Page 83 of Spin Control

“Wes is finding out right now,” Clint says, interrupting me. “He is currently talking to Marcus and David.”

“No he’s not. He’s training.”

“He’s not,” my boss says calmly. “Well, I assume he’s not. They are at a gym. They went to him.”

My head spins. “What else?”

“Your flight is tomorrow afternoon,” Clint says, gently. “We want to get you out of there before the vultures well and truly descend. You and I will catch up first thing on Monday morning.”

“Holy shit,” I whisper as this all hits me. This isn’t just me and Wes. This is Martine Racing. This is Elio Rocca and Stas Dubinsky. This is Alice Abrams and Liu Zhenghao and the Bugatti and—

…the complete mindfuck of finding out that I met the Bugatti guy, the uncertainty of whether my best friend and his favorite uncle are pawns or criminals…

My entire cerebral cortex lights up as Wes’s voice echoes in my head. He was wearing grey sweatpants and no shirt, and was about to tell me that he couldn’t stop thinking about me. But before that—before he crossed that line I had drawn knowing it was already too late, before he begged to taste me, before he crashed and asked me to stay the night and we spent days in bed together, he said that he’s not sure if Stas and Stas’s favorite uncle are criminals.

That must be the same uncle Alice Abrams believes is behind the whole operation.

“Elizabeth,” Clint says, suspicion thick in his voice. But my brain is too busy sifting through this to respond.

Stas’s uncle funded his karting days, helping him get to F1.

Stas left the best racing team at the height of his career to go to a team in a rebuilding phase who had just hired Elio Rocca as their team principal.

Stas called to warn me about Elio—the man who always has the right friend at the right time. And the one I publicly humiliated even though my gut instinct when I met him was fear.

The puzzle pieces snap into place.

“I have to go.”

“Elizabeth!” Clint yells. “Whatever you’re about to do, do not do it.”

“I’ll see you on Monday!”

Then I close my laptop and make a phone call.

32

When Camden and I arrive at the gym, I’m extremely confused to be greeted by Marcus, Baz, David, Albrecht, and Adrien.

“Gentlemen,” I say, forcing my voice to be breezy. “I didn’t realize this was a group session.”

There are a couple laughs before Marcus points to the chair beside Adrien. “Wes, please sit.”

Camden looks as confused as I’m feeling. “I, uh…” he says, motioning to the door. “I guess I’ll see myself out?” I give him a desperate look but he shrugs and heads out the door.

“I hear congratulations are in order,” Marcus says, a smile on his face.

“They are?” I ask, glancing at my agent.

“You’re in a relationship,” Marcus says, looking like the cat that got the cream.

My heart very literally skips a beat. Because how the hell does the owner of the team I race for know that? Not that I’m going to deny it—hell no.

“I was going to talk to you about it on Sunday, after the race.”

“Don’t bother with any of that,” Marcus says. “Instead, we need to worry about this weekend.”

“Of course. The race is always the priority.”