Off the Grid (Full Throttle, #1)

by K. Bromberg

The kiss lasts but seconds as we’re in a roomful of people, and the sole purpose was to prove a point and make our friends wave their white flags.

when we part, when we step back and our eyes meet, it’s obvious he’s as staggered by my kissing him as I am over the way the touch of his lips made me feel.

“That’s one way to convince them,” he says as he scrubs a hand over his jaw. His smile widens.

There’s a whoop of cheers and high fives all around as he sits down with them. It’s only when I go to grab my own cell and glass of wine off the table that I notice the business card he left behind.

blue DARE printed in fancy font across the top in bold letters. And then the following words written beneath: Find the woman least likely to be hit on and get her phone number.

Talk about proving my own words right about men not being worth it.

I look in the direction of his friends and see them laughing and patting him on the back.

It’s only once I shut the bathroom stall door that I sag against it and let the emotions hit me. Shame. Anger. Disbelief. All three of them run a race through my head as I stare at the stupid card.

was the butt of their joke. Of his joke.

Isn’t it just like me to find the only man who made my body feverish . . . yet I was the butt of his jerkish, testosterone-laced joke? Screw him.

I slap the card down on the center of the table, the atmosphere turning icily silent as they realize I know their juvenile game.

“But hey, we all can’t be good at everything, right?” I say with a shrug and a fuck you smile. “Lose my number.”

I stare at my therapist.

Her voice is soft and her smile softer. She’s been my North Star through all of this. The only person who knows what happened.

We all know it’s dangerous. That it’s one millisecond, one overcorrection, one tire bump away from utter destruction. From possibly dying.

yet we get in the car day after day. We push the limits lap after lap. We give our all for our team, for ourselves, for our fans,

Sure, I was Ethan Riggs’s son, but Ethan Riggs’s money had been eaten up by a shitty agent demanding more than his fifteen percent, greedy lawyers taking their cut, and the penalties on income taxes that were never paid. All lessons learned the hard way.

I know she was terrified for me to follow in my father’s footsteps, but she let me follow the passion that took her husband from her.

Her unwavering support has both kept me grounded but allowed me to soar. She has been a silent pillar of strength when I failed and questioned if all this work was worth it.

I’m sure she felt a similar feeling. My dad was her one true love. She watched him die. I’m the only piece of him she has left.

Professionally, I’m determined to make a difference here—revamp our image, create a buzz, and somehow contribute to winning a race, or at least take a podium—during my year tenure.

New city. New job. New you. Here goes nothing, Camilla. I pull open the door and step foot into my new life.

I’m far from blind. I see the knowing glances being exchanged. No doubt there are a flurry of texts being sent across

cubicle to cubicle with the word nepotism being thrown around like candy.

“Once they realize I know what I’m talking about, they’ll come around.”

“You’re going to like him. I promise.”

A cocky driver just promoted, most likely riding high on the perks that come with that move—money, attitude, and women. Can’t wait to meet him.”

“Or maybe I want to see what others think when they look at me. I happen to know for a fact that you have no problem making people feel like shit.”

“Just like the dare card wasn’t cool. Humor me, will you?”

He draws in a fortifying breath. “You’re gorgeous. Your face. Your features. Your eyes. But it’s more than clear by the clothes you’re swimming

that you hate your body.” My skin heats at his scrutiny. “You may have something against curves, but I assure you, no one else does.”

What’s his reaction going to be?

A slight flare of his nostrils. A quick clench of his jaw. A tensing of the tendons in his neck. I have to give it to Spencer. He hides his shock well.

there’s nothing worse than a woman fighting against something she actually wants. It makes her irrational.

She’s the boss’s daughter, and I know boundaries. This opportunity is too important to me to get distracted.

“As far as I’m concerned, when you step on that grid for the first time as an F1 driver, your slate is wiped clean.

fresh start. We don’t look in rearview mirrors at Moretti. We only look forward.

I love this sport and simultaneously hate it.

a struggle between doing what I love and fearing it.

“One point four million people and counting to be exact.”

many views already? I’d say mission accomplished.”

You weren’t supposed to pick the questions yourself. We are sup...

“I can handle what questions I answer on my own page. I h...

“But you’re not the one who had to answer to her dad if I was sleeping with a driver.”

“You’re a big girl. I’m pretty sure your sex life is none of your dad’s damn business.

We’re busy pretending we hate each other, remember?”

not going to stop people from assuming we’re screwing around. Life’s not that simple.”

“Because we all have that one secret we keep close to the vest.

one we think might ruin us but hope it won’t. The one we hide in bathrooms having panic attacks over.

But his eyes search mine in a way that tells me he isn’t believing a word I say.