16. The Simulator
The Simulator
Elio
My home gym is alive with its usual hum—the rhythmic thud of weights, the whir of machines, Giacomo’s cheerful orders cutting through the air.
He’s now setting up the ropes, explaining something I’ve heard a hundred times before.
But my focus isn’t trained on him. It’s on Lucy, who’s standing beside me with her hands on her hips, staring down the ropes like they’ve personally offended her.
She’s got this look on her face, a mixture of determination and annoyance, that’s been there since we walked in.
“Ready?” Giacomo asks, clapping his hands.
“Let’s do it,” I reply as I grab the ropes.
I send the first wave rippling through them, the motion smooth, controlled, and automatic.
From the corner of my eye, I see Lucy hesitating before picking up her set.
Her waves are smaller, slower, but she’s trying.
In fact, she’s pushing harder than she needs to.
“You okay?” I ask, keeping my voice light as I switch to alternating slams. The ropes hit the floor in a steady rhythm, echoing through the gym.
“Fine,” she snaps back a little too quickly. Her gaze remains fixed straight ahead as she picks up the pace.
“Don’t forget to breathe,” I say, throwing her a grin.
“Easy for you to say,” she huffs, then pauses to shake out her arms. “These things are evil.”
“They’re not supposed to be fun,” Giacomo chimes in. His tone is way too cheerful for what he’s putting her through.
“They’re supposed to make you cry,” I add with a smirk. “But you’re doing better than I expected. For a beginner.”
She shoots me a glare, her eyes narrowing. “I’ll show you ‘beginner.’”
The fire in her words sparks something inside me. She’s incredible—pushing herself past her limits, using whatever’s bothering her as fuel. And she doesn’t even realize how captivating she is while doing it.
We move to the bikes next, and she shrugs her black tracksuit jacket off.
As I crank up the resistance, my legs immediately start burning, the ache in my thighs spreading in waves.
Lucy pedals beside me, slower, but steady, her face flushed with effort.
I steal a glance at her. She’s biting her lip with a focused expression, her cheeks pink.
“You’re doing great,” I say, leaning over slightly. “I’m impressed.”
“You should be,” she quips, a faint smile tugging at her lips. “This isn’t exactly my idea of a good time, you know.”
“Yet here you are,” I reply, meeting her gaze. “Looking like a natural athlete. Almost.”
She rolls her eyes, but her smile lingers, and an unexpected warmth blooms in my chest.
Finally, we hit the rowing machines. My shoulders and arms scream in protest as I pull the handle, my every muscle engaged.
Lucy follows suit, and her form is surprisingly good.
But again, she’s pulling harder than she needs to.
Her breaths come in audible huffs, her jaw set.
It’s like she’s trying to outrun whatever’s eating at her.
“Focus on your form, Lucy,” Giacomo instructs. “Shoulders relaxed, core tight.”
She adjusts her form, the annoyance on her face clear, but she doesn’t quit. Watching her is mesmerizing. She’s more than determined—she’s magnetic, unstoppable.
“Whatever’s got you like this,” I say, my voice softer now, “you’re using it well.”
She glances at me with a guarded expression. “I’m fine, Elio,” she says, her tone firmer this time.
I nod, choosing to let it go for now. But in my defense, it’s impossible to look at Lucy and not feel a tug of something—admiration, curiosity, perhaps even something deeper. She’s fascinating, and I don’t think she even realizes it.
By the time we finish, we’re both drenched in sweat. Lucy collapses onto a bench, panting, loose locks of hair sticking to her face. She grabs her phone—to take notes, I assume.
“Not bad,” I say, tossing her a towel. “You survived.”
“Barely,” she mutters while dabbing her forehead. “I’m ready for a shower. If I can even stand up, that is.”
I shoot her a grin. “Follow me.”
“So,” I begin after we both take a shower and change. “I was thinking you could try the sim today? I have to drop by HQ this morning anyway, and I did promise you some driving time.”
She straightens out her blouse. “Yeah, okay. To be clear, it’s like a video game, right? I can’t get hurt or destroy any expensive equipment?”
I chuckle. “Don’t worry, it’s perfectly safe.”
“Good. Because my legs are pretty much jello right now.”
We take the yellow Lamborghini to HQ, and I usually like to push a little on the highway with this car, especially when the road is empty like it is today. But I remember I have Lucy in the car, so I’m extra careful.
Lucy is awfully quiet again, and I can’t help but pry.
“Are y ou sure you’re okay? You seem bothered by something.”
She turns to me, frowning. “Just tired, that’s all.
And watching the landscape soothes me. It’s so pretty here in Italy.
” She sighs. “Don’t get me wrong, Chicago is a beautiful city with stunning architecture, but it’s so big and urban.
I love all the open fields here, the flowers, and how everything feels alive.
It’s like the whole world slows down to breathe. ”
“ La Dolce Vita ,” I say with a quiet laugh. “It’s true, I guess. Especially during the summer in the countryside.”
She glances at me, her frown easing slightly. “Yeah. Like it’s easier to let things go and just appreciate the moment.”
I nod, but I can’t shake the feeling that she’s not just talking about the scenery.
Something’s weighing on her, even if she won’t admit it.
The way her fingers absently twist the hem of her shirt, the slight furrow between her brows when she thinks I’m not looking—it’s all there, just below the surface.
I’ve already asked twice, and since it’s none of my business, I refrain from asking again, focusing instead on driving us to our destination.
The striking silhouette of the Rossi Motorsports headquarters looms into view, a commanding structure of sleek gray and vibrant red. The bold yellow logo dominates the facade, catching the sunlight and exuding confidence and prestige.
“Whoa,” Lucy breathes, her eyes widening as she takes in the sheer scale of the building.
“Impressive, huh?” I say, gla ncing sideways to gauge her reaction.
“I knew it would be spectacular, but this . . .” She trails off, shaking her head in awe.
Beneath the golden glow of summer, the building looks even more remarkable.
The neatly trimmed hedges lining the entrance are dotted with bursts of red and yellow flowers that match the company colors.
Sunlight gleams off the massive glass panels, giving the headquarters a polished, almost futuristic feel.
I pull into my reserved spot in the underground garage, the cool shadows a welcome relief from the summer heat.
The soft hum of the elevator accompanies us as we ascend to the main lobby.
There, we’re greeted by marble floors and sleek, modern lines, efficiency buzzing in the air as employees bustle to and fro.
At the reception desk, Lucy fidgets as I get her a visitor badge. “Ready to see what the Rossi simulation room is all about?” I ask, handing her the badge with a smirk.
“Absolutely.” Her voice is tinged with excitement, and the corners of her mouth twitch upward. I can’t help but feel a swell of pride as I lead her toward one of the most cutting-edge spaces in motorsports.
We stroll through long rooms where dozens of employees are working behind their desks. Everyone greets us as we walk by.
“How many people work here, exactly?” Lucy whispers as we turn a corner. “It seems infinite.”
“Here at HQ, there are five thousand full-time employees. ”
“Oh, wow. That’s insane.” She roves her eyes over the space, taking some pictures with her phone.
“Here we are,” I say, gesturing to the door.
When I grab the door handle, she gives me a hesitant look. “Are you sure it’s okay for me to try it?”
“Of course. You’re with me.” I wink, pushing it open.
“ Ciao a tutti ,” I greet the employees loudly as we step into the expansive simulation room.
It’s a high-tech playground of futuristic black simulators, glowing monitors, and walls lined with intricate data displays.
The hum of machinery and the quiet murmur of engineers in rapt discussion gives the place a buzz of focused energy.
Glancing our way, they all reply in a mix of Italian and English.
“I’m with Lucy here,” I say, a hand on her back. She gives the crew a shy wave. “She works for Pulse Sports, and she’s following me around for a couple of weeks. I’d like her to try her hand at the sim for a first-person perspective of the track. Can we make that happen?”
There’s a general murmur of approval.
“I’ll get you set up,” Francesca says, getting up from her chair.
She tugs on her pencil skirt and walks over to the simulator, her undulating body perched on high heels.
I always thought she was a beautiful and classy woman, but I wouldn’t want to get involved with anyone at work.
Especially since I’m not really in it for the long haul.
Still, coming here to use the sim has always been fun because of Francesca.
Today, however, my gaze is continually drawn back to Lucy.
T o be fair, Lucy upstages any other woman in a ten-mile radius.
Today, that’s even more true since I know something is troubling her, and I want nothing more than to help her overcome it.
We follow Francesca, and she sets up the simulator for Lucy, who chooses the Monaco race.
I nod in approval. “Good choice. Toughest race of the year.”
Gripping the steering wheel, she smiles. “It’s the next one, right? I figured I’d get acquainted with it beforehand.”
“Very professional,” I tease, and she just shakes her head. “Here, let me help you with the seat. It’s hard to adjust sometimes.”
I lean over her, and the scent of her soft amber perfume drifts around me.
It’s delicate but captivating enough to make my pulse quicken.
She glances at me, her brows raised in mild amusement.
But there’s a flicker of something softer in her eyes, although she quickly masks it.
I adjust the lever, and for a moment, our proximity feels charged—her breath catching slightly, mine threatening to do the same.
“Are you saying I’m not strong enough to adjust the seat?” she asks, arching an eyebrow. She turns her head toward me, just a little, and we’re now inches apart. She opens her mouth to say something more, but then falls silent, maybe because of the sudden proximity.
I turn my head while I work on her seat, hoping the sound of my heart beating like a sledgehammer won’t reach her. Finally, the seat clicks, and I take a step b ack. “There,” I say, my voice lower than I intended. “All set.”
She clears her throat, placing both hands on the wheel. “Thanks. Guess we’ll see if I crash on the first turn.”
“I won’t let that happen. I’ll be right here, guiding you. Full disclosure—I’ve never done that before, but I’m positive I won’t be as annoying as Nick.”
“Oh, can you also document this?” she asks. She glances around, probably searching for her phone. “I’m sure my readers would love to see how this works.”
“Absolutely. Here’s your purse.”
She unlocks it so I can record her.
“Thanks.” After handing it back to me, she secures her hands on the wheel. “Ready,” she says, and I push the start button. “Okay, let’s go.”
Lucy’s eyes are focused on the screen, and the determination I saw in them earlier while we were working out is back in full force. When she presses her foot on the gas, I can’t tear my gaze away. She’s never looked as sexy as she does right now.