Chapter 25
Standing together
William
"Keep walking," James mutters beside me, his eyes scanning the area like a bodyguard. "Don't give them anything to work with."
I nod, focusing on putting one foot in front of the other.
The familiar Colton Racing motorhome comes into view, its exterior a welcome sight after the gauntlet of curious eyes.
Outside, I spot three familiar figures—EJ's lanky frame, Maya's perfect posture, and Felix's towering height—huddled in conversation.
Felix notices me first, his face breaking into a wide smile that eases some of the tension from my shoulders. He strides over, arms outstretched, and pulls me into a bear hug that lifts me slightly off the ground.
"There he is! The most famous man in the paddock," he announces with his signature German accent, loud enough for nearby reporters to hear.
He sets me down and ruffles my hair like I'm still the kid he used to mentor.
"Always knew you'd make headlines, though I thought it would be for your driving, not your personal life. "
"Very funny," I mutter, but I can't help smiling.
Felix's easy confidence has always been contagious, and it’s been a delight to see him no longer falling into that dark place he was in early in the season.
EJ bounds over next, vibrating with his usual energy. "Man, this is wild! There are more cameras around our motorhome than at Vortex Racing. Dominic must be losing his mind."
Maya stands slightly behind him, adjusting her glasses in that nervous way she does. "Perhaps we should continue this conversation inside? The press seems particularly... attentive today." Her eyes dart toward a cluster of journalists who aren't even pretending not to watch us.
"Good call," James agrees, exchanging quick greetings with everyone before nudging us toward the door. "The vultures are circling."
Felix throws an arm around my shoulders. "How are you holding up with all this circus?" he asks, his voice dropping to a more serious tone as he nods toward the cameras tracking our every move.
I don't get to answer before EJ grabs my arm. "Inside, now," he insists with unusual urgency. "Maya's right—they're reading our lips."
The five of us pile through the motorhome door, the cool air-conditioning a stark contrast to the Jeddah heat.
Inside, the familiar hum of activity continues—engineers huddled over data screens, mechanics discussing setups, the coffee machine working overtime.
What strikes me immediately is how... normal everything feels.
No awkward silence when I enter. No judgment in people's eyes.
If anything, they seem more relaxed than I expected, given the storm raging outside.
Johnson looks up from a technical discussion with Tom, gives me a casual nod like it's just another race day. It's as if the tabloid explosion happened in some parallel universe that hasn't touched the inside of this pristine yet warm motorhome.
Something in my chest loosens slightly. I hadn't realized how tense I was, anticipating sideways glances or uncomfortable silences.
James notices, too. "See?" he whispers. "Told you the core team knows both of you."
But the normalcy, welcome as it is, doesn't erase the weight of responsibility I feel. These people—my people—shouldn't have to deal with this distraction. Not when we're fighting so hard for every point, every position.
I clear my throat, suddenly needing to address this head-on.
"Hey, um, could I have everyone's attention for a second?" I speak louder than intended in the confined space.
Conversations pause. Heads turn. My face heats, but I push forward anyway.
"I know you've all probably seen the... stuff... floating around online and in the press." I swallow hard, searching for the right words. "About me and... Well, about certain rumors."
Johnson sets down his tablet. Tom stops mid-sentence. Even the mechanics working in the back corner look up. The full attention of the room makes my palms sweat, but I need to say this.
"I just want you all to know that I care deeply about this team. About what we're building here. About every single one of you and the work you put in." I take a breath. "And of course, about Violet."
The words hang in the air. I'm not confirming anything, but I'm not denying it, either. Let them read between the lines.
"Whatever you might be hearing or reading, please know that nothing—nothing—is more important to me than the success of Colton Racing. I didn't fight this hard to get here just to create distractions."
I scan the room, meeting eyes briefly before continuing. "But most importantly, I need to ask something of all of you." My voice drops slightly. "Don't let any of this affect how you see or treat Violet. She doesn't deserve that."
Because I know how this works. I've seen it a hundred times.
When a man and woman are involved, she always gets the worst of it.
The judgment. The whispers. The implications about how she got her position or maintains it.
It's bullshit, and a reality I hate. And it's probably why she's kept me at arm's length all this time, even before the photos leaked.
The double standard makes my blood boil.
"She's the best Team Principal on this grid, and nothing about her personal life changes that.
Mine, either." I push my hands into my pockets to hide their slight tremor.
"I'm sorry that I've brought this kind of attention to the team.
I know it's the last thing any of us needs right now.
I just ask for your patience while we try to sort this out. "
I lower my head, suddenly feeling exposed. The silence stretches for a beat too long, and I brace myself for the worst.
Then there’s footsteps on the stairs. Looking up, I see Belforte and Blake coming down from Violet's office. More engineers and mechanics join those already gathered. Their expressions aren't what I expected. No judgment. No annoyance. Just... understanding. Support, even.
Blake gives me a small nod, something like approval in his eyes. Belforte actually winks. Tom claps me on the shoulder as he passes. Not a single face in the room shows the disappointment or irritation I'd feared.
"We're with you, man," EJ says, breaking the silence. "Both of you."
Maya nods emphatically beside him, her usual reserve momentarily replaced with fierce loyalty. "This team stands together."
I open my mouth to thank them when the sound of heels clicking on the metal steps coming down catches my attention. My heart jumps to my throat; a Pavlovian response I can't control.
It's her. I recognize those footsteps.
Violet appears in my gaze mid-conversation, speaking fluent Arabic with a man I don't recognize.
She's wearing a deep-blue headscarf that frames her face perfectly, the color almost matching my racing number color, which does strange things to my heart.
Her hands move expressively as she talks, passionately negotiating or explaining something.
I can't understand a word she's saying, but watching her switch effortlessly between languages reminds me yet again what a force she is. Brilliant. Multilingual. Commanding. How did I ever think I stood a chance of not falling for her?
The man beside her—tall, impeccably dressed, with a well-trimmed beard and keen eyes—stops abruptly when he notices our impromptu gathering.
He says something in Arabic, eyebrows raised questioningly, before a slow smile spreads across his face.
He turns to Violet and says something else, then laughs warmly and pulls her into a quick, friendly hug.
When her eyes find mine over his shoulder, momentary surprise flickers across her face at the scene she's walked into, then something softer when our gazes lock. The connection between us is almost physical, a tether pulling taut.
Panic floods my system. If this guy is a potential sponsor—which seems likely given the formal way they're both dressed, and the business-like vibe of the conversation—I've just created the worst possible first impression.
Nothing says "professional racing team" like a driver announcing what could be interpreted as a scandalous relationship with the Team Principal.
"I'm so sorry," I blurt out as they approach. "I didn't mean to interrupt anything important. I was just—"
The man steps forward, extending his hand. "Amir Fadel," he introduces himself, his English perfect with just a hint of an accent. "And you have nothing to apologize for."
I shake his hand, confused by his relaxed demeanor.
"In fact," Amir continues, "there is nothing more impressive than a man who stands up to protect someone and something he cares about. I find it quite admirable." He turns to Violet with a decisive nod. "Consider it done. My team will talk details with yours."
And with that, he gives Violet's arm a friendly squeeze, nods respectfully to Blake and Belforte, and walks out of the motorhome, leaving me standing there completely baffled.
The entire team is looking at me like I've just performed a magic trick without knowing it.
Violet steps closer, her expression unreadable. "What exactly were you doing?" she asks, her tone sharp enough to make me wince.
I start forming an explanation, an apology, something to mitigate whatever damage I've done—when her face transforms, a smile breaking through like sunshine after rain. Without warning, she pulls me into a quick hug.
"You're always thinking about everyone but yourself," she murmurs, just loud enough for me to hear.
"I can't help it," I whisper back, my hands hovering uncertainly before settling lightly at her waist. "I'm worried about... you." This last word is barely audible, meant for her alone.
She steps back, patting my shoulder in a gesture that could read as merely friendly to anyone watching. Then, in a voice meant for everyone to hear, she announces: "William just helped me close a particularly difficult deal I've been chasing for a year."
The tension in the room dissolves into smiles and subtle celebrations—everyone conscious of the media presence outside but clearly relieved.
Belforte's face splits into a wide grin, and Blake looks like someone just lifted a piano off his chest. Felix actually laughs out loud, clapping me on the back, while EJ, Maya, Tom, and James exchange amused glances at my obvious confusion.
"What deal?" I ask, like I've missed several chapters of a book everyone else is reading.
Violet's eyes sparkle with contained excitement. "Let's just say our food partner will be a really amazing Egyptian restaurant chain that I've always loved. They're exceptional with traditional dishes but also world cuisine, so..."
A laugh bubbles up from my chest, partly from relief, and partly from the absurdity of accidentally helping secure a sponsorship while I was busy worrying about damaging the team's reputation.
The stress I've been carrying since the airport ambush releases in that laughter, and suddenly, Belforte and Blake are there, ruffling my hair and squeezing my shoulders like I've just won a race.
"The golden retriever energy strikes again," Felix teases. "Failing upward is truly your superpower."
"I didn't even do anything," I protest through my laughter.
"Sometimes," Blake says wisely, "it’s the best strategy."
Violet steps back, addressing the room with renewed authority.
"Also, today, those rumors will be over.
I want everyone at top level; don't let yourselves be intimidated.
If anyone asks questions, you don't know and move on.
We're focusing on racing, and William and EJ will teach everyone on track that no one messes with us.
" Her voice carries confidence that settles over the room like a shield.
"We're in a good moment. Let’s keep it that way. "
She exchanges a meaningful look with Belforte. "Meanwhile, Silas and I need to address some things directly with a certain person."
There's no need to specify who she means. We all know. The puppet master who thought he could break us with a few leaked photos.
Dominic Harrington.