Chapter 16
Approachable by comparison
William
EJ and I are still discussing brake points when the atmosphere in the room shifts—that subtle change in air pressure that happens when someone powerful enters a space. I turn toward the door just as hushed whispers spread through the break room. And then, everything narrows down to her.
Violet.
But not Violet as I've known her. This Violet stops conversations mid-sentence, commands attention without trying. She stands in the doorway, power radiating from her like heat from an engine after a race, sharp lines and sleek threads, and my lungs forget how breathing works.
Fuck. I wanna run to her. Hug her and relish in her softness.
Kiss her luscious lips and probably lose myself in them.
Tell her how much I’ve missed her. How beautiful she looks.
How crazy she makes me. And that, if she asked for it, I’d do anything for her.
Alas, I have to behave, so I’ll just smile like a fool in love.
She's wearing an oversized leather jacket over a crisp white shirt, the sleeves slightly too long for her frame.
Pin-striped grey suit trousers hug her curves before falling perfectly to meet impossibly high heels that make her legs look endless.
But it's her hair that truly transforms her—straightened and pulled back into a sleek ponytail that emphasizes the elegant lines of her face, the sharpness of her cheekbones, the fullness of her lips.
Christ. Three weeks without seeing her, and now this? The universe has a sick sense of humor.
Behind her stands Silas Belforte, dressed impeccably in a black three-piece suit that probably costs more than my monthly salary.
His salt-and-pepper hair is styled to perfection, slightly to the side, but it's his eyes that capture attention—icy blue and calculating, scanning the room with the precision of a predator assessing potential threats.
His presence makes Violet look both more approachable by comparison, and more untouchable by association.
My gaze drifts back to Violet, catching on a familiar glint at her wrist as she runs her fingers through a few strands of hair that have escaped her ponytail.
My watch.
The sight of it against her skin sends a jolt of something primal through me. Mine, it says. Even when we're apart. She’s mine.
"Is that... Violet?" Blake appears at my side, voice hushed with surprise. "I almost didn’t recognize her. She looks like a different woman."
Battle scars and all that, I think to myself.
Johnson approaches, coffee mug clutched in his hand like a lifeline. "Good different or weird different? Because I'm not sure we're supposed to comment on the boss's appearance either way."
EJ looks between us, confusion written across his boyish features. His eyes dart from Violet to Belforte and back again, like he's trying to solve an equation with too many variables.
Violet spots us, her professional mask slipping for just a second when her eyes meet mine.
The softening of her gaze—momentary—as she looks at me is enough to do things to my body.
Bad things. Things that have me struggling to adjust inside my jeans.
Things that make my temperature rise, and my heart go into overdrive.
But that gaze fades away fast as she rebuilds her composure and walks toward our small group, Belforte following a step behind.
"You can all stop gossiping," she says, her voice carrying that familiar commanding tone that causes goosebumps on my neck. "I didn't choose this look. I came straight from a photoshoot for a business magazine." She gestures vaguely at her outfit. "With Silas."
Belforte smiles, the expression transforming his intimidating features into something almost charming. "They wanted powerful and edgy. Violet delivered, as expected."
"Well, it's... different," Blake offers diplomatically.
I say nothing. Can't trust my voice not to betray exactly how much I want to peel that leather jacket from her shoulders, to release her hair from its ponytail, to feel her skin against mine after weeks of nothing but texts and brief calls.
"William."
She acknowledges me with a nod, professional to the core, but I catch the slight dilation of her pupils, the almost imperceptible quickening of her breath.
She feels it too; this tension between us that didn't weaken during our separation, but instead gathered potential energy, waiting to be unleashed.
"Welcome back," I manage, my voice steadier than expected. "Nice jacket."
A flicker of amusement crosses her face. She knows exactly what I'm thinking.
"Focus, Foster," she says, but there's no bite to it. "We have work to do."
"Always working, this one," Belforte comments, clapping a hand on my shoulder with surprising strength.
"Good to finally meet you in person, William.
I missed the opportunity to say hello last season, but let me tell you, kid, I've been following your career for a while.
Impressive how you've adapted to our car. "
Our car. Not Colton Racing's car. Interesting.
"Thank you, sir," I reply, surprised by the warmth in his baritone voice. The man looks like he could snap my neck without breaking a sweat, but his eyes carry genuine appreciation. And only now, close to me, do I notice how fucking tall he is. "The car's getting better every day."
I swear I’m surrounded by blue-eyed giants.
"Which brings us to our first priority," Violet interjects, sliding seamlessly into Team Principal mode.
"The CR-40 unveiling is in a month, after our private testing in Silverstone, and before Barcelona pre-testing.
Media will be fishing for reactions to Dominic's.
.. seasonal activities." Her lips thin slightly at the reference.
"We need to prepare responses that focus on our progress, not paddock politics. "
"I've drafted potential questions with the marketing and PR team," Blake adds. "We'll need both drivers to review them, practice responses that stay on message without sounding rehearsed."
EJ nods eagerly. "I've been working on interview techniques. Watched a lot of press conferences during the break."
"Good," Violet says, offering him a small smile. "We'll schedule formal prep sessions later this week."
Throughout the entire conversation, I'm hyperaware of her presence—the subtle scent of her blue lotus perfume, the way she stands with her weight shifted slightly to one hip, the precise movements of her hands as she emphasizes key points.
I'm ridiculous. I can barely concentrate on basic conversation, because she's standing three feet away in that damn leather jacket.
"—William will work with you on simulator data comparison this afternoon," she continues, addressing EJ but glancing at me. "Johnson has scenarios prepared to test the new aerodynamic package."
"Looking forward to it," I say, forcing myself to focus on the professional discussion rather than the curve of her lips.
"Excellent." She checks the time and adds, "Team meeting in the conference room in thirty minutes. Belforte has an announcement for everyone."
With that, she turns and walks away, Belforte following after a brief nod in our direction. I watch her go, unable to tear my eyes away from her retreating figure.
"Dude," EJ says quietly beside me, "are you okay? You look like someone just showed you the secrets of the universe and then dropped cold water on you."
Blake snorts, covering it poorly with a cough.
"I'm fine," I mutter, dragging my attention back to my teammate. "Just... processing."
"The car data, right?" EJ asks innocently.
"Right," I agree. "The car. Absolutely."
The conference room pulses with anticipation, the energy unmistakable even as people maintain professional composure.
Belforte stands at Violet’s side, a presence that simultaneously intimidates and reassures.
There's something about him that screams danger even as he smiles warmly at the assembled staff.
Like a weapon that's decided to protect you rather than harm you—still deadly, just pointed in a different direction.
Violet steps forward, the room falling instantly silent.
"Welcome back, everyone. I trust you all had a restful break.
" Her eyes briefly meet mine before scanning the room.
"We have an exciting season ahead, and today marks our official launch into preparation.
Many of you have already met him informally, but I'd like to properly introduce Silas Belforte, majority investor in Colton Racing, and a critical partner in our journey forward. "
Belforte steps forward, hands clasped behind his back.
"Thank you, Violet." His Italian accent curves around the words, adding weight to them somehow.
"I'll keep this brief. I don't believe in long speeches when there's work to be done. Also, they’re boring.
" A murmur of appreciation ripples through the room, some chuckles here and there echo as well.
"I invested in Colton Racing because the potential was blatantly obvious—in the facilities, in the engineering talent, in the drivers.
" His eyes find mine, then EJ's, assessing and approving.
"And most importantly, in the leadership. "
He nods toward Violet, a gesture of respect that comes across as significant.
"Formula 1 is not merely about having the fastest car.
It's about having the right people, the right culture, the right values—all working toward the same goal.
Colton Racing has all three, plus something many teams lack—heart.
" He taps his chest once. "I'm not here to change what makes this team special.
I'm here to provide the resources needed to return it to glory. To help protect this legacy."