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I watched Lily pull her hair into a ponytail, her face scrunched up, clearly in discomfort from the heat. Lily was always so put together, so prim and proper; this sweat-drenched look was new for the British-born driver. We had been here for fifteen minutes, and we were both soaked to the bone. Surprisingly, this was only Lily’s second time in the United States, with the only other time being when she raced Formula W at the Circuit of the Americas.
After we settled into the hotel, Lily and I headed downstairs to grab a drink and a quick bite with Henri and Hugo, my eldest brother, who had also gotten into Miami early. We all had to be up early tomorrow for race meetings, and I wanted to get myself as accustomed to the time change as quickly as possible.
“So, I’ll see you tomorrow morning, Peaches,” Hugo said as he got up from his seat, wiping off the last of the crumbs from his mouth.
“Oh yeah, you coming to help me with media training?” I teased, although I wouldn't have been surprised if Hugowasinvited. My eldest brother was incredibly well-spoken, and like Henri, he was a master at speaking to the media. He and Isabelle had spent much time in the paddock together, having long chats about my future as a racing driver, and they had become quite close.
“Something like that. See you tomorrow.”
I frowned, unsure what Hugo meant by that, but let it go. Hugo had been my racing manager until I moved to America, and then even he admitted that I needed a professional manager to help guide me through Indy Car. Hugo was always full of cryptic one-liners, and I knew I would eventually figure out what he meant.
* * *
The following day, I woke up in a sweat, regretting not cranking up the A/C even higher in my hotel room. I quickly showered and threw on my Valkyrie team clothing, a lovely royal blue polo and white jeans. As I entered the valet area, I saw the beautiful Bugatti Chiron waiting for me. When I started at Valkyrie, the team gifted me a Volkswagen Beetle, which I knew Isabelle thought to be hilarious. Other teams gifted supercars to their drivers, but at Valkyrie, much to my dismay, we had to "earn" our supercars, so Isabelle had given us what she called “sensible automobiles” from one of our sponsors.
Cheap bastards, but classic Isabelle.
But now that we were out and about in Miami, the team felt Lily and I needed something more suitable for F1 drivers, which earned no complaints from either of us. While I secretly was starting to love my little bug, I wasn’t going to turn down one of the fastest street-legal cars ever built. Lily hated driving in America, so we both piled into my Chiron, with me at the wheel and took off towards the temporary Valkyrie F1 offices.
As we walked into the paddock, Isabelle motioned for me to join her in the conference room.
“I’ll see you in a few, Lily!” I yelled back to my teammate, but she had already abandoned me for my athletic trainer, Chris, who, by the looks of his face, had some major gossip to share.
What I encountered as I entered the conference room was far from what I had expected. In fact, I would have bet my entire F1 salary that I never would have seen the sight that was seated in front of me. Sitting at the Valkyrie F1 conference table were my brothers, Henri and Hugo, followed by Francesco, the Hermes F1 Team Principal, Hilda, the Hermes Communications Director, and the one and only Luca Rossi – my brother’s teammate and absolute nuisance of a man.
I gave Henri a quizzical look, but he just looked away, pretending to look outside of the makeshift window. I could tell he was doing his best not to make eye contact with me, and truthfully, that should have been my first sign that something dreadful was about to happen. Henri's biggest tell that he had a secret was his lack of eye contact. It was the one time his naturally charming nature didn’t work in his favor. Hermes’ golden boy, Henri,alwaysmade eye contact, except when he was guilty of something.
As I sat down, Fiona and Lizzie came into the room and sat on either side of me, like an army flanking their general – or a prison warden guarding their prisoner. Lizzie plopped a latte in front of me, smiling slightly, but I could see some concern on her face – as if she was preemptively waiting for me to splash the coffee she had just gotten me in her face.
“So… will anyone tell us why we’re at the enemy’s headquarters?” Luca chuckled, trying to lighten what was starting to feel like a tense situation.
I turned to Isabelle, who just frowned at Luca as she closed the door.
“Before I begin,” Isabelle announced, standing in front of the room, “I want everyone here to know that this was not an easy decision, but after chatting with Francesco and our Sponsorship team, we think it is the best course of action for both teams. I know neither of you will be pleased with this, but we truly believe this will help boost both of your images with the media and, more importantly, your sponsors.”
I looked around, curious about who Isabelle was talking about.Was she referring to me and Henri? That couldn’t be right because then why would Luca be here?
“Well, there’s no reason to belabor this – Georgia and Luca, after much discussion, we’ve decided the best thing for the two of you is for you to start dating.”
Before I could help myself, I started to laugh, albeit a bit uncontrollably, like a jack-in-the-box that had just been let out of his box. This seemed so outrageous that I figured it had to be a joke.I started to stand up, moving towards the door.
“Hilarious, Isabelle. Did Henri set you up to this? Is this revenge for that prank I did last week?” I spit out between laughs.
Before I could get close to the door, Fiona grabbed my arm slightly and motioned for me to sit down. “This isn’t a joke, Georgia,” Fiona said slowly, and as I began to sit back down, panic started to fill me.
“The F1 journalist community loves Luca. He’s good at working the camera and answering questions, which you need serious work on. A relationship with Luca will allow him to join you in some media press conferences, helping smooth the way when we have hiccups. He has a large swath of social media fans, almost ten million, and his account can help boost you in the media's eyes.”
Luca went to open his mouth, but before he could say anything, Francesco pointedly interrupted him, “And Luca, your playboy image is putting several of our Sponsorship deals at risk, most notably the Helios Sunglasses deal. They are the world’s largest sunglasses supplier, and they are looking to up our exclusive deal this year, but with all your partying and yacht commandeering, they aren’t sure you are the best person to represent the brand. Dating Georgia will give you the legitimacy you need and credibility that you are a serious driver and not just in it for the social perks.” Luca scoffed –loudly– but said nothing to defend himself, likely as stunned as I was.
“No one is going to believe this!” I yelled, frantically gesturing between me and Luca.
“That’s where Henri comes in,” chimed Lizzie. “People will believe that Henri introduced you two last year and that you have been casually hanging out since. He’ll help sell the story.”
“But what about the other drivers, who also happen to be my friends – like Éliott and Oliver – they’ll never believe this.”
Before I could continue, Hilda cut in, “Which is why we hope you will explain to them the severity of this needing to work. Like it or not, the funding for both your seats is at risk. We’ve spoken to Arthur Johnson, who has agreed to chat with Oliver and Edward over at the Wilmington F1 Team. Hugo has offered to chat with Éliott about this since you are such close family friends. As for the rest of the drivers, we’ll gauge their reactions as this comes out and then decide on how to react.”
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. There was no way the other drivers would suddenly believe this – or go along with it. I wasn’t sure what I hated more – having them think that I had settled for someone like Luca or convincing them to lie for me because I was too stupid to talk to journalists. I looked over at Henri, who was twiddling his thumbs awkwardly, still looking at anything in the room but me.
