Chapter Four

The engine roared beneath Serena’s hands, and she smiled.

There it was. That was the sound she had missed—not phones vibrating across tables, champagne glasses clinking beneath ballroom chandeliers or clients asking whether ivory napkins looked warmer than pearl, but the mechanical violence of an engine answering her right foot.

Serena tightened her grip on the steering wheel as the car tore down the straight and the speedometer climbed past one hundred and twenty, then one hundred and thirty. The braking marker rushed toward her, but she waited until the last possible moment before hitting the brakes hard.

The harness caught against her body as she shifted down and turned in. The rear moved just enough to demand a correction, and Serena made it without thinking, settling the car before clipping the apex and burying the throttle on the exit.

A laugh escaped inside her helmet.

She hadn’t done this properly in far too long, and apparently she had been an idiot for staying away.

The next corner came fast, and Serena attacked it.

◇ ◇ ◇

An hour earlier, she had almost turned around.

The circuit sat nearly forty minutes outside the city, tucked beyond a stretch of wooded hills and open land that made the skyline feel much farther away than it actually was. Serena hadn’t been there to drive in almost two years.

She had attended one event the previous summer because an Ellis Atelier client had rented part of the facility for a private launch, but she had remained in heels, smiled for photographs, solved three catering problems and left without going anywhere near the garages.

Today was different because Serena had come alone, without staff, clients or any professional reason to be there.

She had pulled her curls into a high ponytail and exchanged silk and heels for fitted black jeans, a white tank and a cropped leather jacket. Sunglasses covered her eyes as she walked through the paddock, barely noticing the people who looked her way because her attention was fixed on the track.

A car screamed past beyond the pit wall, and something tightened inside her chest.

Her father had brought her here for the first time when she was sixteen. Serena had spent the entire drive complaining because he refused to tell her where they were going, but then she had heard the engines.

Everything after that had changed.

“Serena Ellis?”

She turned and found a man in a dark team polo standing several feet away, a clipboard tucked beneath one arm.

“Depends who’s asking.”

Recognition spread across his face. “Darius Kane.”

The name pulled a genuine smile from her. “No.”

He laughed and opened his arms, and Serena walked straight into them.

“You’re alive,” Darius said.

“Barely. You?”

“Still gorgeous. Annoying.”

Serena stepped back. “Still lying badly.”

His gaze traveled over her before returning to her face. “How long has it been?”

“Too long.”

“That’s not a number.”

“Then don’t ask questions you’re going to be difficult about.”

Darius shook his head, looking much as Serena remembered him. He had been one of the instructors at the circuit when her father first started bringing her here, and later, when Serena began competing, he had helped with everything from racecraft to setup.

He glanced behind her. “You bring anyone?”

“No.”

“Your father would have called that dangerous.”

The mention of him shifted something inside her, and Serena removed her sunglasses.

“My father called everything dangerous.”

“Usually five minutes before encouraging you to do it anyway.”

That pulled another smile from her. “True.”

Darius studied her for a moment before his eyes narrowed with suspicion. “You didn’t come all the way out here to reminisce.”

“No.”

His expression changed as he seemed to understand exactly where this was going. “No.”

Serena’s smile widened. “Yes.”

“Absolutely not.”

“I haven’t even asked.”

“You’re wearing that look.”

“What look?”

“The one you used to wear before doing something that made my blood pressure unreasonable.”

Serena stepped closer. “Is the silver GT still here?”

Darius stared at her. “Serena.”

“Is it?”

“Yes.”

“Keys.”

“No.”

Her brows rose.

Darius lasted three seconds before cursing under his breath and turning toward the garage.

Serena followed him, smiling to herself.

She had always liked him.

◇ ◇ ◇

Theo Laurent noticed the silver car on its third lap.

He stood on the upper level of the pit building with a cup of coffee he had forgotten to drink, listening to one of his engineers explain a suspension issue on the number twenty-seven car when the silver GT came through Turn Four very late on the brakes.

Theo stopped listening.

The car rotated neatly into the corner, held the line and accelerated out with barely a twitch.

“Who is that?”

His engineer followed his gaze toward the circuit. “Which car?”

“Silver.”

“No idea.”

Theo watched it approach the next section, his attention sharpening as he studied the driver.

There was aggression in the way the car was being handled, but not recklessness. Theo knew the difference. Reckless drivers attacked everything and hoped the car would forgive them, whereas this driver appeared to know exactly how much she could ask for and when the machine had nothing more to give.

The silver GT dove into Turn Seven, and Theo’s mouth tightened when the driver went too deep. Instead of losing the car, however, she corrected, balanced it through the exit and emerged carrying more speed than the car ahead.

Interesting.

His engineer was still talking, so Theo raised one finger without looking away. The man fell silent.

Another lap followed, and this one was faster.

By the fifth, Theo had set down his coffee.

“Get me the lap times.”

His engineer glanced at him. “For the silver car?”

“Yes.”

Theo kept watching.

◇ ◇ ◇

Serena crossed the line and glanced at the timer.

Better, but not good enough.

She knew exactly where she had lost time. She had been too conservative entering Turn Two because she had hesitated, and Serena had always hated hesitation.

On the next lap, she pushed harder.

The car itself wasn’t familiar, but the language of driving was. Brake pressure, grip, weight transfer and the tiny vibrations through the steering wheel told Serena what the tires were doing before the car ever had reason to complain.

Her father used to say the car always spoke first and that drivers got into trouble because they didn’t listen.

Serena had always listened.

She approached Turn Two faster, braked later and committed to the corner.

The rear shifted, and her heartbeat jumped.

For a fraction of a second, memory slammed into her with enough force to pull her away from the present: rain against a windshield, another track and her father’s voice coming through the headset before there was suddenly nothing.

Serena’s hands tightened as the car drifted wider than she intended. She corrected hard enough to recover before accelerating out of the corner.

“Damn it.”

Her pulse had changed, although she refused to call the feeling fear.

Serena drove another lap and then another, forcing herself to remain with the car until the sensation settled back where she needed it: deep, quiet and manageable.

By the time she returned to the pits and killed the engine, silence seemed to rush in around her.

Serena remained behind the wheel for a moment with both hands resting on it before releasing the harness. When she climbed out, Darius was already waiting with his arms folded.

“You’re rusty.”

Serena pulled off her helmet, freeing her curls around her shoulders. “You’re charming.”

“You nearly overcooked Turn Two.”

“I recovered.”

“You shouldn’t have needed to.”

She handed him the helmet. “I’ve missed you too.”

Darius’s mouth twitched, but his expression softened as he looked at her.

“You still have it.”

Serena glanced back at the car.

She hadn’t realized how badly she needed to hear that.

Before she could answer, someone approached from behind Darius. He was tall enough to be immediately noticeable, with dark blond hair slightly too long at the top and sunglasses pushed onto his head. The black team shirt he wore had LAURENT MOTORSPORT stitched across the chest.

Serena knew his face. Most people who followed GT racing did.

Theo Laurent had been a three-time GT champion before an injury and one spectacularly ugly crash ended his driving career earlier than expected. Now he owned one of the most successful independent teams on the circuit.

His gaze moved from Serena to the silver GT before returning to her.

“You were driving?”

Serena lifted a brow. “Disappointed?”

Theo’s mouth curved. “Surprised.”

“That’s better.”

Darius sighed beside them. “And here we go.”

Serena ignored him.

Theo held out his hand. “Theo Laurent.”

“I know.”

His eyes sharpened slightly with amusement as Serena accepted his hand.

“Serena Ellis.”

“I know.”

Her gaze lifted to his. “Do you?”

“You’re difficult to miss.”

There was interest in his expression, neither crude nor particularly well hidden, and Serena allowed herself to enjoy it before releasing his hand.

“Good answer.”

Theo glanced toward the silver GT. “How long have you been driving?”

“My father put me behind a wheel at sixteen. I started competing not long after that.”

That seemed to interest him more. “What series?”

“Regional mostly. A few invitationals, some endurance events. Nothing at your level, Laurent, so you can put the interrogation away.”

A faint smile touched his mouth. “I wasn’t comparing résumés.”

“No?”

“I’m trying to work out why someone who knows what she’s doing just appeared at a track on a Monday afternoon like she’s been hiding.”

Serena laughed softly and leaned one hip against the car. “Maybe I enjoy being mysterious.”

“Maybe, but your lap times aren’t mysterious. You’re rusty, your entry into Two needs work, and twice you gave away time because you hesitated before committing.”

Her brows rose while Darius made a suspicious sound beside them that might have been a laugh.

Serena looked at Theo again. “You’ve known me for five minutes and you’ve already found three things wrong with me.”

“I’ve known you for five minutes. I watched you drive for twenty.”

“That’s supposed to improve your case?”

“It wasn’t a criticism.”

“It sounded remarkably like one.”

Theo’s mouth moved slightly. “You want the compliment too?”

Serena took the water bottle from the roof of the car. “I wouldn’t stop you.”

“You’re fast. More importantly, you understand what the car is telling you, and that’s harder to teach.” His gaze remained on hers. “Which brings me back to the question. When did you stop competing?”

The bottle paused near Serena’s mouth. “Three years ago.”

“Why?”

“Life.”

Darius looked away, and Theo noticed.

Serena took a drink, but when Theo spoke again, he didn’t press her for an explanation.

“There’s an invitational in three weeks. Laurent Motorsport has two entries, but one of my drivers broke his wrist yesterday, which leaves me with a seat and considerably less patience than I had yesterday morning.”

Serena lowered the bottle. “And twenty minutes of watching me convinced you to hand it over?”

“No. Twenty minutes convinced me I want to see what you can do when you’re being timed properly.”

Theo reached into his pocket and pulled out a card.

“A test first. If you give me what I think you can, the seat is yours.”

That made considerably more sense.

Serena took the card and turned the thick white stock between her fingers, taking in Theo’s name, direct number and team details.

“I haven’t competed in three years. You’ve already established that I’m rusty, and you still want to put me in one of your cars?”

“I want to test you in one of my cars. What happens after that depends entirely on you.”

Serena studied him. There was no teasing in his expression now, and she understood that he meant it.

“You have a very attractive way of applying pressure.”

Something changed in Theo’s eyes, and his gaze dipped toward her mouth for the briefest moment before returning to hers.

“I’ve been accused of worse.”

Serena’s lips curved.

The attraction between them wasn’t enough to matter, but it was enough to enjoy.

She looked toward the track as another car tore past the pit wall, and the sound went through her with the same force it had when she was sixteen.

In three weeks, she could be on a real grid again, facing real competition rather than driving laps alone with memories she had spent years avoiding.

Her father’s voice surfaced from somewhere she hadn’t allowed herself to visit in a long time.

If you’re going to do it, Serena, don’t do it halfway.

Her fingers tightened around Theo’s card.

She had spent the last year making room for Damian Taylor. Before that, Ellis Atelier had consumed nearly everything she had, and before that lay a part of her life Serena had become very skilled at refusing to examine.

She wasn’t interested in refusing anymore.

Theo was still waiting when Serena looked back at him.

“When’s the test?”