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I might have misinterpreted the look, but I think Rocco was almost as excited to show off his car collection as the guys were to see it. And why wouldn’t he be? It was impressive as hell. If Rocco and I could talk about racing to make the next few years at least bearable, then he and the guys could talk about cars and bikes. I’d learned that Rocco really enjoyed superbikes as much as he enjoyed motor racing, so that definitely got him points in Jesse’s book.
Slumping back on the couch, I watched Bobbi-June as she had tummy time. This whole thing had gone almost too easily. It was like having a really cool housemate in a really big-ass house, with nearly none of the weirdness I’d been worried about.
Flicking on the television, I watched the news. Doom and gloom, like most days, until it got to the celebrity gossip portion of the show.
“And European heartthrob Rocco Passero has surprised the sports world by getting married in a shotgun wedding this week. The woman who has stolen his heart? None other than former NASCAR driver, Tally Palmer. A source close to the couple said that they were very much in love, after meeting at recently founded VANT Racing. Many will remember Rocco Passero from the altercation he had with teammate Mattias Christian in Bahrain during last season’s Formula One opener.”
I blinked as the screen dissolved into two men in fire suits throwing punches in the pitlane garage of Rocco’s former team. You couldn’t hear much of what they were saying, except for Mattias Christian yelling, “She’s my fucking wife!” from the ground as Rocco threw punches over and over at his face and his team tried to drag him off.
It cut back to the television presenter, who had her eyebrows raised. “We wish the new Mrs. Passero the best of luck.”
They switched to a story about an NHL player who’d recently blown out his knee and been dropped from his team, and I blinked at the screen. I’d known Rocco was being blocked from his green card because of a fight, but I hadn’t realized it was with his own teammate. Opening up ClockTok, I searched their names together. News articles would be filtered through the team’s PR people, and then again through the media. But social media had no filter.
The first video that popped up was a photo montage to the tune of “Jessie’s Girl” by Rick Springfield, and I turned the volume right down. It showed a woman with both Rocco and Mattias Christian. A photo of Mattias and the girl kissing. A photo of her talking to Rocco at an event, leaning in too close. Mattias and the girl walking the paddock, hand in hand. Another photo taken from far away, partly obscured by a wall, the girl’s hand on Rocco’s chest as she looked up into his eyes. The girl with a puffy, tear-stained face.
I ran to the comments.
Rocco the homewrecker.
I don’t care how hot he is, you don’t screw your teammates’ wives.
I heard that Mattias beats Lucia.
There were lots of comments under that last one, with some saying that Rocco fans were rabid and would make any excuse for his manwhore ways, others saying that Mattias’s temper was an open secret in Formula One.
I flicked to the next video, which was an uncut version of the clip just shown on the news. Rocco and Mattias were talking with banked aggression in the garage, until Rocco pulled back a fist and punched Mattias fair in the face. You could hear him shout that Mattias was a piece of shit, with Mattias yelling back about her being his wife, all the while exchanging blows.
The comments under that video were full of speculation about what the fight was about, with theories ranging from Rocco losing his first seat to Mattias, to Mattias losing his wife to Rocco.
“It’s not true, you know.”
I threw my phone across the room in surprise, giving a yelp. Guilt flashed through me, making my cheeks heat. Rocco stood behind me, and I knew he would have been able to see exactly what I’d been looking at. Flushing, I looked at his chest.
“I’m sorry. It was on the news, and I didn’t… I thought I…” Ugh. I wasn’t making myself sound less guilty.
He shrugged. “It’s fine. I’d assumed you’d seen it already. Most people have.”
I shook my head. “I had my own issues this year, and I avoided news and celebrity gossip for my mental health.” I waved a hand in Bobbi-June’s direction, and he let out a little huff of laughter.
“I guess you did.” He pointed to the seat beside me. “May I?” I scooched further over so he’d have space, and he sat beside me. “He was beating her. Not her face, but she’d have these huge bruises across her torso. I saw it once at a banquet we were forced to attend, just the flash of a bruise beneath her Versace. I asked her about it, and she was immediately defensive and told me to mind my business. But once she knew I knew, she kept seeking me out, like a refuge.
“Eventually, I got the whole truth out of her. But the tabloids saw something else, of course. My reputation didn’t help me there.” He let out a heavy sigh. “She wouldn’t leave him. Then the footage of her in my arms got back to Mattias. I told him I knew he was violent, he told me she was his to do with as he liked, so I punched him. I lost my seat. My sponsorships. I begged her to leave the scene with me, but she chose to stay. The glamor and the fame were too much of a draw.” He gave me a bitter smile. “Threw away my career for nothing.”
I shook my head. Grabbing my phone, I showed him the comments about people speculating that Mattias beat Lucia. “Not for nothing. People will be watching now. That’s one thing about social media—there’s no hiding your secrets for long.”
He nodded, and we sat in silence for a while. Bobbi-June eventually started to protest being on the ground, so Rocco leaned down to scoop her up into his arms.
“You’re good with babies.”
He shrugged. “Big family. Lots of little kids around all the time.” He held her in front of him like a football. “They start making you look after the smaller children early, though normally it’s just the girls that get stuck with the duty.”
“You have many siblings?”
“Three older brothers and two younger sisters, and a lot of half-siblings. Plus, both my mother and father were one of ten children. Family gatherings were big. How about you?”
Holy shit, there was definitely a story there with the half-sibling thing. Maybe I’d extract one skeleton from his closet at a time, though. “I can’t imagine having that much family.” I shook my head. “Nope, no siblings. My mother died when I was young. My father died a couple of years ago. A carjacking gone wrong.”
I said it so easily, but I’d locked that down in my brain so tightly, I was never dredging it back up again. It had been the worst time in my life, hands down. I took the emotion that tried to bubble to the surface, stuffed it in a box, and then threw that box into the ocean of my mind.
