Chapter 1
THE OFFER
Sloane Foster picked up her iced coffee—cream, no sweetener—from the counter of her favorite coffee shop in Venice Beach, just a few blocks from her apartment.
The Cat’s Pajamas was not only funky and homey, but it also served what she considered the best damn coffee in LA.
And she considered herself one who would know.
No way. Sloane turned at the sound of the familiar voice and found herself face-to-face with none other than Veronica Vance, shiny mauve lip gloss and all.
Her brain scrambled for context. “This is certainly an unexpected cameo.” She quirked her head, a grin tugging at her mouth despite her shock.
This was certainly a welcome one. “What in the hell, Ronnie?”
“No,” Veronica told her, giving her a warm squeeze. “Heels live on my feet in perpetuity. Are you a touch blonder than the last time I saw you?”
Sloane touched her hair absently. She had it in a purposefully messy ponytail today, a look she was leaning into. “Nah. Just some extra highlights.”
“You’re looking good, Foster. But since when do you not?”
“Oh, Veronica, I love you. I also have a feeling you didn’t come all the way out here to boost my ego, so what’s going on?”
“What? I can’t visit my good friend and one of the best drivers ever to hit the circuit?”
“Wow. Now a driving compliment?” Sloane narrowed her gaze and held up a finger. “Veronica Vance, as good a driver as she is, is just as savvy a businesswoman and doesn’t appear in my city unannounced without an ask.”
“I’m wounded, honestly. That’s what you think of me?” She bumped Sloane’s shoulder to knock a little sympathy her way.
“Hmm no, you’re not.”
“Fine,” she said with a laugh. Veronica could own her shit.
She also brought an impressive résumé. Her friend had become a prominent figure in racing over the years, having worked for Laurens, Ravensport, and even the FIA for a stint before moving into consulting.
Veronica excelled at building airtight team systems and commanded attention wherever she went.
Her high-gloss look and God-given beauty definitely didn’t hurt, and she harnessed both to open doors.
Sloane had always been the quieter, less flashy of the two, which was ironic because—as one of the few female drivers in F1 history—she’d received more attention.
“I do have one little thing to discuss, but I did miss you.”
Sloane bumped Veronica’s shoulder this time. “At least there’s that.”
“Want to sit?”
Sloane eyed the table by the window where Veronica had been working: a laptop, her attaché case, and a half-empty mug of coffee. She’d been camped out there for a while. What was all of this about?
“We can do that. I don’t have any client consults until this afternoon, so I have time. Why not?” She slid into the chair across from Veronica’s and waited. This should be interesting if nothing else.
Veronica stared, shifted, then balked. “No small talk at all? You just want me to jump in cold?”
“How’s your mom?” Sloane said to appease her, but also because Cassandra Vance was like a Real Housewife, always into something scandalous or expensive. The best stories came from when it was both.
“Still caught up in herself, buying out half of Barney’s, but sends you her love.
” Veronica dabbed the corners of her mouth with a napkin.
“She was excited I’d be seeing you this morning and wants me to steal you away for a holiday ski weekend with the family.
” Aha. So today wasn’t a whim at all. Veronica had planned this Venice Beach ambush.
She scooped up that clue and continued on.
“Tell her if she’ll make her famous hot toddies, I’m there, but no skimping on the good whiskey.”
“It’s like you don’t even know her.” Veronica sat back and smiled. “You still working with that European auto company?”
“I consult for a lot of different companies, but they’re one of them, sure.”
“Because you know cars. Maybe more than anyone I know.”
Sloane traced the top of her cup with one finger. “Uh-oh. My ego’s going to weigh me down just walking to my car. Veronica Vance, who are you about to contract me to murder?”
Veronica snapped forward, now in full I’m-about-to-impress-you executive mode. “Fine. Let’s get right to it. I want you to come to work with me this season.” She glanced at her watch. “And it starts soon.”
Sloane knew the season was starting soon.
She couldn’t ignore it if she tried. And she had.
“At the little experiment you have going?” She’d heard about Veronica’s latest project through the rumor mill of their mutual friends—something about developing up-and-coming female drivers who wouldn’t normally be given the spotlight they deserved.
A noble cause. They both knew how steep the climb was for women in the sport.
“It’s not an experiment,” Veronica said flatly. “It’s a full-blown racing academy, and it’s going to elevate the game for a lot of female drivers. We’re weeks from launching.”
Sloane lifted a brow. “And you’re able to fund all of this? How?”
Veronica smiled. “Because the F1 teams are already in.”
That got Sloane’s attention.
“Not only that, but they’re sending people,” Veronica continued.
“Talent scouts. Performance directors. Engineers. Some of them are fielding junior programs through it, and other teams are backing full academy entries—two-car teams under their own banners. We’re talking Ravensport, Laurens, Halo Racing, the big guys.
A few have already agreed to reserve-rights deals. ”
Sloane leaned back. “So this isn’t just visibility.”
“No. It’s also about access. These drivers won’t just be racing each other. They’ll be racing under observation. Every weekend. We’re putting these women on the map.”
“And the people who make the decisions? The F1 team principals?”
“Will be watching from day one,” Veronica said. “They’ve been asking for a pipeline like this for years. Now they’ve got one.”
Sloane absorbed that. An academy wasn’t new. This—this was different. This focused specifically on female drivers.
“So if someone shines,” Sloane said slowly, “they don’t have to wait to be discovered.”
Veronica’s smile sharpened. “Exactly. They’ll already be on someone’s list.” Sloane blinked, absorbing the gravity. She would have killed for something like this when she and Veronica were coming up.
Veronica rechecked her watch, all business.
She probably had four more meetings that morning.
“Which is why I want you there. Because when the right driver comes along—and she will—I need someone who understands what that moment actually costs.” She placed a hand on the table, and her features softened.
“You have a lot of wisdom to impart, Sloane, and a history that will make your words count.”
Sloane exhaled, still turning the concept over in her brain. She couldn’t deny the excitement that gathered, a quiet current just beneath the surface. “This sport has way too much testosterone, and everyone damn well knows it.”
“Exactly. And the more eyeballs we can get on these amazing women, the more we’re going to change that.
After a few years, we’ll have renovated the whole system.
I will personally see to that.” Veronica was more than capable, and, honestly, there was no one else positioned as perfectly in the sport.
“Formula Next,” she said, sitting back in declaration.
“That’s what we’re calling the academy. Designed to increase the number of female drivers in Formula 1. ”
Silence hit as Veronica waited for her response.
“I have to say, you should be proud of yourself. This is amazing, and I see no holes in the plan.” Sloane hesitated, not wanting to offend, but also not ready to leap out of her comfort zone and back into a world she made a point to avoid.
“But I don’t really see how I can help. I don’t race anymore, so I don’t think my enrolling would benefit either of us. ” A joke was always good for business.
“I wasn’t offering you a seat, weirdo, but you know that, too.”
“Then spill. What do you imagine I would do at Formula Next?” Sloane crossed her arms and waited. Everything in her wanted to scream no to whatever the offer was and end the meeting. At the same time, something unnamed tugged and pushed her to listen. The war within was certainly a lively one.
“I want you to come in, get to know the drivers’ styles, their personal weaknesses, and provide your expertise.
Maybe offer an informal class or two along the way, you know?
Talk to them about life in F1. Pitfalls to avoid on the way up.
You’re not only one of the best drivers I’ve ever seen, but you know race dynamics in a way no one else does. ”
Sloane shifted. “You want a mentor for your drivers?”
Veronica didn’t hesitate. “Someone who’s been there. Yes.”
Sloane frowned. She’d backed away from racing for a reason, and the idea of going back to it in any capacity was a nonstarter.
It sent white-hot fear through her nervous system just thinking about it.
She now devoted her time and skill set to working closely with the cars’ designers and manufacturers, far away from an actual race.
She enjoyed working for herself, deciding which consulting projects to take and with whom she wanted to work.
The one thing all of those contracts had in common?
They were miles away from the actual circuit.
She shifted in her chair, now acutely aware of the often-present ache along her spine.
The metal rod they’d used to put her back together made itself known right on cue, a pointed reminder of a very dark day in her history.
She scrubbed the memories from her brain as they swarmed and pulled, threatening to drag her under.
To this day, she struggled with panic attacks and worked hard to fight them off. She was in no mood for one today.