Chapter 10 Persuasive
I couldn't understand it. Wouldn't it be better for everyone if I wasn't his chaperone anymore—if he didn't have to deal with me at all?
"Why? What's wrong with that? It's not like we get along anyway."
Chris's expression was unreadable—something that looked like anger flickering across his face, and underneath it, something closer to anxiety. Something I couldn't make sense of. Why did he have to look like that?
"Does it have to come down to that? Since when does compatibility matter? You work for me—you help manage my schedule. That's it. This isn't a relationship. So why are you bringing compatibility into it? You're being emotional. Can't you just be professional about it?"
I couldn't process it—his entire way of thinking made me sick. The word unprofessional coming out of his mouth made my blood boil. He had no idea what I was going through. And there he was, perfectly comfortable, without a care in the world.
"Oh, so that's how it is—if this is just a working arrangement, then why are you trying to keep me here? Go find another chaperone. Feelings don't factor into it, right? And since I'm so unprofessional, why should it matter to you at all if I quit?"
Chris said nothing. Defeated.
Part of me had said it to find out—to see if there was any real reason he wanted me to stay, when being around him was the very thing tearing me apart.
"Tsk—come on. We still have work to do."
I gave a dry smile, let out a quiet snort, and turned back to the window.
"I can't keep working like this—not when I'm being pressured and humiliated every single day. Who could survive that? Imagine if—"
"Alright. I'll step in. I'll handle it — I'll protect you. You just focus on the job."
I turned my head sharply, one eyebrow going up on its own. This wasn't like him at all. What was going on? Was this just empty words—or did he actually want something from me?
"I don't need that." I leaned back against the seat. "Why does this concern you? This isn't like you. If there's something you actually need from me, just say it. Think of it as my way of saying goodbye before I'm officially done."
Chris stayed quiet—and he didn't look any more at ease. His head dipped slightly, more than once, as he sat motionless in his seat. Like he was waiting for the right moment to say something he hadn't figured out yet.
"Don't get a big head. What do you want — a pay rise? More free time? Protection from the bullying? Name it. I'm doing this because I..."
Chris turned to the window beside him before continuing.
"Because I don't want to have to rebuild what we've already got going. Starting over with someone new takes effort and I can't be bothered. Don't even think about quitting until I can manage my own schedule. So—what do you need? Say it. And drop the dramatic resignation talk."
Not a bad offer. But could he actually be trusted? Then again—he'd never reacted like this before. This might actually be genuine.
Resigning was a double-edged sword. I'd have to find another job—and nothing else would pay this well. On top of that, the flexibility Chris's parents allowed around my school schedule wasn't something I'd find just anywhere.
It wasn't an easy call. But if Chris was genuinely willing to changeo actually treat me like a person — then maybe it was worth finding out.
"I'll think about it. Don't take that as a yes."
I was deliberately acting like I didn't need this as much as he assumed. Like I had options. All this time, he'd seen me as someone who depended on this job too much. I wanted to shift that. Make him see me a little differently.
"What—seriously, what kind of agenda is that? What is this, a state dinner? Why does there need to be a special dinner just for WAGs?"
I was sitting perfectly still on the sofa, arms folded across my chest—but a second later my hands could very well slam down on that table and send everything on it flying.
I was already drowning in my own school deadlines, managing Chris's schedule, and navigating the ongoing public mess that was Chris and me—and now this.
I hadn't even known this was a thing. Were F1 drivers treated like nobility now—their partners expected to show up and maintain the image? Honestly, ridiculous.
"Oh, come on—I'm not thrilled about it either. But everyone's already agreed, and it's a regular thing. Casey did it too, so... that's just how it goes."
I groaned, shifting position on the sofa and draping an arm over my eyes. The idea of a room full of socialites gathered to discuss God knows what held absolutely zero appeal.
"Can't I just say I'm sick?"
"Just this once. It's only dinner—and the more you avoid being seen, the worse it looks. Don't worry, they're not going to pull what the people at school do. They have some integrity—although, yeah. I know the pressure doesn't exactly disappear. And..."
Something in his voice shifted.
"I only found out about it today."
I pushed myself up from the sofa, narrowing my eyes and studying his face.
A lie. Sitting right there.
"Just found out — or forgot to tell me?"
Checkmate. Chris faltered—which meant this idiot had sat on information I should have had days ago.
"I've got over sixty race laps to think about—something like this doesn't even register. And it's your fault for refusing to join their group chat," Chris argued, not looking remotely sorry about it.
Honestly, Chris wasn't much better with this kind of thing than I was—not unlike me in that respect. Which was exactly why situations like this were so difficult for both of us. We were equally hopeless when it came to anything social.
"Alright, alright—fine. When is it? I'll need to get something to wear and sort out makeup. I don't exactly have a wardrobe full of options, you know."
"Ah—uhm... about that..."
This wasn't going to be good. Gosh, Chris... what have you done now.
"The dinner is tonight."
"Whut?! Are you crazy? How am I supposed to be ready in time? It's already five o'clock!"