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She folded her arms over her chest. “Do you think I’m an idiot?” she asked, in direct contrast to my thoughts. “I Googled you, back when you first started working with me. A little math and maybe a few guesses, I know Bobbi-June is Buck Willtot’s. I also know the Willtots had you fired from your old job.” She shrugged. “I know lots of things.”
I shook my head at Stephie, with her big glasses and her wild hair. “You’re kinda scary, you know?”
She grinned. “I know. But the offer stands. I hate men like him. STEM is filled with the same kind of god complexes. We gotta stick together.” She waved a hand. “Also, I made Bobbi-June a play corner, so she isn’t stuck in the stroller so often. Valeria helped pick things, and Antony paid.”
In the corner was indeed a little play area with a play gym over the top, a small bouncer that rocked from side to side with a mobile, and a white noise machine. I gave her a crooked smile. “Thanks, Stephie.”
She flushed pink. “It’s nothing. If she’s going to spend so much time here, she’s gotta be comfortable, right?”
I nodded, placing Bobbi-June down on the mat. She was such an inquisitive, independent baby. I’d gotten so lucky. She kicked her legs and waved her arms at the zoo animals hanging from the play gym.
“I don’t deserve this team,” I said to Stephie softly. She wrapped her arms around me and hugged me quickly. She wasn’t normally a hugger, so I guess my face must’ve still looked like I’d seen a ghost.
“You deserve so much more.” She stepped back. “Now, let’s get to work.”
TWENTY-EIGHT
ROCCO
My manager was riding my ass. I hadn’t done the promotional shoots I was supposed to be doing. I had blown off my interview with GQ. I hadn’t returned my father’s calls, which meant he then called my manager and blasted him. The lawyers were all trying to get documentation from me, and I was tired of it.
I just wanted to drive. Not even partying was giving me a buzz at the moment. Everything just felt so fucking meaningless. I was on my couch, scrolling the the Gram, avoiding the pictures of Lucia and Mattias Fucking Christian that seemed to bombard me. I’d unfollowed their accounts, but they were deep in the world of Formula One, which meant that they were everywhere.
Throwing my phone across the couch cushions, I growled when it started ringing almost immediately. I contemplated ignoring it, but I hauled myself up and grabbed it. VANT’s number flashed across the screen. They’d called me four times already this morning, all of which I’d ignored. However, Antony Barbieri didn’t strike me as a patient man.
Of all the teams I’ve driven for, I liked these guys the best. Probably because they didn’t expect as much from me. I wasn’t a prize bull for them to lead around by the nose—not yet, at least.
Pressing answer, I switched the call to speaker. “Yeah?”
“Uh, Mr. Passero? It’s Valeria from VANT Racing,” the receptionist said hesitantly.
“I know.” I was being a dick, but what else was new?
“Right.” She let out a small, awkward laugh. “Mr. Barbieri is requesting your presence for a meeting this afternoon at two. He wanted me to emphasize the importance and non-optionability of it.”
She sounded nervous, and I wasn’t sure that was the effect I wanted to have on women. Other drivers, sure, but not on shaky receptionists. I felt a bit like an asshole. My mother would have my head if she knew that I was making women nervous.
I blew out a breath. “I’ll be there.” I looked at my watch. I had an hour to get across town. Whatever, I still had time to pick what to wear.
An hour and ten minutes later, I strolled into the reception area of VANT Racing. The receptionist still gave me that wide-eyed, star-struck look, and I smiled at her in greeting as I walked past. The door to Antony’s office was closed, but the waiting area wasn’t empty. Tally was there, her baby in her arms.
I came from a big family, and because I was the youngest son in a wicked web of thirteen children, some of my siblings, and half-siblings, were already having children during my teen years. Babies, I understood. They wanted nothing from me but to hold them, maybe make some weird faces or rock them to sleep. No, babies were easy. Adults were more complex, which was why I had twelve siblings, not all of them full-blooded.
Tally looked up at me and smiled. “Hello, Rocco.”
She was beautiful, in an American way. She was small, with a roundish face and bright eyes. There was hunger in those green depths. A hunger that spoke to my very own competitive spirit. However, today, the skin below her eyes almost looked bruised from lack of sleep, and there was a deep furrow between her brows.
I frowned at her.
She raised an eyebrow. “The correct response is ‘Hello, Tally.’ Or has the alien that possesses your body gone over its word quota for the day? If that’s the case, you could always just give a little wave. A nod of acknowledgement. Any of those work for you?”
“You look tired,” I said instead, and she rolled her eyes.
“There’s no hope for you. You’re incapable of being domesticated.” She looked down at the baby, who was awake. “Some fish you just have to throw back for being too spiky, baby girl.”
Bobbi-June gurgled, and I was mush at their feet. She was a cute baby, and the woman in front of me holding the baby made odd feelings churn in my chest. Maybe it was part of my ennui. Maybe meaningless sex was catching up with me, like my sisters had all said it would.
I snorted at the thought.
