Chapter 15
THE COST TO LOSE
The red light on the camera blinked on.
Reese shifted in her chair, rolling her shoulders once, twice, settling the way she’d been taught—relaxed, but not careless. The backdrop was neutral, deliberately so. Nothing to distract from her face, her hands, the way she occupied space.
Samara sat just off to the side of the lens, tablet balanced on her knee, voice calm and conversational in the way that suggested this was not her first time asking a question that could change someone’s life.
“So,” Samara said, a small smile curving her mouth, “you’ve probably heard the rumors by now.”
Reese’s lips twitched. “Depends which ones.”
Samara laughed softly, the sound meant to disarm.
“Fair. But there’s been a lot of chatter lately about Formula 1 paying close attention to the academy.
Specifically, to the drivers’ standings as they make decisions for next season.
” She glanced briefly at her tablet. “And right now, you and Danielle Todd are essentially neck and neck at the top.”
Reese didn’t react right away. She tipped her head, eyes flicking toward the camera lens—not into it, but close enough to acknowledge its presence. The machine. The audience.
“Danielle’s a hell of a driver,” Reese said, immediate and unforced. “She’s consistently fast. Smart. And a risk taker. You don’t get to the top by accident.”
“You two don’t like each other. That’s pretty well-documented. Can you speak on that relationship?”
Reese laughed to ease any tension and searched for a way to remain diplomatic without dodging the question entirely.
“We have different styles both on the circuit and in how we deal with people. That part is true.” She was trying to be careful while still giving them enough to make their narrative accurate and interesting.
“Do I have notes for Danielle?” She blew out a breath that said she didn’t even know where to begin.
“Sure, but she has them for me as well. Bottom line, she’s quick out there, and I’m sure that makes me quicker. ”
Samara nodded, encouraging. “Does that kind of rivalry sharpen things? Knowing that if Formula 1 is watching, every tenth of a second counts?”
Reese leaned back slightly, confidence easing into her posture.
“It does,” she said. “But not in the way people like to frame it. It’s not about beating Danielle.
It’s about not giving anything away. To anyone.
” She shrugged, easy again. “If people are watching, it means what we’re doing here matters.
But rumors are just noise unless you’re backing them up on the track.
And standings?” A quick smile. “They don’t lie. Not for long, anyway.”
“Good points.” Samara consulted her notes. “Can you share a little bit about what silly season is and what it means to drivers?”
Reese nodded and raised a brow. “Silly season is definitely upon us right now. It’s the point in the season through summer when contracts are expiring, negotiations are happening behind the scenes, drivers are jockeying for any open seats, and the press speculates wildly.
It’s basically a game of musical chairs for drivers. ”
Samara studied her for a beat. “So, as we sit here in silly season, you’re not thinking about what a call-up might mean?”
Reese’s smile returned, bright, practiced. “I’m thinking about the next race.”
Samara had been right. Everyone from the higher-ups at the academy, all the way down to the entry-level mechanics, had heard the rumor.
The one that said the team principals had been having closed-door meetings about the future of their teams, and that the names of academy drivers had been in the mix.
No one knew if it was true. But everyone at the academy level was extra excited and working to prove themselves every time they slid behind the wheel.
From the top of the standings, Reese felt like she had a lot to lose.
But she also knew one thing for sure: if the F1 teams were watching, she was going to put on a show.
The first race in Monza had been a close one, but Reese had edged out Marissa for the win by 0.
4 seconds, with Danielle falling down the order after a penalty for forcing another driver off track, her overly aggressive defense drawing the stewards’ attention.
Word around the paddock was that she’d lost it on her team, thrown her helmet, and blamed everyone she laid eyes on for the loss.
Except herself. Danielle would be out for blood during the feature race, which meant Reese needed to be more alert behind the wheel than ever.
She’d just increased her lead in the drivers’ standings, and Danielle wasn’t going to like that one bit.
Then there was Sloane.
Reese had spent years convincing herself that wanting someone, really wanting them, might be a liability.
That it would cost her focus, dull her edge.
But as she crossed the paddock, she realized the opposite had happened.
What she felt for Sloane hadn’t taken anything from her.
It had clarified things. Made the noise quieter and the stakes cleaner.
She was driving with nothing to prove and everything to protect.
Her heart squeezed, and she let herself enjoy it.
“Enjoy it,” she heard from a distinct English accent behind her when she walked from the podium back to the Ravensport garage. She turned around and met Danielle’s fiery hazel eyes, arms crossed as she stared at Reese. “It’s only temporary.”
“Isn’t everything?” Reese asked, shrugging and smiling. She wasn’t the type to engage and knew very well how many eyes were on them right now.
“Flash-in-the-pan bitch,” Danielle said as she walked toward her team’s garage, probably too loudly on purpose.
Reese whirled around, shocked but not.
“Keep walking,” Delaney said, approaching from the Ravensport garage, two down. “It’s not worth it.”
“It’s not,” Reese said. She much preferred to beat Danielle Todd on the circuit in front of thousands of people, where it would hurt the most.
“Your washed-up girlfriend teach you that in one of her cute classes?”
Reese froze. “What did you say?” Her blood ran cold, both from shock and offense. She turned back and waited.
“Sloane Foster. You’re fucking her, right? I saw you leave her room. Got a good laugh. How ridiculous.”
“You don’t get to say her name.”
Danielle placed a hand on her hip. “Guess it makes sense. Sloane couldn’t hack it when it mattered, so now she fucks the girls who can and pretends that’s mentoring. Is she as boring in bed as she was behind the wheel?”
The words landed like a slap. Reese moved before she thought. One sharp step forward, fist clenched, pulse spiking so fast it made her dizzy. The noise of the paddock fell away, replaced by the rush of blood in her ears.
“Don’t,” Delaney snapped, grabbing her arm and holding back the swing.
Several crew members from inside the garage ran out to help.
Danielle just stood there smirking, making Reese look like the violent animal ready to attack her, and damn if she wasn’t still ready to do just that.
Her body thrummed with heat, anger, the ugly need to protect.
She stared at Danielle, her expression gone flat and cold, every ounce of humor stripped away.
“You’re both an embarrassment,” Danielle said and shook her head. “Look at you.”
“Watch yourself,” Reese said, voice low and dangerous.
For a beat, it was clear how close Danielle had come to getting precisely what she wanted: Reese out of the academy and out of her way to the driver’s championship. And fuck her for that. She exhaled and straightened her race suit, gathering her control.
There were a lot of people swarming now, doing what they could to defuse the tension. Rodney Krauss, her team principal, was one of them. Dammit. Of course he’d been there for this.
“My office,” Rodney said, fixing her with a level stare. “Now.”
Reese closed her eyes and shook herself free of the hands holding her back. “I’m fine. Let me go. Okay? I’m good.” She wasn’t. Her face burned, adrenaline roaring through her veins, every instinct screaming to lunge for Danielle and let her fists finish what her mouth hadn’t.
“Listen to me,” Delaney murmured close to her ear. “Don’t even sweat it. She’s the worst kind of person and not at all worth what you’d pay for that punch.”
“She’s a lowlife,” Reese snapped. “She doesn’t deserve restraint.” She met Delaney’s gaze and found not judgment, but understanding. Fire recognizing fire. Delaney had her back. Always had.
“Fuck her,” Delaney said quietly. “But think about your career right now.”
Reese exhaled hard. “Okay. Okay. Yep. I’ll try.”
She stormed into Rodney’s office and dropped into the chair opposite his desk, heart still pounding, muscles tight with leftover fury.
Rodney stared at her, jaw clenched, eyes hard.
“What in the hell was that?” His voice was louder than Reese had ever heard it.
Rodney was usually reserved, a man who carried pressure without broadcasting it, and Reese respected him for that.
She liked him as a boss. Trusted his instincts.
Trusted the calls he made on strategy. This was different.
“I don’t know what that was about,” he continued, “and I don’t need to. But that kind of behavior does not represent this team.”
“I hear you,” Reese said, blinking as she forced her breathing to slow. “But she was so far out of line.”
“That was schoolyard bullshit, Reese. And it doesn’t fly.” He leaned forward, palms pressing into the desk. “She wanted to get in your head—and you let her.”
Reese bristled. He wasn’t wrong, and that stung worse than the reprimand. It didn’t mean she’d change a thing if she had the moment back.
“Look what you just handed her,” Rodney went on. “We don’t need you rattled over some juvenile driver squabble.”
Reese’s jaw tightened. “Understood. Won’t happen again.”