As soon as I walked into the Miami paddock, I headed to the F1 offices where I noticed Luca standing outside the two white double doors of conference room 3.
Great, I’m going to get yelled at in front of Luca, I moaned to myself.
With his much-too-tight Hermes team shirt that showed off his arm muscles, his thick hair blowing in the wind, and his club master Ray-Bans, Luca looked more like a movie star than a racer. Which was fitting, since he walked around the paddock with an ego of someone who had won several Oscars, instead of a racer who could barely get on a podium. He acknowledged me with a curt nod and then proceeded to shift his weight from one foot to the other while the two of us stood in deafening silence.
“So,” Luca said coolly, finally breaking the ice. “Did you spend your one day off on your simulator preparing for this race like you promised the media in Barcelona?” His question was a taunt and a trap, one that I refused to fall into.
“Did you spend yours planning which influencer to seduce?”
“Why? Jealous?” I hated how seductively he winked at me.Cocky prick.
“I’m not interest—”
“Interested in dating?” He cut me off. “Why doesn’t that surprise me.” I didn’t have time to reply before Isabelle popped her head out of the conference room doors.
“Why are you both just standing there? Come in!” Of course, Luca hadn’t even bothered to knock. Groaning, I brushed past him, taking a seat at the large conference table in the center of the room. He just grinned as he trailed behind me, sliding off his sunglasses and ruffling his hair like we had just walked ontohismovie set, not a dimly lit, damp room.
Sitting at the table were Francesco, the Hermes team principal, who wore a stern look on his face, and Matteo, Luca’s manager. Not long after I sat down, Nora came into the room and sat next to me, like a dutiful soldier flanking her general—or a prison warden guarding their prisoner.
“So, anyone willing to tell us why we’ve been summoned?” Luca stared at his watch as if he had somewhere to be. I glanced at Isabelle, who just frowned disapprovingly before shutting the door.
“Before I begin, I want everyone to know that what we’re about to discuss is not to leave this room.” Isabelle stood at the head of the table, arms crossed with pursed lips. “This wasn’t an easy decision, but after chatting with Francesco and our respective sponsorship teams, both Valkyrie and Hermes think what we’re about to propose is the best course of action. I know neither of you will be pleased with this idea, but I truly believe this will help boost both of your images with the media and, more importantly, your sponsors.”
I stared at Isabelle intently, trying to decipher her cryptic words as I tapped my fingers on the table.
“Right, I’m going to cut to the chase since we’re all very busy. Georgia and Luca, you’ve both been struggling with your respective media images, and if you keep going down this path, the two of you could risk losing your seats. There’s only so much bad press the teams can handle, especially when it affects our finances.” She paused, eyes darting between us to gauge any reaction before continuing. “So, after much discussion between our two teams, we’ve decided on a new PR strategy to help the two of you boost your reputation. I’m sure you’ve both seen the overwhelming response to this morning’s tabloid photos that were released in the European press.” Isabelle ignored my loud groan, instead pulling out a couple of articles she’d printed, planting them on the table.
The first page showed an article from theDaily Reporterwhose title read, “Inside Formula 1’s Newest Power Couple.” Beneath the headline was a photo of me and Luca from last night, but this time the photo featured me with my hands on Luca’s chest, staring up at him like he was some sort of God.
“Great, so there’s multiple angles of me and Luca,” I muttered sarcastically.
Luca leaned forward, snatching up the article to examine it more closely. His brow furrowed as he scanned the page, lips pressed into a thin line. After a moment, he tossed it back onto the table with a scoff.
Isabelle hesitated, which was never a good sign. She never hesitated.
“Spit it out,” I demanded.So much for brevity.
“Look, I don’t care what you and Luca do in your personal time…” I groaned at her inference that Luca and I would ever be sleeping together, but she just shot me a look before continuing. “However, those photos of the two of you have proven to beverypopular with fans, so because of this, we’ve decided that we want you two to enter a… sort of… PR relationship.” Before I could stop myself, I started to laugh, albeit a bit uncontrollably, like a jack-in-the-box that had just been released.
“You wantmeto start datingLuca? Hilarious, Isabelle. We have one stupid kiss at a bar,” I waved my hand towards the printout of me and Luca, “and now you think everyone is going to believe that we’re dating? What is this, revenge for my press conference last week?” I spat out.
She didn’t flinch.
“This isn’t revenge, Georgia. This is thesolutionto your bad press conferences,” Isabelle said cautiously. The longer I stared at her, the faster my heart started to race as I realized that she was completely serious. “Luca works the media like it’s a second sport,” she continued. “He knows how to spin a headline, how to charm a reporter. And you, Georgia… well, let’s just say that’s not your strength. Pairing you with someone like Luca will shift the narrative. You’ll get softer questions, better coverage, and if this relationship looks even halfway real, the FIA will start putting you two in joint press conferences. He can help you. This morning, we’ve sold more Dubois shirts than we’ve sold all month.”
“Because I won a race last week,” I stated.
“Really? Then why did the sales only start piling in this morning, after the photos dropped?”
Fucking hell, was that true?
“Let’s face it, Georgia. We love you, but the fans and sponsors… haven’t connected with you.” A polite way to say they didn’t like me. “I hate to say it, but those paparazzi photos with Luca have put you on the map.”
Before I could formulate a response, Luca finally stirred—only for Francesco to shut him down with a raised hand.
“Luca, your playboy image is putting several of our sponsorship deals at risk, most notably our tenuous Helios Sunglasses deal. They are looking to up our exclusive deal this year, but with all your partying and… yacht commandeering… they aren’t sure you’re the best person to represent the brand. Dating Georgia will give you the legitimacy you need and credibility that you are a serious driver and not just in it for the social perks.” Luca loudly scoffed but said nothing to defend himself, likely as stunned as I was.
“No one is going to believe this!” I yelled, frantically gesturing between me and Luca. I barely believed this. “You think a few paparazzi shots are enough to convince the grid that Luca Rossi and I are dating?”
