Chapter 13
Niki
She said yes. The beautiful woman with the full lips and eyes like a Disney princess is my new assistant, and it’s the best thing.
But it’s also the worst thing because her laugh is musical, like water sprinkled on metal, and she’s kind but also funny.
“Before I fix your car, can I check if it’s something you would do yourself? I don’t want to be in the way,” I say.
“I wish I could, but no. It’s not one of my skills.”
“And do I need to worry about your partner shouting at me because I fixed it, even though it’s the least they should be doing?”
“I didn’t have one when we met in Greece, and I don’t have one now,” she says, repeating what I said, “although I once had a man who shouted, ‘Get your fucking hands off my wife.’”
My laugh bursts free.
I can’t flirt with her. I don’t know how to anymore.
But I whisper in a way that makes her lean slightly closer, but not enough to invade my space, which means more than she’ll ever understand, “And for info, I like to purchase my own pants, because then I buy ones with statements on them that would make others judge.” I refer to her earlier comment about how my pants probably say Mad Sex like my sliders embarrassingly did.
She stares at me, her right brow practically in her hairline as I add, “My current pants say, ‘Spank My Monkey.’”
She laughs so loud people stare, and I don’t care. I smirk and give her a wink that makes her cheeks pink.
Shit. She makes me safe in a way that brings out a little bit of the old me. That can’t end well, but it needs to.
“Let’s take a tour, and I’ll check how Jacs is doing with your car.”
I walk her to Senna’s office, pointing out the images on the wall of Coulter Racing Team’s highlights.
“That’s when Senna won in Formula Three. F3 is often where young drivers aspiring for a seat in Formula One gain skills and show what they’re capable of. Connor and Tawny, our current drivers, and I drove in it.”
“I read Senna was a driver.” Rosie studies the image.
“She was the best. Better than me and Connor. But she was in an accident that smashed her hand. She never raced professionally again, although occasionally some of us go to a racetrack and compete for fun. You should come.”
Rosie smiles. “When I’m not working.”
“Best assistant already,” I tease.
“So you were good at racing?”
It’s all I can do not to puff out my chest and give her my stats.
“Yeah. Coulter hasn’t always achieved top five because we don’t have the investment other teams have, but Senna’s getting money in, and she’ll make us a contender again.
” I point out my trophies in the cabinet outside Senna’s office.
When I nod towards the one I received because of my most significant victory at Silverstone, I catch her staring at me, not the glinting silverware.
I raise my eyebrows with a silent question.
“Sorry,” she explains. “You come alive when you talk about racing. You miss it, don’t you?”
“I miss how it made me feel, the panic that you could spin out on a corner, but using that terror to feed your adrenaline on the next one. I liked the control, too,” I add with a laugh, trying not to remember the power play I enjoyed during sex, too.
Shit. I haven’t had sex in eighteen months and probably won’t again if I can’t touch someone.
“If there was a space for you as a main driver right now, would you take it?”
I still, my breath shallow, as I study the trophies with my name.
“I’m not ready. I’m obsessed with the logistics and how I could get ill.
Would the car be clean enough? What if the person weighing me after a race had a cold, and how can I be sure my helmet is clean?
Then there’s the food, hotels, and travel. ”
Heat fills my body, and my heart races. I reach into my pocket and stroke the individual beads of the bracelet. My teeth tear at my lips.
She stamps her foot, and I glance at her. “I wanted to get your attention without touching you. I didn’t mean to make you panic. Sorry, Niki.”
I attempt a smile. “It’s okay. I want to race again. One day.”
“I’ll do everything to help you reach it, or manage your team, who’ll try to get you there.”
My pulse slows to its steady rhythm. “Thank you.”
As we cross the threshold of Senna’s office, a voice makes my shoulders hunch. My dad steps out of Senna’s private bathroom. “And I told him, ‘You stay away from my family, Antoinne.’ I’ll be surprised if he gets a seat anywhere now. Niki,” he shouts when he sees me.
He rushes to me for a hug. I tremor. I don’t do hugs anymore.
Rosie dives in front of him. “Mr. Coulter. I saw the team photo from when you were CEO while Niki was giving me a tour of the building. I’m Rosie. Nice to meet you.”
She holds out her hand, and my dad steps back before shaking it aggressively.
Senna raises her eyebrows.
“She said yes,” I say. Senna smiles, and I clarify, “To be my assistant, not my wife.”
Rosie covers her laughter with a cough.
“Welcome to the team,” Senna replies, side-eyeing me.
“Niki, we need to talk business. It’s the first race next week, and I’m worried about the car, especially after testing. Shakedown wasn’t ideal,” Dad snaps.
“You sold us the company. It’s not for you to worry about anymore. Besides, Senna makes the decisions. I’m the reserve driver, and you don’t need to talk business with me.”
“You still own nearly a quarter, and I’m allowed to ask these questions because I’m a knowledgeable third party who cares about the team,” he pushes.
I clear my throat. “Shakedown was fine.” Senna glances at me, and my face drops. I was anything but fine at Shakedown. “The car performed well, but it’s Senna you need to talk to.”
Senna sits in what was my dad’s desk when he owned the team. When he was in charge, it was covered with screwed-up paperwork. Now it has family and team photos, a stress toy shaped like a cat, and the Lambo Connor showed us earlier. “Dad, does Mum know you’re here?”
“No, and you can’t tell her. She’ll worry about my health.”
I roll my eyes and catch Rosie’s stare.
What’s shakedown? she mouths.
I direct her towards the window. “Look at this view, Rosie.” As we stare at the paths that lead towards the car park, I whisper, “Every year, each team runs the car around a track for the first time to ensure it’s okay.
We’re not allowed to test the car on a track before then, so it’s the first time our drivers experience it after we’ve spent the winter improving it.
Ours went well, but I panicked because of germs and other things. ”
“Will you tell me about it so we can pre-empt it and reduce the likelihood of that happening again?” I nod. “And I’ll learn all these terms. I didn’t want your dad to think I’m a fool. He already believes I’m a weirdo after I stopped him from hugging you.”
“Thank you for doing that. It meant everything.”
“Niki, are you listening?” my dad bellows.
I turn and fake a smile. “No, I was continuing my tour.”
“We need to chat about the first race,” Senna says apologetically.
Rosie fiddles with her waistband, drawing my attention to her hips. Heat flushes my belly.
“I’ll go,” she stutters, “but I need to work out how to get home.” She doesn’t meet my gaze.
“Ask Jimmy to organise a car home for you. I’ll chat with Jacs about yours and have your new car sent to you tomorrow. Is that okay?”
She stares. “You don’t need—"
“My assistant needs a reliable car. Besides, you can’t be breaking down in the car park of an F1 team. How does that look?” I wink, and she smiles gratefully.
“See you Monday.”
She’s barely reached the door when my dad says, “She’s too young for you, and Clara asked after you. You can’t go from a model to an assistant.”
I rush to the door to close it, but it’s too late. Rosie’s wide-eyed stare tells me everything. “I don’t want to date my assistant,” I snap as I close the door.
Senna smirks.
“Don’t smirk at me, Senna. I’ll throw your Barbies down the toilet.”
“The last time you did, I started karting and beat your ass. Be careful about challenging me.”
Dad shakes his head. “Your assistant’s a bit personal. She was desperate to shake my hand. I’m happily married and not about to die and give some eighteen-year-old all my money. I presume she’s left school.”
“For fuck’s sake, Dad. She’s a knowledgeable and professional assistant. She has a background in sports and psychology. She doesn’t want your money.” My dad holds up his palms. “Or mine. Everything I’ve seen so far shows she’ll be a great addition to the team.”
“And what have you seen so far?” he asks with a pointed stare. “Clara is as stunning as she was when you dated her, and she wouldn’t want your money. She has plenty. You were happy before the accident. If you dated her, you’d be like you were before.”
I raise my voice. “I’m not discussing my ex-girlfriend or other women with you. You came to discuss the car. What’s wrong with it?”
Dad sits in an office chair with a huff as Senna explains, “It’s not the car.
It’s Tawny. She’s never started the season in F1 because she joined in the middle of last year’s season.
She’d benefit from your experience, especially as you often won in Australia.
And she was anxious during testing last week.
Will you sit with her on the simulator and help her confidence? ”
“Sure. Is she around today?”
“Yeah. I’ll arrange for you to meet with her later,” Senna says.
Dad’s phone rings. “It’s your mum. I’d best go.”
I wave before he can hug me. Senna whispers as he leaves the room, “I texted Mum while you two were arguing.”
My body shakes with laughter. “Thank you. Now, about the first race, I have an idea about tyre strategy and what corners we should push on, if that’s not out of line.”
“Hell no. I’ve missed having someone reasonable to discuss this stuff with.” Senna smiles. “I’ve missed you.”
“I’ve missed you, too.”