11. TIAGO
TIAGO
JEDDAH
‘You have got to be joking.’
Jules’ eyes are murderous, and my hope of her having amnesia and forgetting who I am goes from slightly possible to absolutely fucking ridiculous.
‘A truce.’ I hold the take-out cup toward her. ‘Let’s talk over a coffee. I hear you’re partial to a rose iced latte.’
She stares at it like it’s purple and frothing.
I knew I should’ve listened to Isa and gone with soda, but Jules was pictured with one of these yesterday and you can’t talk over coffee without an actual coffee.
Since I have to be strategic with my caffeine intake on race weekends, it has to be hers.
‘You have three seconds before I karate chop you,’ she snarls.
‘Woah, what?’ Karate chop? That’s her violence of choice? ‘I just… I feel like we got off on the wrong foot.’
She jerks back. ‘How hard did you hit your head in free practice?’
‘Honestly, pretty hard,’ I admit, ‘but I know that was figurative, and I can assure you I’m a perfectly sane—’
‘You accosted me in Japan.’
‘That sounds kinda sexy.’
‘You sabotaged me in Australia.’
‘A misunderstanding.’
She looks even closer to karate chopping me. ‘What the fuck is your problem?!’
I hold my two cups up, partially as self-defence. ‘I’m sorry, I really am. For everything. I’m going through a really shitty time and when I found out you wanted Tom, I lost it. He’s not as deserving as me. He’s doing great, while I’m… you know. You saw the Casa Verde commercial.’
Her eyes thin. ‘You have a personality disorder.’
‘It’s more boring than that; I’m just wildly desperate. Look.’ I scooch over to let some hot girls into the F1 Academy hospitality suite, since I’m blocking the entrance. I resist the urge to do a double take like the willpower hero I am. ‘I was let go from my team over some confusion—’
‘There was no confusion.’ She couldn’t cross her arms any tighter. ‘Your reputation soiled the team.’
‘—and now I’m lumped with a team I don’t deserve to be in. I really need to change my image so I can move back to my rightful place at Volare.’
Jules looks totally unfazed. ‘Sounds like a you problem.’
Ouch. ‘But I have a plan.’
‘I don’t care.’ She tries to step around me but I get in the way.
‘Things going well with Tom, are they?’
She freezes. That’s more like it.
‘I can help,’ I whisper.
‘What, like you helped before?’
‘I didn’t have a vested interest before. I saw that little spat with étienne. The—’
She grips my arm and yanks me into the bushes. My blood pressure spikes at the scent of her perfume. I remind my stirring junk this is not kinky. This abstinence thing’s really getting under my skin.
‘Keep your voice down,’ she snarls.
‘The guy’s a problem,’ I explain, ‘and Tom’s team are protective as shit. Martinelli know who you are and they don’t want any part of it. You need access to Tom away from his personnel, away from Martinelli, and away from étienne.
‘You might think afterparties are an easy route, but my man’s not much of a party animal. You might think a mutual driver friend like Jack’s a way in, but they’re not best buds. That’s where I come in. I have intel and access.
‘Tom’s an early bird, étienne’s not – I could get you into the paddock first thing in the morning.
I could bring you into our garages and hospitality suites, away from the eyes of his team.
You could “crash” our coffee date. We could go for a group lunch.
You wouldn’t need to keep searching for invites – you’d be my guest. We could make something up: friends or… exes.’
Her brow’s set in a straight line. ‘In. Your. Dreams.’
Worth a shot.
‘I can also tell you what he’s like. We go way, way back.’ I should probably write this down so my story’s consistent. ‘What he likes in a woman, what he eats, what he—’
‘I get the picture.’
She’s impossible to read, standing there with a face like thunder. Even her bun looks unimpressed. She listened to my spiel, at least. I thought I was compelling AF.
‘All you’d need to do in exchange is repair my reputation, on the DL,’ I add for good measure. ‘It’s a win-win.’
This shit’s in the bag. I knew it on the flight back from Bahrain when Isa casually observed that Jules has normally locked down her man by now. She’s struggling, and I’ve served up a silver-plated solution.
‘No,’ she says.
‘Wait, what? Why?’
‘I don’t make deals with psychopaths.’
‘Did you not hear my speech? I’m not a psychopath. I’ve been dealt an unfair hand.’
‘You fail to realise you’re where you are exclusively because of your actions. It’s not a “hand” you’ve been “dealt”. I’d heard of you before I followed F1, and it wasn’t because of your racing.’
I nudge her with my elbow. ‘I must’ve been doing something right then.’
‘You’re beyond help. You’re arrogant, impulsive, and entitled.’
‘Hey—’
‘You think with your dick, and your team’s made up of people who have absolutely no experience in their roles.’
Now she’s getting personal. You don’t criticise my family. I’d bet on my mom’s life she’s an only child. ‘I’m loyal.’
‘Even if I wanted to – which I don’t, I’d rather pull my hair out one strand at a time – I couldn’t help you. Not with an attitude like this. Goodbye and good riddance.’
Should I…? No, I couldn’t.
But…?
What’s the worst that could happen? She already thinks I’m an asshole, and rejected me to prove it. What’s a little more loathing?
‘You know,’ I say to the back of her head, ‘I could always walk in there with you, and make that room of Instagram-loving Gen Zs think you chose me.’ She stops, and I stifle a smile. ‘After all, you’ve been to all my team’s events. You’ve been seen speaking to me more than—’
She turns on her heel so fast I jump. ‘Are you threatening me?’ Her voice is like boiling water. Angry Jules is hot, but also a little scary. It’s an intoxicating combination.
‘No!’ I lay my hand over my heart in mock offence. ‘Threaten’s such an extreme word. I prefer twisting your arm.’
She’s very still. Not even blinking. I’m about to confess I’m kidding when her expression softens.
‘Mending your reputation in exchange for time with Tom…’ She mulls slowly.
Oh my god I didn’t think that would actually work.
‘You have leverage, I have leverage,’ I supplement.
‘A mutual trade.’ She looks up. ‘You know what, I do have one request, and then we can forget about the past and move on.’
It’s so close now. I can feel it. She’s coming around. ‘Yeah, what’s that?’
‘Get on your knees, and beg.’ She hangs onto the ‘g’. I didn’t know a single letter was connected to my libido but I was wrong.
She’s out of luck. Outside the bedroom, Santiago Cabrera doesn’t beg. ‘I’m not—’
She pulls her bag higher and turns toward the suite.
‘Wait! Wait.’ I draw in a long-suffering breath. ‘I do this, and it’s a clean slate?’
She just looks at me unflinchingly.
‘Fine,’ I huff.
Concentrate on what matters. No more scrabbling up the grid. No more corn costumes. No more house insurance. No more arguing with my brother.
When I’m on my knees, I look up at her stony, flawless face. ‘Jules, please, please, please forgive me. I’m really sorry, and look forward to our new—’
I stop when she bends down so close I can feel her breath on my ear. Her voice is low, husky, and it sends gooseflesh zipping up my arms, but I don’t think they’re the good kind.
‘Revenge is a skill I’m very practiced in, and one I’ll direct at you if you ever threaten me again,’ she whispers, ice dripping from every word. ‘This is your warning.’