Chapter 12 #2
"Dominic never closes that building. He's there." My certainty is absolute. "Working. Planning. Waiting."
William raises his eyebrows. "Waiting for what?"
"For me." I swing my legs over the side of the bed, already reaching for my clothes. "He wants a reaction? He'll get one."
William's face transforms as my words sink in—incredulity giving way to understanding, then hardening into fury. His jawline sharpens, the muscle there ticking visibly.
"That manipulative bastard," he says, voice low and dangerous.
"This asshole deserves more than the puny punch I gave him.
Fuck!" He runs a hand through his sleep-mussed hair, eyes darkening to the same focused intensity I've seen when he's preparing for a particularly challenging race. "He's trying to blindside us."
"Not just blindside," I say, pulling on fresh underwear from my small travel bag with quick, economical movements.
"Humiliate. Undermine. Force us into a defensive position.
Ruin our focus." My voice remains steady despite the rage building inside me.
"This isn't about EJ. It's about destabilizing Colton Racing just as we're gaining momentum. "
William throws off the sheets, standing naked in the cold morning light. Any other time, I'd stop to appreciate the view—but now, I barely register it as I search for my bra.
"So we call his bluff," William says, finding my bra before I do and handing it to me. "Tell the press that EJ is committed to Colton. That the rumors are just Dominic trying to create drama."
I shake my head, quickly fastening the bra. "It's not a bluff. If he's announced it, he's prepared to pay the exit fee. Fifteen million is nothing to him if it means crippling us."
William's eyes narrow. "But why go to Vortex now? Why not handle this through proper channels? Legal teams, negotiations—"
"Because that's exactly what he expects," I say, pulling on my blouse and doing up buttons with flying fingers.
"The proper, professional response. By the time we've mobilized the lawyers, the narrative will already be set—'struggling Colton Racing loses rising star to championship team.
' More proof we can't compete." I locate my skirt, discarded near the door last night in our haste. "I need to disrupt his script."
"By showing up at his headquarters on Christmas morning?" William follows me, still naked, concern written across his features. "Violet, think about this. It could be a trap. He could have press waiting."
"Good." I step into my skirt, zipping it with a sharp motion. "Let them see me. Calm, composed, confronting him directly. It changes the story from 'team in crisis' to 'Team Principal unafraid to face bullies head-on.'"
William watches me dress with growing frustration. "There has to be another way. One that doesn't involve you rushing off alone to face that snake in his den. On Christmas Day, Violet!"
I pause, hearing what he's not saying. This was supposed to be our time. Our first Christmas together. Our chance to exist in a bubble outside the pressures of Formula 1, if only for a few days. And now Dominic has tainted even this.
"I know," I say softly, my anger momentarily replaced by regret. "I'm sorry. I hate this too."
"Then don't go." William steps closer, his voice dropping to a whisper, hands finding my waist. His touch is warm through the thin fabric of my blouse.
"Call Blake. Crisis PR. Hell, call Belforte.
Let them handle the initial response. We can strategize together, figure out a plan that doesn't involve you confronting Dominic alone. "
For one moment, I waver. The temptation to stay is overwhelming—to crawl back into bed with William, pretend the outside world doesn't exist for a few more hours. To have the Christmas morning we'd planned. But I can't. It doesn’t sit right with me.
"EJ is eighteen years old," I say quietly, meeting William's gaze.
"He's in Chicago with his family, probably terrified he's done something wrong.
Dominic is already working on him—his people have made contact.
Every hour I delay is another hour that psychopathic asshole has to spin his web, get into that kid's head. "
Understanding dawns in William's eyes, followed by resignation. He knows me too well to argue further. Knows my sense of responsibility to my drivers—both of them.
"At least let me come with you," he offers.
I shake my head. "That would only feed the rumors.
Team Principal and driver showing up together on Christmas morning?
The media would have a field day." I cup his face in my palm, thumb tracing the fading bruise around his eye.
"Besides, someone needs to be here if anyone at Colton Racing needs you.
I'll need my favorite raccoon as backup. "
He leans into my touch, eyes closing briefly. When they open again, they hold a determination that matches my own. "Violet, don’t keep me in the dark. Promise me you’ll be in touch."
"Of course."
I lean in, pressing my lips to his. The kiss lingers, both apology and promise. His arms encircle me, pulling me flush against him, and for a moment, I allow myself to melt into his warmth.
When we part, I rest my forehead against his. "I'm so sorry about this, Will. About today."
"Hey," he says softly, tucking a curl behind my ear. "We still have the rest of the week. Right? Unless Dominic plans to drop a bomb every day. Right, Violet?"
I manage a small smile but can’t answer him directly. This whole week is ruined. I most likely have to fly to Chicago. Maybe I need to hit up Belforte and see if he can help. Being stuck in my office with the PR team to address this crisis is what's happening.
I step back reluctantly, smoothing my skirt. I need my shoes, my bag, my keys. I need to transform back into Team Principal Colton before I confront Dominic. No trace of the woman who spent the night wrapped in William's arms can remain.
He watches me gather my things, pulling on a pair of sweatpants, but remaining shirtless. The domesticity of the scene—him in his bedroom, half-dressed, watching me prepare to leave—tugs and twists at my heart and I feel my stomach pit. It’s as if I’m abandoning him, and honestly… I hate it.
This is what we can't have openly. This is what we risk every time we cross the line between professional and personal. And this is a good reminder of how shitty my life is—that I can’t dedicate more than one day to someone I care about because shit immediately hits the fan.
The universe likes to play dirty; it doesn’t think I deserve rest, happiness or anything in between.
Just a constant grind of trying to put out fires.
"I'll call you as soon as I've spoken to him," I promise, slipping on my heels. "And to EJ. And Blake. And probably the board."
The list grows in my mind, Christmas Day plans evaporating with each added priority. William nods, following me to the front door where my coat hangs. He helps me into it, his hands lingering on my shoulders.
"Tear him apart," he says, voice low and fierce. "But be careful. That guy fights dirty. Well, I should know that better than most… I fell for his ploy and punched him, so…"
"I can also fight dirty—when necessary." I turn to face him, meeting his eyes one last time. "Merry… Christmas, William. I'm sorry it turned out this way."
"Merry Christmas, Violet." His smile is crooked, not reaching his eyes. "Go save our star rookie. I'll be here when you get back."
He kisses me once more, brief but tender, his hand warm against the small of my back. When our lips finally part, the separation prickles like static electricity in reverse, a current broken, leaving cold air where warmth should be.
I want to scream.
I want to cry.
But I have to toughen up.
I step out into the rain, keys clutched in my hand, anger and determination returning with each step toward my car. Dominic wants a fight? Fine. I'll give him one he won't forget.
But part of me remains behind, with William, with the Christmas that could have been—should have been—ours.
And the worst thing yet? This is the last I’ll see of him until after New Year’s.