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Which sends my happy vibe spiralling into the pit of my stomach.

“Thank you for celebrating the win with me tonight,” Mason says. “I enjoyed it.”

“I did, too,” I say, smiling at him.

Too much, I think.

“Text me when you have Tuesday mapped out,” he says, shifting everything back to the only reason he’s spending time with me in the first place.

“I will. Thank you again for doing this.”

“It’s not a problem,” he says, moving back to the panel for the lift and pressing the button. The doors open, and Mason nods at me. “Good night, Catherine.”

“Wait!” I say, and he freezes.

“Yeah?”

“I never properly thanked you for what you said at dinner,” I blurt out, because no matter what happens between us, I need to tell him that.

Now Mason looks confused. “I’m sorry?”

“You didn’t judge me for my feelings. Thank you for that.”

He stands still. The doors to the lift close. “You don’t owe me anything for telling you the truth.”

“But you didn’t have to. And it means a lot to me.”

Mason pauses for a moment. He doesn’t press the lift button again. He simply stares at me. “I’m only sorry that I didn’t know about it so I could have told you sooner,” he says softly.

My heart leaps. The space between us seems far too great, and I yearn to move closer to him, but I remain rooted to the floor, leaning against the door frame.

“I also need to thank you for something,” he says.

“What?” I ask.

“For saying what you really thought about my dad. For not seeing me as an F1 project. Actually, for not seeing me as a driver at all, but just Mason. I can’t adequately put into words what that means to me, but I can tell you it’s a lot. And most of all? I’m glad the person who can see that is you.”

Mason hits the lift button, steps in, and disappears behind the doors, leaving me alone in the hallway with my head swirling with all the things he just said.

And no idea how to unpack any of it.

Chapter Nine

I walk along Allée François Blanc on Monday morning, basking in the warm sunlight as I sip my Earl Grey latte, moving past one posh boutique after another, taking in the lush foliage surrounding the luxury shops. I walk under palm trees and past vibrant flowers in bloom in this pedestrian-only development, once again awed by Mediterranean beauty everywhere I look. I pause and study the fashions on display in the shopfront windows, and it’s a visual feast for the eyes. So many exquisite and beautiful things!

I catch my reflection in the glass of one of them. Today, my black hair is pulled back in a sleek bun at the nape of my neck. I put on a white blouse with corset-style panels in the front and short sleeves, so it’s a fresh take on the classic white top, and paired it with black trousers and strappy kitten-heeled shoes. With my black Aspinal tote slung over my shoulder and a stack of Cartier bracelets on my wrist, I’m nearly unrecognizable from the person I was yesterday in the Collings Motors Garage.

This is who I am when I’m out of the paddock. It’s who I was last night at dinner.

It’s who I was with Mason.

Mason, Mason, Mason.

Last night was the best non-date I’ve ever had. After he stepped into the lift, I went into the flat, shut the door behind me, and practically melted against it as I relived every moment of our dinner together in my head. I went through everything, from the way his eyes drifted to my lips to the way he understood my complicated feelings about my mum with no judgement. The chemistry was insane between us, and I know I wasn’t the only one feeling it.

Then there was what he said before he left. How much he appreciated that I see him as Mason. Just Mason.

And he was glad the person who finally saw him was me.