George had expected Beaumont Interiors to be impressive.
What he hadn't expected was Amelia Beaumont.
After hearing her name from half the paddock and several people around Monaco, he'd imagined someone older—someone intimidating, maybe.
Instead, the woman standing from behind a desk as he walked into her office looked closer to his age.
"George Russell?" she asked, offering her hand.
There was confidence in the way she spoke, like she was used to working with important people and completely unimpressed by them.