Chapter 12
The bruises were going to be a problem. My wrists looked like I’d been kidnapped and tortured, but my face was a different story. Specifically the one on my left cheekbone, fading into my hairline. It kept catching in the mirror, and I wanted to claw my face off.
Morel had done that when he’d pushed my face into the wall, hard, and restrained my arms behind me.
There was no hiding it. No amount of concealer, no angle of light in this cursed hotel bathroom. It pulsed every time I brushed my hair, a cruel reminder that while I could choose my own pain with Callum, this one had been forced on me.
I hated Morel. Hated him, and I was going to have to see him in person in just a few hours.
Fuck.
“Baby?” Callum’s voice came gently from the bedroom. “You okay in there?”
I glanced at myself one more time, already regretting the vanity. “?a va,” I called, trying not to sound strained. “Just… figuring out how to not look like a crime scene at this dinner.”
His sigh was audible through the opening of the door.
I emerged in one of his shirts. My legs felt steadier now, but not steady enough.
The Vicodin had taken the edge off, but the ache was still there.
It almost made me wish I took two like I had last night, but then I reminded myself just how dangerous they could be if I became addicted to them.
Callum was in the bed leaning against the headboard, bare-chested and damp-haired, scrolling through something on his phone.
Probably a track walk strategy or a tire compound diagram like the beautiful, intelligent man he was.
Racing would probably always be his life, his passion, because it was part of him, and he’d never be able to let it go.
He looked up, and his eyes softened when they landed on me. “Want help finding something to wear?”
I plopped onto the edge of the bed. “Yes. But not in here. I can’t wear anything I packed. I need something long-sleeved.”
He tilted his head. “Because of…”
I held up one bruised wrist. His face fell, and I knew he was fighting his own demons over this whole situation. He thought he was some sort of predator, instead of my other half.
“And it needs to be black,” I added, pushing through the niggling feeling in my gut to soothe him.
“I want to be taken seriously if I get a chance to talk GPDA business. I need to be invited in. No pink, nothing too revealing. Just black. Preferably dramatic. Something that says, ‘This woman knows how to shut down a boardroom.’”
He blinked. “Should I be scared?”
“Ouais. Very, actually.”
“Auri, you don’t need to dress yourself down for those idiots. Dress however you want. They’ll listen because you’re you and don’t take no for an answer.”
I rolled my eyes and climbed on the bed, crawling toward him. He watched my every move, something between love and heat and desire written all over him.
“Tu es gentil, mon amour.” You’re sweet.
I sat cross-legged beside him. “But it’s not about dressing myself down.
I know how to wield my feminine…” I paused, wrinkling my nose, searching for the word.
Fuck, my brain was painfully sluggish lately.
Thinking in two languages wasn’t normally this hard.
“My feminality? No. My… charm? My—how do you say—seductional powers?”
Callum choked on a laugh, running a hand over his jaw as his expression darkened deliciously. “You mean your feminine wiles?”
I grinned. “That one. My wilds.”
“Wiles, love.”
“Whatever. As I was saying,” I retorted, gesturing vaguely toward the ceiling for dramatic flair.
“Half of them think they’re untouchable; the other half just want to be patted on the back.
I’ve learned to weaponize being underestimated.
If I look harmless, they let me into the room.
If I look competent, they let me speak. If I look beautiful while I destroy them—well, that’s power. ”
His smirk faded into something darker. His eyes narrowed slightly as he muttered, “I’m well aware of just how powerful you are. You’ve put a goddamn spell on me, for Christ’s sake. And that’s why you won’t be using them on anyone but me.”
“Oh, mon Dieu,” I teased. “You get so jealous when I talk about strategy. You’d think I was plotting an affair, not a PR play.
First, it was that you didn’t want me brainstorming with Kimi yesterday because you think he has a crush on me—which is weird, by the way, because he’s my teammate and it’s definitely not true. ”
He arched a brow, clearly remembering. We both knew the truth. Me and Kimi had shared a few clumsy teenage kisses before either of us had our licenses. The kind of thing that didn’t matter now but still made Callum’s blood pressure rise.
“Exactly my point,” he muttered. “You probably put a spell on him too. Kimi’s just too dumbstruck to figure out it’s not reciprocated.”
“It’s not,” I agreed quickly, shaking my head. “If anything, I think he likes Ivy.”
Callum gasped, scandalized. His blue eyes went impossibly wide, and I smothered a giggle. “Absolutely not. Marco likes Ivy.”
“Please.” I flopped back on the bed dramatically. “Marco isn’t ready for a long-term commitment. He just wants in her pants. And if Ivy were going to choose anyone, Kimi’s the safe option.”
“Safe,” Callum scoffed. “You think Kimi’s safe? You do remember the time he almost set that cabana on fire because he bumped a gas lamp into the curtains?”
I laughed, rolling onto my stomach. “That was one time!”
We devolved into full gossip mode, grinning like we were both seventeen again. But between every teasing jab, every accusation, we were sneaking glances, biting lips, and getting closer without even realizing it.
“Why?” he suddenly asked. “Because you know how Kimi says ‘bonjour’ with that stupid little eyebrow thing?”
“What? You’re bloody mad, Callum! No!” I shrieked with laughter. “Because Marco’s the type to make you forget your name, but Kimi’s the type to ask for it first.”
Callum groaned. “Oh, and Ivy’s some saint? Be so fucking for real right now.”
I giggled, and he was beaming, totally enjoying himself as much as I was. That rare dimple of his was out on full display, and something about it just made me melt.
It was one of those rare, golden moments where we got to be normal. No cameras. No pressure. No crash looming over us, no bleeding or bruises or pain. Just him and me—bickering and gossiping and flirting like we didn’t rule the paddock or carry the weight of this sport on our shoulders.
I loved him. God, I loved him. The way he thought three moves ahead even when he was teasing me, the way his jaw feathered when he was trying not to smile, the way he burned hot but held me gently.
I loved his stubbornness, his dry humor, the way he made me feel seen even when I was trying to disappear.
And more than anything, I loved that this—this exact moment—felt like a glimpse of what life could be like off the grid.
Our future, if we survived all of this. A soft morning.
A bed full of sunshine. A world where I got to wake up to his stupid smirk and his unbearable commentary on the state of my wardrobe for the rest of my life.
“You’re right,” I said with a dramatic sigh.
“Ivy would chew them both up and spit them out. But I will say—they’ve both been side-eye flirting with her since Spain.
But I think something’s already happening with Marco and Ivy.
Ivy only ever lights up when Marco walks into the room.
It’s so obvious, even though she thinks she’s good at hiding it. ”
He nodded slowly. “He was furious before the race yesterday. Almost attacked Morel right alongside me after quali. Marco told me Morel put his hands on Ivy. But when everything went down in the Orion garage… Marco stayed behind to comfort her. After I left you in the medical tent, she was crying in the Vanguard hospitality area, and Marco refused to leave her side until she’d had a whole bottle of water and a cold towel. ”
“He brought her a towel?” I gasped, clutching my chest like it was Victorian-era courtship. “Be still my beating heart.”
Callum snorted. “You’re all menaces.”
“The worst,” I agreed proudly. “But I know he likes her. He gets this weird quiet protectiveness around her. He lingers. And you know Marco—he doesn’t linger.
If he’s there, it’s because he wants to be.
But I think he’s too scared of messing it up.
So he’s either waiting for Ivy to make the move, or he’s trying to keep it professional. ”
He gave me a sideways look. “Why’s that?”
“Because she has a five-step plan for seducing enemies and a backup plan for allies,” I said, deadpan. “And Marco is neither. He’s her match. She doesn’t know what to do with that.”
Callum’s smirk slipped again, replaced by something almost reverent as he stared at me like I’d just peeled back his ribs and tucked a secret inside. “Stop trying to distract me.” He leaned in, pressing a kiss to my temple, voice low and husky. “I know how you play, love. That’s what terrifies me.”
“Oh?” I tilted my head, smug. “And how do I play, Fraser?”
He met my gaze with zero hesitation. “Like the board’s already yours. And you’re just deciding when to call checkmate.”
Something shivered down my spine, slow and sweet and dangerous. I leaned closer, close enough that our noses almost touched, his breath ghosting against my lips. “Then you’d better hope you’re on my team.”
He tucked my hair behind my ear with all the tenderness in the world. “I’m not worried.”
“Why not?”
“Because I already lost the game the second I met you.”
Oh.
He said it so casually, as if it wasn’t profound. But it was, because the second I saw his piercing blue eyes and heard his subtle Scottish accent, I’d been consumed by thoughts of him. That felt like a lifetime ago.