Chapter 8
Friends in high places
William
Perfect.
The lobby gleams under bright lights as I push through the double doors. Our receptionist glances up from her computer, offering a warm smile.
"Morning, William. Expecting someone?"
"Felix Becker. Should be here any—"
The entrance doors slide open, and there he is.
Felix fucking Becker, looking like he just stepped off a fashion runway rather than arriving for a potential job interview.
Dark jeans that probably cost more than my first racing suit.
A charcoal turtleneck that accentuates his ridiculous height.
And draped over his shoulders, a camel coat that makes him look like he's about to announce the fall collection instead of discussing a reserve driver position.
I can't help but laugh as he spots me, his face breaking into that familiar grin.
"What?" he asks, arms spread wide as he approaches. "What's so funny?"
"Nothing," I say, stepping forward to embrace him in a quick, hard hug. "Just wondering if you're here to race cars or shoot a cologne commercial."
"Shut up, you still look like shit, Foster."
Someone clears their throat behind us. Our security guard—a stern-faced man whose name I still don't know despite nodding to him every morning for a year—stands with his arms crossed.
"Sir, I'll need to see some identification," he says to Felix, not intimidated in the slightest by the presence of a seven-time Grand Prix winner.
Felix reaches for his wallet, but I step in.
"Craig, come on. This is Felix Becker. Former Baretta driver? Seven Grand Prix victories? He's practically motorsport royalty." I hope I got his name right.
The guard's expression doesn't change. "Still need to see ID, sir."
"You're not on our approved visitor list," I explain to Felix with an exaggerated eye roll. "Very exclusive club. We only let in the truly important people. Drivers, engineers, the occasional pizza delivery guy..."
Felix pulls out his driver's license, handing it over with practiced ease. "Always nice to be reminded you're yesterday's news," he says lightly, but I catch the slight tightening around his eyes.
"Says the man whose face is on half the racing merchandise in Europe," I counter.
The guard studies the ID carefully, comparing the photo to Felix's face with exaggerated scrutiny. I drum my fingers on the reception desk, impatience building.
"For God's sake, Craig, he's with me. If he steals anything, take it out of my paycheck."
"Not on the list, not cleared to enter," the guard says firmly. "Need proper authorization." This is Violet’s thing, to avoid corporate espionage or something like that.
Felix just smiles, unfazed. "Rules are rules. I respect that."
I pull out my phone, ready to text Violet, when the receptionist intervenes.
"I can add Mr. Becker to the visitor log if you're vouching for him, William."
"Yes! Thank you, Sarah. I am definitely vouching for him." I lean closer to her desk, lowering my voice conspiratorially. "He's here to meet with Violet. Business meeting."
Her eyebrows lift slightly as she types into her computer. A moment later, a visitor badge prints out, which she hands to Felix.
"Welcome to Colton Racing, Mr. Becker."
The guard reluctantly steps aside, and I clap Felix on the shoulder, steering him toward the inner doors.
"See? I have influence around here."
"Clearly," Felix deadpans. "They're practically rolling out the red carpet."
As we walk through the corridors, Felix takes in everything with those observant blue eyes of his.
The freshly painted walls in Colton Racing's signature black, white and red.
The trophy case—sparse in recent years but still proudly displaying the team's glory days.
The busy design office where engineers huddle over computer models of what I now know will be a proper midfield challenger.
"So," Felix says quietly as we round a corner. "You really think this is a good idea? You didn't exactly give me time to prepare a pitch."
"That's because you don't need one," I reply confidently. "Violet's extremely smart. She knows talent when she sees it."
"And you didn't think to mention this to her beforehand?"
I shrug, grinning. "Where's the fun in that?"
"William..." There's that big-brother tone I've known since I was eight. "This isn't how professional negotiations usually work."
"When have I ever done anything the usual way? I groveled for my seat after all."
He sighs, but there's fondness in it. "Fair point."
We stop outside Violet's office door. The frosted glass bears her name and title: VIOLET COLTON, CHIEF EXECUTIVE OFFICER & TEAM PRINCIPAL. Even seeing it written out like that still gives me a little thrill. She's rebuilt this place from the ground up, fighting every step of the way.
"She's amazing," I say quietly, almost to myself. "What she's done with this team in a year... Felix, the car feels like a proper racing machine now. Not the deathtrap it was when I started."
Felix studies my face with sudden interest. "You really believe in her, don't you?"
Heat creeps into my cheeks. "I believe in what she's building here," I correct quickly, then knock on the door before he can read more into my expression.
"Come in," Violet's voice calls from inside.
I push open the door, poking my head in first. She's at her desk, dark curls falling across her forehead as she studies something on her computer while sampling the box of chocolates I left on her desk last week.
The light catches on her dreamy russet skin, highlighting those perfect cheekbones.
My heart does that stupid skip-a-beat thing it's been doing lately whenever I see her.
"Hey," I say, trying to sound casual. "Got a minute?"
She looks up, those deep brown eyes meeting mine. "William. How did the simulator session go?"
"Amazing. The car's a completely different beast. Johnson's over the moon with the telemetry."
She smiles, satisfaction lighting her features. "Good. We need to be competitive right from testing this year."
"We will be," I promise, then step fully into the office, holding the door. "Actually, I brought someone I think you should meet."
I motion for Felix to follow me in. As he steps through the doorway, Violet's eyes widen slightly—the only visible sign of her surprise.
"Felix Becker," she says, rising from her chair and extending her hand. "This is unexpected."
"Ms. Colton," Felix greets her formally, shaking her hand. "I hope I'm not interrupting anything important."
"I'm bringing you the best driver I could find," I announce, unable to contain my excitement any longer. "For our reserve driver position. Which we desperately need, by the way."
Felix shoots me a look that clearly says I'm jumping the gun. Violet's eyebrows arch elegantly as her gaze shifts between us.
"I see," she says slowly. "And this is something you two have discussed at length, I presume?"
"Well—" Felix begins.
"Absolutely," I interrupt, then immediately backtrack at Felix's glare. "Okay, not at length exactly. But I mentioned it, and Felix didn't immediately say no, which in Felix-speak is practically enthusiasm."
Violet suppresses a smile, gesturing to the chairs opposite her desk. "Please, sit down. Both of you."
As we settle in, Felix's slight tension beside me is palpable. He sits ramrod straight, the consummate professional, while I lean forward eagerly.
"So, Mr. Becker," Violet says, folding her hands on her desk. "Is this what you want? To be a reserve driver for Colton Racing?"
Felix clears his throat, shooting me a quick side-eye before addressing her directly. "William has been speaking extremely positively about the team. Perhaps too enthusiastically," he adds with a hint of dry humor.
"He tends to do that," Violet agrees, the corner of her mouth quirking upward.
"Unfortunately, my situation at Baretta has... changed. They've decided to go in a different direction for next season."
I bite my tongue to keep from saying what I think about Baretta's decision. Felix deserved better than to be dropped for a pay driver with half his talent.
"I've been considering my options," Felix continues. "And a reserve role might be the right fit for now. William speaks very highly of what you're building here."
"Does he?" Violet's eyes flick to mine and that warmth sparks again, spreading from my chest outward.
"He practically appointed himself team ambassador," Felix says with a smile. "I've never seen him so invested in a team before."
I shift in my chair, suddenly feeling exposed. "The car's good. The people are good. Why wouldn't I be excited about that?"
Violet studies me for a beat longer than necessary, her expression unreadable, before turning back to Felix. "A driver of your caliber deserves a full-time seat, Mr. Becker. Not a reserve role."
"Felix," he corrects gently. "And I appreciate that sentiment. But I've been thinking about this carefully. At this stage in my career, maybe helping a team behind the scenes could be valuable—for both of us."
"How so?" Violet leans forward slightly, genuinely interested.
"I'm thirty now," Felix says matter-of-factly. "Realistically, I have a few good years left, at most. I need to start thinking about what comes after driving. Working with a team that's rebuilding, contributing my experience while figuring out what else I might want to do..."
He pauses, then adds with surprising vulnerability: "My… therapist suggested I consider opportunities that give me space to explore different facets of the sport I love."
I blink, startled. So he took my advice.
Violet's expression softens immediately. "That's nothing to be shy about. In fact, it's refreshing to hear a driver speak openly about seeking support."
Felix relaxes slightly. "Thank you. It's still not something we talk about much in this paddock."
"Perhaps we should," Violet says simply, then shifts gears smoothly. "I should be transparent, though. Colton Racing can't offer anything close to what you'd be accustomed to at Baretta. Their budget for a single driver exceeds our entire operational expenses for almost half a year."
I wince inwardly. Felix was making nineteen million a year at his peak—an astronomical figure for a team like ours.
"I'm aware." Felix nods. "I'm prepared for a considerable adjustment if this is the right fit. Money isn't my primary concern right now."
I can't help the grin that spreads across my face as I watch them talk, the possibility of this actually happening growing with each exchange.
Felix at Colton Racing. My oldest friend, the guy who gave me his hand-me-down racing gear when my parents couldn't afford new, joining the team that gave me my chance.
Violet notices my expression and shakes her head slightly, amusement dancing in her eyes.
"You're doing that thing kids do at school when they're trying to get their friends into their class," she observes, the corners of her mouth lifting.
"Is it working?" I ask hopefully.
To my delight, she laughs—a warm, genuine sound that does weird things to my insides. "Surprisingly, yes."
She turns back to Felix, her expression growing more serious.
"You're a tremendous driver, Felix. Strategic on track in a way few are.
Your feedback to engineers is legendary in the paddock.
" She pauses. "Having someone with your experience would be invaluable as we develop this car, especially for a young driver like EJ. "
Felix straightens slightly, clearly pleased by the recognition. "Thank you. That means a lot coming from you."
"You know my background, then?" Violet asks.
"I know you raced karts," he says with respect in his voice. "Regional champion, if I remember correctly. And your business acumen is quickly becoming the talk of the paddock."
A flash of surprise crosses her face, quickly replaced by appreciation. Not many people remember or acknowledge her racing past. Even I don’t know much beyond what is public.
"Well then," Violet says, rising from her chair. "I think we have things to discuss. Contract details, expectations, schedule. But the fundamental question"—she extends her hand across the desk—"is answered. Welcome to Colton Racing, Felix."
For a second, Felix just stares at her hand, as if he can't quite believe this impromptu meeting has actually resulted in a job offer. Then he stands, taking her hand firmly.
"Thank you. I won't let you down."
I can't contain myself any longer. I leap up and throw my arms around Felix in a bear hug that nearly knocks him off balance.
"This is going to be epic!" I exclaim, pounding him on the back. "The three of us together? We're going to turn this whole grid upside down."
Felix laughs, returning my hug with one arm while shaking his head at Violet over my shoulder. "I apologize in advance for his enthusiasm. It's contagious and occasionally exhausting."
"Oh, I'm well aware," Violet replies, and there's something in her tone that makes me pull back to look at her. Her eyes meet mine, warm and filled with a softness that almost melts me on the spot.
"I'm counting on it, actually," she adds softly. "That enthusiasm is rebuilding this team, one day at a time."
My chest swells with pride and love, but I won’t dare say it out loud, or I’ll spook her. But as the three of us stand there in Violet's office—Felix looking relieved and eager, Violet professional yet warm, and me practically bouncing on my toes with excitement—I know one thing for certain.
This season is going to change everything.