[**ON HIATUS**]
Noah Wood is a Mercedes driver. Scrappy, charming, and far too handsome, Noah is one of the best drivers on the grid. But a newcomer is threatening to steal his seat, and Noah must win this year's Grand Prix - or risk being booted ou...
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"Hi." The young man stuck out his hand. "We've not been introduced. I'm Lucas."
Lucas's hand wobbled slightly. Cigar smoke and whisky clung to his clothes, mixing with the smell of Italian leather, fish, and the sulphur of the city. There was a gleam to his eyes. He was drunk, Amelia realized; or drunk enough that his eyes kept flicking to the plunge of her pale green dress, anyway.
Still.
She ought to be polite.
She took his hand. "Amelia."
Lucas's smile widened. "I know."
"What do you want, Walsh?" Noah asked.
He shifted to stand closer to her. She could feel the heat radiating off him, and her heart sped up. Out of irritation, Amelia thought. Obviously.
"Easy." Lucas dropped her hand. "I'm just saying hello. I almost didn't recognize you, Amelia." His gaze flicked down again. "You look... different."
She crossed her arms. "Well, I'm not wearing a balaclava. Or a uniform."
"No." Lucas's mouth curled. "Shame we don't have communal changing rooms; I would have liked to see what was underneath the uniform."
It took a moment for his words to sink in. Amelia blinked. Blinked again. Blinding rage swept through her, turning every bone in her body molten. Did that fucker actually just say... did he just look at her and say—?
She was going to kill him.
Rip him apart with her bare hands.
Except she couldn't, Amelia realized, glancing around the party. She was on thin ice already. And if she decked Lucas Walsh in a public setting, the tabloids would have a field day. She dug her nails into her palm. Counted in her head. One. Two...
"You're drunk, Walsh." Noah's voice was short. "Go home."
Lucas took a sip of beer. "Only if Amelia agrees to come with me."
"Didn't you see the FIA email?" Noah asked. "Dating teammates is against the rules." His smile was pleasant. "Then again, I know that reading is hard for you. So many words. It must be difficult, considering you only know about five."
Lucas shrugged. "You know what they say. Forbidden fruit tastes sweeter, and all that." He held out a hand. "What do you say, sweetheart? Shall we find out?"
Noah took a step forward. "Back off, Walsh."
Lucas laughed. "Oh, come off it, Wood. Like you haven't thought about shagging her."
"I said, back the fuck off."
Noah shoved him. Lucas stumbled. His back connected with a high table, sending several drink glasses tumbling to the floor. Someone screamed. A camera flashed, and Amelia darted forward, seizing Noah's arm.
