Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 77816 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 389(@200wpm)___ 311(@250wpm)___ 259(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77816 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 389(@200wpm)___ 311(@250wpm)___ 259(@300wpm)
Hendrik nods, a slight sneering lift to his lip. “This woman might know hockey, but she doesn’t know racing.”
I glance at Nadine, the only other woman besides me on this executive team. I wonder if she finds their dismissiveness of Brienne as offensive as I do just because she’s a woman. Nadine keeps her gaze lowered to the table.
They continue with hushed tones, not wanting their complaining to carry out to the hall beyond the closed door. No telling when Brienne will walk in, and glancing at my watch, it could be at any minute now.
A voice cuts through the room again and I glance over at the only person besides me who has been quiet. Matthieu Laurent is the second driver on our team and will likely move to the number one slot with Tomas’s injury this past week. He’s known for being arrogant, cocky and far too sure of himself for someone who hasn’t yet proven anything. His French accent thickens the air. “With Tomas out, it’s obvious I’ll be number one. And I’m in agreement… I’m not moving to Pittsburgh and I’m willing to use that leverage with you.”
Matthieu’s ego fills the space like a balloon about to pop. I know he thinks he’s entitled to everything, just because Tomas was the “star,” but I know from my own history how fragile that belief can be.
“Now wait a minute,” Luca says, his Italian accent so subtle I hardly hear it. He’s in his early sixties and is an icon in the racing world. “No one is leveraging anything against Brienne. She’s our boss and while I have concerns, I’m not about to make a stand against the one person who can put me out of a job.”
Michel scoffs dismissively and looks at Matthieu with what might be fatherly pride. “You definitely have leverage as the number one driver now. We won’t forget that.”
There’s a ripple of tension, and I notice the subtle shift in the room. People are uncomfortable, and it seems sides might be forming—Michel, Matthieu and Hendrik the most vocally irate over being called to this meeting, while Nadine, Luca and Markus are a bit more objective.
And I remain quiet, not enough standing or experience to have a say in anything. I just want to keep my one-week-old job.
There’s a knock at the door—loud, decisive—causing me to jump. Everyone goes quiet, glancing at one another, unsure who it is.
There’s no time to ponder and the knock wasn’t meant to be a request. The door swings open and Brienne Norcross confidently strides through.
I did my research on this woman. Being from England and steeped in the racing world, I knew nothing of her. Hockey wasn’t on my radar as a sport I enjoy watching and given that she’s an American billionaire, she never reached my insulated world. But you can bloody well bet that I googled the hell out of her when it was announced that she’d bought Excalibur and it would be rebranded Titans Racing. I wanted to know everything about her and the more I read, the more I admired her. It was the achievement of my lifetime to be offered a job here on this team, but I must admit, a good deal of my excitement has had to do with a woman owning it.
I have no time to admire Brienne’s beauty or her fashionable tailoring, because walking in right behind her is the last person in the world I thought I’d ever see again.
Nash Sinclair.
He steps into the room, his presence commanding attention immediately. My heart does a strange leap in my chest, and I can’t help the flush that creeps into my face.
The Nash Sinclair.
I can’t breathe. My mind whirls.
Brienne looks around the room, her gaze sweeping over the assembled engineers and executives, and she beams a lovely smile at all of us. “Welcome. I’m glad you’re all here.” She moves to the empty seat at the head of the table, but I can’t stop looking at Nash. He’s yet to see me, his gaze pinned on Brienne as he closes the door behind him.
“I know this was short notice,” Brienne says as she remains standing, her hands clamping down on the back of the chair before her. “I know we have a race to get ready for, but this meeting was necessary. I also wanted to show you the new Pittsburgh headquarters and I hope you’ll indulge me after this meeting for a grand tour.”
Her words slip into my ears but I’m still staring at Nash.
God, he looks amazing.
Different though. His dark hair is cropped short, his hazel eyes a little more lined with what one would assume were laugh crinkles since I last saw him three years ago, but it’s probably from pain and worry. His strong jaw, the familiar set of his shoulders, the way he holds himself—it’s like nothing has changed.