Full Throttle

001

Ajax Carver crossed the finish line and the crowd roared in waves.

“THE MAVERICK HAS WON AGAIN!” A live in commentator announced through the speakers.

“AJAX CARVER!” His fans screamed at the top of their lungs, waving foam-fingers in the air.

Inside Ajax’s helmet, the radio crackled and Marco, his race engineer said words that started as coherent sentences but dissolved into gleeful noise.

Ajax lifted his fist above the cockpit in jubilation and the paparazzis went crazy taking photos of the first place winner in Monaco Grand Prix race one.

He pulled into parc fermè and the Carver Racing crew ran out before his car even stopped.

Someone yanked his door open and Marco grinned so wide it looked painful, his headset still on as he slapped the side of Ajax's helmet.

"That gap in sector two, I need you to explain how to me," Marco said in Italian which was how you knew he was genuinely happy. "You cleared it in thirteen seconds! Thirteen!"

"Twelve point eight." Ajax smirked and peeled off his glove. "Don't round it up, Marco." He climbed out of the car and the cheering tripled as hundreds of people packed into the paddock.

It was filled with team personnel, press and VIPs who paid more than most people earned in a year to stand this close.

He took his helmet off and ran a hand through his damp hair and that simple action alone would be on the front page of every sports outlets by tomorrow morning.

Ajax’s team poured a chilled bottle of champagne over his head and afterwards, the journalists came to interview him.

"Ajax Craver, how does it feel to open Race One with a lead like that?" A female press asked.

"It no longer has a feeling, cause it’s something I always do.” He replied confidently.

"Any thoughts on the rest of the tournament? Are you ready to take the win in Race Two?"

"I'm always ready," he winked and gave the camera a smile, ending the press interviews.

After changing and freshening up, Ajax and Marco got in the back of an SUV and headed to the most expensive nightclub in Monaco, where their entire Motorsport team gathered to celebrate.

✦ ✦ ✦

Soleil Noir wasn’t the kind of place that needed a bright neon signs or a crowd of nobodies queuing at the front.

It was the most sophisticated nightclub in the city and a battalion of security guards stood ten meters ahead before anyone could reach its surrounding.

Ajax’s car pulled up the entrance and the bouncer quickly stepped aside, granting Ajax, Marco and their bodyguards immediate access.

Inside the nightclub, the music and lights were low, everything was upholstered in dark velvet, and the bar was a length of one wall in black marble.

His team occupied most of the back section: Luca, his fellow racer began making orders, Fabricio sat between two supermodels and spoke with them in his usual charm and others collectively decided to enjoy themselves tonight.

They praised Ajax as he joined them at their main table, and his green eyes scanned the room, taking note of every female gaze lingering on him.

But then he noticed her.

A pretty, warm skin brunette sitting at the furthest end of the bar, slightly turned away from the room and talking to a woman Ajax didn't recognise.

She had a glass of cognac in one hand while her other hand traced a small, unconscious pattern on the bar's edge.

She wasn't watching him or his team, she was only having a natural conversation with her friend and it didn’t seem performative at all.

Ajax stared at her with intrigue as Marco appeared beside him and sat down. "Who is she?" Ajax asked.

Marco followed his eye-line and hummed. "I don't know. She's not with us." He said and focused on the cold drink in his hand.

Ajax desperately wanted to know her. The club was exclusive to only A-list celebrities and the lady was a gorgeous, yet unfamiliar face.

After a few minutes, her companion finally excused herself and his latest fascination was alone for ten seconds when Ajax quickly stood up and crossed the floor.

He came up beside her at the bar, ordered a drink he didn't actually want and turned to look at her directly.

She looked back at him, her doe eyes glancing over his face and she respectfully looked away.

Ajax quirked a brow in confusion. Normally when people recognized him, they either stiffen or smile lovestruck but she did neither of those things.

She just looked at him steadily…as though he were ordinary.

"Hey," he said.

"Hello." Her pronunciation was French underneath a poise London accent and it beautified her vowels.

"You're not from here?" he asked in amazement.

"No, I’m not." She smiled and took a sip, peering up at him form her drink.

“I want to guess but I’ll save the mystery for later.”Ajax leaned in. “Let me get you another drink.” He waved the bartender over.

“You don’t need to, I can buy my own drinks.” She gently sent the bartender away.

Ajax blinked in disbelief…that wasn’t the response he was used to getting but he respected her decision and didn’t impose his request further.

He studied her for a moment and she deliberately let him, which was interesting because most people couldn't hold eye contact with him for more than a few seconds.

It was as though his attention carried a heat they couldn't take. But there she was, holding his gaze with calmness.

“What’s your name?” Ajax asked, silently begging in his heart that she would answer.

“My name is Soléne.” She set her empty glass on the bar top.

“Do you know who I am?”

"You are Ajax Carver." She tinkered with a charm bracelet on her wrist. “You won Race One today, I watched a part of it."

"Part of it?” Ajax normally would’ve been offended but today he wasn’t bothered at all.

"Yes, I only watched the last four laps. Sector two was extraordinary." She said without overdressing her compliment.

"You don't watch much racing?" He asked.

"Not usually, no." She admitted truthfully.

"But you know an extraordinary sector two finish when you see it."

"Sports are easy to understand when the athlete is a three-time world champion." She tilted her head to a side. "Did you really come over here to talk to me about racing?"

"No, but this is the most interesting conversation I've had in a while."

"That speaks more about your recent company than me." She nudged her head in the direction of his team and Ajax chuckled€”.

“Hey, Soléne.” Her friend reappeared at Soléne’s shoulder and stared mouth-open at Ajax with the kind of recognition that followed a request for a photograph.

"We were just finishing up," Soléne said pleasantly, which was news to Ajax as she turned to him and stood up. "It was nice to meet you."

Ajax stood as well and his height easily overtook hers in heels. "I'd like to take you out for dinner," He didn't typically lead with dinner, so he wasn't sure why he did.

Soléne looked at him for a second too long and he genuinely didn't know what she was going to say.

"I appreciate your request but no," Soléne smiled softly.

"No?" Ajax stared at her.

Soléne knew he won Race One of Monaco Grand Prix five hours ago. He was objectively, the most recognized face in a room filled with elites and she said no to dinner.

"C—Can I ask why?" He couldn’t believe he was stuttering.

Soléne thought about it genuinely, "Hmm, I don't date racers. It’s nothing personal."

"Why not?"

She tilted her head again, and this time an exciting amusement flash across her doe eyes. "Race Two is in four days. Good luck." she turned to her friend and they walked out the back door.

Ajax smiled and shook his head at the door she'd gone through.

She was one woman and there were at least twelve other women in this room who’ve been looking at him since he walked in.

But he was only interested in her and he followed Soléne out the back door and found her outside.

She stood with her friend as they waited for a car, and the moment she saw him her face brightened. "Mr. Carver." She laughed.

"It’s Ajax." He stopped a few feet from her. "I have a better offer."

"A better offer? Okay," Soléne waited.

“Be nice, I’ll leave you two.” Her friend blushed and excused herself.

"Soléne, when I win Race Two, would you consider having dinner with me?” He proposed.

"You want to make a bet on a race you haven't won yet?”

"I’ve never lost a race." And he wasn’t about to lose her too.

"I know that." She half-shrugged. "My concern is whether winning a race is a reason to have dinner with you."

"It's a reason to celebrate," Ajax pressed. "And I'd want to celebrate with someone I find interesting."

"Okay, one dinner," she said and Ajax felt a green light go off, setting everything in motion.

"One dinner," he agreed.

She took out her phone, handed it to him and he put in his number. “I will call if you win. Good luck on Sunday," she said and the car she'd been waiting for pulled up.

Soléne and her friend moved toward the ride and she got in without glancing back at him as the car drove into Monaco traffic.

Ajax stood on the pavement longer than it made sense, watching the taillights of the car disappear around a bend.

Race Two was in four days and for the first time in his career, Ajax Carver had a new reason to win.