Page 102 of Full Throttle

“Yeah.” Cap exhaled. “My parents are ecstatic.”

“She’s overtaken you in the standings, hasn’t she?”

A pause. “She’s had some luck.”

“Must be tough,” Frederick observed.

Cap’s voice was tight. “I have a shit car this year.”

“Hasn’t seemed to bother Sinclair.”

“They designed the car for him. Of course it doesn’t bloody bother him.”

“Easy,” Frederick murmured. “I’m just fucking with you.” More flicking of the lighter. “I just meant that it’s impressive how well Juliette’s doing, considering she’s a rookie. All the podiums, the fans, the media coverage…I hear Montessori even gave her a sponsorship.”

There was a long pause. Juliette squeezed her eyes shut. He’s goading you. Don’t rise. But she might as well have been wishing for cupcakes to remain flat in a hot oven. And sure enough, Cap exhaled.

“Of course they did.”

“What do you mean?” Frederick prompted.

There was a stomping sound. Cap must have been grinding the cigarette into the pavement. “Montessori needs more female customers, so they’re putting up a few posts of Jules wearing some overpriced watch. It’s not like they had other options.”

“Maybe it’s because she’s a good driver,” Frederick suggested.

“It’s because she’s a woman.”

There was a sly smile in Frederick’s voice. “But you do think she’s a good driver, don’t you?”

“Oh, fuck off, Von Galen,” Cap said, and she felt a momentary pang of relief. “I know what you’re doing.”

“Just answer the question.”

There was a pause. “Of course she’s good. But she’s not…”

Thunder cracked. The first drops of rain felt like ice against her flushed cheeks. Don’t say it. Juliette bit her cheek until she tasted metal. Please don’t say it. She wanted more than anything to go, but she couldn’t bring herself to do it. Not until she heard her brother’s response.

“What?” Frederick prompted.

And then he said it. “There will always be opportunities for her because she’s the only woman in the sport. It has nothing to do with talent.”

Juliette closed her eyes. Her ribs gave a painful throb, and she pressed a hand to her chest. A fissure opened in the itchy gray sky. Shrieking party guests ran toward the lifts, holding jackets over their heads. Had Cap meant that? Every part of her rebelled against it—he’s angry; he’s frustrated—but he’d still said it.

“Capulet!” Liêm’s voice filtered through the din. “They’re calling everyone inside.”

“Coming!” Cap flipped up the lapel of his dinner jacket. “For the record, Von Galen, I still think you’re a dickhead. Even if you do have cigarettes.”

Frederick chuckled. “Noted.”

Juliette pressed closer to the partition. But her brother didn’t look back as he passed, and neither did Frederick. She waited until both men ducked into the stairwell before she moved. Like hell was she about to follow Cap into that church; she couldn’t bring herself to have a normal conversation with her brother. Not after what she’d just heard.

Which left only one option.

She hiked up her skirt and pushed into the storm.

Chapter 32

On the Edge