Page 128 of Full Throttle

“Baz was meant to—”

“He sent me instead,” Cap said.

“Fine.” She was already reaching for her phone. “I’ll call a cab.”

Cap made a noise. “You can’t just get in a cab. You’re too famous now.”

“Then I’ll call a driver.”

Her brother sighed. “Do you even have a driver?” Juliette pursed her lips, and he twisted the cap in his hands. “Look, the race starts in an hour. We’ll be late if we don’t go now.”

“I’ll take her,” Dominic said.

He was looking at Juliette, who was staring hard at an IV drip as if it held the secrets to the universe. Cap glanced between them.

“I’ve got it.”

Frustration rose. “We’re literally going to the same team garage.”

“Well,” Cap said, with just a hint of acerbity, “you’re not parking in it. You might be the Prince of Racing, Hastings, but the last time I checked, you still have to use the drivers’ car park like the rest of us.” He withdrew his car keys. “It’s up to you, Jules.”

Dominic turned. “Marchmont? What do you want to do?”

She drew a breath. She had the look of a prisoner weighing up the sword or the guillotine, and Dominic leaned forward, trying to catch her eye. Come on, Marchmont. Let me explain.

“I’ll go with Cap,” she said.

Any hope vanished. Dominic’s pulse raced as Juliette gathered the last of her things, turning for the door, and he caught her arm as she passed.

“Wait.”

His heart was pounding so fast that it felt like helicopter blades slicing his chest, and he glanced at Cap before dropping his voice and looking into Juliette’s eyes. “I don’t give a damn about the trophy. What I want—what I really fucking want, more than anything in the world—is you. You know that, don’t you?”

Juliette stared. Dominic’s breath was ragged, coming hard and fast. For just a moment, he allowed himself to hope that it was enough, but then something shuttered in her gaze.

“I’ll see you on track,” Juliette said coolly.

The door shut, followed by the sound of retreating footsteps. Dominic closed his eyes, inhaling once. Twice. The smell of coffee and chai spice was suddenly suffocating, and he pushed into the lobby. His head was spinning so badly that it took a moment to realize that figure standing at reception looked familiar.

“Look,” Liêm was saying, shifting a bouquet, “I know I’m not family, but I need to drop these off, because I have a big race today and I can’t exactly drive with these in the cockpit—” He broke off, his eyes snagging on Dominic. “Dom! Thank the ever-loving fuck. What room is Juliette in? I’m already behind, and Hernández is going to have my arse—” He frowned. “Wait. What’s wrong?”

“She’s gone.” Dominic hardly recognized his own voice.

“Where?”

“To the track.” He felt hollow. “With Cap. She’s cleared to drive today.”

“I see.” Carefully, Liêm set the flowers down. “I take it the apology for running her off the track yesterday didn’t go well.”

Dominic sank into a chair. His head was pounding, and he rested it in his hands, taking shuddering breaths. The room was moving, like heat waves radiating off an asphalt track. The chair next to him creaked.

“Take a deep breath.” Liêm’s face was unusually serious. “Then start at the beginning.”

Dominic would have laughed if he’d had the energy. “I don’t even know where that is.”

Liêm braced his elbows against his knees. “Why don’t you start by finally telling me what happened two years ago?”

So Dominic did.