The noise of the engines vibrated through the floor, the roar of the machines echoed between the pits. The sun reflected off the shiny carbon, off the visors of the helmets and in a gaze more dangerous than any overtaking maneuver.

She stood at the edge of the pit lane, headset halfway over her ear, clipboard in hand. Technician. Data analyst. Or maybe just someone who understood speed and the people behind it.

"You're staring again."

The voice came from behind her deep, grinning, far too confident.

"And you're late again." She didn't turn around, but the smile was hard to hide.

Gojo Satoru, superstar of the racing scene. Unbeatable on the track, unbearably charming off it. And all of a sudden, she was part of his team. Why? Because he wanted it that way. And because she'd said "no" that had obviously convinced him.

He stepped beside her, helmet under his arm, racing suit half-open so the fabric hung loosely at his hips. His gaze wandered to her, those blue eyes like a promise not to be underestimated.