Chapter 3
CHAPTER 3
Nash
T he door shuts behind the last person out and the tension in the room snaps like a rubber band. I have to hold back my sigh of relief, not from the tense back-and-forth over whether I’m worthy, but from having come face-to-face with Bex after all these years.
The minute she walked out that door, I could finally breathe.
Brienne takes the seat at the head of the table, her posture poised and professional. She motions to seats on either side of her, and Luca and I take our places.
I inhale deeply, letting it out slowly. I try to expel the unease that’s been gnawing at me since Brienne dropped this bombshell in my lap, which only grew exponentially knowing that Bex was a part of the Titans Racing team.
But she’s gone and we have business to discuss.
Brienne suggests I get Greg on the phone. As my manager and agent, he’ll be the one to advise me on any offer put on the table. I pull out my cell phone, get Greg on the line, and very succinctly tell him that Titans Racing wants me.
“Let’s deal,” he says via speakerphone.
Brienne leans forward, crossing her arms on the polished tabletop. “I’m prepared to offer Nash a one-year, ten-million-dollar contract with performance bonuses. But no guarantee beyond that.”
That’s a lot of money for one year behind the wheel.
There are twenty-two races left in the season.
Two hundred and twenty thousand per race.
I make half that in the OWC.
“I need more than that,” I say before Greg can chime in.
Brienne blinks. “Ten million is a lot of money.”
“It’s not the money I have an issue with per se,” I reply smoothly. “Although we still need to talk about a final number. I need a guarantee of more than one year. I want a five-year deal. I’m not going back in there to risk everything for just one season.”
Luca lets out a low whistle. “A five-year deal? You haven’t raced in FI for three years. You were injured in your last race… severely. We don’t know if you’ve got the mental fortitude to race at top speed. It’s a lot of unknowns for a five-year contract.”
“And yet you are the ones who brought me here and offered me a job.” I turn to look at Brienne. “Five years and twenty million, plus you have to buy out the penalty clause with my current team for leaving.”
A smile slides across Brienne’s face and I can see the appreciation. “Of course we’ll buy out your penalty clause. But I can’t commit to five years. I’ll agree to three, but for fifteen million, paid five million a year with half at the start of the season and the second half payable at the end.”
That’s close to being doable. “That’s all good, but I’m risking my life every single race, so I want the five million at the start of each season.”
Brienne stares at me a long moment before leaning toward my phone. “Do you have anything to add or request, Greg?”
“At this point, I don’t even know why I’m on the phone.” He laughs at his own joke but then turns serious. “I want to get into details about the performance bonuses, and we’ll want a solid exit clause. I also want Nash to be able to solicit his own sponsorships. Most importantly though, I want it in his contract that he’ll be the number one driver and gets first crack at any new upgrade packages. Oh, and he’ll need housing set up in Guildford.”
I smile inside, because that’s exactly why I have Greg. He’s been in the sport for twenty-five years and is one of the best.
Brienne looks to me and inclines her head. “I believe we’ll be able to come to an agreement on everything, and I assume you probably want to get on my plane and head home to wherever that is. You’re going to need to make some plans to move.”
“I’m fine with you finishing up without me so I can head home, but there are two more things we need to discuss. The first is I can’t be ready in time for Jeddah. That’s eight days away and halfway around the world in Saudi Arabia. I haven’t even seen the car, much less driven it. And while I know all the tracks, it’s obviously been a hot minute since I’ve raced on them. I need more simulator time.”
Brienne cuts her eyes to Luca. “This is where my inexperience in the sport shows. What do you think?”
Luca glances at me a long moment, but nods in agreement. “I don’t doubt Nash could do Jeddah, but my preference would be we run Bernie in that race and give Nash the time he needs to get comfortable. I think it would be a wise investment. His first race should be Melbourne.”
“That’s settled then,” Brienne says, turning back to me. “What else did you want to discuss?”
My jaw clenches hard, not wanting to say the words, but I force them out anyway. “You need to know that Bexley Toliver and I were in a relationship, which ended badly about a month prior to my crash. Needless to say, it was a shock to find her here.”
I can feel the confusion as Brienne and Luca stare at me, but Greg speaks first. “Bex is there?”
“The chief strategy engineer,” I clarify for him.
Greg chuckles. “Good for her.”
Those words don’t surprise me. He loved Bex and was devastated when we broke up. He’s run into her periodically over the years and always mentions her, but I didn’t want to hear any of it.
Brienne seems to come out of her shock. “You were in a relationship… like, dated each other?”
“Like, we were engaged and about to be married when it ended,” I clarify in a flat tone. “Then the crash happened, not that that was related. Just to be transparent with timing.”
There’s a slight shift in the room’s energy as Brienne and Luca exchange glances. Brienne is first to break the silence. “I see. Are you telling me that this is something that could affect your ability to work together?”
My throat is tight and I try to swallow against it. “I don’t know. It’s a lot to unpack. She’s been fighting for her place here, and she’s damn good at what she does.” My mind flashes back to our last heated argument, the way we tore into each other—words that still cut deep. But I force that memory down. “I won’t let it affect my work. I’m here to do my job.”
Luca’s expression is worried, and he shakes his head. “It’s not the first time a personal conflict has made things difficult in this sport. I think we should replace her.”
“No,” I exclaim, not questioning the sudden burst of fear that Bex should lose her spot on this team. No matter how much she makes my blood boil, it’s not fair for her to be discarded by the team in deference to me. “Don’t replace her. She earned this position. She’s worked for it, and I won’t be the one to make her lose it because of our… history.”
Fuck, this pisses me off. I honestly thought that if I ever saw her walking across the street and about to step into a pothole, I’d have to think twice before I warned her. And here I am now, putting my hard feelings aside so she can keep her job, knowing that this is going to get messy at some point.
Still, it feels like the right thing to do.
Brienne nods in agreement, but Luca still looks uncertain, his brow furrowing as if trying to assess the real risk. “If she causes problems—” Luca starts, but Brienne interrupts him before he can finish.
“We deal with it. But for now, Nash is right,” she says firmly. “We don’t make hasty decisions without seeing how things unfold, so Bexley stays. But if she gets in the way of your success, she’ll have to go.”
I nod in agreement, because that’s as it should be. I’m not the only one with bitter feelings. I’m pretty sure Bex hates me, and if she comes at me, I’ll let the team cut her loose. “Understood.”
“Good,” Brienne says, offering me a small but satisfied smile. “My driver is out front, ready to take you to the airport. We’ll work things out with Greg, and I’ll get someone to find you suitable housing in Guildford.”
We all stand, and I first shake Luca’s and then Brienne’s hands. As I walk to the door, it hits me like a sack of bricks what I just signed on for.
I’m going to be racing in Formula International again.
I’m going to get back onto the very track that tried to kill me.
The thought is equal parts terrifying and thrilling. I’d be lying if I didn’t say this was a dream that I never let be fully realized, and I’ll never question what fortune brought Brienne Norcross to my doorstep. I only know that I’m going to work my ass off to keep my place.
I make my way through the building and down to the lobby level where I see the same limousine that brought us here parked out front. The driver sits inside, the engine running and misty frost expelling from the exhaust system in the March Pittsburgh cold.
I’m heading for the door, buttoning up my coat when I hear, “Nash.”
My spine stiffens in recognition of that soft British voice, and I turn to see Bex walking toward me. Her face is grim, her gaze wary. I reluctantly hold my place, waiting for her to reach me.
For a moment, neither of us speaks. Everything I’ve been trying to bury rushes back to the surface—unwanted, unforgiving. She’s the last person I wanted to see today, but here she is, standing in front of me like it’s nothing.
“Hey,” she says quietly, her voice just barely breaking the tension. “I was hoping we could talk for a minute.”
“About what?” I ask bluntly.
Coldly.
She steps a little closer, something guarded in her expression. “So… it’s really happening then. You’re back in Formula International and I just wanted to say congratulations.”
“Thanks,” I mutter, and start to turn away.
Her hand falls on my forearm. “Wait. Please.”
With a sigh, I turn toward her and she takes a step back. I wait her out, not willing to say a word so she understands I have no desire to talk to her.
“How are you doing?” she asks lamely, and I can tell that’s not what she really wants to talk about.
“I’m doing none of your fucking business, Bex. That’s how I’m doing. Does that answer your question?”
Her face tightens.
That beautiful face of high cheekbones, golden eyes and golden hair to match, with full lips flattened so austerely, I can see the muscles in her jaw working. “I just asked how you’re doing,” she snaps, and there’s a flicker of something dark across her face—something I’m not ready to deal with. “I should’ve known better.”
I take a step forward, not thinking, but suddenly I’m too close to her, and I feel that old pull again. The temptation to lash out, to push back, to grab her to me, to kiss her.
Fuck no. Not that.
“You’re right… you should have known better,” I growl.
“You’re acting like a child,” she sneers.
“You think it’s easy for me?” My words are rough, unmeasured and full of fire. “You think just because I was offered a contract that my life isn’t completely upended and unbalanced?” I gesture vaguely, frustrated, like I can’t articulate it. “You’ve got your job, you’ve got your place here, but me? I have everything to prove, and everything to lose, so pardon me if I’m a little fucking cranky. It’s not just about racing anymore, Bex. It’s about everything that came after—” My voice cracks, but I quickly shove it down. “None of this is easy for me, and I don’t need you adding to it.”
Bex takes a sharp breath, her chest rising as her lips tighten. She’s not backing down, and it only makes me angrier. “You don’t think I have anything to lose?” she says, her voice icy. “You think you’re the only one haunted here? You think it’s easy for me to walk into a room and pretend this is normal, pretend that nothing ever happened between us? You think I forgot everything that happened between us, Nash?”
It’s out now, and I feel the sting of her words like a slap to the face. My fury rises, swirled with dread that things are too precarious right now.
I don’t know what to say to that, so I raise my hand, silencing her. The words, the anger—everything is spiraling. “Stop,” I tell her, my voice low. “Just… stop. This is getting out of control, and I’m not doing this here. Not now.”
She stares at me, chest heaving, her lips parted in that familiar way when she’s about to say something sharp, something hurtful. I’m locked and loaded, ready to give it back if she does, because I’ve always had the ability to be the bigger douche.
But I hold up my hand again. “I’ll be blunt, all right?” I say, jaw clenched. “Luca was willing to let you go. He thought it would be easier to just replace you, but I told them no. I’m not asking you to leave, but if you think you’re going to mess with my head, or distract me, or get in my way…” I pause, letting the threat hang in the air.
“I would never do that.” She gasps, cheeks turning red and anger sizzling in her eyes.
I look at her pointedly. “I’m not playing games. I’m not here to revisit the idea of us—I’m here to do a job. To prove that I’m more than my past.” My voice lowers, quieter now, almost cold. “You’re here for your job, and I’m here for mine. Keep it that way. Don’t make me regret letting you stay.”
There’s a long silence. I can feel her measuring me, as if she’s wondering if I’m serious. Maybe I am. Maybe I’m not. But either way, I can’t back down now.
Bex finally grinds her teeth together, a sharp sound that I know is her trying not to snap back. “Fine,” she says, her voice tight, controlled. “I’ll stay out of your way. You stay out of mine.”
I nod once, my rage still on a low simmer. It’s a truce of sorts, but it feels like the calm before the storm. I don’t know if it’ll last, but for now, it’s all I can do.
Without another word, she turns and walks away, her footsteps echoing down the hallway. I stay standing there, rooted to the spot, watching her go. Part of me wonders if I made the right call.
The other part of me—deep down—knows I probably didn’t.