🏁 Two rivals. One unforgettable season. 🏁
Stella Torres has spent the last three years working alongside Nikolai Shultz. Both are some of the best mechanics the Formula 1 industry has seen. Both barely tolerate each other. Together, they built the...
Hi, everyone! I know I've been gone for a while—I've been busy working on a book I'm hoping to publish soon. But I'm back with something a little more fun and relaxed! This story is my way of winding down, and I'll be updating it along with the upcoming F1 season's races.
Thanks for your patience and support, and I hope you enjoy the ride.
(P.S. The current available chapters will be edited once the majority of the story is written)
Stay golden 💛
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S T E L L A ' S POV
I never liked liars, but it was easy to become one.
The hustle and bustle of the garage came to a sudden, screeching halt. For a brief moment, it was as if the universe had pressed the pause button. Machines ceased their humming, tools dropped with dramatic clatters, and all eyes in the room darted towards Oliver and me. I suppose when you're at the centre of such a dramatic proclamation, the universe has a way of singling you out.
From outside his office, Oliver sounded furious. But face-to-face? He looked like he'd just chugged a glass of sour milk by straw. "Did you just hear what I said?" he asked, his voice dripping with faux outrage. I could count on one hand the number of times he'd yelled at someone.
There was a pause.
Barely suppressing a grin, I whispered, "You can hear a pin drop."
Oliver sighed, surveying his paper-strewn desk, littered with half-empty water bottles, a crumbling fan, and a model of this year's car. "This was a ridiculous idea. Everyone knows I'd never fire you."
I leaned back, soaking in the moment. "But yelling at me? Definitely on my Formula One bucket list. Makes my exit so... grand."
He smirked. "Sometimes I wonder if you enjoy drama more than the work itself. None of those guys would believe such a sodding performance."
My nose wrinkled. "You're so British sometimes."
"I'm serious, Stella. This isn't the way to tell them."
I swallowed, knowing he was probably right; it was an annoying habit of his. "They've all heard the rumours, Oli. They're not stupid." I avoided his warm, familiar gaze watching me. "I know the choice I made. I'm just trying to make this easier. If we rip off the band-aid, maybe it won't be so hard."
There was a lengthy pause in which his mouth pressed into a sullen line. "The team's going to miss you, you know. Especially now that... he... will be taking over."
I didn't even need to hear his name to feel myself shrivel. The shadow of Nikolai Schultz had become omnipresent in the last three years.
The mere mention of Schultz was enough to set free an army of fire ants over my skin. Many said we were like oil and water. Only, in our case, the oil was overly opinionated and walked around in overpriced shoes. I, however, thought we got on like a bull on cocaine.
