Chapter 29
More than just a view
Violet
After finishing our desserts, William leans his head back against the sofa’s headrest, his body relaxed beside me.
The evening has mellowed, conversations softening around us as everyone settles into post-meal contentment.
He turns his face toward mine, just looking at me without speaking.
The intensity in his gaze should make me uncomfortable—should make me glance away, maintain some semblance of professional distance.
Instead, I find myself turning toward him, mirroring his position, as we face each other in this small bubble of privacy amid the group.
He links his pinky finger with mine on the plush sofa cushion between us, in a gesture so innocent yet so intimate, it makes my breath catch.
It's such a small touch—just the brush of his smallest finger against mine—but seems to carry more significance than a kiss, somehow. A secret connection, hidden from view but binding us together. But hell if I don’t want to kiss him senseless right now.
I reciprocate, curling my pinky around his in response. His eyes crinkle slightly at the corners, pleasure evident in the subtle shift of his expression.
Beyond him, through the floor-to-ceiling windows, Jeddah's skyline stretches like a glittering tapestry against the night sky.
Modern towers with their geometric lines and colored lights create a futuristic panorama, while occasional traditional domes and spires provide glimpses of the city's ancient heart.
The contrast reminds me of us—William and me—modern and traditional, professional and personal, public and private, all these contradictions somehow fitting together.
"It's beautiful," I say softly, nodding toward the view.
William's eyes never leave my face. "Indeed, she is," he responds, his voice low and warm.
Heat rises to my cheeks. Even after all this time, his direct compliments catch me off guard. I'm accustomed to being evaluated for my business acumen, my strategic thinking, my leadership—not for simply being. With William, I'm Violet. Just Violet. And somehow, that's enough for him.
He continues gently caressing my pinky with his, the smallest point of contact sending waves of awareness through my entire body.
His gaze softens as he looks at me, the lines around his eyes deepening as he smiles gently.
I notice the small dimples that form through his carefully trimmed beard when his smile reaches a certain threshold of genuine happiness.
It's a detail I've cataloged, treasured, one of many small William-specific observations that live in a corner of my heart.
"You're impossible," I whisper, closing my eyes briefly.
"I'm just showing appreciation," he responds, his tone light with playfulness, "for the beautiful view."
"Of the city," I counter, opening my eyes to find him still watching me with that intense focus.
"Of you," he says simply.
The blush deepens. I lower my head slightly, unable to maintain eye contact under the weight of his sincerity. William chuckles softly, the sound vibrating through the small space between us.
"You're beautiful," he whispers, leaning slightly closer. "Inside out. The most dazzling, inspiring, badass woman I have the pleasure of calling"—his voice drops even lower—"my boss, friend, and..."
What’s coming next is clear. It’s in his eyes, in the cadence of his voice. One word that would change everything, that would acknowledge what we both feel but haven't fully articulated. One word we can't afford to speak aloud—not here, not yet.
I raise my hand quickly, covering his mouth before he can finish.
His eyes dance with mischief above my fingers, crinkling at the corners as his lips form what I suspect is a smile behind my palm.
He knows exactly what he was doing—pushing boundaries, testing limits, seeing how far we can bend the rules without breaking them completely.
Blake's voice breaks into our private moment as he returns to the table. "What the hell did William do this time?" he asks, his tone playfully exasperated as he takes in the sight of my hand covering William's mouth.
I withdraw my hand quickly, but not before William presses his lips softly against my palm—a kiss so brief I might have imagined it, except for the tingling sensation that lingers on my skin, and the smug look on his face.
Blake settles back into his seat beside me, looking between us with the resigned expression of someone who's seen this particular dynamic play out before.
Belforte and Felix choose that moment to return from the balcony, both pausing when they register the tableau before them—my flushed face, William's self-satisfied expression, Blake's knowing look.
"What did we miss?" Felix asks, amusement clear in his voice.
"William being William," Blake supplies helpfully.
Belforte laughs, the sound rich and genuine. "Some things never change."
I duck my head, embarrassed at being caught in such an obviously intimate moment, yet unable to regret it entirely. These people—our makeshift family—they see us. Really see us. And they accept what they see with warmth and understanding rather than judgment.
William finds my pinky again, out of sight, as conversations resume around us. The contact resembles a promise, a reminder, a secret shared.
"So," Blake says, "Emma wants to do an internship next year, juggling with her second year studies. She's been pestering me about whether I have any connections in aerodynamics."
He says it casually, pride evident in his voice whenever he mentions his daughter. Blake never pushes, never directly asks for favors—it's not his style—but I know him well enough to recognize when something matters to him.
"Have you found anything?" I ask, turning slightly to face him.
Blake shrugs. "I've been looking around. Obviously, I don't want her working for rival teams." His expression turns mischievous. "Although it could be good to have access to their data..."
"We are not committing corporate espionage," I cut in firmly. "That's really low."
Blake laughs, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "Just temptation talking. You know I'd never actually suggest it."
I study him for a moment, this man who's been my Dad's right hand, my mentor, and now my most trusted advisor and friend. "If you're okay with it," I say carefully, "I could see about getting Emma an internship with our aerodynamics team back at headquarters."
Blake raises his eyebrows in surprise. "You'd do that?"
"Of course," I say, as if it's the most natural thing in the world—because it is. "If she needs an internship, we can give her a spot, assuming we have capacity." I tilt my head. "Does she actually want to pursue aerodynamics in motorsport specifically?"
"F1, specifically," Blake confirms, a hint of parental exasperation mixing with obvious pride. "She's had her heart set on it since she was fourteen."
A smile spreads across my face. "I'll revisit this by the end of the year, but in principle, she can have an internship with us."
William leans forward, catching the tail end of our conversation. "Who's joining the team?" he asks, interest piqued.
"Blake's daughter," I explain. "Potentially as an aerodynamics intern next year."
EJ snaps his head up from his conversation with Johnson. Tom and Maya tune in as well, their technical discussion paused. "What's happening?" Tom asks.
"Blake's daughter might do an internship with us," I repeat, amused by how quickly team gossip spreads.
Maya's face lights up. "That would be fantastic! We need more women in the technical departments."
"It'd be good to welcome another genius mind to the team," Belforte adds, rejoining the conversation with characteristic enthusiasm.
Felix nods his agreement. "This team is slowly surrounding itself with top talent. It's the right approach—build from within, nurture the next generation." His tone carries the wisdom of someone who's seen teams rise and fall based on their development pipelines.
"The engineering and aerodynamics teams back at the factory are already almost ninety percent women," Tom points out with a grin.
"Because we're awesome," Maya adds without missing a beat.
"Yeah, you are," Tom agrees, his eyes lingering on Maya just a fraction longer than necessary. Oh. Am I seeing it right?
"Nothing's certain yet," I caution, not wanting to get ahead of ourselves. "But Blake's daughter may join us for an internship if everything aligns."
Blake beams with fatherly pride, pulling out his smartphone. "That's my Emma," he says, turning the screen to show us a photo.
The image shows a young woman with Blake's intelligent eyes but softer features. Her smooth, auburn-brown hair frames a face that manages to be both striking and approachable. She's standing next to what looks like a university project display, her expression confident and focused.
"She has your eyes," William says, leaning over to get a better look.
"But her mother's temper," Blake adds with a laugh that the whole table joins.
Tom and Johnson immediately launch into an animated discussion about all the different projects they could involve her in, their enthusiasm for mentoring evident.
I watch them with a sense of satisfaction—this is exactly the kind of supportive environment I've tried to foster at Colton Racing.
People who are passionate about sharing knowledge, about lifting others up.
My attention shifts to EJ, who's staring at the photo with an expression I can only describe as dazzled. A slight flush creeps up his neck to his cheeks, his usual animated confidence momentarily replaced by something more vulnerable.
William notices, too, his eyes dancing with mischief. "Blushing, EJ?" he asks, voice loud enough to draw attention.
"I'm not!" EJ protests, the deepening color in his face contradicting his denial. "It's hot in here, that's all."
Blake's eyebrows shoot up as he recognizes what's happening. He pulls his phone back protectively. "My precious daughter is off limits," he warns, his tone only half-joking. "Don't get any ideas."
I can't help but chuckle at his reflexive paternal protectiveness. "Emma would probably kick your ass if you start policing who she gets involved with or not," I point out gently.
Blake looks slightly abashed, knowing I'm right.
"Also," I continue, "I'm not saying anything will happen, but I only employ good people at Colton Racing. So if she finds love here—hypothetically—she'll be with a good person." I straighten slightly, adding with mock seriousness, "And if that person is an ass, I'll personally kick their ass."
Blake's expression softens. He reaches over and gives me a side hug. "Thanks for wanting to protect my angel."
From the corner of my eye, I notice EJ still blushing furiously as William continues to tease him in hushed tones. Poor kid. I remember what it was like to be his age, when a single photo of someone attractive could send your imagination spinning into elaborate fantasies.
I lean back in my seat, taking in the scene around me—the laughter, the conversations, the casual touches that speak of comfort and trust. This is what we're fighting for, what we're protecting. Not just Colton Racing as a business entity or a competitive team, but Colton Racing as a family.
A family that, against all odds, has room for me, too.