Reserved (The Pitstop Series Book 6)

Prologue

I’ve been feeling very anxious today. Not for a specific reason either. It’s right at the surface, building in my chest until I feel my hands shaking and my heartbeat quicken. Whenever I manage to slow it down again, stop my hands from moving of their own volition, I spiral into my thoughts again until my anxiety storms back to the surface.

It’s a frustrating cycle.

So, I do what I do best in these moments.

Distract myself with something I love doing.

I take a stroll through Hyde Park, admiring the fluffy snow that sits on the twigs of the bald trees. It’s dark outside, which is perfect for the type of photos I’m looking to take.

Photography is my creative outlet, it’s what I’ve loved to do in my free time since I was fourteen years old. Mama and Papa have probably gotten me over a dozen cameras in the past seven years while Nova, my sister, always gets me new lenses to try out. I don’t remember getting a present for any occasion that didn’t have something to do with photography, and I absolutely love it. There is nothing better than finding new tricks and ways to improve a skill I’ve been honing for seven years.

Quiet hoots pull me out of my thoughts. I turn my camera on when I see an owl sitting in one of the trees, watching its surroundings with big, brown eyes. A smile lifts the corners of my mouth while I snap some pictures of the magnificent creature. Its white feathers almost give it a camouflage look in the snow. Seeing an owl in London is incredibly rare, which is why I can’t stop grinning from happiness. I’ve been going to this park for years and never spotted one before.

Today must be my lucky day.

After taking about a hundred different photos, trying out various settings and playing around with my portrait and wide-angle lens, the owl decides it has had enough and flies away again, spreading its magnificent wings and disappearing into the night. I watch after it for a while, letting the calming feel of nature settle the anxiety inside of me. It’s the only thing that helps on days like these. Going outside. Feeling the cold air on my face. Stepping on the crunchy snow. Connecting with my surroundings instead of falling into my own mind.

If I could, I’d stay longer, but my fingers have started going numb from the December cold. I rush back to my car, feeling a bit lighter now than I did before.

My Volkswagen Tiguan is covered in snow by the time I get back to it, but all of my attention drifts to the car a few parking spots over. It’s a red Velocità Rossa SUV. I catch my jaw a moment before it drops and take out my camera again. If there is anything I love as much as photographing wildlife, it’s cars.

The glow from the lamps around me offers the best lighting as I squat down and stand up again to take pictures of it from better angles. Papa used to take me to car shows when I was a little girl, explaining everything there was to know about them. Whether it was old-timers or modern cars, he knew every little detail. I retained very little of the information, but I like admiring the way they look. The sleekness or rough edges. The muted colors or bright ones. The futuristic or rustic look.

I adore everything about cars.

A few pictures later, I step back a little and then look at them to see if they’re good.

“So handsome,” I mumble to myself while I admire how the car looks on my little camera screen.

“Thank you,” a deep, smooth voice says, startling me. I quickly lower my camera before my heart stutters, and I forget how to breathe. “But if you wanted a picture of me, you didn’t have to hide behind my car to take it,” the man adds, all confident and flirtatious. I cock an unimpressed eyebrow.

“Excuse me?” He gives me a wolfish grin, looking more handsome than anyone has a right to.

“I saw you squatting and standing on your tiptoes to get a better angle of me while hiding at the same time.” I’m about to deny it when he interrupts me. “Listen, I don’t mind, I just wanted to let you know you could have asked for one, you didn’t have to go through all this trouble,” he says, the amused smirk now spreading all over his face. I lift my tongue to the roof of my mouth and shake my head.

“I’m sure you don’t hear this very often, but I wasn’t taking pictures of you. Your car caught my attention, and, to be honest, I didn’t even notice you were behind it,” I reply, which makes him raise his eyebrows. His eyes scan my face, a little surprise hiding in them as he searches for signs of deceit.

“I think I need to see some proof,” he says softly, flirtatiously, sending shivers down my spine. I try to ignore them, try to ignore the way his cologne, something warm and fresh and delicious, fills my nose. Instead, I let irritation take control.

“Fine,” I blurt out, more than willing to prove him wrong.

The gorgeous stranger takes my camera to look through the photos I took of his car. He seems strangely familiar, but I can’t place him. He looks rich, from his clothing to the fact that he drives this beautiful car, which probably means he’s either a successful business owner or a celebrity. Maybe that’s why I feel like I’ve seen him before. Could he be an actor? I’m not entirely certain. All I know is, I’m in the presence of the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen.

“These are incredible. You are a very skilled photographer,” he says, studying my pictures closely.

“Thank you,” I reply, surprised by his compliment.

My eyes focus on his lips, studying the fullness of them, how plump and pink they look from the cold. Unfortunately, the cocky man notices.

“If you want to take a picture of them, you can,” he teases, and I roll my eyes in response.

“You’re an arrogant man, do you know that?” I ask, crossing my arms in front of my chest. He stares down at my camera again before refocusing his gaze on my face, letting it travel over my features.

“Perhaps, but do you know what you are?” he asks with an easy smile, taking a step back with my camera still in his hands. He lifts it to his eye, pretending like he’s taking a picture of me.

“Please, enlighten me. I’m dying to know what you think of me.” I hope the sarcasm is laid on just thick enough.

“You are devastatingly beautiful.” My cheeks heat in response to his words. There is fire in the way he looks at me now, heating my skin in a way I’ve never experienced before.

“Can I have my camera back?” I ask and hold out my hand for him to place it there. He seems confused by my rejection as if it has never happened to him in the past.

“Yes, of course,” he says, his face falling a little as he gently places my camera in my hands.

His fingers briefly brush over mine, causing another wave of shivers to run over me. I lift my eyes to meet his, trying to see if the spark of electricity was a mutual sensation. By the way, he watches me, I can tell that it was.

“I apologize for taking pictures of your car,” I croak out, watching him lick his lips with utter fascination.

“Why did you?” he asks with an inquiring look.

“Because I love cars, and I’ve never seen a Velocitá Rossa SUV in real life. It’s magnificent,” I admit, clearly surprising him.

“It’s not mine, it’s just a rental,” he blurts out, and I nod.

He looks a bit unsure now as if I’ve completely thrown him off by not flirting back. I can’t lie. I kind of want to. He’s attractive, and once he drops the whole cocky act, he’s actually a little… sweet almost.

“It’s a hell of a rental,” I reply with a small smile, and he takes a casual step to the side so I can admire it.

“If I’d known it would attract a gorgeous woman like you, I’d have bought it instead.”

His eyes rake over my face, stopping at my lips before sliding back up to my eyes. The urge to laugh nervously almost threatens to take over, but I swallow it down well enough with a smile that probably reddens my cheeks.

“Okay then. Again, I’m very sorry about photographing your car, Mister,” I say because if I start flirting back, I’m not sure I’d leave here anytime soon.

I attempt to walk away, even when his words threaten to stop me.

“You don’t know who I am?” he starts, jogging to catch up with me while maintaining a respectful distance.

“Should I?” I open my car door and grab my camera bag to place it inside. He’s grinning at me as if he knows something I don’t.

“I guess not.” He stops for a second, watching me take off my jacket so I can be comfortable while I drive home. “Do you watch Formula One?” he asks a moment later, and I shift my eyes back to his irritatingly beautiful ones. The way his long, black eyelashes shape his eyes so perfectly is something I’ve never seen before.

It captivates all of my attention.

“I try not to,” I admit. There is no way I’m telling this stranger about the complicated relationship I have with the sport, though. “Why?” I don’t know why I ask.

“Have you ever heard of Adrian Romana?”

No, it can’t be.

My eyes trail over his face once more. Then, I notice the dirty blonde strands coming out from underneath his beanie, notice the Velocità Rossa symbol—a running horse—painted across his chest pocket area, tiny but there.

Oh my God.

It’s him.

A fresh wave of nervousness hits me, but I play it off, something I’m very good at thanks to the years of covering up my anxiety so people around me don’t notice the change in my behavior.

“No, but I’ve heard of his sister,” I say and get into my car to turn it on.

Part of me wants to leave while another part is more intrigued by him now than I was before. I’ve spoken to Formula One drivers before, but never one this young, never one that called me beautiful and looked like an angel sent from heaven.

Adrian closes my door for me, and I roll down my window so we can keep talking for a moment longer.

“Valentina Romana is the best driver there is, so that checks out,” he informs me with a bright smile. My heart warms at the adoration in his eyes as he speaks about his sister.

I don’t know why I don’t tell him that I know who he is. There is no reason for me to hide it. But I like surprising this man. It’s fascinating to watch his confidence slip into a bit of shyness because I don’t recognize him, even if I do now.

“I’ve got to go,” I say, not because I want to end this conversation but because I can tell he’s freezing and so am I.

He nods, and I bite my bottom lip when his tongue runs over his again. I get a strange feeling that he doesn’t want this conversation to end either. It makes me smile.

“Will you tell me your name?” Adrian asks, his hands moving to his pockets as he steps away from my car. He remains close enough to hear me, but far enough away so I can leave anytime I want.

“I’ll make you a deal. If you see me again, I will tell you my name,” I suggest, knowing full well we will probably never see each other again, which is for the best. I already have a complicated relationship with a Formula One driver, and an even more complicated relationship with the Grenzenlos team principal, also known as my father.

“Okay,” he mumbles before rubbing the back of his neck and giving me the cutest wave goodbye.

I do my best to ignore the weird feeling spreading through my chest, not to replay the strange yet surprisingly interesting conversation I just had with the vice-world champion of the previous Formula One season, but I fail miserably.