**This book is FREE with a paid bonus chapter!**
After being dumped, Isla Morris makes a pact with her ex's biggest competition, F1 driver Matthew Carr, to get inside Lucas's head.
**
Isla Morris is dating the world's best F1 racer - at least, she w...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Matthew privately felt that Alek's pep talk needed some work.
It started strong. Alek had praised Matthew's first win in karting, calling it a "great show of mastery." He'd complimented Matthew's rookie season with Ferrari, speaking fondly of the time that Matthew came back from two punctured tyres to win at Monza. And the best part, Matthew thought, was that Lucas Walsh had been forced to listen to all of it.
They were sitting on a bench near the Abu Dhabi track, watching as frazzled pit crews wheeled the cars to the starting line. Alek was crossing his arms. Lucas was bouncing a tennis ball. And Matthew was eating an apple, because what the hell?
He deserved nice things.
"You're like a son to me," Alek said. "When I was watching you on that podium in Italy, I knew that you were going to do great things."
Matthew grinned. "Ah, cheers, Alek."
"If you win today," Alek continued, "and become World Champion, then I'll be proud of you. You should be proud of yourself."
Lucas crushed the tennis ball in his hands. He looked pissed as hell, Matthew thought; it was wonderful. He reclined on the bench.
"Go on."
"The whole team is backing you," Alek said. "We're all backing you. But if you lose today — and you probably will — then don't beat yourself up."
Matthew sat up, feeling as if someone had recently dumped ice water down his back. Oh, dear. Alek's pep talk was taking a turn.
A very bad turn.
"You've never been good under pressure," Alek continued. "And there's no doubt that the odds are against you. They're astronomical." He paused, his blond brow furrowing. "Is that how you say it in English?"
"You know what?" Matthew held up a finger. "I've changed my mind. I think we should stop here for today."
"Not to mention you're concussed."
"And whose fault is that?" Lucas muttered.
Matthew shoved more apple in his mouth. Lucas bounced the tennis ball. The thwack-thwack was becoming irritating, and Matthew battled the urge to smack it out of his hands. Not for any moral reason — lord only knew he'd do it — but because he'd have to wait until Alek wasn't looking.
And Alek was on a roll.
"You're impulsive, reckless, and occasionally dangerous. I've never met someone as stupid as you. It'll take a miracle for you to win."
"But?" Matthew prompted
"But what?"
He took a bite of apple. "This is the part where you say something inspiring."
Alek thought for a moment. "You're okay at driving."
"What?"
"You're okay," Alek repeated, which was standard for Alek; if he'd said you're wonderful or fabulous, Matthew would have thought he'd inhaled too many car fumes. "Now get your ass in the car. How's that for inspiring?"
