Chapter Eleven #2
She crossed back to the couch, settling beside me with renewed energy. “What exactly did you tell him?”
“I said no. It felt wrong, using our date like that. Using him like that.”
My mother’s hand found mine, surprisingly gentle. “Darling, you aren’t using him if he’s offering.”
“But—” I interjected.
“But nothing.” Her grip tightened slightly. “Let me handle this.” My mother stood, already pulling out her phone. “I’ll float it by Felix and the communications team.” She checked her watch, a small look of desperation crossing her face. “Come on. Felix is waiting.”
I followed her out of the room and into the office hallway, my footsteps falling into a reluctant rhythm behind hers. I felt like I was being led to the guillotine.
When we approached the large conference room, my mother made a show of fixing her blazer, not sparing me a glance. “I want you to apologize before Felix has to ask.”
I pressed my tongue to the roof of my mouth before whispering, “For the photo or simply existing?”
She only sighed as the doors parted slowly, revealing Rennen’s largest conference room.
In the center of the room was one long table, spotless except for the lineup of espresso cups and Felix’s folded hands.
Rennen’s logo shone on the far wall, always watching me.
Thomas, President of Rennen, was also there waiting, staring down at his phone with a large frown.
Felix raised his arm, gesturing for me to sit. Across from me at the table was Bertha, whose expression was unreadable. Part of me wondered if she was secretly enjoying this, seeing my downfall. I hadn’t exactly made the season easy. Mark stood in the back, tirelessly working on his tablet.
Great. They’d even brought in my engineer to witness my humiliation.
Felix always looked tired, but this morning the bags under his eyes almost looked like bruises. He didn’t bother with small talk, just slid his phone across the table toward me. The photo stared back.
“I’m going to ask you one question,” Felix said quietly. “And I want an honest answer.”
I swallowed. “Okay.”
“Are you involved with Henri Dubois?”
“No.” The truth.
Felix studied me for a long moment, then nodded. “Good. Because if you were, we’d be having a very different conversation.” He pulled the phone back, pocketing it. “Unfortunately, what’s true and what the paddock believes are two separate things.”
“The paddock thinks—” I started.
“I don’t care what the paddock thinks,” Felix interrupted, his voice sharp.
“As the team principal, I just need to make sure every part of the contract is being respected.” He exhaled slowly.
“But if I’m being honest, for Rennen, this is about our lead driver looking like she’s in bed with her top rival. It’s not a great look for you, Lily.”
I nodded, struggling to find the words to say, then I remembered my mother’s command from earlier. “I know,” I said quietly. “I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.”
“Good. Let’s be careful with the off-track fraternizing with Dubois, yeah?” Thomas added. “Not that Henri would… but I don’t trust Hermes around our documents.”
When it came to Hermes, Thomas and Felix absolutely thought the worst, which felt a bit ironic, since they didn’t worry about Georgia visiting Luca. Unlike Hermes, Valkyrie actually needed the help. And definitely no more kissing.
After that, the meeting dissolved with the quiet efficiency of a well-oiled machine, which felt aptly Rennen.
My mother immediately reached for her phone, her fingers already flying across the screen as she shifted back into full crisis-management mode.
I watched her transform in real time. The parent side of her had melted away years ago, replaced by the calculating strategist. In the end, only Mark lingered, his hands folded loosely in his lap as he remained seated at the conference table.
“You did good today,” he said quietly.
I smiled, small and tired. “Didn’t get P1, though.”
“We will.”
I managed a nod. “Thanks. Sorry you had to waste time listening to all that.”
He paused, looking contemplative. “You ever feel like this sport just devours people whole?”
“Every single day,” I replied.
A slight grin tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Then give it something to choke on.”
When he left, the room was completely quiet. I closed my eyes, letting the silence soak in. A single buzz of my phone caught my attention.
An unknown number.
P2? And just after I’d given you a chance? Keep driving like that,
and you’ll owe me more than money.
Oh, good. Just what I needed right now.
I didn’t respond. Didn’t breathe for a second. I locked the screen, slipped the phone into my pocket, and told myself it was another coincidence. It was just spam. A wrong number. Anything but what it sounded like.
But I couldn’t avoid the truth.
This someone knew my number.
I opened my phone back up and stared at it too long—long enough for the screen to dim. Then I quickly screenshot it before deleting it. My hand was shaking, thumb trembling over the glass.
You can’t tell them. Not yet.
Today had made me a thorn in their side; now was not the time to add to that. I could get through more of this season, and then, once I was properly leading the championship, I could tell them.