Chapter 23 Self-Destruction
Self-destruction
Sitting in Ranya’s office, Juliette thought, was about as comfortable as it had been the first time. Which was to say, not comfortable at all.
She shifted in the chair. An oily lamp sat atop the desk, illuminating a jumble of crime novels and meal replacement bars, knee sleeves and heat packs. They must have caught Ranya in the midst of packing. Dominic eyed a nearby stack of colored pens as if he was itching to organize them.
Ranya laced her fingers. She’d said nothing in the last five minutes, which wasn’t a good sign. Juliette’s mouth felt dry. Right. Guess she was going first then.
“It wasn’t what it—”
Ranya held up a hand. “I don’t want to talk about that.”
She paused. “You don’t?”
“No.” Ranya’s mouth flattened. “Believe it or not, I didn’t call you into my office to discuss your messy sexual entanglements atop our team cars.”
“Technically,” Dominic said mildly, “it was just the one car.”
Juliette shot him a look. He looked remarkably unfazed for someone who had just been caught almost fornicating on company property. She picked up a pen. “It won’t happen again. I promise.”
She couldn’t bring herself to look at Dominic. Ranya studied her with pursed lips, and Juliette resisted the urge to fidget. It would have been better, she thought, if Ranya had been angry. But the disappointment…
That was a blow.
“You’re both adults,” Ranya said. “What you do outside working hours is your own business. I’d only ask that you consider the consequences.” Her gaze lingered over Juliette for a moment, then she cleared her throat. “Now. Can we move to the issue at hand? I have a flight to catch.”
Dominic laced his hands behind his head, as if inviting her to continue.
Juliette gripped the pen harder. She couldn’t imagine an issue worse than what Ranya had just witnessed.
What were they dealing with here? An impending solar flare?
Nuclear warfare? The sky opening up and raining man-eating armadillos?
“Firstly,” Ranya said, “I’d like to apologize for the late hour. My meeting with the shareholders ran late.”
Juliette’s eyes flicked to the clock. It was almost one o’clock, and she squeezed the pen tighter. In her experience, no good news was delivered after midnight. “I didn’t know there was a meeting scheduled.”
“There wasn’t.” Ranya zipped up a suitcase. “I’ll cut to the chase. Unsurprisingly, none of them are happy with your performance today.”
“It was an accident,” she said.
“Even so,” Ranya said. “The shareholders feel that having you both on the same team is too much of a risk, considering your…disagreements.” She lingered over the last word, as if she’d almost chosen another one.
“They feel that having another driver on the team would be better for morale. Reduce the chance of crashing.”
Realization struck her. “You’re replacing one of us.”
Ranya’s mouth thinned. “Yes.”
Juliette glanced at Dominic, but he was looking straight ahead, his expression impassive.
And even though it was stupid—even though he owed her nothing—betrayal punched her in the gut.
He’d known. He’d probably worked it out on the walk over, while she’d been mentally rehearsing an impassioned speech in their defense. Like an idiot.
God.
She’d rather take her chances with the man-eating armadillos.
“When?”
“At the end of the season,” Ranya said.
She kept her gaze away from Dominic. “Which driver are you keeping?”
Ranya paused. “That’s why I wanted to speak with you. It’s better if it comes from me.” She closed her laptop. “We’re keeping whichever driver does better this year.”
Juliette stared. “You’re going to make us compete?”
As soon as she said it, she realized that it made sense: It was the fairest way to do it. Not to mention that—
“Strategically,” Ranya said, anticipating her next thought, “it makes sense.” She laced her hands. “That way we’ll get the best driving out of both of you this season. Not to mention that it might discourage any more…personal entanglements.”
Ah. So Ranya was annoyed about the kissing-on-team-property thing. Not that she blamed her. Juliette stared down at a mug; it had a sparkly rainbow with the words You Can Do Anything!, which felt like a real slap to the face.
Dominic frowned. “You really want us to try to overtake each other at every opportunity? Take risky gambles just to score points?”
Ranya’s mouth was bloodless. “Obviously not.”
“Let us talk to the shareholders,” Dominic said. “We can change their minds.”
A muscle jumped in his cheek: the only sign of his discomposure. But Ranya was already shaking her head. “It’s too late. They’ve offered Tucker Davies a contract. He’s due to sign it at the end of the season.”
Juliette leaned back. Tucker was an Australian F2 driver; she’d raced against him for the last three years. Something about hearing his name…about knowing that one of them really would be replaced at the end of the season…
Her chest tightened.
Ranya’s expression softened. Or at least she wasn’t scowling, which was about as soft as their team principal got. “Take some time to think it over. I’m happy to answer any questions you have.”
She shuffled some papers, and a page came loose. Juliette’s reflex training kicked in, her hand shooting out to catch it. She paused. The words female and driver jumped out, and she swallowed, shoving the page toward Ranya.
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to look.”
A terrible knot formed in her throat. Had the team already made the decision to drop her?
Was this whole conversation just to cover their asses?
Her brother Ben, who worked in corporate, talked about things like this sometimes.
Performance improvement plans. They sounded like a prelude to getting sacked.
“What is that?” Juliette asked, nodding to the papers.
Ranya picked up her satchel. “Don’t worry about it.”
Why was it, Juliette thought, that people were so fond of that phrase when it only ever made you worry more? “Is it about my contract?”
“No, it’s…” Ranya rubbed at her face. “A group of us are pushing to start an all-female drivers’ academy. A place for aspiring athletes to learn how to be the best in motorsport. But it’s a pipe dream.” She shoved the papers into her satchel. “It’ll never get off the ground.”
Juliette deflated, her worry melting into relief. “Not enough funding?”
“Exactly.” Ranya snapped the satchel closed. “It turns out that the FIA don’t think the academy would drum up enough positive press to outweigh the cost. Anyway. A problem for another day. I’ll see you both at the next race.”
It was a clear dismissal. Juliette rose mechanically.
Numbness filled her as she stepped outside; the warm night air settled on her shoulders like a shawl.
Moonlight glinted off the damp track, turning it into the scales of some great serpent.
It would have been beautiful, she thought numbly, if she didn’t feel like she might be sick.
Dominic tipped his head back against a brick wall. The strong column of his throat bobbed.
“Well,” he said. “Shit.”
Juliette closed her eyes. “Yeah, that about sums it up.”
“Don’t look so sad. I haven’t beaten you yet.”
“You won’t,” she said automatically, although it was half-hearted. As much as it pained her to admit, Dominic had years of experience on her. He was one of the best racers in history. That much was indisputable. She stretched, then hissed out a breath as her ribs gave a painful throb.
Dominic’s eyes tracked the movement. “You ought to take something for that.”
Juliette resisted the urge to snort. “You’re such a hypocrite.” She nodded at his bandage. “What painkillers are you taking?”
“Cocaine, mostly,” Dominic said mildly. “I find it the easiest to snort.”
“Hastings.”
Dominic’s smile faded. “I don’t need them. It’s just a scratch.”
Juliette massaged her side. “There’s no shame in taking them.”
Dominic shrugged. “I never said there was. But my father used to say…” He looked down at the wet track. “Pain can be useful. It can motivate you to push yourself.”
“How so?”
Dominic exhaled. For a moment he was quiet, and she was beginning to think he might not answer when he said, “Did you watch my first win? At Silverstone?”
Juliette dropped her hand. “Funnily enough, I have better things to do with my evenings than watch your glorified highlights reel, Hastings.”
His mouth quirked. “So you did.”
“Yeah.” She’d watched it in person, tucked up beneath a blanket with her sister Rosaline, both clutching cups of peppermint tea. That had been the year that Cap started racing. “The weather was terrible.”
Dominic’s eyes reflected the wet asphalt.
“Dad gave me a lift home, and he kept talking about that first corner, when I almost overshot the car. I told him that it didn’t matter.
I’d already won. We got into this huge row.
I called him something I probably shouldn’t have and…
” He waved a hand, as if to signify that was irrelevant.
“Anyway, Dad kicked me out of the car. Made me walk six miles in the rain. It hurt like hell, but you know what I realized? I had fucked up that first turn. And the next year, I did it better.”
Juliette stared. The distant rattle of cars filled the silence, an unending stream of traffic. She thought of a young Dominic Hastings trudging down the side of that motorway, his head bent against the rain, and a terrible ache filled her chest.
“Hastings?”
Dominic looked up. “Yeah?”
Juliette shifted her weight. “That’s the most messed-up thing I’ve ever heard.” To her surprise, Dominic smiled. “What?”
“I can’t believe nobody’s told you that cats will eat you after you die.”
“I’m being serious.”
“So am I,” Dominic said solemnly. “They go for your face first. It’s so disturbing.”
“Hastings.”
“He just wants me to be better,” Dominic said softly. “He pushes me. It’s a good thing.”
Juliette tipped her face up to the sky. She recalled the first interview she’d seen of Dominic Hastings; he’d laughed about his early driving lessons with Vance, explaining how his father had made him practice in weather so cold that his fingers froze to the steering wheel. Tough love was one thing, but this…
You could only push tires so hard before they punctured. Everyone knew that.
“I have a question,” Juliette said slowly.
Dominic raised an eyebrow. “I suspect you’re going to ask it anyway. So go on.”
“After Vance terminated your contract—”
“That’s a very nice way of saying he sacked me,” he observed dryly.
“—how did you convince Ranya to hire you?”
Dominic looked down. For a moment she wondered if she’d offended him, but then he blew out a breath. “I suppose you’re asking because you want to know what reasons Ranya has to keep me next season.” His voice was wry. Juliette waited. “Actually, it was easy. I gave her the one thing she wanted.”
“And what was that?”
Dominic’s smile was grim. “To fuck over my father.”
Juliette frowned. To screw over Vance? She hadn’t even realized Ranya knew him, although she supposed it made sense.
Vance Hastings was the kingmaker of Formula 1; everyone knew who he was.
Dominic shifted, which had the unfortunate effect of casting the moonlight so that it pooled in the bow of his mouth.
Heat swept through her. Her body remembered what they’d been doing before they were interrupted, much as she wished it would forget.
She ground her toe into the gravel. “What happened tonight…We can’t do that again.”
“I know,” he said.
“You’re my competition. And I need to stay focused.”
The idea of losing her seat, of giving up the one thing she’d worked for…Her mother used to joke that Juliette had been born breathing gasoline. Trying to imagine a life without racing was like trying to imagine a new color.
“I get it,” Dominic said. “Trust me.”
Juliette met his gaze. “So we have a deal. We play it hard but fair. Best driver at the end of the season is lucky enough to keep their seat.”
Dominic pushed off the wall. “We make our own luck.”
“So you’ve said.”
“Deal.”
He held out his hand. Juliette took it; his palm was warmer than she’d expected, and her heartbeat sped up. How was it, she thought, that she’d spent years honing her body into a weapon only for it to betray her now? All Dominic had to do was look at her and she was desperate for him to touch her.
Juliette waited two beats before dropping his hand. There. Let him think she was as unbothered as he was. “I should get back to the hotel. Goodnight, Hastings.”
Dominic’s expression was unreadable. “Goodnight, Marchmont.”
She made her way to the car park. The streetlamps reflected off the wet pavement, melting like yellow wax from a candle. She touched a hand to her lips; the skin was still swollen and hot.
Her chest tightened. That kiss tonight…
It had unleashed something inside her. Now she remembered what kissing Dominic Hastings was like.
It was masochistic, and all-consuming, and addictive.
A bad habit she had to kick. She thought suddenly of the first time he’d kissed her, in a dusty old classroom with his mouth tasting of ginger biscuits.
Even then, she’d known that kissing Dominic Hastings was like putting a ticking time bomb in your chest.
And it hadn’t taken long before he’d lit the fuse.