“They’ve got an assignment tomorrow for me with Vipera,” I say excitedly. “Covering their pit-stop practice.”
“Don’t reply yet,” Caleb says.
“Why not?”
“Tell them you’ll do it, but you’ll also bring something bigger to the table.”
My heart begins to pound in my ears. “What would that be?”
“Tell them if they’ll send you to Imola, you’ll get an exclusive sit-down interview with me. But I’ll only do it with you, and only if they arrange for you to travel to the Emilia-Romagna Grand Prix.”
I sit very still. I can’t believe what Caleb has just offered me.
An exclusive interview that reporters have been trying to get for the past year.
And he wants to do it in Italy.
Chapter Six
I stare at him, stunned.
Caleb has just offered me an exclusive interview. In Italy.
My mind begins to race. This is a huge opportunity. HUGE. It could change the entire trajectory of my career. Because Caleb Collings is one of the hottest drivers in Formula 1 and only speaks to the media in mandated press conferences. Reporters have been trying to get an exclusive with him ever since he landed on the F1 grid. Even his own social media team can’t get him to do many things, and it’s his family’s company.
Yet here he is, handing an exclusive interview to me on a silver platter.
The word “yes!” wants to fly off my lips. My heart can’t stop racing inside my chest. This interview would be massive, incredible, a complete game-changer for my life.
And there’s another reason, too.
I get butterflies around this man. I love the way he stood up against Arthur’s shitty behavior toward me. I like the way he’s taken a personal interest in my career. I found my heart fluttering inside my chest when I saw what he did for me with the french toast this morning, and I like talking to him.
I can’t deny it. I’m drawn to him, the man outside of the driver with his visor down, sitting inside the cockpit of an eighteen-million-dollar race car. I’m not drawn to the man whospeaks with steely determination to his race engineer when he disagrees with a decision. I’m drawn to the man who is quick with his words and pays attention to what I say.
Which is dangerous for me. I never wanted to be an F1 reporter to have access to drivers. I want to do this because I love the sport. I’m a professional. I don’t want to socialize with the drivers or members of their teams.
Caleb could complicate that rule of mine in the worst way possible.
Then another side of my brain kicks in, and I can’t ignore the question that has crept up to the surface.
What if Caleb is offering this to me with an ulterior motive? Like getting me into bed with him?
As soon as I think it, I feel guilty. I can’t even look at him as the thought rolls around in my head. But I have to consider it. He’s an F1 driver who never gives interviews, yet here he is, handing it over to me, and I have no major network experience. There are far more qualified reporters who are deserving of this.
And yes, he can say it’s because I’m different and he admires how I don’t take crap, but it’s a HUGE leap from letting me sit in his car to opening himself up to an interview, which is something he absolutely loathes.
Unless he thinks it’s a way to get straight into my panties.
“Isla?” Caleb’s voice commands my attention. “What’s wrong?”
I decide to get right to the point. “Before I answer, I’m going to be very direct with you,” I say, staring directly into his eyes. “Does this interview come with any kind of strings attached?”
Caleb’s dark brows snap into a confused V. “What? What do you mean by that?”
“If you are expecting something in return for a one-on-one interview or think it’s a guaranteed way to have sex with me, you’re wrong,” I say firmly. “I’m not here to hook up with F1drivers, no matter how great of an opportunity is dangled in front of me.”
“Is that why you think I’m offering you an interview? So I can try to get into your knickers?”