Chapter 12
NUMB FRONT: NO CONFIDENCE IN FRONT GRIP
Everything at this event is designed to make people feel glamorous.
From the red carpet, with the swarm of paparazzi, to the ballroom’s luxurious black-and-white design symbolizing the checkered flags every driver here hungers to capture, I used to be horrified by events like these.
They remind me so much of the life I grew up in that my preference is to slink into the darkest corner and hide.
It strikes me then that Christin would have enjoyed herself. She would have made the event fun with her acerbic comments and threats about hacking the lighting to stop it from irritating the drivers because, according to the gala hosts, “It’s supposed to represent your racing blur.”
Instead, I’m trying to keep myself in neutral.
Between the irritating lights and being hit on by a woman who looks like she spent more money on her facelift than her boob job, I realize Christin would have been the only real thing in this room.
And I properly fucked it all up because I still let them control me.
I do my best to hide my feelings, but Dario notices when he approaches, holding out a flute of champagne. “You can’t bail yet.”
“Why not?”
“Because you have to meet our new software engineer.”
“Right,” I scowl down at my glass.
“Try not to do that in front of our sponsors,” he cautions me before moving off to shake hands.
I tune back in half-heartedly to the conversations occurring around me.
Even as I’m shaking hands with one of the Apex Orion sponsors who is deep in conversation with Hogan, I’m counting down the minutes until I can escape and spend the rest of the night trying to guess whether Christin might still be up and whether I should reach out.
I do enjoy my conversation with country music star Brendan Blake. He asks, “How are you feeling about your chances this year?”
“Every year presents different kinds of challenges,” I reply diplomatically.
“Sounds like my tours.” Still, my lips curve when he comments, “In one way or another, it’s all performance, isn’t it?”
I consider the way I push speeds over two hundred miles per hour. The way the world streaks by, making everything blur. Then I think about his concert venues—packed with tens of thousands of fans whose screaming might cause the same effect. I start, “You know. I think you’re right—”
My words end abruptly when I catch sight of the stunning woman charming a small group of men across the room. Noting my sudden stillness, Brendan lays a hand on my shoulder. “You okay, Leo?”
I mumble an answer before making my excuses to the music legend. Certain I must be projecting, I head toward Dario. He steps away from a conversation he was having with one of the other team directors.
I can’t formulate words. All I can do is stare at the vision in my direct line of sight.
With a glass of champagne in one hand, she glows—causing the ballroom to sparkle in a way it hadn’t just a few minutes ago.
Scrubbing a hand down my face, I blink to ensure she’s still there and not a figment of my imagination.
She’s real.
“What’s wrong with you?” Dario growls after he slides up next to me.
I’m about to tell him I think I’m hallucinating when he follows my line of sight. His face smooths out before he says, “I’ll be right back.”
Then, to my shock, he crosses the expanse of the room to her.
He waits for her conversation with Alessandro Vega to lull before speaking.
When she turns to face him, neither of their expressions registers any surprise.
Dario holds out his hand like he’s greeting a colleague.
Christin accepts it like she’s been expecting this moment.
What. The. Bloody. Hell?
They exchange a few words before Dario gestures for her to join him.
She walks alongside him across the ballroom.
I wish I could hear what they’re discussing, as neither one stops talking.
Dario pauses by Hogan and introduces Christin to him.
He takes her hand and pumps it up and down enthusiastically.
Instead of trying to figure out what’s being said between them, I study the graceful way she moves. Her physical presence causes my body to ache—certain parts more than others. But it’s her blank expression that causes the knot in my gut to tighten.
It’s virtually impossible to reconcile the sophisticated beauty striding toward me with the one who laughed uproariously over group chats with her girlfriends.
The woman heading in my direction knows the power she wields—a power that is significant, judging by the way Hogan reacted.
Not to mention the way people act as she glides by.
Every time she takes a step, there’s a quick flash of her long legs—made even longer by the stilettos on her feet. The last time I saw her, she was bundled up in one of my jumpers and leggings.
I realize I don’t know anything about this version of the woman walking toward me.
She’s a complete contradiction to the lover I know.
She’s not being treated in any of the ways I worried she would be amid this elitist crowd.
Instead, most of the crowd is beaming at her as if she’s a returning war hero.
Emotions surge through me at a speed I only wish I could drive at.
Desire mingles with awe at the expert way she handles the room.
But no feeling stands out more than the shame I’ve carried these past four months.
Still, by the time the duo reaches me, I know with deep certainty that tonight will bring my past and future crashing together.
And it’s going to happen whether I’m ready for it or not.
“Leo,” Dario says. “Let me formally introduce you to the woman of the hour, though I’m certain no introductions are necessary.”
I nod once, unable to form words. Her eyes calmly meet mine. Waiting.
Then Dario drops the bomb. “You obviously know Christin Gage. As you may recall, I told you I was bringing in an expert in telemetry. Christin’s a senior security and software engineer at Castor. She specializes in high-speed data interpretation and control interface optimization.”
Christin’s gaze shifts to me. It’s professional, with nothing of our past bleeding into it, whereas I want to drop to my knees and beg for a chance to talk.
Dario doesn’t give me the opportunity. “While she can’t talk much about her work…”
That’s when I see a smile flit across her lips for the first time in months. “Sorry, Dario. There are NDAs I’m obligated to uphold until I’m ninety-five.”
My eyes bug out as Dario chuckles. “That’s okay. Christin is allowed to share she’s led adaptive systems modeling during her NASA internship rotation.”
What? My brain scrambles. When we were together, neither of us spoke much about work, but I thought that had more to do with my reticence than her own. But this? My mind is already putting pieces together when Dario confirms, “She’s been assigned by Castor to redesign our telemetry software.”
Christin adds, “The new software will include full compliance with FIA regulations. No automated driver aids. Manual input integrity and no predictive correction layers.”
Even as my mind struggles to wrap around this, Dario remarks, “While she’ll be working with the entire engineering team, her most critical feedback will come from our drivers.”
Christin clarifies, “Driver input is only as effective as the system interpreting it.” There’s no edge to her words. No hidden agenda.
Just fact.
I let out a slow breath. “You’re the one Dario hired to burn down the old software.”
“What I’ve started to build will far exceed your requirements.”
“You think so?”
“I know so.”
“How?”
But before she can answer, Christin’s attention is diverted. The smile I seek out in my dreams blooms on her face. “If you both will excuse me, I just spotted my godfather. I really need to go say hello.”
Dario nods. “Of course. See you at the track tomorrow?”
“Yes. I look forward to working with the team.” Christin’s eyes dart to mine. “Mr. Hawthorne. Until tomorrow.”
I’ve barely parted my lips to respond before she practically jogs over to Sebastian Kessler. I murmur to Dario, “Did she say godfather?”
“She did.”
My brow furrows. “Kessler is her godfather. I wonder how that happened.”
Dario faces me fully, his expression is one of total shock. “You haven’t pieced together who she is, have you?”
An uneasy feeling crawls through me. “My Christin.”
His eyes follow Christin to where she’s being hugged enthusiastically by a small group of people, including the F1 legend she just admitted is her godfather. “When I hired Castor, I demanded a comprehensive security dossier on their top security engineer.”
“Christin,” I confirm.
“Yes.”
“So you hired her?”
“Of course I did.”
“For me?” The words are out of my mouth before I can stop them.
“No, for us. The team needs the best, and she’s it.” He leans in close as if he’s about to impart a state secret. “Leo, why didn’t you ever tell me that your Christin is Lewis Porter’s daughter? That her legal name is Christin Gage Porter?”
My head spins as I absorb the impact of his words. “Lewis Porter? The Lewis Porter?”
“Yes.” Then his jaw falls slack. “You didn’t know?”
I shake my head. “Everything’s starting to make sense.”
“Like?”
“How she wasn’t overly impressed I was a driver. When she asked me questions, they came from knowledge of the circuit. I…”
“What?”
“I thought she just learned about it to impress me.” My face flames bright red at that admission.
For the first time, I understand how much I let my past break us apart. When we talked about family, she mentioned a loving father who couldn’t be around a lot because he traveled. That is, until her mother passed away.
The pieces shift together, forming a horrifying picture. When my fear got the best of me, I implied that her background would make her disappear. More like she could make me vanish in a heartbeat.
Her laughter ripples through the air, making me wince. My hand slips into my pocket. My fingers grip my mobile. Even if I had sent those texts, they’d have been woefully inadequate.
After all, how do I apologize for insinuating she’d disappear in this life when I’m the one who never mattered in mine?