Chapter 6: Cover Story

I accepted the deal five minutes before the deadline.

Not with a clear yes. Not with any real choice. I simply stopped fighting.

Rex found me near the media room at the end of the day, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed like he had known all along that I would fold. He didn’t ask for confirmation. He just looked at me, waited, and when I didn’t push back or walk away, that slow, knowing curve touched the corner of his mouth.

“Smart girl,” he said quietly.

The words scraped down my spine. I wanted to slap the satisfaction off his face. Instead I turned and walked away before I could say something that would make the entire situation worse. My hands were unsteady as I packed the last of my gear. The deal sat in my chest like a live wire, dangerous, impossible to ignore, and already tightening around me.

I told myself it was temporary. A necessary lie to protect the bigger secret. I would stop the public insults, keep my distance, and wait for him to get bored. Rex Callahan got bored of everything eventually. Women. Parties. Attention. This would be no different.

I almost believed it.

The real test came less than an hour later.

Ethan found us near the team hospitality suite. He had that particular look he got when something felt off, the same sharp-eyed expression he used to wear when I was sixteen and trying to sneak out of the house. His gaze moved from me to Rex and back again.

“You two are being weird,” he said bluntly. “What’s going on?”

My stomach dropped so hard I felt it in my knees.

Rex answered before I could even open my mouth.

“Media schedule,” he said, completely calm, like we hadn’t been standing in a private briefing room less than two hours earlier with him threatening to expose me. “She’s covering more of the team this week. We were aligning times so she doesn’t get in the way of practice.”

Ethan looked between us. His eyes lingered on my face a second too long, searching for the crack he could usually find when I was lying.

“You sure that’s all?”

“Positive,” I said. My voice came out steadier than I expected, but my pulse was hammering so hard I was certain he could see it in my throat. “Just work. Nothing else.”

Ethan studied us for another beat. The silence stretched. Around us the usual circuit noise continued, engines in the distance, someone shouting about tire pressures, the low murmur of engineers, but it all felt far away.

Finally he nodded, slow and unconvinced. “Alright. Don’t let it interfere with actual work. And Rex,” he pointed a finger at him, “stop monopolizing my sister’s time. She has her own job.”

Rex lifted one shoulder in a lazy shrug. “No promises.”

Ethan rolled his eyes, already pulling out his phone as he walked off. The second he was out of earshot, Rex leaned in just enough that only I could hear him.

“See how easy that was?” he murmured. “You didn’t even have to insult me once. Progress.”

I kept my eyes fixed straight ahead, jaw tight. “Don’t push it.”

“I’m going to push it,” he said, voice still low and almost amused. “That’s the entire point of the deal.”

He walked away before I could reply, leaving me standing there with the weight of the lie sitting heavy in my chest and the ghost of his nearness still brushing against my skin.

The rest of the afternoon became a performance I hadn’t auditioned for.

Every time Ethan was within earshot, I had to monitor my face, my tone, the exact angle of my shoulders. Every time Rex was nearby, I felt him watching me test the new boundaries he had set. He didn’t corner me again. He didn’t need to. The knowledge that he could, that he held the power to shatter everything with one conversation, was enough to keep me on edge.

I stayed behind the camera as much as possible, using the lens like a shield. It didn’t help. I could still feel the shift. The old, familiar armor of public hatred was gone, and without it I felt exposed in a way that had nothing to do with clothes.

By the time the sun started dropping behind the grandstands, my nerves were frayed down to the wire.

I was packing the last of my camera bodies into the bag when Rex appeared at the edge of the garage. He was still in his race suit, unzipped to the waist, the white undershirt clinging to his chest and stomach. Helmet tucked under one arm. He didn’t come close. He just looked at me across the busy space and gave a small, private nod, like we shared a secret no one else in the building could touch.

It made my skin feel too tight.

I drove home with the windows down, cold evening air rushing in, trying to clear my head. It didn’t work. The deal sat in the front of my mind the entire drive, looping and tightening. I had agreed to stop performing hatred. I had not agreed to whatever else he was already planning behind those calm gray eyes.

That night my phone lit up on the nightstand while I was still staring at the ceiling.

Rex: Ethan bought it.

Rex: For now.

I stared at the screen, thumb hovering over the keyboard. Another message came through before I could decide whether to reply.

Rex: Tomorrow you don’t get to look at me like I’m invisible.

Rex: That was part of the deal.

I typed back before I could stop myself.

Me: I never agreed to details.

His reply was almost immediate.

Rex: You agreed not to pretend. Details are up to me.

I locked the phone and shoved it under my pillow like that would silence it. My heart was beating too hard. Sleep didn’t come easy. Every time I closed my eyes I saw the way he had looked at me in the lounge that first night, fascinated, dangerous, like he had found something he had no intention of giving back. The deal was supposed to buy my silence and his. Instead it felt like I had handed him a leash and he was already testing how far it would stretch.

The next morning I arrived at the circuit determined to keep my distance and my expression neutral.

It lasted exactly twelve minutes.

Rex was standing near the front of the garage when I walked in, talking to Marcus about something on a tablet. The second he saw me he ended the conversation with a short nod and started walking in my direction. Not rushed. Not obvious to anyone watching. Just inevitable.

I kept my camera up like a shield, pretending to check settings I had already checked three times.

He stopped a few feet away, close enough that anyone passing would think it was a casual work exchange, far enough that it still felt deliberate.

“Morning,” he said, voice low enough that it stayed between us.

I lowered the camera just enough to meet his eyes. “What.”

“That’s not very friendly.”

“We’re not friends.”

“We’re something,” he said. “And according to the deal, you don’t get to pretend we’re nothing.”

I hated how calm he sounded. I hated that part of me already felt the shift, the way my body registered his nearness before my mind could catch up and shut it down. The air between us felt charged in a way it never had when I was allowed to openly dislike him.

“What exactly do you want me to do?” I asked under my breath. “Smile? Laugh at your jokes? Hold your helmet like some team girlfriend?”

Rex’s mouth twitched, almost a smile but not quite.

“Start with not looking at me like you want me dead,” he said. “We’ll work up to the rest.”

He reached out and adjusted the strap of my camera bag where it had slipped down my shoulder. The touch was brief, almost casual, but his fingers brushed the side of my neck and lingered half a second too long. Warm. Deliberate.

My breath caught before I could stop it.

He noticed.

Of course he noticed.

“See?” he murmured, eyes dropping briefly to my mouth and then returning to mine. “Already better.”

Then he walked away, leaving me standing in the middle of the busy garage with my pulse hammering in my throat and the clear, terrifying knowledge that the deal had only just begun.

I spent the next hour trying to focus on work and failing. Every time I lifted the camera I was aware of where he was. Every time I heard his voice across the garage my shoulders tensed. The old version of me would have rolled her eyes and muttered something cutting under her breath. This new version had to stay quiet, and the silence felt louder than any insult I had ever thrown at him.

By mid-afternoon I needed air.

I stepped out behind the garage where the service vehicles were parked, away from the main traffic of engineers and crew. I had barely pulled in a full breath when I heard footsteps behind me.

Rex.

He didn’t announce himself. He just came to stand beside me, close enough that his arm almost brushed mine, both of us looking out at nothing in particular.

“You’re trying very hard,” he said after a moment.

“I’m doing what you asked.”

“You’re doing the bare minimum.” He turned his head to look at me. “I can work with that. For now.”

I kept my eyes forward. “What happens when ‘for now’ ends?”

“Then I raise the bar.” His voice was quiet, almost thoughtful. “You should get used to the idea that this isn’t going to stay simple.”

I finally looked at him. “You don’t get to keep changing the rules.”

“I get to do whatever I want,” he said. “That’s what the secret bought me.”

The words should have made me angry. They did. But underneath the anger was something hotter and more dangerous, the same pull I had felt when he pinned me to the lounge door, the same reluctant awareness that had lived under my skin for years.

I hated that he could still do this to me.

I hated that part of me didn’t want him to stop.

Rex watched my face like he could read every conflicting thought. Then he pushed off the wall and stepped back.

“Tonight,” he said. “My place. Eight.”

“I’m busy.”

“Cancel it.” He didn’t raise his voice. He didn’t need to. “We need to clarify the rules before someone else notices the way you look at me when you forget to hide it.”

He walked away without waiting for an answer, the same way he always did, certain I would follow, certain the deal already owned more of me than I was ready to admit.

I stood there long after he disappeared around the corner, the late afternoon air cool against my flushed skin, and realized with a sinking feeling that he was right.

The performance was already slipping.

And he was the only one who could see it.

My phone buzzed in my pocket a minute later.

I already knew who it was.

Rex: Don’t be late.

Rex: And Aria

Rex: Wear something you don’t mind me looking at.