Lights Out

EIGHT

BY THE TIME AVA and I arrive at Silverstone, it’s 7 p.m. on Saturday evening and the tiny flutter of panic I felt when I packed my bag this morning has grown into a soul-crushing sense of impending doom. I’m 100 per cent convinced this is the worst plan in the entire history of bad planning. I haven’t seen Gio since our pizza evening and I can’t believe I agreed to something so completely insane, never mind unethical. No one’s going to believe we’re a couple, it makes no sense at all – somebody’s bound to guess the truth, and then I’ll be exposed as a liar to my best friend, lose all my professional integrity and never get a job.

Yet here I am. Speaking as a psychology student, I must be mad.

‘This is so exciting!’ Ava has barely paused for breath throughout the whole one-and-a-half-hour journey here, giving me a complete rundown of testing and qualifying. She’s more excited than I’ve ever seen her. She’s also dry, wide awake and probably ate lunch today, while I’m soggy, exhausted after a long day at work, and starving after I managed to drop my sandwich on to the staff-room floor during my break.

My sogginess is thanks to the weather. It started to rain halfway through the morning and then didn’t stop, which made traffic a nightmare and my bus twenty minutes late. By the time I finally staggered home, dripping raindrops behind me, I found the Fraser car already waiting outside and Ava tapping her feet at the front door, ready to hustle me straight out again. So instead of a warm shower and change of clothes like I planned, my hair is a big ball of frizz, I’m still wearing my work clothes and I haven’t shaved my armpits in two days. I try really hard not to be shallow, but I’m pretty sure this isn’t the usual standard required of a Formula 1 driver’s girlfriend. I should be sleek, groomed and in Prada.

‘Here we are!’ Ava squeals with excitement as we pull up beside a hotel next to the race track to find Izabel in another floral maxi dress, standing beneath an awning.

‘Welcome to Silverstone.’ She half bends down to wave.

‘Hi.’ Ava switches instantly into professional mode, climbing out of the car like a supermodel while I wriggle and squish my way across the seat. ‘Thanks so much for meeting us.’

‘Not a problem. We’re all so thrilled you could make it.’

I open my mouth to say something equally enthusiastic and then close it again because I’m too anxious and hangry for conversation. I’m also distracted by the sight of the lobby. It looks so wonderfully dry.

‘Gio is just finishing up some interviews.’ Izabel makes a face like you know how it is , and we both nod, even though neither of us has the faintest clue. ‘Then he’ll be right with you.’

‘There’s no rush,’ I say quickly, coincidentally at the same moment my stomach issues a loud rumble. ‘Can I please shower and change my clothes first?’

‘Of course.’ Izabel leads us inside and across the lobby, me keeping my head down because I really don’t want anyone recognizing me from Gio’s Instagram post. It doesn’t seem very likely right now, but I’m not taking any chances.

We’re standing beside the lifts, escape within touching distance, when I hear a voice call my name. Gio’s voice.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

I grit my teeth, plastering a girlfriend-appropriate smile on my face as I turn and brace myself for his look of horror … which never comes. He doesn’t look horrified, he looks … a bit nervous? It’s not an expression I’ve seen on his face before, so I have to stare at him for a few seconds to be certain. He’s always been so confident I didn’t think he even could act nervous, but he definitely is. His face is flushed, and he’s rifling a hand through his hair so roughly it’s practically standing on end. It occurs to me that maybe we should have done something a bit more low-key for our first proper fake date, rather than jumping in at the deep end with a Grand Prix when he must be anxious enough about the race tomorrow.

‘You made it.’ He wraps his arms lightly round my shoulders when he reaches me, leaning close to whisper in my ear. ‘Thank you.’

‘Um …’ I’m taken aback by the greeting, although it’s totally within the bounds of our agreement. ‘You’re welcome.’

‘How was work?’

‘Busy.’ I pull my head back, so I can look into his eyes. ‘I didn’t have time to get changed.’ I feel it’s important to explain why I look such a mess.

He doesn’t answer, seeming distracted suddenly as the lift beside us opens and a man gets out. I recognize him from the last race as Luc Farron, Gio’s teammate and apparent arch nemesis. Judging by the way both mens’ nostrils flare at the same moment, the rumours are true and they can’t stand the sight of each other.

‘You know what?’ Gio turns his back deliberately on Farron and reaches for our bags. ‘I’ll take those up for you.’

‘What about the press event?’ Now Izabel looks anxious.

‘I won’t be long.’ He plucks two key cards out of her hand, slings a bag over each shoulder and then shepherds Ava and me into the open lift. ‘You two are staying on the fourth floor with the rest of the team.’

‘We’re with the team?’ Ava sounds breathless.

‘Yes. It’ll be quiet tonight, but I should warn you, things can get pretty raucous, especially if we win.’

‘ If you win?’ I arch an eyebrow at him.

‘You’re right – when .’

‘That’s better.’

Two minutes later we’re standing in a large twin room, complete with a lounge area and …

‘We have a view of the track!’ Ava flings herself at the windows before skipping off to look around the rest of the room.

‘I thought you’d appreciate it.’ Gio grins as he puts our bags down and takes a sideways step towards me, lowering his voice. ‘This is harder than I expected.’

‘You’re the one with the film-star mother,’ I mutter back. ‘Acting is in your blood, isn’t it?’

‘I take after my dad. How do you feel? I know this must be intimidating.’

‘I’m OK.’ I smile reassuringly because one of us needs to get a grip on our nerves. Plus, now that I’m close to a shower, I feel better already.

‘Good. There’s a press event in the conference room this evening. When you’re ready, your security passes are on the desk.’

‘Will there be food?’

‘Probably.’

‘In that case, we’ll be half an hour.’

‘Great.’ He throws a quick look at Ava, who’s come back to admire the view from the window, and then puts a hand on my shoulder, squeezing gently. ‘I really appreciate this.’

I close the door behind him and let out a shuddering breath, aware of a lingering warmth on my shoulder. Weirdly, I like him more for being nervous, though it makes me even more certain that this is a terrible idea. But I’m here now and I signed a contract. The least I can do is give it my best shot. Besides, how bad can a press event be?

‘SIT.’ AVA POINTS TO a chair the moment I emerge from the bathroom, wrapped in a towel that feels like the (faux) fur of a thousand soft-bellied kittens. ‘I’m going to do your hair. That way you won’t spend the entire evening obsessing about frizz.’

I look over the array of devices she’s laid out on the dressing-table. ‘Can I put some clothes on first?’

‘Good idea.’ She puts a hand on her hip. ‘What were you planning to wear?’

I look at her LBD and answer dubiously, ‘Jeans and a Fraser T-shirt?’

‘No.’ She shakes her head.

‘But Izabel gave us all that merchandise.’

‘That’s fine for tomorrow, but tonight you need to be glamorous.’

‘Gio was wearing Fraser stuff,’ I protest.

‘He’s a driver. That’s different. Anyway, don’t worry because I got you this.’ She opens the wardrobe and pulls out a dark blue halter-neck mini dress.

‘That’s for me?’ I look closer. ‘It’s short.’

‘I know, but it will suit your body shape and show off your legs, which are really good, by the way, and the colour is a nod to Fraser. Consider it a thank you present for all of this.’ Her green eyes look suspiciously bright all of a sudden. ‘You didn’t have to bring me with you.’

‘Yes, I did.’ I pull on some comfortable underwear and wriggle into the dress. ‘I couldn’t have lived with your jealousy otherwise.’

‘That’s probably true, but I’m still grateful.’ She sniffs. ‘And I miss hanging out with you. I know it’s only been a couple of weeks, but I feel like all I do is work.’

‘I’ve missed you too.’ I give her a hug. ‘And thank you for the dress. I’m sorry I didn’t ask before now, but how is the internship going?’

‘Great! I’m learning a lot and I’ve made a ton of contacts.’ She reaches for the hairdryer. ‘We can talk about that later. Now, sit. We only have nineteen minutes left.’

‘Half an hour was approximate.’

‘Not to me. I like to be punctual.’

Eighteen and a half minutes later, we’re back in the lobby. Thanks to Ava’s speedy efficiency, my hair is sleek, my face is contoured and highlighted, my eyes are grey-shadowed and dramatic, and my lips are a subtle yet silky shade of pink. I have no idea how she achieved any of it in the timeframe, even though I was watching the whole time, but I have to admit the overall effect is pretty good. I look like a completely different Maisie to the one who arrived earlier.

‘Keep your arms away from your body,’ Ava murmurs as we show our security passes and enter a large, low-lit room, crammed full of people.

‘Why?’ I look down in confusion. ‘What’s wrong with my arms?’

‘Nothing. I just saw this video on posing on TikTok,’ she explains. ‘If anyone wants to photograph you, put one hand on your hip, turn slightly to the side and tilt your chin down, so you’re looking up through your lashes.’

‘I’m not here to be photographed.’

‘You never know.’

‘All I care about right now is food,’ I say, looking around, but it’s so crowded I can’t see any tables.

‘You might have to wait a bit longer. I think they’re about to do speeches.’

‘What?’ I stifle a groan because she’s right. Everyone is moving towards the far end of the room.

‘Come on.’ Ava grabs my hand, leading me after the others. ‘It probably won’t take long. You want to make a good first impression, don’t you?’

My stomach growls loudly in response.

A man I vaguely recognize as a former driver turned television pundit climbs on to a stage and makes a joke about the weather, but I can’t laugh. I’m too worried that my rumbles will interrupt the proceedings.

‘Maisie?’ Somebody murmurs my name.

I turn to find Bo and Gio standing beside us. Bo is all smiles, but Gio has a strange, stunned look on his face. Obviously his nerves haven’t improved since he came downstairs …

‘Hi! You both look gorgeous.’ Bo’s teeth are blinding, as he leans forward to kiss first my cheek, then Ava’s.

‘Thank you.’ I look apprehensively at Gio. ‘Is something wrong?’

‘No.’ He blinks and shakes his head quickly. ‘Bo’s right, you look beautiful. That colour suits you.’

‘Unfortunately, I have to love you and leave you,’ Bo says before I can respond. ‘I have a call to make. Enjoy yourselves, OK?’

‘Was it something I said?’ I quirk an eyebrow at Gio.

‘No. He just doesn’t feel right without a phone clamped to his ear.’

I glance towards Ava, but her attention is fixed on the stage. ‘So, what now?’

‘We could hold hands?’ He waits for me to nod before taking my fingers and curling his own round them. ‘How’s that?’

‘Fine.’ I clench my jaw because this is beyond awkward. Both of our palms are so sweaty with nerves, it’s amazing we can get any grip at all. I feel horribly self-conscious too, standing hand-in-hand watching as a succession of people go up on to the stage. I need some distraction.

‘Are you worried they might cancel the Grand Prix because of the rain?’ I whisper.

‘No.’ Gio turns his head to give me a surprised look. ‘It would have to be torrential for them to do that. There’s too much at stake to cancel.’

‘But it must make the conditions more dangerous,’ I argue. ‘Ava says rain is a great equalizer, but that some drivers are better in bad weather than others.’

‘They are.’ He grins. ‘Luckily, I’m one of them.’

‘Good.’ I’m actually relieved to see a flash of his usual arrogance at last. ‘Because I think you should make a special effort to win tomorrow. It’s my first Grand Prix and I’d like it to be memorable.’

‘Special effort. Got it.’

The speeches seem to go on forever, but at last the applause is over and we’re free to, hopefully, find food. Unfortunately, we’re immediately waylaid by a large man with sharp grey eyes and white hair. ‘Gio! I’ve been looking for you. Is your father here?’

‘No. He’s at home, enjoying retirement.’ Gio seems to put extra emphasis on the last word. By the way his fingers tighten round mine, I can feel the sudden tension in his body too.

‘That’s a shame. It would have been good to catch up.’ The man’s eyes turn speculatively towards me. ‘I don’t believe we’ve met?’

‘Maisie Evans,’ I say, holding my free hand out when my (fake) boyfriend doesn’t introduce me.

‘Fabian Van Beek. Delighted to meet you.’

‘Team principal for Chiltern,’ Gio says tersely.

‘Wow.’ I smile to compensate for his rudeness. ‘You must be busy?’

‘I am, but I love it.’ Fabian inclines his head. ‘Everyone in Formula 1 lives for cars. We have to or we’d go crazy. Ask Gio!’

I glance that way, but he looks surly, like a moody schoolboy again. I want to ask him why he’s being such a dick, but then a woman interrupts us. Unfortunately, she’s wielding a camera.

‘Make sure you get my good side!’ Fabian chuckles, moving to stand next to me at the same time as Gio tugs me in the opposite direction, so hard that our hips bump together. I get the feeling it was an instinctive reaction, like he doesn’t want me close to Fabian, but it feels like I’m glued to his side. I try to smile, but it’s hard when my jaw feels frozen and every instinct is telling me to duck my head and hide behind my hair. For some reason, when I imagined people photographing me, it was always from a distance.

The camera flashes a split-second before I notice Ava gesturing to me on the opposite side of the room. She has one hand on her hip and is pointing at her chin with the other. It takes me a second to realize what she’s doing, and by then it’s too late to adjust my pose for the photo. Oops. Excellent. Now I’ll probably have squished arms and a dozen chins. She’s also standing in a group that includes Letitia Haddon, I notice, probably scheduling her next podcast. I’m a little jealous at how good she is at this networking stuff. Gio definitely picked the wrong girl …

‘So have you given any more thought to my proposal?’ Fabian’s expression turns serious as the camerawoman moves away.

‘No.’ Gio’s tone is blunt. ‘I told you – I’m happy where I am.’

‘Whatever Fraser are paying you, I’ll match it.’ Fabian puts a hand on his shoulder. ‘You’d be continuing your father’s legacy.’

‘I have my own legacy to build.’ Gio shakes his arm so that Fabian’s hand falls away. ‘Besides, your car is a dog this year.’

I hold my breath as the team principal’s eyes flash and then narrow. From what Ava’s told me, it’s true, but I can’t believe Gio just said so to his face. He might as well have slapped him.

‘Miss Evans.’ Fabian gives me a stiff smile. ‘Have a pleasant evening.’

‘Why were you so rude?’ I hiss, pulling away from Gio as the team principal stalks off.

‘Because he treats me like a ten-year-old. My dad used to drive for Chiltern, but when I signed with Fraser, Van Beek actually had the nerve to call him and say I wasn’t ready for F1. He said I only had the sponsors because of my name.’ Gio’s jaw hardens. ‘Now he’s all smiles because I’m winning, but I’m better than the car he’s offering.’

I purse my lips because, even if it’s true, there are nicer ways to say it. Considering that Gio is still in potential danger of losing his seat, it seems stupid to burn bridges too.

‘What did you just say to Van Beek?’ another man asks, coming towards us. I recognize him instantly as Jaxon Marr, the only Canadian driver on the grid and a double world champion at the age of twenty-five. He’s slender and athletic-looking, with close-cropped dark hair, and is accompanied by one of the most stunning women I’ve ever seen. She has waist-length black curls and is dressed in a yellow jumpsuit. Judging by the way Jaxon’s arm is draped casually around her shoulders, they’re a couple.

‘I told him the truth, that’s all.’ Gio’s moody expression lifts into a smile. ‘Guys, I’d like you to meet my new girlfriend, Maisie Evans. Maisie, this is Jaxon Marr, the current world champion, and Piper Burrows, the fastest woman with a tyre gun in Formula 1.’

‘The fastest anyone with a tyre gun,’ Piper corrects him. ‘Hi, Maisie.’ She smiles at me.

‘You’re in a pit crew?’ I’m seriously impressed. ‘I’ve heard that’s really stressful.’

‘It is, but I enjoy the rush. My dad was a Nascar mechanic so I grew up around engines.’

‘Very cool. I used to build bikes with my dad,’ I reply, though the words cause a pang of guilt in my chest. It’s been a long time since that’s happened.

‘Really?’ Gio sounds genuinely interested.

‘Yes.’ I push the guilt aside and give him a smug look. ‘I’m actually pretty knowledgeable about tyres.’

‘Piper knows more about my car than I do,’ Jaxon says proudly. ‘So, what do you do, Maisie?’

‘I’m a student,’ I answer. ‘Sports psychology.’

‘That sounds interesting.’ Piper leans towards me, speaking in a loud whisper. ‘Then you should know that all these drivers are total divas.’

‘Don’t scare her off,’ Gio protests, slipping an arm round my waist and winking at me like he’s beginning to relax.

‘She needs to be warned.’ Piper grins. ‘Have you ever been to a Grand Prix before, Maisie?’

‘No.’ I try to act relaxed too, though it’s not easy with Gio’s hand resting just above my hip. I can feel the warmth of his fingers through my dress. ‘Montreal was actually the first race I ever watched, but I enjoyed it.’

‘Well, the most important thing to know is, don’t expect Gio to say anything tomorrow morning. His mind will be on the race from the second he wakes up. The most you’ll get is a grunt.’

‘Do I grunt at you on race days?’ Jaxon gives her a shocked look.

‘Yes, baby, you do.’ Piper taps a finger against his nose. ‘But I’m used to it.’

Jaxon laughs. ‘Anyway, we’re heading upstairs. See you on the grid tomorrow.’

Gio fist bumps him. ‘Have a good race.’

I wave goodbye, seizing the opportunity to wriggle away from Gio. I need to get a grip on my physical reactions to his good looks, otherwise this fake relationship is going to be harder than I thought.

Suddenly, a harassed-looking man bursts out of the crowd in front of us. ‘Gio! I’ve been looking for you everywhere!’

‘And now you’ve found me.’ Gio sounds less than pleased by the fact. ‘Maisie, this is Leon, my performance coach. He’s the person you should talk to for your essay.’

‘Nice to meet you.’ Leon spares me a brief glance. ‘Gio …’

‘Maisie’s studying sports psychology and she needs help with an assignment.’

‘It would just be a few questions,’ I add hopefully.

‘I’d be happy to help. Any time but on a race weekend.’ Leon sounds like a man struggling to remain calm. ‘Right now, I have my hands full trying to get some people to follow their schedule. Gio, it’s time for bed.’

I stifle a laugh. The last time I looked, it was eight thirty. ‘Why? Is it time for his bedtime story?’

Leon gives me a long-suffering look. ‘He needs to start winding down so he’ll be on peak form tomorrow.’

‘Oh. Right. Sorry.’ I look back at Gio, feeling suitably chastened. ‘Goodnight, then.’

‘I might watch television for a while …’ He takes hold of my hand again. ‘Is there anything you feel like watching?’

‘Well …’ I avoid Leon’s pleading eyes and look for Ava instead. I don’t want to leave if she needs me, but I spot her deep in networking mode. ‘I hear there’s some new show about racing?’

He grimaces. ‘That sounds a lot like work.’

‘OK. I haven’t watched the third series of Bridgerton yet. No cars, only carriages.’

‘Sounds good.’

‘Only I’m starving.’ I place my spare hand on my stomach. ‘Can we please get room service?’

‘Actually, we should really do some visualization exercises …’ Leon’s voice trails away at Gio’s look. ‘Got it. I’ll knock on your door at six thirty.’

‘HOW COME IT’S ALWAYS sunny in Bridgerton ?’ Gio murmurs, as the credits roll on the second episode. We’re lying side by side on a bed the size of a small cruise liner, the remnants of my burger and chips between us. We’re both a lot more relaxed, now that our first public outing is over. ‘I’ve been based in the UK for six months and I’ve never seen weather that good.’

‘Mmm.’ I glance at the windows. I feel I should say something in defence of my country, but the downpour outside is relentless. ‘The nineteenth century does seem to have been a lot drier.’

‘Except when Kate fell off her horse last season.’

‘True. Wait, what?’ I’m so surprised, I actually find the energy to drag myself up off the three feather-filled pillows supporting my head. ‘I thought you said you’d never watched Bridgerton ?’

‘I lied.’ He chuckles, revealing a dimple in his left cheek I hadn’t noticed before. ‘You were so invested in summarizing the previous series, I didn’t want to spoil it.’

‘Well, now I just feel stupid.’

‘Don’t. It was cute.’ He lifts the remote. ‘Another episode?’

‘I don’t think so.’ I shake my head. I’m not sure how I feel about him calling me cute, but I can’t quite bring myself to object. ‘Shouldn’t you be getting your beauty sleep?’

‘Probably.’ He lifts his eyes to the ceiling. ‘If Leon had his way, I’d be wrapped up in cotton wool right now.’

‘That’s what you pay him for, isn’t it? To look after you?’ I stretch my arms above my head, slowly unfurling. ‘I’m so relieved this evening went OK. I was waiting for somebody to jump out and accuse us of being liars the whole time. I still can’t believe we got away with pretending to be a couple.’

‘Why not?’

‘Because you’re … and I’m …’

‘A smart, funny, beautiful woman who knows next to nothing about Formula 1?’

I snort, about to tell him that he can drop the boyfriend act in private, when I realize what else he just said.

‘Not fair!’ I answer indignantly. ‘I recognized Jaxon Marr and I’ve recently learned what DRS is.’

‘Really?’ He looks sceptical. ‘What is it?’

‘Drag reduction system. It increases your speed by approximately eight miles an hour, but you can only use it once you’ve passed the DRS detection line and you’re within one second of the car in front. Ha!’ I beam, proud of myself.

‘Not bad.’ He nods approvingly, his gaze moving over my face. ‘We’ll make a fan of you yet.’

‘I think I already am. The rules are surprisingly interesting. It reminds me of …’ I stop because I was about to mention my downhill career, but since that’s the last thing I want to talk about, I end up clearing my throat instead. ‘Anyway, my point is that I can’t believe anyone is falling for our pretence.’

‘Not just anyone. Seven hundred thousand and counting.’

‘Seven hundred thousand?’ I gape. My photo only had five hundred thousand likes the last time I looked. Then I have to laugh because, listen to me, only five hundred thousand …

‘I know!’ Gio laughs too. ‘That’s a hundred thousand more than I got for a picture of me with a fan’s puppy.’

‘Imagine if we held a puppy together.’

‘A puppy each?’

‘We could break the internet.’

‘It’s messed up, though.’ His laughter fades away. ‘All I want to do is drive. Instead, I have to be a brand.’

I look at him sympathetically. It must be hard, having to be a – what did he call it in Ava’s podcast? – a ‘role model and ambassador’ all the time.

My phone vibrates on the bedside table suddenly, disturbing our new sombre mood. ‘Ava’s finished networking. She’s back in our room,’ I say, glancing at the screen. ‘I’d better go.’

‘Already?’

‘I’m afraid so. Leon will never forgive me if I keep you awake much longer, and I need him on side so he’ll help me with my assignment.’ I stifle a yawn. This day is beginning to catch up with me too. ‘Will I see you again before the race?’

‘Probably not.’ He tosses the remote aside and heaves himself up to a sitting position. ‘I need to get up, do a workout, get some breakfast and go to a team briefing, which may take a while. Given the rain, we might have to rethink our whole strategy.’

‘But there’ll definitely be a race at some point, right?’

‘I’ll make sure of it.’ He grins. ‘Special effort. Just for you.’

I feel my breath hitch. Somehow lying side by side on the bed didn’t seem so intimate when we were watching television, but now I’m acutely aware of how handsome and rumpled and … close he is. I can’t help thinking this must be what he looks like first thing in the morning.

I wrench my eyes away quickly. ‘So, what should I tell Ava?’

‘About?’ He sounds perplexed.

‘About what we’ve been doing in here for the past couple of hours.’

‘Ah. Tell her the truth.’

‘That we watched Bridgerton ?’ I look back at him incredulously.

‘Yes. I never have sex before a race.’

I blink at his bluntness. ‘I didn’t mean that .’

‘You didn’t?’ He quirks an eyebrow. ‘What did you mean?’

‘I don’t know …’ I cringe inwardly. I suppose I did mean that, but I don’t want to admit it. ‘Is that one of Leon’s rules?’

‘No. It’s one of mine.’

‘Oh.’ I feel a strong urge to ask why. But it’s none of my business, it has nothing to do with me and I really am tired … ‘ Bridgerton it is.’ I scramble off the bed. ‘OK, then … Sleep well.’

‘Wait.’ He gets up too. ‘I’ll walk you to your room.’

‘There’s no need. We’re practically neighbours.’

‘I’m being a gentleman.’ He follows me to the door. ‘You know, like in Bridgerton .’

‘But I’d rather you didn’t,’ I protest. I’m surprised and faintly touched by this side to him, but I don’t want some awkward goodnight scene in front of Ava. Also, the thought of him in a waistcoat and breeches is way too appealing. ‘At least, not tonight. If there’s anyone sketchy out there, I’ll scream. Loudly. You won’t be able to miss it.’

His expression turns brooding. ‘How about I watch you from here, to be safe?’

I consider for a moment and then relent. ‘Deal.’

‘ Buona notte , Maisie.’ There’s a smile in his eyes as he opens the door for me. ‘ Dormi bene .’