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)
Maeve swoops back in, pulling Zara off to the side, likely to discuss editing and posting details.
I’m pleased that Lex walks my way but soured that Ronan follows him. My heart skips a beat—Ronan’s presence still makes me anxious, even after our brief and somewhat tense interactions. But I try to push those feelings aside, reminding myself that I need to be businesslike.
Lex arrives first, his smile both warm and reassuring. “So what did you think?” he asks playfully. “Did your esteemed opinion of me increase?”
I laugh softly, nodding. “You handled those questions really well.”
Before I can say more, Ronan steps up beside Lex, his usual smirk replaced with something more subdued. He shoves his hands into his pockets, glancing at me with what looks like honest effort to be… well, not a jerk.
“Good to see you again, Posey,” Ronan says, his tone surprisingly civil, but there’s no warmth in his gaze and he seems to be speaking under duress. “I’m glad you could watch the interview. Maybe you’ll write something flattering about us, yeah?”
I want to give him the benefit of the doubt, but I don’t trust his polite words. I’d bet my reputation as a fake journalist that Lex told him to be nice. “Of course I’ll write a positive piece about Crown Velocity. Everyone has been very gracious and kind.”
Except you.
Ronan nods, looking almost awkward for a moment before he clears his throat. “Anyway, we’re thinking about grabbing dinner later. You should come along. My treat.”
The offer is so unexpected that I don’t respond. I can’t tell if he’s being sincere or if he’s just following Lex’s orders. Either way, the invitation catches me off guard.
But before I can answer, Lex steps in smoothly. “I told you I can’t tonight, Ronan. We need to get settled into the Airbnb, get groceries and make sure everything’s sorted. Plus, I promised her I’d make dinner. Tonight’s menu is my famous chicken carbonara.”
Ronan’s eyebrows lift, and he gives Lex a dubious look, but he doesn’t press the issue. “Right… well, I’ve got to head out anyway. Need to get ready for my sim run.”
“Good luck with that,” Lex says with a nod. “Catch you tomorrow.”
“Yeah, see you around,” Ronan says, giving me a final glance that’s more neutral than anything before he turns and walks away.
As soon as he’s out of earshot, Lex leans in closer, lowering his voice with a mischievous grin. “I told him to be nice.”
“I knew it.” I stifle a laugh, shaking my head. “He’s… not very good at it, is he?”
Lex chuckles, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “No, but he tried, which is saying something.”
We both share a moment of amusement before Lex straightens up and gestures toward the exit. “Come on, let’s go grab some groceries.”
“I’m very interested in this supposed famous chicken carbonara.”
“You’re going to love it,” he assures me.
I smile, feeling the warmth of his easygoing demeanor melt away the last of my nerves. “Sounds like a plan. Let’s go.”
We head out of the Crown Velocity headquarters, side by side, and I can’t help but feel a little lighter, a little more at ease. Despite the chaos and the intensity of the world I’ve stepped into, there’s something grounding about these moments with Lex. And maybe, just maybe, this whole experience will be even better than I imagined.
CHAPTER 10
Lex
Navigating the aisles of the local supermarket in Woking feels like a far cry from my usual routine. I’m typically more focused on the next race or simulator run than picking out ingredients for a homemade meal. And let’s face it—shopping for groceries is beneath me. I pay someone to do it, but with Posey by my side, there’s something oddly appealing about it. She’s browsing the shelves with an infectious enthusiasm. It almost feels like a dream. Such a mundane task and yet it’s so satisfying walking the aisles, chatting about the differences between American and British products and pushing aside our careers. It’s freeing in a way, and I think I might be getting a glimpse of a different type of life than I’d ever envisioned. One that doesn’t revolve around adrenaline rushes and the limelight.
“All right, so we have the chicken, pancetta and Parmesan,” I say, scanning the shelves as we move through the store. “We’ll need eggs and the pasta.”
Posey is pushing the cart, her eyes darting between the various products as if she’s mentally calculating what we’ll need for the next two weeks.
“Let’s stock up on some basics,” she says as I grab a box of spaghetti. “Bread, milk… that sort of thing. And some tea, of course.”
“I’m a coffee drinker,” I point out. “Can’t start the day without it.”
“Me too, but I am developing a fondness for tea. We’ll get both.”
We continue down the aisle, tossing in various items as we go until she suddenly looks at me, her eyes thoughtful. “How do you do it?”