‘I already do.’
And as he walked out, I wondered why I didn’t say the other most important thing of all.
That I loved him.
Cesare
The glitziest race of them all. Las Vegas.
I still preferred the classic elegance of Monaco, but the sponsors creamed themselves over coming out on top in Sin City.
My gut churned as the clock counted down. Ten minutes to lights out.
‘You know what to do?’
Renzo nodded, face pinched with pre-race nerves and the reality I’d thrust on him of having to deal with a riled Narciso Mancinelli.
‘Guard your six at the start, do everything I can to stop him sliding into your slipstream.’
I gripped his shoulder to focus his attention. ‘Everything but putting yourself in a shitty position.Capisci?’
‘Capisci.’
‘We have a faster car and DRS at our disposal. If things don’t go according to plan at the start, we still have options.’
His pinched scowl deepened. ‘You think I’ll fail you?’
I switched my grip to his nape. ‘No, I don’t. But I think he’s going to be rash and ruthless because he’s fucking pissed. So we need to keep our heads. Yes?’
‘Okay. He lifts a little too soon at Turn 12. If I’m in the drag reduction system zone, I can catch him after the pig’s snout,’ he said, referring to the layout of the circuit which resembled an upside-down pig.
Relief barely glanced off the surface of my anxiety. From pole position, I had the greatest chance of a clean start, whereas Renzo, in third place, was caught between Narciso and Stan Paul in second and fourth.
If they chose to go after him…
I shook my head of the crippling thought, scanned the crowd even though she wasn’t here. The itchy resonance in my chest was constant now, aching when she wasn’t with me, exhilarating when she was.
In my cheesy moments, I was accepting that Maddelena had stolen a piece of my soul that day in the warehouse. And slowly, relentlessly, she’d been claiming the rest, piece by piece. And fuck if I had any objection to it any more.
I shoved my helmet on and stepped into my cockpit. I barely registered the team’s last-minute prep, my eyes pinned on the start lights.
Narciso positioning himself far too close during the warm-up lap was the first sign of trouble. Beneath the glaring lights, he fixed me with a gimlet stare for three long seconds until the rules forced him to ease back. When he pointed his front wheel towards me on the start grid, I flexed my fingers on the wheel.
Future brother-in-law or not, the little shit was about to get a spanking.
I blocked out the roar of the crowd and engines when the lights winked out, flooring the most powerful race engine on earth.
I shot towards the first turn. Only to feel my belly drop to my toes when I saw Renzo was nowhere near where I needed him to be. He’d dropped back to fourth, leaving me to punch a hole in the air for my two nemeses. Who used it to dart into place alongside me as we steered Turn 1.
I clocked Narciso’s maniacal grin just before I flipped my attention to Paul. His gaze was equally determined. More malicious.
Teeth gritted, I accepted their game plan. Neither of them planned to back out. They meant to pincer me into bailing, allowing one of them to take the lead.
Fuck that.
At the last possible moment, I tapped on my brakes.
They were so focused on me doing the opposite, speeding up and losing control into the turn, that they didn’t realise I’d fallen back by half a car length until it was too late.
