Racing into Love
1. Lyca
Chapter 1
Lyca
“ L yca, when are you going to give in and date one of us? Half the team is interested, you know,” my friend Drake teased, his lips curling into a sly grin. I’ve known him since I started working with Steele Velocity Racing six years ago, and his playful nature was as familiar to me as the roar of an engine.
I chuckled, shaking my head. “Dating colleagues is a recipe for disaster, Drake. Besides, I've got my hands full with work and Lucas. No time for romance when you’re living the life in the fast lane.”
Drake’s laughter echoed down the familiar hallway as we walked. He was one of the star race car drivers of the team and was quite attractive, his striking features often turning heads wherever we went. But to me, he was really like a brother.
“You’re always so practical,” he said, nudging me playfully. “But if you ever change your mind, you know where to find me.”
Andrew, one of the other drivers, came up behind us and slung a friendly arm around my shoulders. “Lyca, Lyca… Do I really have to fake being depressed again just to get some one-on-one time with you?” he joked, his big grin full of mischief.
I laughed, shaking my head. “I can see right through you now, you know. You can’t fool me anymore.”
The office, which felt like my second home already, buzzed with the energy that mirrored the racetrack just outside. Trophies and framed photos adorned the walls, each one a testament to our team's triumphs and speed.
Suddenly, I heard my name being called. It was Troy, one of the mechanics. “Hey, Lyca! The bosses want to see you in the conference room.”
My heart suddenly pounded hard. Did I do something wrong? That was the first thing on my mind. Panic flashed through my mind, but I couldn’t think of any reason why the Steeles would want to see me. I had only met the couple once, back when they had hired me.
Drake and Andrew chorused, “Oh, no!” in mock horror, then chuckled and gave me playful punches on the shoulders.
“Shut up, you two,” I said good-naturedly. “Your race is coming up. You ought to focus on practicing.”
“Yes, Ma’am!” Drake replied with a grin, giving me a salute.
As I made my way toward the conference room, I passed by a mirror on the wall that was part of the interior decor. Glancing at my reflection, I was pleased to see that I looked fresh and professional. My long blonde hair was pulled back into a neat ponytail, and my blue-green eyes sparkled with my usual eagerness for work. I was glad that today I’d decided to dress up in a soft navy blazer over a plain white blouse and a pair of stylish navy trousers.
The scent of freshly brewed coffee wafted through the air as I stepped into the expansive conference room overlooking the bustling racetrack. Gathered around a polished conference table were not just the top executives, but also some familiar faces from the office – a mix of colleagues and friends. A crease formed on my forehead as I wondered what was going on.
“Lyca, come in, come in!” Mr. Don Steele exclaimed, waving me toward the center of attention. He didn’t just own the race team; he owned the entire Steele Motorsport International company.
My heart quickened as I entered the room, feeling the curious gazes of my colleagues turning in my direction. Mr. Steele’s wife, Barbara, wore a conspiratorial smile, and the office people exchanged subtle glances.
“Lyca,” Mr. Steele began, his voice resonating with warmth and pride, “we have some incredible news for you. In recognition of your dedication, expertise, and significant contributions to our team over the years, we're thrilled to announce a well-deserved promotion.”
A hushed murmur of congratulations filled the room as my eyes widened in surprise. Barbara handed me an envelope, and as I unfolded the letter inside, the words “Head of the Psychology Department, Steele Motorsport International” leaped off the page.
“Dear, you've been appointed to lead the psychology department for the entire company,” Barbara announced.
My heart swelled with gratitude and disbelief. “Wow, thank you,” I whispered. Am I dreaming? I must be dreaming.
As I scanned the letter that also included my new salary, I was astounded. I felt tears welling up in my eyes. This is a huge blessing for me and my son, indeed.
Drake, Andrew, and a few other team members burst into the room, singing an out-of-tune congratulatory song that had us all laughing, carrying a special cake with my name on it, making the moment even sweeter.
That evening, I got to celebrate my new promotion with my best friend, Jessie, and my six-year-old son, Lucas. I treated them to a delicious dinner at Lucas’s favorite pizza and burger place.
“Lucas, my little champion, are you ready for bed?” I asked, tousling his blond hair as we entered our cozy apartment.
He nodded, rubbing his sleepy eyes. “Can I have an extra story tonight, Mom?”
“Of course, sweetheart,” I smiled. “Let's get you tucked in first.”
As I settled Lucas into his bed and began reading the story he insisted on choosing, I couldn't help but reflect on the day's events. The new role was a challenge I eagerly embraced, and the support from my colleagues made it all the more special.
Suddenly, an explosion of loud music rattled through the walls. Startled, I glanced toward the neighboring unit, realizing someone had already moved in next door. Raucous laughter, cheers, and spirited singing shattered our peaceful evening.
“Mom, what's happening?” Lucas asked, his curiosity piqued despite his sleepiness.
I frowned with annoyance. “Looks like we have new neighbors who are having quite the party, champ. But don't worry, we'll talk to them and ask them to keep it down. It's already past bedtime.”
As I stepped into the corridor, the bass from the music pulsed through the walls, filling the air with its persistent thud.I knocked on the door next to ours, hoping to address the situation politely.
When the door opened, I was greeted with the sight of a tall, disheveled, and undeniably handsome man whom I immediately recognized and the shock made me momentarily forget my visit’s purpose. Xander Ryan, the celebrity race car driver and the face of a recent commercial, stood there, right in front of me, with a lopsided smile. His brown eyes were glazed, and his orange-brown hair was a tousled mess.
“Hey there, neighbor!” he slurred, his words tinged with the effects of alcohol. “Sorry about the noise. We're just celebrating a friend's birthday. Come join us!”
I narrowed my eyes at him, realizing that the media’s portrayal of him as a party animal and playboy wasn’t far off, despite his impressive achievements. He’d even recently clinched a championship title.
“No, thank you,” I said coldly. “Can you just keep the noise down, please? My child is trying to sleep, and it’s already midnight. We do have rules in this building, and I just wanted to make sure you were aware.
“Sorry,” he mumbled, a sheepish grin spreading across his face. The apology seemed genuine, but the alcohol-induced haze in his eyes hinted at a night that had taken a toll. As if on cue, he swayed on his feet and lurched forward, opening his mouth as if he wanted to throw up. And then, to my dismay, my fear materialized.
I instinctively stepped back in horror. Disgusted, I turned my back on the man, hoping that he wasn’t here to stay for good.
“I’m sorry!” he cried out as I shut my apartment door behind me.