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“I’m sure they would like that,” Éliott nodded.
Turning around, I heard my brother’s voice, “Hey Luca, thanks for joining us. It’ll be good to have another Spanish speaker around. Lord knows Peaches didn’t pay attention during school.” I immediately stopped, making a pointed glare at my brother with severe satisfaction.
“First off, I’m not the one who was caught snoring so loud during Languages class that the school called our parents because they didn’t believe we were sleeping at home.” Henri laughed at that, remembering the occasion all too well. Our parents had been furious – and very embarrassed.
“Second, surely Luca has better plans tonight, no?” I asked, probably a little too quickly, causing Éliott to chuckle at the urgency in my voice.Before Henri could respond, I heard a slight scoff behind me.
“Don’t be silly. I can’t think of anything better than celebrating our race winner,” Luca crooned, giving me his signature Cheshire cat grin. I internally cringed but kept my smile plastered on my face. For some reason, I couldn’t mask my feelings in press conferences, but with Luca, I had no problem hiding my frustration. I knew letting Luca see how he got under my skin would mean he had won, and I couldn’t have that – both on and off the track.
And with that brief exchange, Éliott cleared his throat, announcing to the group that we were setting off for the evening. We arrived at the club a short time later, all of us piling into the VIP section reserved for the drivers. Off in the distance, I waved at Edward, the other Wilmington F1 driver, and his girlfriend Lauren, who had managed to arrive just in time to see Edward race. While Lauren and I had only met this year, she had started to become a close friend of mine, and I always appreciated her company in the paddock. Sometimes, I needed another female companion to talk to besides Lily, and in a paddock full of men, there weren’t too many women outside of the Valkyrie garage.
“Well, if it isn’t Sassy Dubois,” laughed Edward as he waltzed over to our booth, his posh British accent smoothly rolling off the tongue. “I have to say, I thoroughly enjoyed the ending to that press conference. Although next time, I think you should switch it up and tell them ‘no, this is, in fact, a man’s sport,’ give the vultures somethingactuallyinteresting to write about.” Edward winked at me, knowing all too well that he was getting under my skin. I couldn’t help but smirk at Edward’s comment, even though I knew this journalist situation was no laughing matter.
“Very funny, but if you’re looking to give the journalists something fun to write about, maybe you should tell them about how you once got to the paddock without your driving shoes and had to embarrassingly call your mum to bring them to you.” Edward huffed a sigh of annoyance, but I could see a twinkle of amusement in his eyes as he remembered that hilarious day.
“No, I should tell them about the time you dressed up as a Wilmington F1 mechanic and snuck into my driver’s room to scare the living daylights out of me.” I couldn’t help but laugh at that one; that was one of the best pranks I had ever played in the paddock.
Edward and I had been pranking each other for over a decade, but recently the prank wars between us had started getting out of hand, to the point where Arthur Johnson, CEO and Team Principal of the Wilmington F1 Team, had banned me from the Wilmington garage last year, lest he end up with another hamster running around his office.
“I think my image in the media is tough enough, don’t need the media hating me because I scared Britain’s favorite darling boy, Edward Davis,” I grinned, wrapping my arm around his neck, scratching the top of his head affectionately.
“You should have seen the look on Isabelle’s face,” Lily interjected as she waltzed over to the group. “It’s a good thing Georgie won that race, or I think she might have broken the TV when the journalist asked that stupid question.”
“I can only imagine the look on Isabelle’s face. Scary probably doesn’t even describe it!” Edward quipped back, shuddering as he undoubtedly pictured Isabelle’s intense and unimpressed stare, something Edward had seen often.
The rest of the night continued smoothly, with drinks being poured and consumed to great lengths. I danced on the light-up, checkered dance floor with various drivers, their girlfriends, and some of the trainers that had attended later in the evening. As the night began to close, I saw Luca off in the corner by the bar, his hand around the waist of what could only be some model that had thrown herself at him.
Classic Luca, no wonder his sponsors are starting to back out, I mused to myself. I recently overheard Isabelle and our Director of Sponsorships conversation discussing the Hermes F1 Team’s attempt to get Luca to reel in his playboy tendencies.
Good luck to them.
As I turned around, I waved to Edward, who was signaling for me to join him in our booth.
“So, tell me, love, why do you hate Luca so much?” Edward mused, staring at me with those beautiful, big hazel eyes.
“I don’t hate him,” I insisted, trying to hide the disdain in my voice. Edward just quirked an eyebrow at me, as if to say he didn’t believe a single word from my lying mouth.
“Fine. He’s just so cocky and self-absorbed. Girls throw themselves at him everywhere we go, and you know he thinks incredibly highly of himself. He shows up each week with a different model on his arm, just like the playboy everyone thinks he is. I mean, the man commandeered a yacht, and all he got was a wrist slap,” I scoffed, but as the words tumbled from my mouth, I knew how petty I sounded.
Why did I even care? Luca was my brother’s teammate, nothing more. And now that I had my own F1 team, I barely had to see him during race weekends. It’s not like I was allowed in the Hermes F1 garage anymore – lest I steal some of Hermes’ strategies, as Francesco, the team principal, liked to joke. Truthfully, I was pretty sure it was because Francesco didn’t want me distracting Henri, Hermes F1’s darling number-one driver, which was fair. I had once spiked Henri's coffee with chili flakes, only to find out later that it was Francesco’s coffee that he had left in Henri's driver’s room.Not one of my finer pranks.
“I think someone sounds a little jealous,” Edward teased.
“Not a chance. It’ll be a cold day in hell before I ever date Luca Rossi,” I gritted out.
Edward gave me a pointed look but let it slide, the conversation ending with Oliver and Lily coming over to announce an after-party full of pizza in Oliver’s hotel room, a very enticing offer.I let Lily help me up as she linked arms with me, softly humming the bar’s closing music to herself.
As we left the bar, I saw Luca climbing into a cab, a beautiful woman in tow. We made eye contact, and he winked at me before getting into the back of the cab. I internally reprimanded myself, annoyed that Luca had caught me looking.
ChapterThree
IT'S IN MY NATURE
Georgia
We arrived in Miami the Monday before the Miami Grand Prix. The non-European races always required more time zone adjustments from the European-based drivers, so we often arrived 4-5 days early to prepare for the time zone shift. As I walked off of the plane and onto the jet bridge, I was hit with what could only be described as unbearable heat and humidity.
Awful – just awful, as Lily put it.
