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Even if this was fake, even if she wasn’t mine, I had become attached to her in such a short amount of time. I meant what I said in the podcast. Ever since that first meal in Miami, Georgia was making me a better person.
I suddenly heard something come from her lips. I leaned down and looked at her face. Her eyes were closed.Had she said something?She opened her eyes and looked up at me.
“When you’re being like this, all comfortable andnice, it’s really hard to dislike you, Rossi,” she whispered again. This time, a hiccup followed the end of her sentence.“And it’s really fucking annoying,” she added.
Georgia put her head back down on my chest and then closed her eyes again. I’m glad she couldn’t see me because there was no way I was hiding the huge smile on my face.I picked her up and moved her to her bedroom, placing her under the covers. She was already fast asleep.
“You too, Dubois, you too.”
ChapterTwelve
THREE'S A CROWN
Georgia
Thursday morning, I was woken up by Luca standing over me, a cup of coffee in one hand, a paracetamol in the other – and a hugefucking grinon his face. I groaned, turning over in bed as I dragged the covers above my head. I didn’t care if Luca and I had agreed to be friends; I was not in the mood for his antics this morning.
“Good morning, Cara,” he whistled out, walking over to my curtains and opening them all the way, letting the blistering sunshine into my room.
“Fuck, Luca, why are you in my room? Ever heard of knocking?” I yelled at him, taking one of my pillows and chucking it at him.
“I did, Principessa, but judging by the look on your face, you were much too asleep to hear my knocking.”
“Well, maybe you should have knocked harder,” I quipped back, attempting to grab the paracetamol from his hands.
He smirked at that, raising the two pills higher above my head. “This is only forhungovergirlfriends.” I didn’t really appreciate his emphasis on girlfriend, or hungover, but I let it slide. My head was pounding, and he had lifesaving pain medicine as far as I was concerned.
“Who said I was hungover?” I muttered grumpily. A headache, nausea, and undying thirst after a night of drinking didn’tnecessarilymeanI was hungover.
Unfortunately for me, I 100%washungover, no doubt about that, but I wasn’t about to let Luca know that.
Luca laughed at me and set the two pills down next to my bottle of water from last night. Truthfully, I wasn’t sure how I even got into bed last night. Had Luca taken me to bed? Last I remembered was attempting to watch a movie. I swallowed down the pills and took the coffee from his hands, downing the mug in two sips.
“Well, good, if you aren’t hungover, then we can start our day today,” he trilled, pulling the blankets back entirely. I got up quickly for a moment, horrified that I had no pants on. I usually slept in an oversized shirt, no pants required. Although to be fair, the results of what Luca and I saw when he pulled back the covers were much worse – I was still in last night’s clothes.
How drunk had I gotten?
It’s as if Luca could read my mind because he declared, “Much too drunk considering howlittleyou drank.” The smug look on his face said everything I needed to know. I got up and pushed him aside, grabbing my towel from the banister.
“Why don’t you do us both a favor and get lost, huh?”I barked at him, closing the bathroom door with a bang. I knew I was being a bitch. I mean, he had brought me coffee – black with no cream or sugar, just how I liked it, plus some paracetamol. Still, he had done it with the intent to tease me, which I was not in the mood for. Today was day one of the Monaco Grand Prix. I had to survive what felt like eight hours of journalists, press, and fans before getting into a car tomorrow to drive a race that was probably the most important of my career to date.
And I had to do the first half of that while hungover.What an idiot.
As I finished in the shower, I grabbed my phone to check Instagram. I’m never sure why I felt the need to check Instagram before a race. It never made me feel better, but I guess as a woman in her twenties,it was in my nature.
I scrolled through various posts before finally arriving at the one about the podcast. To my relief, the reviews were pretty positive. There were calls that there wasn’t enough Henri content, but that was to be expected. Hermes' golden boy could have had his own podcast, and the women of the world would still be demanding more content ofjustHenri.
Still, the fans loved the prankster side of me, which I found to be quite shocking. I had spent so much time hiding this part of me from the world – I didn’t expect for that to be the one thing the fans held onto. It was as if it was the one thing that made me human… that made me relatable.
Maybe I should pull a prank on the journalists; then they might also see me as human,I chuckled to myself.
As I sat there trying to weigh out how likely I was to lose my seat if I pranked the F1 media community, Luca walked into the room with bacon, toast, and a second cup of coffee. As he turned and saw me in just a towel, he stuttered for a moment and then gave me a quick once over before backing away, but not before I could pick up my pillow from the bed and throw it at him.
Unfortunately for me, that made my entire towel drop to the ground, and I pulled my covers off of my bed to cover myself, screaming at Luca, “Come into my room one more time, Luca, and I will personally make sure you can never have children with whatever pathetic woman decides to marry you! Understood?”I could hear laughter from behind the door as Luca closed it.Insufferable man.
I quickly got dressed and threw some makeup on, putting my hair up in a braid. I scarfed down my toast and bacon as quickly as I could, then headed to the kitchen, where Henri and Luca were both sitting, enjoying a cup ofmycoffee.
“Thanks for breakfast,” I mumbled to Luca, not looking in his direction. Truthfully, I was too embarrassed to look him in the face.
