Throttled (Dirty Air 1)

I let out a long sigh. My spine straightens at the buzzing of pit equipment. After everything today, I need to talk to Santi. With one race left, he deserves the truth because I care about both of my Bandini boys.

We pull away from each other and my eyes fall to the floor.

The slate color looks fascinating.

I toe it with my sneakers while everyone congratulates Noah for making it out safely. His chuckle bounces off the garage walls. Needing a moment to collect myself, I head toward the suites, telling him I need to use the bathroom.

36

Noah

Today’s crash is single-handily the worst one of my F1 career. Even nastier than Abu Dhabi two years ago. I hope they don’t release the radio tapes for my sake because what an embarrassment.

Maya left ten minutes ago, not returning after saying she needed to go to the bathroom. That should have been the first warning sign that something wasn’t right. She would’ve come back after my shitty crash.

A cold feeling trails up my spine as I head up the stairs toward the private suites.

I walk into the hall, confronted with Maya’s tear-stained face, an angry Santiago, and my sneering father. Leave it to my dad to have i

mpeccable timing. Calculated, waiting for the perfect moment for my defenses to be down, and I can’t do anything to stop him.

I dread looking at Maya. Her eyes hold mine for a second before they shift, looking back at Santi.

“Noah, just the man I was searching for. You must be busy after that little tumble. But I was catching up with Santiago, giving him a few pointers, ways to do better on rainy days.”

My fists clench at the sight of my gloating father. I thought I had already hit rock bottom, but man was I wrong. The man who disgusts me leers at me.

“I’d like to speak to Santiago and Maya alone if you don’t mind.” Because I sure as fuck mind my dad standing here, getting off on all the drama.

Tension cloaks the room. Uncomfortable, unwelcomed, and so fucking wrong on a day like today.

“Actually, I thought we could all chat about the final Championship, mainly because you’re coming out about your relationship. How mature of Santiago to be okay with all of this.” My dad nods his head at Santiago.

My stomach drops at the surprise etched on Santiago’s face. Maya covers her face with her hands, red creeping from her neck to her checks.

“Shut up.” I glare at the man who is dead to me. Finished. Done. For-fucking-ever.

Santiago’s head whips from my face to Maya’s and back to mine. His fists ball up as he puts the pieces together. He eats up the distance, pushing me against the wall, his fists gripping my race suit. Up close and personal with his flared nostrils and sharp eyes. I don’t put up a fight because I deserve this and more. He presses my body into the wall, my arms remaining flat against my sides.

“You fucked my sister?” His words pass through gritted teeth.

I hate how pissed he looks, how his lips curl and his cheeks redden. I hate causing him pain even though I love his sister.

“Look at that, nothing like team bonding.” My dad’s voice drips with appreciation.

I don’t need to look over Santi’s shoulder to know how much my dad enjoys this. Why use Viagra when he has a lifetime supply of drama to satisfy his urges?

“How could you? I bring her along, hoping you’re nice to her instead of your usual asshole self, and what? You screw around with her like she’s nothing and then get her to lie to me. Is that your kink? Fucking up families because you come from a shitty one?”

Maya groans as she tugs on Santi’s shoulder. “Stop, Santi. It’s not his fault I lied. I didn’t want to tell you, not him. Let go.”

Santi doesn’t budge. He glares at me, his fingers twitching as he grips my suit, itching to hit me. I recognize the look from my father. But I’m a big boy, I can take it.

“Why only beat you on the track when he can get in your head just as much?” My dad lays it on thick, twisting everything special I have with Maya, selling his dirty story to my teammate.

Santi’s fists tighten. I wait for him to take a hit, anything to put me out of my misery. I despise how upset Maya is. Her eyes are red and puffy, her skin a sickly color as she watches us.

“I didn’t fuck around with her. I love her. I’ll keep loving her through everything, no matter what you or anyone else says, or whatever you try to do to break us up. It’s insulting for you to even think I’d be with Maya to fuck around with your racing. She’s the end game. I don’t hook up with her for a shitty trophy, and sure as fuck not for a Championship win. I want everything with her. Everything after this.”