One Fast Fling - Chapter 13
Lily
Cam and Lily had no time to gather themselves before PR descended, smiles tight, voices bright in that way that meant something was wrong. Someone guided them—not roughly, but firmly—into a
glass-walled conference room in the Hughes hospitality center.
Three people she recognized from Hughes Racing’s communications team were waiting, but there were two people she didn’t recognize. One of them closed the door as Cam and Lily were told to take a seat.
Lily’s chest tightened.
“This is just a quick chat,” one of the PR women said, clasping her hands together. “Nothing formal.”
Nothing formal was never good.
They talked in circles at first. Congratulated Lily again. Congratulated Cam. Historic weekend. Great optics. Lots of eyes on the team. Then came the pivot. “We have a few questions,” the PR woman continued lightly. “About…optics. Heading into Lily’s last race of the season. Cam’s final stretch, too.”
Lily knew what they meant. She felt it like a bruise. Her gaze flicked to Cam. His phone buzzed in his hand. He glanced down at it once, jaw tightening. His dad, she guessed. It made sense. His manager would want to know what the hell was going on. Another message buzzed through. Cam stuffed his phone into his pocket.
“We want to be proactive,” someone else said. “There was a photo. From this morning. The elevator at the hotel? A moment that could be interpreted in ways we’d rather avoid.”
Lily swallowed. This was it, then. She’d finally done it—driven her career straight into a wall. She had to save it. She opened her mouth to speak, to take responsibility, to say it was her fault and hers alone—
Cam looked at her. Just a look. Nothing obvious. Nothing anyone else would notice. Like he was asking, We agree. Right?
Her stomach soured. Lily nodded, once.
“There’s nothing to interpret,” Cam said easily. “We’re teammates. We’ve known each other a long time. We hugged to wish each other luck.”
“A hug. Nothing romantic?” the PR woman asked.
Lily forced herself to meet the woman’s eyes. “No.” The word tasted like steel.
A pause followed. Long enough for Lily to count the cost of it. Long enough for her to feel the lie settle into place.
“Well,” the PR woman said finally, “we’re relieved to hear that. And I’m sure HR will be relieved as well.”
Relieved—but not convinced.
They reminded them about professionalism. About focus. About how important the next few weeks would be. Lily nodded at all the right moments, hands folded neatly in her lap. When they were finally dismissed, she walked out of the room and into the paddock on legs that felt strangely hollow.
Cam fell into step beside her. He didn’t touch her. Didn’t even look at her at first. “You okay?” he asked quietly.
She nodded. Again. Automatic now.
“I’m sorry,” he said.
She came to a stop. “This doesn’t happen again,” she said, just as quietly. Not accusatory. Just factual. “We were lucky. They wanted it to be nothing.”
He met her gaze. “I know.”
Because between them, neither person could afford to lose.
Lily looked out at the paddock, already shifting, already focused on the future. Vegas loomed in her mind—bright, brutal, unforgiving. She squared her shoulders. From here on out, she would be perfect.