Five years later
Alexi
‘SO WHO AM I looking at and what’s his price?’ I squinted through my sunglasses at the track and adjusted my cap—which bore my rival Renzo Camaro’s team logo—to ensure the bill covered my face as I spoke to Freddie Graham. Freddie was a freelance mechanic and an old friend. He’d given me the tip off twenty minutes ago that he’d spotted a fresh new talent driving Camaro’s prototype at the Barcelona track as part of their testing for the new season.
I was desperate. Galanti’s reserve driver, Carlo Poncelli, had just had a cancer diagnosis. We’d managed to keep it quiet for the last few days, but as soon as the news hit the circuit that Carlo was going to be receiving chemo treatment for most of the season every agent’s price would go through the roof. I wanted to find someone quickly, someone talented and as yet undiscovered who would jump at the chance of getting a reserve seat in the Super League with the top team on the circuit—and was un-agented. It was a tall order, but if anyone could spot talent it was Freddie.
‘Keep your voice down,’ Graham said furtively as we watched the track together from the edge of the stands—out of sight of Camaro and his team. ‘If Camaro finds out you’re here checking out his employees, I’ll get blacklisted.’
The noise of Camaro’s new design drowned out the end of Freddie’s sentence as the car came shooting round the bend and back into view. The car accelerated to two hundred miles an hour and the back wheels shuddered, but the driver brought it back under control with smooth, steely efficiency. The adrenaline rush I always got from watching a great new talent raised the hairs at my nape.
I would need to see stats and get a basic history before making an offer, find out the guy’s age and what licences he held, but I already knew this was our man. I had a sixth sense about this stuff. It was what I was famous for on the circuit. Or rather, infamous for. That and having a different supermodel or actress on my arm at every event I attended.
‘Who is he? Is he actually signed to Camaro yet? And why the hell haven’t I heard of him?’ I fired questions at Freddie as the car completed the circuit and headed into the pits.
If he was contracted to a team in one of the lower leagues, I’d have to buy him out, which would cost me. But I already knew I wanted him.
Camaro would probably have a cow. The guy was known for his hard business practices and the Destiny team had been Galanti’s main rivals for three seasons. But if Renzo was only using this kid for test driving he was already missing a trick. I would have to act fast, though. We were already two months into the season. And I would need to get the new driver familiar with our car before winter testing.
‘Slow down, fella,’ Freddie said in his thick Brooklyn accent. ‘Rumour on the track is she’s one of Camaro’s R&D people. She’s not even a driver. Story is she’s Renzo’s mistress and he brought her over from London when his reserve driver got the flu. He needed someone to test the car, and he knows she’s a talent, but when I saw her drive...’
Freddie’s voice trailed off. But most of what he’d been saying had already washed over me because my brain had snagged on one word.
She.
This kid was a woman? Dio!
That was...
My mind exploded. That was an incredible PR opportunity. Even if I hadn’t been desperate and she wasn’t as good as she appeared I would have wanted to sign her.
There were female drivers in the lower leagues and on the reserve lists. Good female drivers who, sooner or later, would break into motor sport’s top flight. But a female driver this good who was undiscovered and wasn’t even attached to a team?
Except... My excitement downgraded.
She was attached to Renzo in a personal capacity.
‘You say she’s Renzo’s mistress?’ I turned to Freddie, his hangdog expression unchanged.
‘That’s what one of the mechanics told me. I saw them together and Renzo’s all over her. Although she’s a long way from being his usual type. She’s kind of a tomboy.’
I frowned. Who knew Freddie was a gossip? But right now his nosiness suited my purposes. I wanted to know more about the girl before I approached her. If she was stuck on Renzo it might be a harder sell to get her to sign for me.
My lips quirked in a cynical smile.
‘Whatever her connection to Camaro, I’m sure I can make her a better offer,’ I said, confident any commitment she had to my rival could be broken.
She was a woman. Women in my experience could always be bought, with either money, orgasms or both. If I had to seduce her, I would. I wasn’t dating anyone at the moment and I had no problem mixing business with pleasure. It was one of the perks of being a workaholic.
‘Hold your jets, Casanova,’ Freddie said. ‘Renzo’s not your only problem. The same mechanic told me she doesn’t want to be a pro driver. Apparently Renzo’s been trying to sign her to his young driver programme for over a year and she’s not interested.’
‘What? Why?’ I couldn’t hide my shock. Anyone with that much natural talent would be insane not to go for the gold ring. And no one could get that good in the first place without a passion for the sport.
‘Haven’t a clue. But I guess she must have her reasons.’
My surprise was quickly quashed by my confidence. Whatever her reasons, I’d figure out a way to overcome them. I knew how to play women, just like I knew how to play my rivals.
Charm was easy, seduction even easier. They were both commodities I’d learned to use to my advantage, deliberately honing my image as a womanising playboy to hide the ruthlessness that had driven me ever since Remy’s death.