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After being dumped, Isla Morris makes a pact with her ex's biggest competition, F1 driver Matthew Carr, to get inside Lucas's head.
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Isla Morris is dating the world's best F1 racer - at least, she w...
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Isla liked to think that she approached most things in life calmly.
She could remember the exact moment she'd realized it. She was in her final year at university, taking her final exam. It was a practical — the sort of thing where medical students went from station-to-station, diagnosing actors with fake diseases — and whispers had gone around the room about a station.
"It looks horrible," one girl whimpered. "I saw Jane Zhang cry after it."
"I heard Charlie Miller vomited."
"That's nothing," Tiff had said. "Tabby swore off medicine. She's becoming an art historian instead. Never wants to go through that again, apparently."
When it was Isla's turn to visit the station, she understood why.
It was a child. A little girl, no more than ten-years-old. The actress must have lost her leg at some point because they had covered the severed limb with fake blood. She was whimpering in pain, her lower lip trembling.
"Don't hurt me," the girl had whispered. "Please don't hurt me."
Isla's heart had seized.
It had looked so real. The blood, the girl's terror, the shattered glass around her... later, when Isla thought about the point of the station, she'd wondered if it had been a test of mettle. A test to see who could numb themselves to it.
She'd shut everything down.
Isla hadn't panicked as she'd cleaned of the blood and tied a tourniquet. She'd only spoken in low, soothing tones. She'd told the girl a story about dragons and a fairytale castle. She'd made elevating the girl's leg part of the story, a curse cast by a jealous witch.
After, Isla had rinsed the fake blood off her hands and slid down the wall, staring blankly down the corridor. Tiff came to sit beside her.
She stormed up to Alek's office, her heartbeat pumping in her ears. She focused on her breathing. The slap of her shoes on the stairs. She kept replaying Matthew's crash, hearing the squeal of the tyres, the crunch of metal.
It wasn't a bad crash.
Logically, Isla knew that. She'd watched enough Formula One races over the years to know when someone would be injured and when someone would be okay. Besides, she'd watched Matthew get out of the car and walk away.
He was fine.
But her hands wouldn't stop shaking.
He'd lied to her. Matthew had promised her that he'd be careful, and then he'd gone and rammed his car into Lucas. In Monaco, of all places.
