His father greets a few businessmen and starts roaming toward us with a rare elegance and a charisma that leaves you frozen in place. He is the type of man that makes you feel small next to him. Aaron’s grip tightens around my waist as he yanks me closer to him. A sign of… possession?
“Son. Congratulations, on your prize.” André chortles, amused by his son’s reaction.
André’s gaze encounters mine, and it pains me to maintain eye contact, my gut telling me to escape. “You must be, Elle? My son has great taste in women.” He switches his gaze back to Aaron, who tenses immediately.
Aaron steps in front of me, facing his father, like fighters provoking each other before a duel. The tension is unbearable. “André. You weren’t invited.”
“I’m your father, Aaron.” He challenges Wolf’s display of power with a half-smile twisting his lips. It’s a war for dominance between them. Both are of an impressive height, emanating of alpha hormones. “Plus, Formula 1 can be a great business investment.”
André quits his staring warfare with his son, taking his silence as a statement. “Well, Elle, are you here on business or as my son’s date?”
I don’t have time to reply, because Aaron has turned his back on his father and is facing me. “Elle. Can you wait for me by the bar?” He takes my hand, his eyes begging for me to listen to him.
I nod, and he squeezes my hand as a sign that everything is okay. I give him his privacy and amble toward the bar area, looking back a few times, wondering which man André really is behind his all-too-perfect appearance.
I order a glass of water when I notice Louis Harmil—probably not on his first glass of champagne—occupying the bar area by himself. Most of the people are busy eating hors d’oeuvres on the golden plates, talking in groups; even the young bartender is checking his phone, not paying attention to us.
“Look who’s here. The outsider.” Louis smirks arrogantly, pouring himself another drink. God, the ceremony hasn’t even begun, and he is already hammered.
“You really enjoy everyone hating you, do you?” I roll my eyes, despising him. Especially since I discovered the truth about what he did to Monica.
“You’ll never belong to his world, you know that, right?” He squints his eyes, his anger eating him alive. I know Louis is a sore loser, but still, he wouldn’t drink that recklessly for finishing second. He is the Golden Boy, after all. He swallows his drink in one go, laughing way too loudly for an event of this luxury. He’s destroying himself willingly. But why?
“Nobody can understand what it is to be a Formula 1 driver,” he spits with repulsion.
“Are you okay?”Not that I care.
A red-haired woman, approximately fifty, approaches us. Pearl necklaces on her neck, designer dress, nude makeup, her hair designed into a chignon—she’s definitely from old money. Her emerald gaze sparkles with her peerless and condescending attitude. She forces a smile on me before focusing her attention on Louis.
“Louis. What are you doing?” she mutters.
“Celebrating, Mother.” He smirks, raising his glass in provocation in front of his mother’s face. She closes her thin lips harshly, her eyes doubling in size, daring him to stop this affront.
“Celebrating?” she sputters. She glances over at me, and I turn in the opposite direction, pretending to be focused on… well, nothing. She lowers her voice. “You know how much money your father and I invested in you? For you to be second? I thought you said you were the best, Louis.”
“It’s sports, Mom. You can’t always win.” Louis shrugs like he couldn’t care less. She sighs and storms away.
I peek over at Louis, who’s snorting and waving at a few people in the back.Nobody can understand what it is to be a Formula 1 driver.Maybe he is right. The race isn’t only on the track, it’s also off the track. It’s about money. Investors. Branding. And Louis is certainly losing that race, as well.
“Hey,” he calls out to me, leaning toward me, his elbow on the counter of the bar. “I’m not a jerk.”
“You kinda are, Louis.”
“Well, maybe.” He laughs. “But if you are a jerk, you can’t disappoint people, right? And sometimes, Outsider, it’s better to be hated. It makes life so much simpler.” He cracks a smile and leaves when the Prize Giving Ceremony is about to begin.What was that about?
I search for Aaron around the room, but he and his father are nowhere to be found. I decide to head toward the stage as everyone is gathering to take a seat. I sit in the second row, behind the reporters, near the drivers and their families. The speaker opens the ceremony, and I’m still without Aaron. I keep texting him, my gut telling me that something is wrong.
The lights of the room switch off to illuminate only the stage in a bluish tone. Behind it, there is a big screen opening this year’s ceremony. My anxiety stops when I notice Aaron storming from behind the curtain and takes the seat I reserved next to me. He seems tense; his face is glazed as he readjusts his suit nervously.
“Aaron, are you okay?” I pose my hand on his knee, but he pushes it away.
A cold shoulder. I swallow, my insecurities hitting me. The scare of him pushing me away again leaves me stoic. The crowd applauds and cheers as the speaker calls out Aaron on stage to receive his world champion prize.
“We’ll talk later, Elle.” Wolf doesn’t look at me, his dry tone cutting me off as he jumps on stage.
That’s when I spot André LeBeau. He appears from the same curtain Aaron walked out from a few minutes before. He smiles wickedly at me, freezing me in my seat.
Something is wrong.
