled a couple of laps later, he still couldn’t catch his rival.
But it was on the forty-ninth lap that AJ said, “I think Primavera Racing is about to do a double stack since they didn’t do it during the red flag.”
“Their loss.”
As predicted, the two red cars bolted into the pit lane, giving Miles the title of race leader.
“Say thank you AJ for being an amazing race engineer .”
Miles scoffed, yet he smiled as he hit the throttle. “Do you want me to shower you with flowers too?”
“I’d love that.”
“Shut up and let me drive in silence.”
“Yes, sir.”
“How is it going?” AJ asked just when he passed by the finish line where he’d seen a sign saying Lap 71 .
“This is boring as fuck. Did you bring your pillow? How many of you are napping in the garage right now?”
AJ chuckled. “They’re fighting their yawns.”
Nothing interesting had happened since the red flag. Thiago hadn’t been able to catch up to Miles. Miles was four seconds ahead of him, but for the public’s sake, he hoped some action was happening at the end of the grid.
“Okay, well, hang on. I’m about to win.”
Obviously, a lot of things could happen in seven laps, but he was confident that he’d claim the win. For Charlie. His team. His dad. Indy, Kai, Romeo, Ezra. His family.
Panting, sweating, and chuckling to himself, he passed the chequered flag a couple of laps later, lifting his fist high in the air—victorious.
“You did it again!” In the background, he could hear the screams of joy his car mechanics were emitting as AJ congratulated him. “What a man. We don’t call you The Lion for nothing.”
Jumping out of his car, he made a beeline towards his crew standing behind barriers. He crashed into their open arms, smiling when pats of encouragement fell upon his back and helmet.
Miles hugged his father tightly, as always.
He found Charlie, tucking his teammate into his chest and patting his shoulder a couple of times. “You okay?”
“I will be,” Charlie answered with a crack in his voice. “But you did so fucking great.”
He gave him a squeeze on the shoulder that promised they’d talk later, then went to congratulate Thiago and Rowan.
After checking his weight, taking his helmet and balaclava off, he looked around the crowd for a stunning blonde. Like a magnet attracted to its other half, he found her standing at the back next to Carmen.
Miles trotted towards Indy, uncaring of the wild roars coming from the crowd or what Kai might think the moment he would see the photos flooding the internet.
“What are you doing?” Her eyes were wide, a small smile tugging at her lips.
He cupped the back of her head to lightly kiss her. Brief yet meaningful.
Indy’s smile widened, affecting his heart like a bright ray of sunshine peeking through clouds. She threw her arms around his shoulders, the embrace quick but tight.
“I’m so proud of you,” she whispered into his ear.
Pulling away, Miles found utter adoration swimming around her ocean eyes. He grabbed her hand, kissed her palm, and turned around to fulfil his post-race duties.
So this was what it felt like to be loved by Indy? That unyielding feeling of safety. That unwavering support, the unique and exhilarating friendship, and the knowledge that everything was colourful when it had once been grey? If Indy loved him like this, without any condition, then he didn’t want it to end.
He’d always thought he was unlovable, undeserving of love, but Indy did it so effortlessly that he understood that it was okay if he let her know he was falling. Because he was safe. Nothing could hurt him. Nothing could break him—not anymore.
Maybe he was unbreakable, but Indy wasn’t safe, and it made his blood boil.
Folding his arms across his chest, he leaned against the wall, waiting for Tara to speak up. He was ready to leave the track to celebrate his win, but Tara had been waiting for him by the motorhome and had asked for a minute of his time.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean that Indy is no saint,” Tara repeated.
“Because you are?”
Tara scoffed, picking at her nails. “She doesn’t deserve her job.”
Pushing himself off the wall, he tried to take a calming breath in. “You need to stop, Tara. This is getting old. Indy is amazing, kind, and determined. I have no idea of what she’s ever done to you, but your one-sided hatred is almost embarrassing.”
“A good presenter doesn’t send nudes.”
He felt time stop. Looking around to see if anyone was listening, he found Ava’s gaze from afar. As always, she had his back, but he shook his head, not needing her to be involved in this. But, if things got out of hand, he knew that she would be able to fix everything.
“Sorry?”
Tara smiled viciously. “Your little girlfriend is not as smart as she thinks she is. Leaving her laptop unlocked as she goes to grab a coffee? She should’ve known someone would find that the pictures on her phone are synced to her laptop.”
When Tara slipped her own phone in his trembling hand, he let his blood roar in his ears as he stared at the photos she had taken pictures of. Indy’s naked body. Him, taking her from behind, her hair bunched in his fist as she snapped a memory of this heated moment in the mirror. Selfies of himself when they travelled. Private shots, meant for himself and Indy alone.
“You’re sick. What do you plan on doing with these? Leak them?” he calmly asked, knowing there was no point in acting on his anger.
“Yep.”
“Look.” He lifted his phone, keeping Tara’s and showing that he’d been recording the entire conversation. She blanched, wide eyes staring back at him. “Delete the pics, and my press officer won’t leak this little voice note. You so much as say a thing to Indy about what you saw, you so much as look her way, then everyone will know you’ve invaded our privacy. Everyone will also know that you sent unsolicited pictures to my friends?—”
“I didn’t?—”
“Let me finish,” he snapped. “Charlie told me about the nudes. Enzo too. Tate fucking Richards even got some, but if you must know they were all deleted because your behaviour is disgusting. This is assault, okay? Are you that desperate? What is wrong with you?”
Tara didn’t answer, sheer fear painting her face.
“Make the right choice,” he said. “You don’t want to test me.”
Miles deleted the pictures without asking for Tara’s consent, because what the fuck? He dropped her phone into her hand, fury still clinging at his chest, his pulse still deafening.
“What was the reason?”
“Indy has everything I want. My job. My fame.”
He sighed. “I feel sorry for you, I really do. But please, quit acting like a child. We’ve got some more important matters in our hands, and if you’re jealous of someone who’s been nothing but respectful to you, maybe you should get your head checked.”
“But—”
“Just apologise, Tara. To me and Indy. Especially Indy. And to be clear, I want nothing to do with you, neither do my friends. You should be fired for what you did.”
Tears brimmed her eyes. “No, please don’t say anything. Don’t tell Indy. She’ll report this to HR.”
He scoffed. “You bet I fucking will.” He turned on his heel, gesturing for Ava to join. He’d let her know everything the moment they’d be safe within walls. “Should’ve thought about the consequences. Don’t talk to me. And apologise to my girl if you want to keep your goddamn job. I’m not afraid of getting my lawyer involved, so be careful with the choices you make.”
“Why is Tara apologising?” Indy asked as she slipped a foot in a Jimmy Choo stiletto.
Stopping short, Miles peered at the breathtaking blonde, his shirt halfway buttoned. “Was there any context?”
Indy shrugged. “No.”
How fucking dumb of Tara. Hypocrite. Immature and selfish.
Taking a seat on the bed, he faced Indy, tucking a strand of hair behind an ear. “We had an interesting encounter earlier as I was leaving the track.”
“You and Tara?” Indy frowned, setting her phone on the nightstand.
Miles nodded, then explained what happened as carefully as he could. He’d already noticed she was lost in her thoughts and didn’t want to make her panic any further. By the time he was done, Indy’s eyes were flickering between his, obvious distress gleaming in them.
“She—but are you sure the photos were deleted?”
“I did it myself, so yes, they’re gone from her phone. Hopefully she doesn’t have them backed-up on another device, but my lawyer is already aware of the situation, so if one photo gets out, she’s done.”
Indy’s palm came in contact with her throat, like she wanted to claw at it to find air. “Oh, God. Oh, God. What if the photos get leaked? Both our careers will be ruined.”
Gently prying her hand off, Miles cradled her face. “Breathe, baby. We will be okay. She won’t do shit, because she’s too chicken to actually ruin your life. She knows how powerful you are. She knows that we’ve got good lawyers. Now all you have to decide is if you want to tell HR about what happened.”
“I—”
“You don’t have to decide now.”
It took a few beats, but as soon as she rolled her shoulders back, determination emanated from her demeanour. Miles loved the sudden ferocity burning around her pupils. “I want her to feel guilty every time she sees me standing in front of the camera. I want her to sit across from me during meetings and see that I don’t give a shit that she’s seen my tits. I also want her to remember that it’s me you’re fucking whenever she walks past me, and that she’ll never have you.”
There she was.
Miles couldn’t help but smirk. “You sure?”
“As long as the pictures don’t go out, I don’t care. But if I see her snooping around my stuff once more, if I see her talk shit about me again, I will not hesitate to destroy her.”
Cupping her jaw, he kissed her nose. “You’re so strong, Indy.”
She kissed him, then moved to straddle his lap. “When did you say we needed to join the guys at the club?”
“Like, fifteen minutes ago,” he said, caressing her soft thighs.
“So they won’t care if we’re even more late.” Her mouth found the base of his throat, pressing a light kiss, making him shudder.
A hum rumbled in his chest. “Definitely not. Take off that dress and keep the heels on.”
Unzipping the black fabric, their breaths tangled as Miles palmed her ass. Her fingers wove through his hair, her lips moving towards his ear. “Do you think I should send Tara a photo of me riding your cock? Just to remind her who she’s dealing with?”
“You’re out of your mind,” he breathed. “And fuck if I don’t find it sexy as hell.”