CHAPTER 7
Willow
Thank goodness for jet lag. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have slept at all last night.
Dev and his job offer are the first things on my mind when I wake, my stomach twisted in knots and my head hazy. Before the fog clears, I briefly wonder if yesterday was a hallucination. But the glittering Monaco harbour outside my balcony doors is proof otherwise. So is my dress from last night’s event, thrown over the chair in the corner. The half a dozen texts from Oakley telling me he’s on his way up to my room solidify it. I’m really here. And Dev really did hire me to fix his problematic image.
Groaning, I drag myself out of bed and shuffle to the door when Oakley’s complicated signature knock resounds from the other side. It’s a remnant from our days playing Ruler of the Castle in our treehouse. Back then, you weren’t allowed entry without the secret knock but, nowadays, we use it to announce our presence to each other.
Without bothering to check the peephole, I pull down on the handle and haul open the heavy door, careful not to throw my hip out to the side for leverage as I do. I learned the hard way to use my limited upper body strength instead. I’m not interested in dislocating a hip again or spending hours in a Monaco hospital to get it put back in place.
‘What should we do today?’ Oakley asks as he strides inside. It’s barely nine, but he’s already showered and dressed.
I, on the other hand, am still in pyjamas – cute long-sleeved pink linen ones, sure, but pyjamas, nonetheless – and my hair is a mess since I didn’t bother to tie it up last night, let alone wrap it in a scarf.
‘We could hit the casino, do some shopping, get shit-faced on a yacht,’ he suggests. ‘Your choice. The world’s your oyster, kid.’
I don’t know about any of that, but I do need to talk to Dev about how he wants to get started. Because the more I think about it, the more I realize just how big a job this is going to be, and it’s got me panicking a little. What if I can’t pull this off the way he wants? But he wouldn’t be pushing so hard to hire me if he didn’t believe I could, right? He’s in my corner, even if I’m still unsure about it.
Today would be perfect to get a crash course in what he expects. Thursdays are media days, chock full of interviews, photoshoots and other content creation for a driver’s team and sponsors before the race weekend. I could observe, and he could show me the ropes.
First, though . . . I have to have a conversation with my brother. Nothing is going to happen until I get his approval.
Oakley throws himself down on my bed, leaving his legs hanging over the edge and his feet on the floor, and stares at me as he waits for an answer. I really wish I’d had time for a cup of coffee before launching into all of this, but here we go, I guess.
Perching on the chair I tossed my dress onto last night, I tuck my hands between my knees, needing the grounding pressure to keep from freaking out. ‘I’m up for whatever,’ I say, my voice as light and breezy as I can make it. ‘But . . . can I talk to you about something first?’
Nonplussed, Oakley circles his hand in the air to get me to come out with it.
I draw in a deep breath and exhale slowly. ‘As it turns out, you were right about me being offered a job by the end of the party.’
He jackknifes to sitting in a move far smoother than I could ever manage, no matter how much I work on my core. ‘For real?’
I nod in response. When he grins and his dark eyes light up, my stomach twists further in on itself.
‘Wills, that’s amazing. I knew you’d pull it off. Who will you be working for?’
Ah, crap, moment of truth. ‘You have to promise not to get angry or try to tell me I can’t do it, okay?’ I threaten without much real force behind it. He’ll do whatever he wants anyway.
Oakley snorts. ‘What, did you agree to be a professional girlfriend to one of the old-ass team principals?’
‘Ew, no.’ I flick my tangled hair over my shoulder. ‘But thank you for thinking I’m pretty enough to be hired as one.’
He throws a pillow at me, leaving me to scramble to catch it before it hits me in the face. ‘Seriously, what is it?’ he demands. ‘Stop being so cagey. I hate this shit.’
I clutch the pillow to my chest, as if it will protect me from what I’m sure will be swift and harsh disapproval. ‘Dev wants me to be his temporary social media manager,’ I confess in a rush of words. ‘Just long enough to recover his public image after the Jani mishap without involving a big PR firm.’
Oakley stares at me, blinking, his expression unreadable.
Oh no. This is it. He’s going to tell me I can’t do it. And even if I argue, I know Dev won’t go for it if my brother isn’t on board.
But to my surprise, Oakley shoots me a confused look. ‘Why would I be angry about that?’ He scoots a little closer to the edge of the bed. ‘That’s a great opportunity to get your foot in the door. And think about how amazing that will look on your résumé.’ He scans the room, wearing a contemplative frown. ‘I don’t know why I didn’t think of it, to be honest. It’s literally perfect.’
Excuse me while I pick my jaw up off the ground. ‘You’re seriously okay with this?’ Could it really be this easy to get his seal of approval? I expected histrionics and threats to send me back to New York on the next flight.
Maybe I wanted that, too. Maybe I wanted to be talked out of this. It’s my nerves trying to take over, I know that, but I almost hoped someone else might point out the negatives I haven’t discovered yet. There’s got to be something I’m blind to.
Oakley shrugs. ‘Of course I am. I just wish I’d thought of it myself. I want the credit.’
‘And you don’t mind if I work for one of your closest friends?’ I push, still searching for that out.
‘No, I don’t.’ A beat passes where he just watches me. Then his eyes widen. ‘Look, I know I told you I don’t want you involved with another one of my friends, but this is a professional arrangement. Not . . . personal.’
He has a point, and maybe I’ve underestimated his ability to differentiate between Dev and Jeremy. Plus, he doesn’t know about the kiss.
But I still have my own worries, no matter how much I want the job.
‘What if Dev fires me and leaves me stranded in Australia like he did with Jani?’ I challenge. ‘What would you do?’
Oakley lifts a finger. ‘First of all, the Australian Grand Prix already happened, so that’s not possible.’ He raises another. ‘And second of all, he knows better than to leave you stranded anywhere. But if you mess up and get fired, that’s your own problem.’ He lowers the first finger again, leaving his middle one raised as he smiles. ‘So don’t fuck it up.’
I launch the pillow back at him, letting out a delighted cackle when it hits him square in the face. Guess he lost all his amazing reaction times once he left racing.
‘I’m glad you’re leaving,’ he grumbles as he tosses the pillow to the side. ‘Let Dev deal with your ass.’
‘You barely see me anyway. You’re too busy in Chicago,’ I huff as I slowly stand from the chair. It feels like a thousand-pound weight has been lifted off my shoulders. If Oakley can’t see any drawbacks, maybe I really am making the right decision. ‘And this will only be for a couple of months. Just until Alisha’s wedding.’
Oakley gets a wistful look in his eyes when I mention Dev’s older sister, just like he has for years, but he blinks it away quickly and waves me off. ‘Whatever. Go get dressed so we can leave. I want to get day-drunk and gamble away my millions.’
I snort but move over to my suitcase to grab an outfit for the day. ‘I think you’re overestimating the number of zeros in your bank account.’
‘You don’t know my life.’ He purses his lips and studies me. ‘Hey, does this mean you need to check in with Dev? When do you officially start?’
‘I don’t know,’ I confess, pawing through sundresses and cardigans and ignoring the uptick in my heart rate. ‘I wanted to get your approval before moving forward with details.’
Oakley grumbles something I can’t make out. ‘Fine, call and let him know that the big bad brother doesn’t care what you two do. Just don’t make things worse for him. He’s already got it bad enough.’
I roll my eyes as I pick out a dress with tiny pink flowers printed across it and a pair of white sneakers. My joints won’t survive walking around this city without arch support, cute as my strappy sandals are. ‘You call him,’ I shoot back. ‘I don’t even have his number, and you’re the one he’d probably rather hear from anyway.’
The first part is a lie. I definitely have Dev’s number, unless he’s changed it in the past seven months. And as for him preferring to hear from Oakley – well, it’s not exactly a lie. I’m just too nervous to talk to him. Surely that doesn’t bode well for our working relationship, but hopefully we’ll fall back into our old camaraderie after a few days.
At least, I hope. Oh god, I don’t know how I’m going to make it through this if I can’t even bring myself to talk to the guy.
Oakley grunts but pulls his phone out of his pocket and taps the screen a few times before setting it on the bed beside him.
Dev’s voice is hoarse when he answers, and I can’t help but wonder what he did after the party last night. ‘What’s up?’
‘Hey, you at the circuit?’ Oakley’s question is directed at him, but he’s looking at me, gauging my reaction.
There’s vague rustling in the background, like sheets. I’m struck with the mental image of Dev naked in bed, brown skin against crisp white sheets, the necessities barely covered. It’s sudden and unbidden, but I like the idea of it more than I should.
‘Nah, haven’t left my place yet,’ he says. ‘Why?’
‘Come get your newest employee on your way over.’
There’s a long, crackling pause before he asks, ‘You serious?’
‘Hi, Dev,’ I squeak.
‘Willow. Hi.’ He clears his throat, and his voice loses some of that scratchy quality. ‘Oak, you’re okay with this?’
‘Yeah,’ my brother says. ‘I’m just pissed I didn’t think of it first.’
‘Okay. Wow. All right. I guess I’ll be there in a bit to pick you up, Wills.’
Before I can panic about being alone with Dev, Oakley adds, ‘We can all go over together. I want the full backstage tour too.’
‘You already know what it’s like,’ I point out, but I’m grateful that he’ll be a buffer – and a reminder of why I can’t let myself think the way I have been about Dev. ‘You’ve been to plenty of races. And you were literally a driver.’
‘Not in F1,’ he counters. ‘And Dev’s always been too busy to show me around, the dick.’
Dev lets out an exasperated breath. ‘Fine, we’ll all go.’
‘One big, happy family,’ Oakley quips.
Yeah. That’s certainly one way of putting it . . .
‘Well, Willow,’ Dev says as I stare at the phone beside my brother’s leg. ‘Welcome to Argonaut Racing. Hope you like red, white and blue.’
——
Dev wasn’t kidding about the colour scheme. It looks like the American flag threw up all over him and ninety-nine per cent of the people here.
This is Argonaut Racing’s all-American, all the time tagline come to life. Every person we’ve spoken to in the team’s hospitality suite since we arrived five minutes ago has an American accent, and the team uniform of navy shorts paired with a red-and-white striped polo screams patriotism. Or creepy nationalism.
A sneaky search on my phone while we’re waiting for our coffee order tells me that Argonaut prides itself on hiring only US-based employees, from the factories all the way to the drivers. The team’s owner and chairman, Buck Decker, is a Texas oil-money billionaire who took over the team two years ago and implemented the all-American rule – along with putting his son, Nathaniel, in the second race seat alongside Dev. Before that, the team was a little more international, but they’ve always been an American constructor.
I slip my phone back into my purse as Oakley hands me a steaming vanilla-heavy latte, my preferred coffee order. At least I won’t have to worry about getting a solid caffeine fix while on the road with Dev. Honestly, this hospitality motorhome looks like the lobby of a luxury hotel rather than a structure that’s put up and taken down weekend after weekend in locations around the world.
A sleek rectangular bar takes up the centre of the space, with high-top tables dotted around it, and there are TVs mounted on the walls every few feet. There are mini vending machines stocked with bottles from the beverage company that sponsors the team, grab-and-go snack stations, and what looks like a photo booth. There are even hanging plants to give the space a little greenery.
The uniforms are the only eyesore. Even Dev, who looks good in everything, comes off a little foolish. Like a kid forced to wear an outfit his mom picked out for a Fourth of July parade. Not that his mom would ever do that; Neha Aunty would never stand for such tackiness.
And yet, even though he looks silly, Dev pulls it off better than anyone else here. The sleeves of the polo stretch tight around his thick biceps, and the buttons at the collar are undone just enough to show off a peek of his skin underneath. If the shorts were any shorter, they’d be borderline obscene, but as it stands, they show off solid thighs and, for an instant, what I swear is the swirl of black ink peeking out from the hem. But then he moves, and it’s gone.
I don’t mean for our eyes to meet when I look back up, but when they do, he watches me for a second too long. Like maybe he could hear me mentally thirsting over him and he’s trying to figure out how to tell me to stop. But when I look closer, all I see is awe, as if he can’t believe I’m here. That this is actually happening. I feel the same.
Finally glancing away, he nods in the direction of a back hallway. ‘Follow me.’
I breathe a sigh of relief when he turns and navigates through the crowd like he owns the place. He greets people as we pass by, truly in his element. It’s far more attractive than it should be.
‘Before we do anything, we need to meet with the absolute light of my life,’ Dev says over his shoulder. ‘Patsy Beedle, Argonaut’s head of communications.’
Oakley and I trail behind him, and Chava falls into step with us as we head toward the offices at the rear of the motorhome. He’s also wearing the hideous uniform, which doesn’t bode well for me. It’s beginning to look like everyone associated with the team and its drivers has to wear it.
‘I hear you’ve joined Team Dev.’ Chava shoots me a crooked grin. ‘I’ll help you get set up with everything you need, including hotel and travel bookings while we’re on the road.’
I shoot him a grateful smile, glad I have another ally here. ‘Thank you,’ I exhale. ‘This is all pretty . . . sudden. I wasn’t exactly expecting a job offer last night.’
‘We weren’t expecting it either,’ someone else cuts in.
I glance over my shoulder and catch a glimpse of Mark coming up behind us. Even though he’s wearing a smile, it’s not the authentic one I’ve seen him flash thousands of times. I’ve never had a problem with him, but he’s never cared for me all that much. And I don’t blame him. If I hadn’t gotten involved with Jeremy, he wouldn’t have been forced to choose sides, and he wouldn’t have lost a handful of friends in the process.
I return his smile, hoping mine comes off a little more genuine. As Dev’s performance coach, Mark is always with him, and if I have to maintain Dev’s social media, that means I’m going to be constantly underfoot as well. There will be no avoiding each other, so for both our sakes and Dev’s, I hope we can be civil.
Ahead of me, Dev comes to an abrupt stop. I peer around him to see what the roadblock is and catch sight of a petite middle-aged redhead wearing Argonaut’s team uniform, though hers is modified with a navy pencil skirt and a star-printed accent scarf. Her smile says she’d offer up a slice of homemade apple pie in a heartbeat, but her eyes say it might just be laced with arsenic.
‘There you are,’ Dev says to her, bright and beaming. He wastes no time looping an arm around her narrow shoulders and turning to Oakley and me. ‘This is Patsy. She follows me around to make sure I don’t say anything slanderous to the press and get the team into trouble.’
The woman heaves a beleaguered breath. ‘That is not my job, Mr Anderson.’ Her long vowels and honeyed drawl tell me she’s from somewhere in the deep south. She could insult my entire bloodline and make it sound sweet.
Dev shrugs. ‘It’s close enough, right?’
Patsy opens her mouth like she wants to protest but closes it again and nods. ‘Honestly, yes,’ she admits, shaking her head before looking up at him and frowning. ‘What are you doing here so early? I usually have to send someone to drag you in on Thursdays.’
‘That’s not true at all,’ Dev says to Oakley and me, wearing a shit-eating grin.
Yeah, right.
‘I’m nothing if not punctual.’ He clears his throat to dislodge the lie. ‘Anyway. Patsy, I’d like to introduce you to my new social media manager, Willow Williams.’
I stick my hand out. She wraps her own around it and squeezes firmly, but there’s a confused crease to her brow.
‘Nice to meet you,’ she says before dropping my hand and looking back at Dev. ‘It’s just her?’
‘Just her,’ he confirms, the note in his voice daring her to challenge him on it.
I’ve known the woman for less than a minute, but I already know she’ll do exactly that. ‘Dev, we’ve talked about this. You need to hire a whole—’
‘I know what I need, Patsy, and it’s for you to take a beautiful vacation with your husband in the Tuscan countryside,’ he cuts in smoothly, smiling wide as if he’s offering to send her on that holiday out of the goodness of his heart, not because he wants her to stop nagging him. ‘I promise, Willow is the best of the best. She’ll have everything fixed like that.’ He snaps his fingers.
There’s no way Patsy’s buying what he’s selling, but she has the courtesy to turn back to me. ‘Well, Ms Williams, I’m pleased to have you on board with us. You and I will be working closely to make sure this troublemaker doesn’t have any more . . . slip-ups.’
‘I’m looking forward to it,’ I tell her earnestly. Women are in the minority around here – in most of motorsport, really – so it will be nice to work alongside another driven female who clearly doesn’t put up with Dev’s crap.
‘Have one of these boys give you my contact info, and don’t be afraid to reach out.’ She turns back to Dev and ducks out from under his arm. ‘I need you back here in an hour to autograph driver cards and to do some filming. Now go terrorize someone else.’
She shoos us back, forcing us to clear a path as she saunters off. Am I a little intimidated by her? Absolutely. But I’m equally awed and excited to work with her.
‘And that was the woman of my dreams,’ Dev says wistfully as he watches her go. ‘I’m only slightly less scared of her than I am of my mother.’
Oakley snorts. ‘I’m sure Neha Aunty would love to hear that.’ He glances around, no doubt antsy to get out of here to see the cars. ‘Can we head to the garage now?’
Dev holds an arm out, motioning for Oakley to lead the way. ‘Be my guest.’
In a heartbeat, my brother is hustling through the throngs of people. Mark joins him, but a light touch on my arm has me hanging back. I peek over my shoulder in time to see Dev pull his hand away.
To distract myself from how much I wish he’d left it there, I take a gulp of my latte and end up scalding my mouth. God, I need to get a grip.
‘You good so far?’ he asks, searching my face. When I nod, he goes on. ‘Patsy’s terrifying, but she really will help you out. Lillie and Ransom are the team’s social media admins, and Konrad is our main photographer, so if you ever need content from the team to post, they’ll get it to you.’
I nod again as I dig in my bag and pull out a small notebook and my favourite pink pen. I could type this information into the notes on my phone, but I remember details better when I write them out by hand. Plus, I’m less likely to lose them in the technological mess that is my phone.
Latte tucked into the crook of my arm, I jot down the names and titles. When I’m done, I look back up at Dev. He’s smiling, but it’s not the usual wide grin. This one is smaller, more personal. It’s the same one he gave me last night. Like maybe he’s impressed by me. I have to force myself not to read into it.
‘You don’t have to work this weekend,’ he goes on. ‘Get the lay of the land first, then on your way home on Monday, you can stop by headquarters in Dallas. I’m technically your boss, but you’re also an employee of Argonaut, so you’ll need to get all the legal stuff taken care of there. I’ll make sure Chava gets the employment contract sent over tonight so you can review it.’
I’d forgotten Chava was still here until he salutes us in my periphery. ‘Give me your clothing sizes, too, so we can get you a few sets of this beautiful uniform.’
I can’t hold back the grimace that takes over my face, and both guys laugh in response. Glad they’re happy that I’ll soon have the misfortune of donning the Argonaut uniform right along with them.
‘The wardrobe’s not great, but the benefits are top tier,’ Chava says, nodding to my latte, which is admittedly one of the best I’ve ever had. ‘Just wait until lunch. Practically a Michelin-star spread at every meal.’
‘Maybe you get to eat that,’ Dev grumbles. ‘Mark will kick my ass if I try to eat anything other than chicken breast and grilled vegetables.’
Chava rolls his eyes. ‘At least you got the chef to use your mom’s secret spice blend.’
That little taste of home must help, but I know it’s got to be a challenge for Dev to have his diet dictated to him. He has to be careful not to gain weight or lose muscle mass, because every saved kilogram in the car matters when it comes to performance. He may not be running down a field or throwing a ball, but he’s still an elite athlete.
The food issue was part of the reason Oakley left the world of racing. Part of the ‘normal’ experience he craved involved not having to monitor every calorie that went into his mouth. He was miserable, I know that now, but back then I was jealous that he even had the opportunity to chase his dream. Sometimes I think I still am.
I push the thought from my head, because I’m chasing my dream right now. A modified version of it, sure, but I’m standing in the motorhome of a Formula 1 team, talking about contracts and perks of the job. I’m taking the next steps to get my career off the ground. And I’m doing it alongside people I’ve known for nearly my whole life.
I have Dev to thank for that. I stare up at him, taking in the easy way he jokes with Chava.
He’s got one hand in the pocket of his shorts, his shoulders are relaxed, and confidence rolls off him in waves. My heart stutters at the sight, but I’m sure it’s just the caffeine hitting my veins.
‘This is really happening,’ I murmur, mostly to myself.
But Dev must overhear, because he turns back and watches me as Chava shifts away, tapping at his phone.
‘Yeah,’ Dev says quietly. ‘This is really happening.’
I’d like to think I know what’s going through his mind because the same thing is going through mine: we’re doing this. We’re going to help each other. We’re going to make the best of two shitty situations so we can come out of it on top of our respective games.
And we’re going to have to be so, so careful not to make another mistake.