Chapter One
‘I DIDN’T THINK fans were allowed unaccompanied garage access.’ Massimo Hearnshawe hit Pause and stared at the image, regrettably unable to freeze his instant rage with as much ease.
Andre, his highly paid race director, leaned over to see what Massimo was fixated on. ‘Oh, she’s not a fan. She works for us.’
‘In what capacity?’ Massimo questioned. He was too tired to deal with unnecessary drama and this was definitely drama.
The woman had her back to the camera so Massimo couldn’t see her face, but he could see his young cousin’s expression.
Emiliano Costa, Massimo’s talented, fast-as-fury driver, was serving a smile so charming it would slide the panties off any straight woman in a ninety-mile radius, and the interest lighting his eyes was unmistakable.
As the youngest driver to be promoted to P1 Global, the world’s premier car-racing competition, the kid had more than enough to prove even before factoring in the added pressure of his family pedigree.
He’d gained his P1 Global licence the day he’d turned eighteen last year and gone on to win rookie of the year despite barely being in the championship for enough of the races to be eligible.
This was his first complete season and while he was performing well, a woman was not the distraction he needed.
‘She’s in Conrad’s mechanic crew,’ Andre replied.
Conrad was Hearnshawe’s other driver—experienced, a proven race winner, married with two young children.
Massimo had recruited him three years ago to mentor Emiliano and accumulate solid points while they got the car more competitive.
The plan was progressing. Conrad was consistently making minor podium appearances, while Emiliano had come fourth in this afternoon’s race here in Canada. They were very close.
It’s not enough to be fast; you must be first.
Echoes of family expectation aggravated Massimo’s exhaustion.
He’d worked until the small hours for the three nights he’d been here, progressing deals within the broader company.
He’d been finalising an auto group contract just now when the video had popped up.
He stared harder at the screen. The mechanic’s hair was tucked beneath a forest green Hearnshawe Racing cap, exposing her long neck and slender shoulders—her refined elegance at odds with the loose team polo swamping her frame. ‘Then why is Emiliano talking to her?’
While their garages were side by side, while they were part of the same team, Emiliano had an entire crew of his own mechanics to talk to.
‘I’m not sure,’ Andre muttered.
Instant red flag.
Massimo was more than Emiliano’s cousin and boss.
He’d been his guardian for the past five years and there was nothing he wouldn’t do to protect the kid.
In this sport, elite athletes melded with exceptional engineering; it was a seductive combination that attracted the world’s most powerful, the most famous celebrities, the royals, the wealthy.
And the wannabes. Sharks constantly circled.
Sometimes those sharks were small and beautiful.
There were temptations and traps on every turn off the track.
But there was no way Massimo would allow anything to destroy Emiliano’s racing career, and he knew how easily it happened.
Distraction could destroy everything. It had destroyed Massimo’s racing chances all those years ago.
His inattention hadn’t just caused his own accident; he’d killed his parents.
He wasn’t letting anything like that happen to his cousin. He eliminated any distraction Emiliano encountered. He’d done it before and he’d do it again now.
With twenty-three races through the season, the concentration and commitment required from a driver was immense.
There was an exceptional burden of travel, physical training, competing, while the world clamoured for attention.
Over the years, Massimo had engaged coaches, nutritionists, PTs, private tutors, doctors and sports psychologists to help Emiliano.
He’d created a comprehensive team to provide a layer of protection, ensuring that the kid had the best possible professional help, because Massimo couldn’t provide the personal.
But even with all that in place, even with his innate drive and often declared intention to be the best ever, Emiliano had succumbed to the attentions of an older woman.
She’d manipulated him, groomed him, until Massimo had managed to see it and step in.
He’d unilaterally blocked her access and encouraged his cousin to focus on what he really wanted.
Emiliano insisted that was driving, but the kid was now almost nineteen and as headstrong as he was talented, and to Massimo it was utterly obvious why he was so animatedly chatting to this particular mechanic.
She was stunning. He touched the screen and the short video replayed on the social media platform favoured by millions.
It was impossible to hear what they were saying but Emiliano couldn’t control his smile nor the flush in his cheeks.
The comments piling in beneath the clip increased Massimo’s concern.
Rumour and conjecture were the last things his cousin needed and would be equally invasive for the mechanic.
She possibly needed protection, too. But mostly Massimo didn’t trust anyone who entered Emiliano’s sphere. He vetted everyone.
‘What do we know about her?’ Massimo flexed his shoulders as he watched the clip loop over, his tension increasing with every replay.
Andre scrolled through his tablet before responding. ‘Shane hired her a couple months ago. This was her first travelling weekend.’
Massimo frowned. Shane was Hearnshawe’s number-one mechanic—salt of the earth, best in the entire pit lane and so highly regarded that other teams regularly tried to poach him.
He would never recruit someone who wasn’t supremely skilled at the job.
But while Massimo respected Shane, he needed to see the woman’s pedigree for himself.
‘Show me her details.’
It took less than a minute for Massimo to skim the sparse text.
Lily Jones was twenty-three, had basic mechanic qualifications but had built an impressive amount of experience in junior karting before levelling up through the categories.
Furthermore, her references were excellent.
Unfortunately, these facts didn’t ease Massimo’s tension; he was more worried. ‘Where’s Shane now?’
‘Already on the way home.’
‘And she’s with him and the rest of the staff?’
Andre took back his tablet. With over a hundred employees travelling to each race, it was a massive logistical exercise and it took him a moment to scroll through the spreadsheet. ‘No.’
‘No? What are her travel arrangements?’ Massimo felt a pressing need to know exactly where Lily Jones was this instant.
His cousin was meant to have dined with his trainer before retiring early at the hotel, but was something else going on?
‘Uh…’ Andre flicked through more screens. ‘She’s on the cargo flight. Takes off in an hour.’
‘Cargo?’ Startled, Massimo glanced up. For races beyond Europe, the cars and kit were sent through the night on chartered cargo flights. ‘Why?’
‘Sometimes we send a courier with new components. Maybe that’s the situation here.’
Except this was the journey home, not the trip from the factory to the next race.
Massimo watched the video once more, grimly noting the elegant arch of her neck and the tantalising glimpse of her fine-boned jaw as she laughed.
A few strands of dark blond hair had escaped her cap and he absently wondered how long it was.
He shouldn’t wonder. But just like Emiliano in the video, Massimo couldn’t stop staring, and the tiredness that had slowed his progress over the past hour now vanished.
He was a details man. As CEO of Hearnshawe Auto Group, he had to be. There was an insane amount to manage.
Their main business had long been high-end luxury road cars, but twenty years ago their popularity had started to decline. Ten years ago, Massimo had snatched the reins and steered them in a different direction. The direction his father would have taken had he lived.
The elite motor-sport arm had always been a side project, but Massimo had poured resources into reviving it.
Now it brought billions in sponsorship deals, merchandise and global brand awareness.
Furthermore, his recent diversification into luxury products—for those living and loving the Hearnshawe lifestyle—was increasingly successful.
The entire conglomerate was increasingly successful, but it had taken every ounce of Massimo’s time to achieve it.
In his mind, Hearnshawe’s resurgence would only be complete when they had both P1 Global trophies—fastest driver, fastest car.
Today’s race had been the fifth in this year’s series.
Both Conrad and Emiliano had scored points, pushing Hearnshawe Racing into third place in the car-engineering competition.
That was the best ranking they’d had in years, not yet first, but they were finally on the brink.
Massimo’s temper lifted, firing fuel into his system. He would allow nothing to disrupt the trajectory of Hearnshawe’s success. He would restore the honour, triumph, reputation—he lived only to fulfil that legacy. He wouldn’t let Emiliano mess everything up by fooling around with an employee.
The responsibility for both of them ultimately rested with Massimo.
He had to ensure Emiliano kept his focus; he had to ensure his employee’s safety.
So he needed to know more about Lily Jones—where she’d come from, what she really wanted from her work at Hearnshawe.
He would ensure neither was a risk to the other.