“Yeah, maybe.” I could tell from her tone that Bianca wasn’t convinced, and I squeezed her tighter. When she tipped her head back to look up at me, I brought my lips to hers in a soft, chaste kiss. We parted and a thoughtful expression crossed Bianca’s face.
“What?” I asked.
She smiled. “I can’t believe you told Frank about us. Are you insane?”
“No, just honest – to my detriment.”
“No shit. You could have just denied it and cut it off with me, you know,” she mumbled.
“That was an option? I need to phone Frank back…” I joked, laughing when Bianca shoved me.
“You know what I mean.”
“Yeah, I do. I didn’t want to deny our relationship,” I replied. “I like what we’ve got going on. I know it’s only early days, but I’m into you and I want the opportunity to explore this.”
Bianca grinned, her cheeks flushing. “I’m into you, too.”
“Oh, I know. You don’t even try to hide it at this point.”
This time it was Bianca’s turn to laugh. “You’re such a dick,” she chuckled, tiptoeing to kiss me.
“I thought you liked that about me?”
“No, I said I liked your dick, not youbeinga dick.”
“Ah, sothat’swhere I’ve been going wrong.”
Bianca grabbed my head in her hands, dragging me down to her level. “Shut up and kiss me.”
She didn’t have to ask me twice.
Chapter nine
Bianca
The plane touched down in Budapest, and I’d never been so glad to see the end of a racing season. After the showdown between Frank and Kristian, the team principal had been tense and distracted. Though he did his best to shrug it off, I could tell the unknown future of his career was weighing heavily on him. I did my best to distract him, and often succeeded for a short time, but whenever we were at work, Kristian was followed by a dark cloud.
Davina’s article had caused quite the stir. Shortly after its publication, my phone and social media had blown up. The outpour of support had been amazing, from both fans and professionals within the racing circuit alike. Soon, similar stories of women being made to feel uncomfortable within Formula One began to surface and the press went for the jugular. There was a public outcry for change, and for the first time the FIA really sat up and took notice, promising a thorough investigation once the season was over. It was exciting and terrifying to suddenly find myself as the face of this campaign, and I often thought back to Maddie Michaels and her debut. How shehad managed to survive under the scrutiny of everyone was a mystery, but I endeavoured to do my best and hold my chin high.
Kristian and I had never been better. When he wasn’t tense, thinking about work, we spent our evenings laughing, chatting and having some truly mind–blowing sex. I couldn’t quite grasp how it kept getting better, each time more intense than the last. I was obsessed with Kristian Wright, and I hoped he was feeling the same way for me.
Sophia and I left the airport and were bundled into the back of a car together, taken to the hotel. Kristian wasn’t with us this time, having gotten caught up in some mix up with one of the mechanic’s bags, but I knew I’d be seeing him later. Instead, Sophia and I did our best to relax ahead of a tough weekend of racing.
Everything rolled on, just as it always did, though I certainly had more press and fan attention off the back of the article. It was exciting to see the racetrack filled with women, waving banners and flags in support of the movement towards change and I made sure to sign as many autographs and pose for as many selfies as I was able.
Testing went well, both McLaren cars were on point and ready for action. They felt fast and nimble, and I was hopeful to see success here in Budapest. McLaren had all but won the constructor’s championship, provided there were no disasters, but neither me nor Sophia were in with a shot at the driver’s championship. It was disappointing that the unreliability of the car and mistakes of others out on track had scuppered my chances at bringing home the trophy, but such was the fickle nature of racing. You could be flying high, on top of the charts one moment, but you were only ever one or two poor performances away from falling to the bottom.
McCarthy at Red Bull was set to be the world driver’s champion this year and as much as I liked to rib my competitormercilessly out on the track, he deserved it. McCarthy had driven spectacularly this season, and I was sure if his teammate’s car hadn’t been so unreliable, Red Bull would have been taking homebothtrophies. McLaren would have to up their game for next year if they wanted to be in with a chance of winning… Although, it occurred to me that depending on how things played out with Kristian, their success next year might not be any concern of mine.
The three qualifying races went well, and Sophia and I found ourselves in a McLaren 1–2 at the front of the grid. With my focus somewhat divided between everything that was going on regarding the article and my race, Sophia managed to pip me to the post. It was going to be a real challenge to get past her on this track, but I’d be on the lookout for any and every opportunity to do so. I wanted to win this one, to be able to hold my victory over Frank Matthews’ head and remind him of the calibre of driver he was at risk of losing if he continued to push back against me and Kristian. Change was coming, whether the old fart liked it or not and it was up to him if he wanted to support me or oppose me.
The race day began just like any other. The team and I were up at the crack of dawn, putting in any last–minute preparations and attending briefings regarding the race tactics for the day ahead. Though I was loath to be parted from Kristian, I knew the eyes of the press were set firmly upon him as well as myself. I accepted that it was for the best that we kept a professional distance from one another. Instead, I busied myself with interviews and meet and greets with the fans until it was time to begin preparation for the race.
After attending the drivers’ parade and with only forty minutes until lights out, the pit lane opened, and chaos ensued. The cars were prepped, and Sophia and I hopped in for our reconnaissance lap to check we had the right settings in each. It wasn’t unusual for even minor changes in the weather or trackcondition to adversely affect the car’s performance. Once we were happy with the setup, the cars were turned off and moved to their relevant position on the grid ready for the race to start. Sophia and I obliged interview requests from the press and gathered with the rest of the drivers to listen to the Hungarian national anthem.
I stood between Sophia and McCarthy, nudging the Red Bull driver playfully with my shoulder as we dispersed, returning to our cars. He simply grinned at me.
Sophia and I parted, each heading to our separate cars to get suited and booted ahead of the race beginning. We may have been teammates, but once we were out on track, we were rivals first and foremost. I wriggled my helmet on, nodding along as my race engineer reminded me of the smaller details that may have slipped my mind. My radio gear crackled in my ear.
