Page 121 of Full Throttle

“You’ll have to be more specific.”

“Juliette Marchmont,” Vance said slowly. “Did you run to the hospital to see her?”

There was no point in lying; Vance had eyes everywhere. “Yes.” Dominic leaned against the back of his chair. “She’s my teammate.”

Vance closed his eyes. “You’re still sleeping with her too, aren’t you? I saw that interview. Dominic, we’ve been over this. The distraction that can be on track…” His father’s phone buzzed, and he began typing. “It’s not worth the risk. I’ll get my lawyers on the phone. We’ll put out a statement that you’ve ended the relationship, and—”

“I’m in love with her,” Dominic said.

The words came out of his mouth without invitation. His father looked at Dominic as if he’d sprouted a fifth limb. “What?”

“Juliette,” Dominic repeated. “I’m in love with her.”

Slowly, Vance lowered his phone. He was looking at Dominic with an expression so foreign that it took him a moment to identify it.

Pity.

“I’m sure it feels that way,” Vance said softly. “But you’re twenty-five. What do you know about love?”

More than you, Dominic wanted to say. More than you, with your empty house and your twentysomething conquests and your Christmas decorations for a holiday that you don’t believe in. He took a steadying breath.

“If you’d just—”

“It’s better,” Vance continued, “to get a jump on this. I’ll have legal meet with you in the morning. They’ll know the best way to put an end to this shitstorm.” He sat, typing something on his laptop. “My assistant will send through the details.”

It was a clear dismissal. Dominic shifted his weight.

“I’m not ending things with her.”

“Dominic.” Vance clicked something with his mouse. “This isn’t a game. One mistake on the track can cost lives.”

Dominic waited until his father met his gaze. The smell of cinnamon potpourri and orange pomade was almost cloying.

“Fine,” Vance said slowly. “You love her. Where does that get you? You crashed out at qualifying. You’ve ruined your shot at the championship, and you’ll be lucky if your team doesn’t drop you next year. So let me ask you this.” He held Dominic’s gaze. “Is she worth throwing away everything you’ve worked for?”

“There’s more to life than racing.”

Vance’s gaze was almost sad. “Not for people like us.”

His father went back to typing. Dominic shifted his weight. Something burned in his chest, frustration or humiliation or both. Why did he always feel like this? Why did he transform into a naughty child cowering before the school principal?

Dominic studied the wooden desk. His father used to leave presents in a similar place at home in Paris, whenever he went away on business trips: remote-control cars, LEGO sets, an expensive pair of trainers…Now you won’t miss me, Vance had explained. You’ll have something to open every day while I’m gone, waldi. It’ll be like I never left.

But Dominic had never opened the presents. Instead, he’d counted them.

Ten more sleeps until he comes home.

Eight more sleeps.

Two more sleeps.

Had Vance realized that? Had his father ever known?

Doubtful.

But that was just the thing, Dominic thought, his chest burning; Vance had never seen him as he was. He had seen Dominic only as he could be, and loving the potential of him was not the same thing as actually loving him.

“What if I didn’t want to race anymore?” Dominic asked.