I smile at that.
Then wonder when the fuck I turned into such a sap.
“Nevaeh, where is the schedule I asked for?” Gillian’s voice appears from behind me, and I stand up to walk over to him. Nevaeh rushes to my side, stepping in front of me to talk to her boss first.
“I’m really sorry. I felt a bit dizzy and lost track of time,” she lies.
The frown Gillian directs at her in response has me grinding my molars. His eyes shift to me as he forces a smile, clearly realizing he can’t yell at Nevaeh while I’m here.
“Don’t let it happen again. We have things to do,” he states, and Nevaeh nods, ever the polite woman.
“Of course, I apologize.” Something protective, and perhaps a little possessive, has me readjusting until my back is almost touching her chest. I offer her boss my hand, and he shakes it, but I squeeze much harder than is necessary.
He winces but doesn’t retract his hand.
“Mr. Fender, I’m glad you’re here, I have a question for you,” I say, letting go of his hand to cross my arms in front of my chest. “Are you interested in an exclusive article about the everyday life of a Velocità Rossa Formula One driver during a race weekend?” Nevaeh twists her head to look at me, surprise widening her eyes.
“That would be incredible. I can have my team—” I interrupt him.
“I don’t want your whole team. I want Nevaeh,” I say.
Gillian stumbles a step backward, furrowing his brows at me. I have no idea what the fuck I’m doing, but can you blame me? I want Nevaeh safe and sound by my side for the rest of the fucking season. I’ll take one weekend if that’s all I can get.
“I was thinking that Nevaeh could accompany me this weekend and write the article herself. If you’re interested,” I offer, watching Nevaeh press her lips together to keep from saying anything while she digests my offer, too.
A journalist following a driver around during a race weekend is unheard of, and I’m pretty sure my team would never agree to this. But I’ll make them agree. I’ll make them take this deal. If it breaks the rules, I don’t give a flying fuck. Nevaeh is not finishing this weekend under Gillian’s leadership. I’ll sign a contract, she can sign a contract, whatever it takes for her to do this, to get an exclusive like no one ever has before.
“I would—” Nevaeh starts, but Gillian shoots her a warning glare that probably makes her feel stupid for saying anything in the first place.
Fucking dickface.
My head tilts as I force the smile on my face to stay put, even if I want to smash his face against the wall for how he’s treating Nevaeh.
“You want Nevaeh to shadow you so she can write an exclusive article? You do understand she has only started on her journalism path, right?”
“If Nevaeh would like to, yes. I think she has great potential and seeing her running around, doing errands like collecting schedules for you seems like a waste of her talents. I read your article on Serena Williams while you were interning for their rival,Specter Sports, and I would love for you to write one like that about me, just in more detail,” I say, only addressing her with the last sentence.
“I—” Gillian cuts her off again before she can get a second word in.
“We will discuss it and get back to you.” I choose to ignore him, waiting for Nevaeh to respond instead.
“I would love to, but you should check with your team first, and I will check with mine.”
She doesn’t want to undermine Gillian’s authority, no matter how much he deserves it right now. It’s not who she is, unfortunately. Plus, she told meSpecter Sportsdidn’t rehire her because they had no position open.
Between you and me, I’d have fired every single person to have Nevaeh on my team.
“Mr. Fender,” I say, my focus now drifting back to her boss. “Take this deal. Don’t waste Ms. Fuchs’ time.” I straighten out my Velocità Rossa team shirt and fake another smile. “Oh, and if I ever, no matter which race, watch her faint again because you forget to give her a break, I will make sure your time as a Formula One reporter will be over. I have great respect for you and your years here, but that was unacceptable, and I have taken note of how you treat your employees. Best if that stays between us, wouldn’t you agree?” Nevaeh nudges my side, but I don’t even flinch. I stand in front of Gillian, immovable as a rock.
“You fainted?” Gillian asks, his whole demeanor changing abruptly.
His hand moves onto her shoulder, and he squeezes a little, probably to comfort her. But it twists everything inside of me until I’m nauseous and angry.
“Why didn’t you tell me you weren’t feeling well?”Because you’re a disgusting, slimy man who hides behind a nice mask to make people like you, that’s why.
“You didn’t give me a chance to,” she replies.
“Nevaeh will write that article. You will accompany him starting tomorrow. For today, you’re free to go back to the hotel,” he says before finally walking away, leaving me alone with the beautiful woman beside me.
