#velocityracing

Prologue:

Remi

It's the end of her relationship with Mitch. She's packing her bags and heading to work with Velocity Racing. Mitch tries to maintain control, insisting she isn't allowed to leave. Rory and Liam watch from the stairs as their mom walks away from Mitch, who's been narcissistic and controlling for ten years.

Ten years of the same cycle, day after day. Taking care of my beautiful boys while battling life with Mitch, who acts as if he owns me. Finally, one day, I decided enough was enough. I needed to prioritize myself. I applied for a job in Public Relations at Velocity Racing. When the offer came through quickly, I took it as a sign.

One warm July morning, I'm packing my bags for Silverstone when Mitch walks in. "Where the fuck are you going?" he yells. I roll my eyes and ignore him, finishing up the last of my things. I grab a folder with my contract and weekend schedule. Mitch snatches it from my hands.

"Seriously, Mitch, fuck off," I say, reaching for it back.

"Velocity Racing? What is this, Remi?" he spits out.

"I'm leaving, Mitch. I have a job now, and I'll find a new home for the boys and me," I say, tossing divorce papers at him.

"Bahaha, you think you can work in Formula One? You can barely manage a household without getting overwhelmed. You'll be begging me to come back in a month to fix this fucking mess," he says in that stern voice of his.

I grab my purse. "Well, I'm not asking for permission, Mitch. I'm telling you I'm done. And this"—I gesture between us—"frankly is so fucking done." I push past him toward the stairs.

Liam and Rory stand at their bedroom doors, wide-eyed. I lean down to their level. "Mommy's going to work for a few weeks, okay? I'll be back," I say, pulling both into my arms.

Liam looks at me. "Mommy, be safe," he says.

"Always, Lee. Always," I say, kissing his cheek.

Rory looks confused. "Mommy will be back. Be good for daddy, okay, Rors?"

Rory nods.

I head toward the bottom of the stairs as Mitch blocks my path. "You aren't allowed to leave, Remi," he says, his hand tightening on the banister. The mask of the "perfect husband" finally slips. "I literally provide everything. You're a mother, Remi. Start acting like one."

I push past him and zip up my bag—the sound echoes through the entryway. I look up at Rory and Liam on the stairs, then back at the man who spent ten years trying to dim my light. "I am acting like one," I whisper. "I'm showing them how to leave when you're not being treated right."

I open the door and close it behind me as I walk toward the waiting car.

"Mrs. Scott?" the driver asks as I climb in.

"That's me," I smile.

The drive to the airport takes about an hour. As we drive, I watch the landscape pass by, saying goodbye to Canada and the life I once knew. I arrive at the airport and board a flight to Heathrow, London.

Remi Scott knows how to handle a man with an ego. She’s been married to one for a decade. So when she’s tasked with babysitting Callum Finch—F1’s resident bad boy—she isn’t intimidated by the models sneaking out of his room or his devil-may-care smirk.

She has two kids to protect and a career to rebuild. She doesn’t have time for a driver who treats life like a game.

But Callum is tired of the games, too. Behind the "Bad Boy" headlines is a man who was forced into a cockpit before he could walk, and he’s never met anyone as unimpressed by his fame as Remi. When he finds her two young sons lost in the paddock, he doesn't just return them—he starts to win them over. And then, he starts coming for her.

In a world where everything moves at two hundred miles per hour, Remi is the only thing making Callum want to slow down. But with her ex-husband looming and the world watching, falling for the talent might be the most reckless move of all.