**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.
"You know," Matthew said, "I think I like this better."
He reclined in a seat, a family-sized bucket of popcorn resting on his lap. Outside, the Sao Paulo heat was creeping into the air-conditioned garage, warm and thick as soup. Crew members gathered around a large flat-screen television, fanning themselves with various objects: hands and rolled-up newspapers, wrenches and oil-stained cloths.
Isla frowned. "What's better?"
"Sitting here," Matthew said. "In the garage."
She threw a popcorn kernel at Matthew. "You're such a liar."
"Am I?" Matthew grinned. "I don't get popcorn when I'm driving."
"True."
He raised a half-drunk glass. "And I don't get beer."
Isla wrinkled her nose, swirling her own glass; it smelled vaguely of piss and old gym socks. "If you can call whatever this is beer."
"And," Matthew said, "I don't get the company of a judgemental ginger woman."
"Goodness," Isla said mildly. "Is there another woman with red hair around?" She glanced around the Ferrari garage. "I don't see her."
Matthew looked alarmed. "Careful, Red. You're starting to sound like me."
"Now that's a terrifying thought."
Matthew winked. A sudden shout went up around the garage, and it took Isla a moment to realize why; the start timer had blinked on. Twenty cars started their engines. Matthew's eyes were glued to the television, the popcorn in his lap forgotten. A pang of sympathy went through her.
She nudged him with her leg. "You'll be out there next season."
"I know," Matthew said.
Another light blinked on. "How was Alek?"
"A nervous wreck."
"Really?"
"No." Matthew tore his eyes away from the screen long enough to give her a wry smile. "He was eating canned tuna and shouting at an intern. That's his idea of a good time, for the record. He does it for sport."
"I'm surprised Alek isn't nervous."
"What's there to be nervous about?" Matthew shrugged, stuffing a handful of popcorn into his mouth. "Lucas is World Champion. Ferrari wins again."
Matthew almost managed to keep the bitterness out of his voice. Almost. Isla leaned over, stealing a handful of popcorn.
"Unless Cedro wins today," she said lightly. "Then Lucas won't be Champion."
"Cedro's starting P8."
"So?"
Matthew gave her an exasperated look. "So I love Cedro, but his odds of becoming World Champion are about the same as Gordon Ramsay enjoying an undercooked chicken for dinner. No, Walsh will crush him. He won't win today."
