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In the pit, Cristiano glanced at his watch yet again. It was twenty past noon and the track should be cleared. This was his practice time, the time when he tested the different cars, checked them to see how they were running.
He leaned against the side of his car, helmet on his lap. “Who’s still out there?” he asked one of his pit crew.
The mechanic nodded at the yellow car screaming past. “Rodney.”
“He’s giving a lesson now?” Cristiano asked as a blue F1 student car chased behind.
“He should be done soon.”
“He should have been done twenty minutes ago.” Cristiano stood, turned to his team. “Somebody bring out the flag. Let’s get him out of here. I’ve got work to do.”
“Right, boss,” the mechanic answered and one of the others drew out a red flag and waved it back and forth.
Cristiano zipped up his practice suit and waited for Rodney to exit the track. Instead Rodney pulled up next to Cristiano in the pit, Rodney’s student pulling up behind him.
Climbing out of his yellow car Rodney waved cheerfully to Cristiano. “Hey, how’s it going?”
Cristiano’s bad mood was getting worse. “What are you still doing on the track? Lessons are mornings only.”
Rodney shrugged, dropped his helmet in his car. “Couldn’t help it, boss. She needed a little extra time. Nerves and all. She had a bad case of them but I think we worked most the kinks out today. How’d she look?”
Cristiano swore softly beneath his breath. He was not in the mood for games. “Fine. Why?”
Rodney opened the door to his student’s car and bending over, unbuckled the chin strap and gestured for her to remove her helmet. “Come meet the boss.”
Cristiano didn’t hear anything once he saw the helmet come off and a long blond ponytail tumble out.
“Santo Cielo!” Cristiano strode furiously toward the blue car where Sam still sat strapped into the seat. “What the hell is going on?”
Rodney lifted his hands in an innocent shrug. “I was just teaching her to drive. She paid for the lessons. All week. She’s been here every day, all day.”
“Thanks, Rodney,” Cristiano growled. “I’ve got it from here.”
“You’re the boss,” Rodney answered with a jaunty whistle as he strolled away.
Sam clutched the steering wheel as she watched Cristiano walk toward her.
He was livid. He’d always had a big jaw but it was a lot bigger right now.
Cristiano leaned on the side of the car, towering over her. And then he swore. Neither softly, nor gently. “What the hell are you doing?”
Sam wasn’t sure where to look because she didn’t want to look into his face, not when he looked so spitting mad. “Learning to drive.”
“A Formula 1 car?”
“I’ve been practicing in other cars, too.”
He was dead silent. He didn’t laugh, or crack a smile, not even a little bit. “These are difficult to drive, Sam. They’re not the kind of cars you just climb in.”
“Tell me about it! I’ve never in my life had to study, or work this hard.”
He pushed up off the car. “Sam, this is dangerous, and Rodney’s a good driver, a decent instructor, but he—” Cristiano broke off, shook his head “—he, what were you thinking taking lessons from him?”
“Him? What do you mean by him? Rodney Sterling is one of your top instructors.”
“I would have never trusted him with you. I wouldn’t have let him take you on the track, not even once. Never. Not in a thousand years—”
He broke off as she started laughing. He had to be joking, she thought, had to be. But his expression didn’t soften. It just grew stonier. “Cristiano.” She tried to keep from smiling. He looked so grim right now, so autocratic. “He was a great teacher. And I learned a lot. Look. I’m driving. I’m driving an F1 car. And I’m still here. I’m alive.”
“Something could have happened. You could have lost control—”
“I took the class you designed. I learned from the best. There were indoor lessons, track lessons. I wore a jumpsuit. A seat belt. I was completely safe.”
