Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 73568 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 368(@200wpm)___ 294(@250wpm)___ 245(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73568 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 368(@200wpm)___ 294(@250wpm)___ 245(@300wpm)
I’m barely keeping up. The sheer complexity of it all is overwhelming, but I keep taking notes, determined not to miss anything.
Lex moves to the next person, a tall blond woman. “Anya Weber, our tires engineer, all the way from South Africa.”
Anya smiles, her accent lilting and cultured. “I handle tire strategy—everything from tire compound selection to managing wear during the race. Tire performance is key to winning races.”
Tires. Finally, something I understand. I jot down her explanation and smile at her gratefully.
“And last but never least,” Lex says, pointing to a serious-looking man, “this is Gareth Elrod, our strategy engineer. He’s a Yank like you.”
Gareth nods, tips a slight salute to me with two fingers. “Straight from the great state of California, I’m responsible for race simulations, pit stop strategies and making sure we optimize everything to get the best result on race day. Some might say I’m the most important engineer.”
He flashes a mischievous smile and there’s good-natured grumbling around the table. Someone throws a wadded piece of paper that bounces off his head, and it puts me more at ease. I’m in a room full of major brainpower but that little joke reminds me… they’re just people.
And then it hits me—a group of multi-national experts showcasing just how international this sport is.
Still, my head spins from information overload, but I manage to smile and thank everyone.
The meeting begins, and I try my best to follow along as Lex dives into a discussion about the simulator run he did yesterday. He mentions something about “oversteer in the fast corners,” and Giovanni immediately asks for details.
“Turns three and eight,” Lex says. “It’s manageable, but I had to countersteer more than usual. It feels like the rear isn’t planted.”
“Sorry,” I interrupt, feeling a little sheepish. “What’s oversteer?”
Lex grins, clearly happy to explain. “Oversteer is when the rear of the car loses grip before the front does, so it feels like the back end is trying to overtake the front. Makes the car more likely to spin out, especially in fast corners.”
“Oh,” I say, nodding like that makes sense, though I’m still not sure I fully grasp it.
“And understeer,” Emma adds, “is the opposite. When the front of the car loses grip and you can’t turn as sharply as you want to.”
I write down the terms, feeling a little more enlightened.
The meeting continues with the engineers discussing adjustments to the rear wing angle, tire pressure and energy deployment strategies. It’s all so technical, and I’m blown away by how much science and engineering goes into every decision. This isn’t just driving fast—it’s a finely tuned operation where every millimeter, every gram, every second counts.
By the time the meeting wraps, I’m exhausted from trying to absorb it all, but I feel a strange sense of accomplishment. I’m starting to get it—just a little. As we walk back toward the lobby, I can’t help but shake my head. “That was… so technical. I had no idea how scientific this all is.”
Lex chuckles, clearly enjoying my reaction. “That’s Formula International. Everything has to be perfect. Every adjustment, every tweak—it’s all about shaving off fractions of a second.”
“And you…” I glance up at him, feeling a new kind of respect. “You know so much about all of it. I didn’t realize how involved the drivers are.”
He raises an eyebrow. “What, did you think I just show up and drive fast?”
I laugh, mildly embarrassed. “Maybe a little.”
“Make sure you write that in your article,” he teases, holding the door open for me as we head back toward the main lobby. “Let people know I’m not just a pretty face.”
I smile to myself, tucking my notepad away. “I’ll make sure to mention it.”
As we walk, the weight of everything I’ve learned settles over me. Formula International isn’t just about speed and glamour—it’s about precision, science and dedication. And Lex? He’s far more than the reckless playboy I thought he was.
He has a brain.
The information dump is thrilling because it means I can add substance to my novels. As an author who wrote historical romance, I loved the research into the different time periods and portraying the relationship that couldn’t be constrained by societal norms. It was important for me to be accurate, just as writing about a sport is important.
Regardless, I have a whole new appreciation for this sport and even more respect for Lex Hamilton.
CHAPTER 6
Lex
The cafeteria at Crown Velocity isn’t what you’d expect from a racing team’s headquarters. It’s modern, sleek—like everything else here—but with an open, relaxed vibe. It’s not some five-star restaurant, but it’s damn good. The place buzzes with staff, mechanics and engineers, all grabbing their lunch before heading back to their departments. The smell of roasted chicken and something spiced wafts through the air, making my stomach growl.
Posey and I grab trays and move down the line. She picks out a sandwich, a simple ham and cheese on brown bread, while I grab a bowl of spicy Thai noodles with grilled chicken.