Page 84 of Spin Control

I watch as the men around me exchange glances. “That isn’t exactly what he means,” David says slowly, in his most serious voice. “Wes, I need to prepare you for what’s about to happen.”

I rub my hands down my face. “Not going to lie, you’re really starting to freak me out.”

“We’ve got your back,” Adrien says. “But you need to stay calm.”

And then I learn that tomorrow, at 8am British Summer Time, the entire world is going to find out that Elizabeth and I have been in a relationship since May.

“That’s not right,” I say quickly. “Hell, I only met her in April. We didn’t even decide anything until Sunday.”

“Be that as it may,” David says. “The story that’s running will report that the two of you have been together since the Miami Grand Prix. There are photos, Wes. And they paint a very compelling picture.”

“How?” I ask, but I immediately know the answer. I’m an F1 driver, constantly surrounded by people with cameras. Press. Fans. Social media teams. Random people on the street. Of course there are photos of us in the paddock, in the garage, at events. And of course reporters are using them to fit their own narrative. “Oh.”

“Indeed,” David says, his accent crisp. “As tomorrow is media day—”

“Ah, shit,” I say, trying to keep myself from panicking. “Does Elizabeth know?”

“She is finding out right now from her boss.”

“What?” I yell, jumping out of my chair. “She thinks she’s telling HR about us!”

“Calm,” Adrien says. “Stay calm.”

“How the fuck am I supposed to be calm when the woman who can manage any crisis is finding out that she is the crisis?”

My voice echoes off the concrete around us as everyone goes silent. My thoughts race and race, as if my brain is the fastest circuit in existence. When they land on a question, I physically flinch. My voice sounds far away as I ask, “Is she losing her job? Is she being fired because of me?”

It feels like I live an eternity before Marcus says, “No. Elizabeth is going to be fine.”

“Oh my God,” I say, burying my face in my hands.

“But she has to go back to New York tomorrow.”

I look up again, my heart pounding against my ribs. “What?”

“I’m sure you can understand that her company has no choice but to remove us from her client portfolio.”

Before I can say that no, I do not understand and, in fact, have a lot to say on the subject, David, Albrecht, and Adrien begin talking about statements and interview prep, about my paddock arrival schedule, about risk mitigation and additional security, about getting Jaclyn on a flight as quickly as possible.

But I don’t care about any of this. All I want is to get back to Elizabeth.

I want to assure her that we’re going to get through this. That I’m not going anywhere. That if it turns out Marcus is wrong about her job, it’ll be fine. I’ll be the first investor in her own kick-ass agency. I’ll add her to all my accounts and give her keys to every place I own. Hell, I’ll do that anyway.

“Do you have any questions?” David asks.

“Why is this story running? Why didn’t you guys—or Elizabeth’s guys—stop it?”

There’s a tense silence around the room before David says, “We tried. Clint tried, too. But it’s The Drift.”

The most horrific tabloid in existence. And the one Elio Rocca always tips off. “Shit.”

“The good news is that we know it’s coming,” Marcus says. “We have a plan. Elizabeth’s team has a plan. It’s going to be loud for a little bit, but at least we’re going into summer break.”

I blow out a breath. Only a few hours ago, I was thinking about whisking Elizabeth somewhere tropical and private. Just the two of us on an island in the South Pacific that’s only accessible by sea plane, where we could do absolutely nothing but each other.

Now, it seems I’ll be in Monaco, alone, hiding from the paparazzi.

“And now for the other good news,” Baz says. “It’s time to sign your contract extension.”