Page 3 of Spin Control

I haven’t stopped infusing my voice with the sunny charm and upbeat energy I’m known for—the kind that cracks through tension and puts people at ease. At least, it usually does. But Elizabeth seems even chillier now.

How the hell am I supposed to charm this woman?

“Yes, let’s,” she says before moving her gaze to her laptop, her fingers flying over the keyboard with the skill of a concert pianist. “David, shall we proceed?”

“Indeed,” our head of communications says. “We have a lot of work ahead of us and not a lot of time to do it in before we head to Bahrain. Elizabeth, you’ll be very pleased to know that we can go through our crisis comms plan since Wes is here.”

Her head whips up from her screen. “I didn’t realize drivers are part of the crisis team. Are we meeting with them separately?”

I open my mouth to quip that when it comes to a media crisis, I’m all she really needs, but then David says, “You’ll meet Hyunjoon tomorrow and will be part of his media training. But, unlike Wes, he will not be part of the crisis team.”

Well that’s news to me. I don’t even know what a crisis team is.

"I know it’s unconventional,” David says. “But Wes is a maestro when it comes to cajoling reporters and charming the general public.”

“Wait,” Elizabeth says. “Is the reason you haven’t read me into the crisis plan yet because he’s your entire strategy?” When David doesn’t respond, she narrows her eyes. “Is your plan a charm offensive?”

David meets her gaze. “I know it’s mad, but I’ve never seen anyone work the media the way Wes does. It’s probably the closest thing I’ve seen to magic.”

She scoffs. “Putting an athlete whose best interest is himself on a crisis team is one of the most reckless ideas I’ve ever heard.”

“Hey,” I say, my tone sharp. “You can’t come in here and disparage us when you haven’t even proven that you can help.”

“Wes,” David says, a warning in his voice, but I don’t stop.

“It’s obvious you know nothing about racing. F1 is cutthroat on the best day, and the media? They’re fucking feral. They hear even the faintest whisper in the paddock, and it’s immediately being reported. On top of that, everyone has very, very good memories. Nothing is forgotten. So something as big and juicy as this scandal? It’s going to be talked about for decades. I know exactly what’s at stake. Not just for me, but for this team, the people who work here, and the fans around the world. But hey—I’m just some self-centered athlete who only gives a shit about himself, right?”

Elizabeth doesn’t so much as blink when I’m finished. Meanwhile, my breath is surprisingly short and my blood is thrumming in my ears. I don’t normally get worked up like this. But shit, she accused me of not caring about this team. And that was after she essentially called David an idiot. I’m not okay with that.

“Well,” she says coolly. “It’s good to know you can give a stump speech.”

“I promise he will be valuable,” David says. “And I want to reiterate that the team here knows your track record and guidance are exactly what we need to get through this in one piece.”

“Not the whole team,” Elizabeth says, her eyes meeting mine in what I swear is a challenge.

I shrug. “It’s not like I’ve seen anything impressive from you.”

“Check your phone.”

“What?”

“Your phone,” she says, motioning to the sleek black device on the conference table. “Check it.”

I pick it up and tap the screen. There’s a missed call from my mom, and messages from some of the other drivers. “Okay, and?”

“Do you have any calls or emails from reporters?”

“My agent deals with all of that.”

“And has your agent asked you to make a statement or reached out with any media opportunities?”

I check the notifications again. Damn—she’s right. I called Adrien as soon as I found out about the arrests, but I haven’t heard from him in hours. I figured he’s busy keeping the hounds at bay. But based on the satisfied look on Elizabeth’s pretty face, I’m guessing that it’s because of something she did. “So what’s your point?”

“My strategy worked.” She says this in that same flat, cool tone, like water running over smooth stone. It makes me want to rile her up. I want to know what it’s like when she boils over.

So I shrug. “Am I supposed to be impressed that you did your job?”

“No,” she says, still completely composed, entirely unruffled. “But now you know that you can trust me.”