Chapter 19 Nicola
NICOLA
Ishifted the strap of my tote bag higher on my shoulder as I walked briskly through the team’s hospitality suite, the click of my heels softened by the plush carpet underfoot.
The hum of conversation, the clinking of espresso cups, and the occasional burst of laughter echoed through the space.
The weekend might have just begun, but I was already deep in logistics mode.
Back to business. Back to normal.
The screen of my tablet lit up as I scanned over the updated run-of-show for our next charity event post season in Rome.
A high profile black tie gala. The whole thing had to be seamless.
I needed it to be perfect, which meant having every driver in attendance, a variety of sponsor donations, and a few big celebrities in attendance.
Henrietta had become a bit of a mentor: we’d shared calls to go over details, she’d shown me how to run an event, forwarded contacts she suggested.
I’d already met with two brand liaisons this morning and had another call scheduled in an hour.I was prepping for the whole pitch to the board of Moretti Racing to sign off on Monday.
And seven days felt like it would barrel past me in no time.
Everything moved faster during the season.
No more boats. No more cliffside views or kisses that made my knees weak.
I passed a group of interns setting up sponsor signage and offered them a tight smile before turning into the team’s private suite. My father stood tall in a navy suit with a subtle Moretti lapel while speaking with one of our long-time engineers, but looked up when I entered.
“Nicola,” he said with a nod, his voice warm but clipped in the way it always was when people were around. “How are preparations for Rome coming?”
“On schedule,” I replied, offering him a quick kiss on the cheek, “Just finalizing the catering proposals. I’ll have a brief ready for you and the board by Monday.”
“Good,” he nodded, “I’d like it if you spoke with the Stratos team before the end of the day. They’re considering doubling their donation this year. Make sure they feel taken care of.”
“Already on my list.” I turned as a familiar bark echoed through the suite.
Monty trotted over like he owned the place, his paws surprisingly quiet. His tail wagged once, then he sat right in front of me like the judgmental little prince he was.
“Hey there, handsome.” I crouched and gave him a scratch behind the ears. “You miss me, or just the air conditioning?”
Monty huffed dramatically and leaned into my hand. Typical.
“Nice to see you, too,” I muttered under my breath, then stood, smoothed my dress, and waved goodbye to my father, taking off in search of coffee and maybe a moment to breathe.
I turned the corner toward catering and nearly collided with Anna, who was balancing her phone, a clipboard, and a half-full cup of iced espresso.
“Oh!” she laughed, steadying both our drinks like a professional, “Nic, hi.”
“Hi yourself. How’s it going?” I stepped back, taking her in.
Sleek ponytail, no-nonsense expression. Same Anna, always three steps ahead.
She was sort of my role model at this point.
Everyone in the circuit respected her, she represented two drivers, surely more soon, and she was my go-to for any help.
She somehow could fix any problem at all.
She gave a long-suffering sigh. “We’re already down one intern to some flu that is going around, the sponsors are being dramatic about changing the champagne in the cool down room, and Alexander can’t decide if he wants to wear the navy or the black suit for the press event tomorrow.”
“Tell him to wear the navy,” I said instantly, “The black makes him look too polished. The navy softens him. People like approachable.”
“I knew you’d know,” she grinned, “How are you holding up? You look…glowy.”
I blinked. “Good, now that the marketing posters for the Foundation are finally up, and um glowy?”
She raised an eyebrow.
“It’s just uh—sunscreen,” I deflected.
“Mmhm. Okay. Glowy sunscreen.” She sipped her espresso and bumped her shoulder into mine. “Look, you don’t have to say anything, but if you ever want to talk about it—whatever it is—you know where to find me.”
I opened my mouth, then closed it. I wasn’t ready to say anything out loud, especially not about the way Matteo made something ache deep in my chest. Or the way waking up without him beside me felt colder than it should’ve.
Instead, I said, “Thank you.”
She smiled again, a knowing one this time, and then her phone rang. “Duty calls. See you around!”
Anna disappeared down the hall in a blur of calm chaos, and I was left alone again, staring at the half-full espresso bar and wondering how the hell I was supposed to focus on event logistics when Matteo DeLuca existed in the same radius and his picture was splashed on every wall in the Moretti paddock.
I pulled in a breath, rolled my shoulders back, and reminded myself: this was just a job. Just another race weekend.
Whatever had happened in Portofino didn’t matter. It was just vacation, just to get it out of our systems.
I repeated it silently a few times, hoping it would stick.
It didn’t matter.
The sun had barely crested over the grandstands when I crossed into the Moretti paddock on race day, my badge swinging around my neck and my phone already buzzing with three new messages from catering.
I sent a one-word reply before tucking it into the pocket of my tailored blazer.
The familiar hum of activity in the garage filled the air.
Organized chaos, my favorite symphony.
“Hey,” Lucia’s voice pulled me from my inbox. She looked calm in a breezy linen dress, hair pulled back in a low bun, Gianna perched on her hip with a tiny pair of headphones already around her neck. She beamed with pride.
“Hi, you two,” I smiled at the pair, “I see Gia’s already ready for the chaos.”
“She insisted,” Lucia laughed, “She said she wanted to prepare to be just like the drivers.”
“She’s halfway there. Might need to grow a little to reach the pedals though.”
Lucia leaned in, her voice quieter, “I just wanted to say thank you again. For everything. The calm room has been a total game changer.”
I waved her off, but warmth bloomed in my chest anyway.
When Lucia and Gianna first joined us on track I had decided to use my pull as the owner’s daughter to make a designated room for them.
We called it the calm room—it was cozy and private and a place to escape all the noise when it got to be too much.
“It was nothing. You and Gia deserve space that feels safe.”
She smiled, and I gestured for her to follow me. “Come on. Let me show you what I added.”
We walked through the paddock and toward the tucked-away side room I’d designed a few months ago.
This weekend was a little different but still cozy.
It had low lights, beanbags, blankets, noise-canceling headphones, and a small monitor streaming the race feed.
A haven, just for them. I unlocked the door and let them in.
Gianna immediately wiggled out of her mother’s arms and bee-lined for the pink beanbag.
“Oh, hang on G,” I said, tapping my fingers, “We’re missing someone.”
I ducked into the hallway and gave a small whistle. Monty padded over, leash dragging behind him.
“Special guest for Gianna,” I said as I let him in.
Gianna squealed and immediately launched into a full-on puppy snuggle.
Lucia laughed softly. “You’re seriously the best.”
“Stop saying nice things about me. I might start getting a reputation,” I smiled.
“You’re a nice person, Moretti!” she shouted as I walked to the door. I blew them each a kiss.
“I prefer to be scary!” Then I pulled the door closed behind me, slipping right back into the rush of the garage.
My phone was already in my hand as I typed out a note about signage placement. I didn’t even realize someone was watching me until I felt it—heat, attention, and something dangerously familiar.
I looked up.
Matteo.
He was leaning lazily against one of the garage partitions, still half in his Moretti track suit, curls messy and a half-grin on his face like he’d just won something.
He didn’t say anything at first, just let his gaze slide over me in a way that made me feel too seen.
“What?” I asked, arching a brow and praying my voice came out steady.
“You look hot being bossy.”
I blinked. “Excuse me? Would you shut up? We’re in a public hallway, idiot.”
He pushed off the wall, coming closer with a swagger that didn’t belong this early in the morning. “Bossy. Focused. All fire. Kind of a thing for me.”
I scoffed, but the way heat shot straight down my spine betrayed me. “I’m busy, and you’re annoying.”
“And yet,” he smirked, “You’re still talking to me.”
“I’m only talking to you because I haven’t had enough coffee to make better choices.”
He leaned closer, voice dropping. “I can make a very compelling case for being your worst choice.”
I should have rolled my eyes, even tried to throw a snarky comment. Shoved him toward a debrief. But instead, my mouth curled in a traitorous smile, and I stepped just close enough for him to notice.
“You think you’re so charming.”
He grinned. “I am.”
I turned away before I could do something foolish like kiss him in the middle of the paddock. “Go do your job, DeLuca.”
“You got it, boss,” his voice was teasing.
I didn’t look back.
Didn’t have to.
I could feel the grin on my face long after he was gone.