Chapter 11
TRAFFIC MANAGEMENT: NAVIGATING SLOWER CARS
The first thing I notice after I step fully into the ballroom is its scale and beauty.
With almost thirty-foot ceilings and more than one hundred thousand square feet of space, the Fontainebleau Royal Ballroom has been transformed into a smoky, elegant spectacle. Combined with its elite guest list, tonight is sure to dazzle anyone who hasn’t been to one of these events before.
Within moments of presenting my invitation, I hear murmurs rippling through the crowd.
“Is that…?”
“Oh, it is!”
“I hope her father is her plus one.”
I don’t even have time to roll my eyes before I’m intercepted. A familiar voice calls out my name, “Christin! Ower here, lass!”
“I could pick out that Scottish brogue anywhere,” I mutter to myself, already smiling. “Marcus, it’s been far too long.”
Before he retired due to a bad leg fracture, Marcus McCrae was someone my father mentored and still maintains a friendship with. I recall Aio’s reaction when I told her I knew him. She swore she’d do anything to meet him just once.
Seeing him in a tux, I can appreciate why.
Handsome as sin, he now sports a touch of silver in his hair that only highlights his impressive blue eyes. But it’s his boisterous laugh people remember long after they’re done being impressed by his name.
He pulls me into a brief hug before stepping back, hands resting on my shoulders like he’s confirming I’m real. “Look at ye. Aw grown up an’ pure brilliant at whit ye dae, frae whit yer dad says.”
“I like to confound expectations in creative ways that terrify people.”
“Ye sound the dead spit o’ yer dad.”
“Christin, where have you been hiding?” another voice cuts in.
I whirl around until I’m facing a literal wall of a gorgeous man—all broad shoulders and devastating looks that would stop many a woman’s heart. I demand, “Who thought it was a good idea to put you two in a room together?”
David Cain chuckles before drawling, “Someone with exceptional taste.”
“Why am I not surprised you’re the one who said that, David?” I offer the Alaskan native a beaming smile.
He reaches over and lifts my hand to his lips with a gentlemanly charm I know he learned from his father and uncles. “Haven’t seen you around the circuit for a while. Thought we lost you to a malfunctioning operating system.”
“Cute, David. I’ve been working,” I say.
Marcus snorts. “She means she’s bin oot there buildin’ things that’ll require mair time on the track.”
David shakes his head, a grin tugging at his mouth. “Great. Love that. Way to boost morale.”
I pat his shoulder. “Your morale levels require too much effort. My job is to identify efficiencies.”
David’s mouth curves. “Yes, I’ve read some of your work.”
That gets my attention. “You have?”
“Enough,” David replies. “Adaptive input modeling. Interface stabilization under load.”
Marcus lets out a low whistle. “Impressive ye ken thae words, David. Dae ye ken whit they mean?”
“You are an ass. You’re lucky I understand you.”
My brows wing upward. “He’s from Scotland, David. Don’t you mean arse?”
Both men crack up even as a third man turns away from the people he’s been speaking with. It’s a face I associate with my youth as he used to sneak Snickers to me in my father’s paddock after he finished discussing the team finances. His lips curve. “Christin.”
My smile is immediate. “Alessandro.”
He gives me a warm hug before studying me, gaze sweeping from head to toe like he’s aligning memory with reality. “Were you twelve the last time I saw you?” he asks.
“Nineteen and home from college.”
“There were pigtails.”
“Braids. There’s a difference. Besides, I was bored.”
He huffs out something that might be a laugh. “If I remember correctly, you were fifteen when you rewired your father’s telemetry screen because you didn’t like the delay.”
“It was inefficient.”
Marcus grins. “I bet Lewis near lost his marbles.”
“He did not.”
“He absolutely did,” Alessandro says. “I was there.”
I shake my head. “He was annoyed, not concerned.”
Alessandro’s gaze sharpens slightly. “He told you not to touch anything.”
“He told me not to break anything. Those are completely different instructions.”
Marcus howls outright. “Thair it is. That’s Porter logic.”
“How is he?” Alessandro asks.
“Still impossible and right more often than he should be.”
Marcus stops a nearby waiter and snags a few glasses of champagne. Passing them around, we clink our glasses together briefly before David remarks, “That’s good.”
Alessandro rolls his eyes. “Is he still watching races like he can outdrive half the grid from his living room?”
“Only half? Now you’re insulting him,” I mock.
All three men double over.
Marcus notes gently. “For a lang time, efter yer mum, he was inconsolable.”
“He’ll never be the same. She was the love of his life.”
“She would have been proud of you, Christin,” Alessandro murmurs.
“Thank you.”
Silence settles between us—not uncomfortably, just respectful. Then David quips, “So, I realized something the other day.”
“What’s that?”
“I’m an adult. When I told my mother this, she said to suck it up. No one’s coming to save me. If we’re going to be sad, let’s talk about that, why don’t we?”
Marcus grins. “That’s awfy sad.”
“I’m sorry, David, but your loss of reality isn’t anything new,” I quip.
That’s enough to have the four of us snickering. I gasp, “We must look like party crashers. Here we are in formal attire and we’re completely lowering the standard of this event.”
Marcus leans forward and whispers loudly, “Then they should’ve thought aboot their attendee list.”
David straightens his cuff. “They can have a good cry tomorrow.”
I faux dab at the corner of my eyes. “This conversation makes me happy.”
“Then our work here is complete,” Alessandro smiles.
After that, the conversation shifts naturally to the beginning of the racing season.
I can’t suppress the pride that wells up inside me when I’m included as a peer.
The devil on my shoulder taunts me, Leo thought you’d disappear with this crowd?
Puh-lease. I earned my place here, I realize.
Not because of being Lewis Porter’s daughter, but because of my own hard work.
“So you wound up at Castor?” David asks.
“Yes.”
“Which office?” At my look of surprise, he expands, “My cousin, Kevin, flies private jets for someone associated with the firm.”
“Really?”
“Yes.”
“Good to know as I work out of both.”
Alessandro crosses his arms. “More importantly, what are these rumors about you joining Apex Orion?”
If Alessandro has heard about it, I wonder if Leo has. “It’s just a temporary engagement.”
Marcus raises a brow. “Ye dinna dae temporary.”
“I do when the problem is interesting enough.” I take a sip of my drink before I add, “Also, there’s the benefit of being able to remind people I’m there because they decided giving up is an option.”
“Lewis would like that answer, ken,” Marcus says.
“I’m not him,” I remind Marcus.
Alessandro doesn’t soften his words. “We know, but you are his daughter.”
“Yes, I am. But I’m also hers,” I remind them gently. My mother, Loren, had a knack for seeing the details everyone overlooked.
Marcus studies me for a second longer. “Good, because the sport dinna need anither Lewis Porter.”
David adds, “It needs someone who understands what he did and what he couldn’t. Not because he wasn’t talented, but because of limitations.”
Marcus agrees, “We need someone whae can break through the barriers.”
I tilt my head. “Not setting the bar high for me at all.”
Alessandro’s mouth curves as he shakes his head.
“This is what I love about this sport—camaraderie that lasts throughout the years,” I sigh.
“Are ye callin’ us auld?” Marcus demands.
“Older. Just older. I wouldn’t want to damage your fragile ego.”
“Speaking of egos, you’ll be in tight with Apex’s driver?” Alessandro asks.
I nod.
“Have ye met their lead driver yet, ken?” Marcus asks.
I don’t avoid the question. I just give an answer with a precise view. “Not formally.”
David’s brow lifts. “That will be…interesting.”
“Why?”
Marcus exhales a quiet laugh. “I think the three o’ us have kent ye lang enough tae say he’s gaun tae drive ye mental.”
Oh, Marcus. If you only knew. Diplomatically, I ask, “What makes you believe that?”
“He makes yer obsessive perfection look like a rough draft sketched oot by bairns,” Marcus says.
David winces. “That’s horrifyingly accurate.”
I try not to agree with Marcus, thereby spilling the beans that I know Leo in ways none of them ever will. “Wow. You think I can’t handle a little tantrum?”
David grins. “Oh, we have confidence in you. It’s him we’re worried about.”
“Don’t. I’ve got this.”
Alessandro watches me. “You’re going to remind him of that.”
I take another sip. “If necessary.”
The group shifts again. Marcus is pulled away, and David is flagged by someone across the room. But Alessandro lingers. “Your father, he saw systems before he saw people.” Then he corrects himself. “No, he saw the systems in people. You’ll have your hands full with your new role.”
I don’t respond immediately because I know I can’t disagree.
Alessandro studies me for a second longer before nodding and stepping back.
Seconds later, I hear a voice I recognize behind me. “Ms. Gage?”
Turning, I find myself looking up at Leo’s team director and best friend, Dario Morretti. “Mr. Morretti.” I hold out my hand.
He takes my hand in a quick, professional shake. “Both of our drivers are in attendance. Are you ready to meet the team…formally?”
I ignore the slight curve of his lips now that he’s put two and two together before letting my eyes sweep around the room. I find Leo staring directly at us, flabbergasted.
“Yes, I am.” With those words, I know it’s time for me to say goodbye to my sanity for the foreseeable future.