Chapter 65

As the party went on, one business partner, clearly emboldened by alcohol, leaned forward and insisted that Brinley join him for three shots of whiskey.

Brinley couldn't hold her liquor, yet she understood that refusing might come across as rude.

She steeled herself, fingers brushing the rim of the glass as she prepared to force it down-when another hand slid in ahead of hers and lifted the drink away.

"My wife doesn't hold her liquor. P'll take the three shots for her." Austin's calm but firm voice cut through the chatter.

Brinley blinked up at him, caught off guard by his sudden appearance.

Standing tall with effortless poise, Austin commanded the room's attention in an instant, his presence impossible to ignore.

"Mr. Moore?" The man's surprise deepened when Austin appeared at Brinley's side, casually taking the drinks for her. He gave a respectful nod, a touch of awe in his tone. "I didn't expect you tobe here."

Austin's response carried an even calm. "I'm here to pick up my wife." With that, he tipped his head back and swallowed all three shots in one smooth motion, never flinching.

Brinley's gaze lingered on him, warmth blooming in her chest.

She knew how much he disliked these social gatherings, yet he accepted the drinks without losing his temper, fearing he would make things difficult for her.

He was showing her, in the quietest way, just how deeply he respected her.

"Thank you," she murmured, emotion lacing her whisper as she looked up at him.

"You're welcome." Austin's reply carried a gentlé warmth, his gaze softening as it lingered on her. "It's late.Let's go home." Brinley gave a quiet nod, and the two slipped out of the party together.

During the drive, she rested her temple against the cool glass, her eyelids growing heavy with fatigue.

A faint flush colored her cheeks, the alcohol making her head swim.

The car remained hushed, broken only by the mellow hum of music drifting from the speakers.

After some time, Brinley became aware that Austin's gaze kept flickingtoward her.

She slowly opened her eyes, catching him in the act.

"What is it?" she asked softly.

"Nothing," he said, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "I just couldn't help thinking how stunning you look tonight."

Feigning composure, Brinley turned her face toward the window, gazing at the glittering nightscape blurring past.

"Don't drive yourself to the limit next time," Austin said, his voice threaded with quiet concern. "Work matters, but your health matters more."

"I know," Brinley murmured, warmth spreading in her chest at his words.

The car rolled past the villa gates when her phone buzzed. Corbin's name lit up the screen.

"Brinley, you won't believe the latest talk going around," Corbin said brightly. "They're saying Colin made a foolish choice-that he's clinging to Milly, who's all charm and no substance, while overlooking you, a true talent."

Brinley was amused. "That's enough gossip, Corbin. Get some rest. Bye."

After she ended the call, Austin shifted toward her, his brow creasing slightly. "What's the matter?"

"Just some silly gossip," Brinley replied, unfastening her seatbelt as she pushed open the car door. "They're saying Colin made a foolish choice-that he's clinging to Milly, who's all charm and no substance, while overlooking me, a true talent." She exaggerated the tone, then broke into her own laughter.

Austin studied her, his gaze steady and unreadable. "To me, you're something more."

Her smile faltered, one eyebrow arched in surprise. "What do you mean?"

His voice dropped, rich with quiet conviction that cut through the still night. "You're the woman I intend to hold dear."

Brinley froze for a heartbeat, only then grasping that his words had been a love confession.

She forced a laugh. "Oh, Austin, you are such a sweet talker," she teased.

With that, she slipped out of the car and shut the door with a firm click before striding away.

Left alone, Auustin's gaze lingered on the empty passenger seat. His brow furrowed faintly as thoughts churned in the quiet.

Back in her bedroom, Brinley stood at the window, following the sight of Austin's car as it pulled into the garage below.

His voice echoed relentlessly in her mind: "You're the woman l intend to hold dear."

Those sweet words-what had felt awkward only moments ago-now sent her pulse racing wildly.

"Get a grip, Brinley. Don't get carried away by sweet nothings," she muttered.

Then she rushed to the bathroom, forcing herself to splash cold water on her flushed cheeks. She lingered beneath an icy shower until the haze óf Austin's voice finally dulled. Only then did she collapse into bed,drifting quickly into dreamless sleep.

The following afternoon, the heat bore down mercilessly.

At three o'clock sharp, Brinley crouched beside the skeletal outline of the racetrack, hard hat shading her face as she checked measurements herself, clipboard steady in her hands.

After hours under the sun, she trudged to the temporary canopy, tugged off her helmet, and exhaled in weary relief, sweat cooling against her skin. She reached for the tablet resting on the table and pulled up the project group's reports. Just as the screen came alive, a fresh email notification slid across the top.

The sender was none other than FIA.

Brinley tapped it open, and the golden crest of the association blazed on the screen, stirring memories she had tried to bury.

The message itself was short but carried a gravity that hit her chest like a weight.

It was an invitation-summoning her to the annual exhibition race.

The alias "Rosara," highlighted in bold crimson, seared across her vision, stabbing into her like the point of a needle.

For years,FIA had continued to send her invitations.

But once she chose a life with Colin, she shut the door on the perilous world of racing.

Since then, she had gone out of her way to eraseevery trace-discarding trophies and her racing suits and refusing to watch even a second of racing news on sports channels.

She had convinced herself that the racer once called Rosara was buried for good.

Yet this email, like a key slipping into a forgotten lock, unsealed memories she thought she'd lost forever.