Lights Out

FOURTEEN

‘SULTRY PICS’??? I STARE at my phone screen, struggling to recognize myself in a photo taken outside Nadia’s restaurant. In it, Gio is smiling at me and I’m staring at him with a dazed expression, which I know is surprise and nerves and, OK, maybe some excitement, but which could, I suppose, be interpreted as kind of sultry. I actually look all right. It’s hard to imagine Gio taking a bad picture, but I tend to specialize in them. As a (fake) couple, I have to say, we’re hot! My body temperature spikes just looking at him.

I’m in a car en route to the Circuit Zandvoort on the north-west coast of the Netherlands. I wanted to choose somewhere a little further afield for my second Grand Prix, but it turns out most of the summer races are in Europe and I didn’t want to wait until the autumn. Thanks to Izabel, I hitched a ride in a private jet to Schiphol airport with a few Fraser team members, because apparently this is my life now: private jets and my photo on some F1 gossip website. It’s Thursday evening, and as a thank you for working the last six days in a row Lauren has given me the entire long weekend off, Friday through Monday, so I can watch practice as well as qualifying and the GP this time. Unfortunately, Ava had to work, but now I know what to expect I’m not so nervous on my own.

‘Welcome to the Netherlands.’ Izabel hurries across the lobby to greet me the moment I walk into the hotel. ‘How was your journey?’

‘Great! I’ve never been in a private jet before.’ I sigh happily at the memory of the charcuterie and cheese board, all washed down by sparkling wine.

‘I’m glad you enjoyed it.’ She ushers me towards the lifts. ‘I’m sorry to rush you, but I’m afraid I have a really packed schedule, so let me take you straight up to your suite. By the way, there’s an event with some of the sponsors in two hours. It’ll be quite formal, but don’t worry, I ordered some gowns for you to choose between. They’re in the wardrobe, all from the latest shows.’

‘Shows?’ I blink at her. ‘You mean fashion shows?’

‘Yes.’

‘Ah.’ I try not to sound intimidated. ‘So that’s why Gio wanted my measurements … He sent me this really vague message and I’ve been so busy at work I forgot to ask what it was for.’

Izabel rolls her eyes. ‘Honestly, men! He’s doing a meet and greet with some fans right now, then he’s having a quick dinner with Mark and his senior strategy engineer. He said you’re welcome to join them, but I should warn you, it’ll be mostly technical talk.’

‘In that case, I might skip it.’

‘I don’t blame you.’ She unlocks a door. ‘So he’ll probably be up in about an hour. Make yourself at home in the meantime.’

‘Thank you.’

I look around in amazement. The suite is bigger than my and Ava’s entire flat. Significantly cleaner and tidier too. I try to look nonchalant, like this kind of five-star luxury is a completely normal experience for me, but inside I’m jumping up and down with excitement.

‘If you’re hungry, there’s a menu on the desk,’ Izabel says. ‘Order anything you want, or help yourself to whatever’s in the kitchen.’

‘There’s a kitchen?’

‘Through here.’ She opens a door.

‘Cool.’ I stifle a yawn, because despite my excitement it’s been a manic six days and I’m tired. ‘I might just take a power nap first.’

‘Good idea.’ She grins at me as she heads for the door. ‘Gio’s going to be pleased to see you after all. I know he’s missed you a lot.’

It takes me a couple of seconds to process what she’s implying, and by the time I do she’s gone and I’m blushing to an empty room. I’m a little confused too. Obviously Gio and I are supposed to be a couple, but why would she think he’s missed me?

I wander around the suite, touching all the expensive things just because I can, then lie down in the centre of a super-king-size bed, spreading my arms out and letting my mind drift. Grand Prix number two, here I come … I wonder if I’ll feel the same buzz of excitement I felt last time.

The next thing I know, I can hear running water, though bizarrely it stops the precise moment I sit up, but then there are footsteps and …

‘Hey! Sorry if I woke you.’ Gio comes to stand in the bathroom doorway, his lower half wrapped in a towel, like he’s in a men’s fragrance advert or auditioning for James Bond. I don’t want to stare, but his abdominal muscles look like ripples in the sand, hard and curiously mesmerizing. I try to look away, but it takes a couple of seconds for my brain to convey the message to my eyeballs.

‘That’s OK.’ I clear my throat and fix my gaze on a painting opposite the bed. It’s some kind of abstract erotica, featuring two vaguely human-looking shapes curled round each other.

‘Good flight?’ Out of the corner of my eye, I see Gio coming towards me, rubbing another towel through his hair.

‘Fine.’ I’m horribly aware of my cheeks growing warm. Also my neck. Ditto the rest of me, like I’ve just stepped from a snowstorm into a sauna and my body is undergoing some kind of thermal shock. It’s embarrassing how flustered I feel simply at the sight of a half-naked man. My only excuse is that I’ve never seen anyone quite so – my brain stutters for a word – toned . I really, really hope he can’t tell the effect he’s having on me because this really isn’t the way to look at a friend.

‘It’s good to see you.’ He sits down on the bed beside me, far enough away that he’s not invading my personal space, but still close enough that I can feel his body heat. Great. That’s just what I need. More heat.

‘You too.’ I wriggle away slightly. ‘So, how are things going?’

‘Honestly?’ He rubs his hands over his face and then leans back on his elbows. ‘All the press stuff has been exhausting. One-on-one interviews, conferences, roundtables. I feel like I’ve been answering the same questions over and over all day. The only fun part was a scooter race with Jaxon.’

‘A scooter race?’ I glance sideways at him, or more accurately at his chest, which is laid out beside me. I wonder if he’s doing it deliberately, but why would he want me to look at him?

‘One of the channels thought it would make a nice segment.’ He grins. ‘I won.’

‘So there’s no need for the race on Sunday now?’

‘That’s what I said.’ He chuckles. ‘Did Izabel tell you there’s a party for the sponsors tonight?’

‘Yes. She mentioned some dresses.’ I jump up, glad of the excuse to get away before I start sweating, and wrench the wardrobe doors open. I’m not offended by the implication that my usual high street dresses won’t cut it because they almost definitely won’t, but one look at Izabel’s choices and it seems she secretly hates me.

‘Oh no.’ I stare in horror.

There are three dresses inside. One is long, dark red and entirely backless, another is basically see-through mesh with strategically placed sequins, and the last is hot pink, plunge-cut and hideous.

‘What’s the matter?’ Gio comes to stare with me. ‘Won’t they fit?’

‘It’s not that. They’re just so not me. I would never wear any of these.’ I think of my strappy flat sandals. ‘My shoes won’t match either.’

‘What about those?’ He points to a shelf with a selection of insanely high stilettos, the kind that belong in art exhibitions, not on actual feet.

‘ Fuuuck .’ I breathe.

‘Don’t worry.’ He puts a hand on my shoulder. Fortunately I’m too alarmed by the contents of the wardrobe for this to have any effect on me now. I’m hyperventilating for other reasons. ‘We’ll fix this. There’s still time.’ He frowns at the sound of a knock. ‘I’ll just be a minute.’

The moment he’s gone, I rummage in my bag for my phone, snap a picture and send it straight to Ava, accompanied by half a dozen ‘horrified face’ emojis. I need her to calm me down.

‘This is Francesca, my stylist,’ Gio says when he reappears a few moments later, accompanied by Izabel and an elegant-looking woman with shoulder-length black hair, statement glasses and a large silver case in each hand.

‘You don’t like the dresses?’ Izabel looks like a puppy that’s just been kicked.

‘Oh no! It’s not that,’ I lie, because clearly I’m the puppy-kicker in this scenario. ‘Only I’m not used to clothes like this. I’m afraid they’ll wear me rather than the other way round, you know?’

‘I’m sure we can find a look that you like.’ Francesca’s expression is tranquil. ‘Gio, why don’t you get ready while Maisie takes a shower? Then you can leave us to it.’

‘What do you think?’ He lifts an eyebrow at me, just as my phone vibrates in my hand.

The red one!

You’ll look gorgeous.

In a meeting, but you can do this.

Next time, I’ll talk to Izabel.

Have fun!!!

‘OK.’ I give a panicked laugh because I can hear Ava’s voice in my head. ‘I can do this.’

‘Wonderful!’ Francesca declares, but I’m already scurrying into the bathroom, throwing my clothes off and doing deep breathing exercises as I duck my head under the shower and try to calm down. Maybe I’m overreacting a teensy bit, and if I’m not … well, this is the role I contractually agreed to play. People probably expect Formula 1 girlfriends to wear designer dresses, so the least I can do is try them on. The red one anyway, because no way in hell am I wearing mesh and sequins.

By the time I reemerge, wrapped in a much bigger towel than the one Gio was wearing, he’s nowhere to be seen.

‘First things first, underwear,’ Francesca says, holding up a pair of flesh-coloured knickers.

‘Spanx?’ I smile with relief because, finally, it’s something I know how to wear. I get them on under my towel.

‘And I think this dress works best with your skin tone.’ Thankfully, she pulls out Ava’s choice, the red. ‘You can’t wear a bra, of course, but don’t worry. It’s very secure. You’ll just need these …’ She hands me two plastic stickers that look like miniature bunnies.

‘Um …’ I’m baffled. ‘What are they?’

‘Nipple stickers, in case of any mishaps.’

‘Oh.’ I turn round, drop my towel, peel off the film and fix them over my breasts. ‘Like this?’ I say, reluctantly turning to face Francesca again.

‘As long as you’re comfortable?’

‘Uh huh.’ I want to say there’s nothing comfortable about this situation, but instead I climb into the dress, let Francesca fasten the tiny zip at the back and then look at myself in the mirror. The fabric is about an inch too long, but it feels like silk and looks much better than I expected. From the front anyway. The back is so low cut it reveals everything from the nape of my neck to the base of my spine. Personally, I hardly notice the scars from my bike accident any more, but obviously Francesca and Izabel just have.

‘Acromioclavicular joint surgery,’ I say, as they exchange glances.

‘I didn’t realize.’ Izabel looks mortified again. ‘Would you prefer the pink dress?’

‘No!’ I answer quickly. ‘My scars don’t bother me.’

‘As they shouldn’t.’ Francesca nods approvingly. ‘Now, hair and make-up. What kind of look would you like?’

‘You’re the stylist. Whatever you think,’ I say. I’m so far out of my comfort zone already, I might as well give up my last shreds of autonomy.

Half an hour later, however, I’m glad that I did. My hair is hanging in loose romantic waves with a deep side parting, my skin looks dewy and my make-up is minimal, all except for my lips, which are a deep plummy red to match the dress.

‘Now, shoes …’ Izabel pulls a pair of black heels out of the cupboard. ‘These are gorgeous.’

I feel myself blanch. ‘There’s no way—’

‘You’ll get used to them.’ Francesca interrupts me.

I seriously doubt that, but I slide them on anyway and then wobble to my feet, almost pitching over in the process.

‘How’s it going in there?’ Gio taps on the door.

‘Fine, if I don’t move,’ I call back. ‘You can come in, if you want.’

‘Am I going to have to carry you?’ He pokes his head inside with a smile that stiffens and falls away abruptly. ‘Maisie, you look …’

‘What?’ I put my hands on my hips. After all the poking and preening I’ve just endured, this had better be a compliment.

‘Stunning.’

‘Oh. Thank you.’ I drop my hands again, pleased. ‘But I don’t think I can walk in these. I feel like I’m standing on a perch. I’ll break something.’

‘Are there any other options?’ he asks Izabel, though he keeps his eyes on mine as he walks towards me, looking even more like James Bond in a black tuxedo.

‘No, those are the lowest heels I ordered.’

‘Ah.’ He sounds distracted, his gaze drifting downwards over my hips in a way that makes me wonder if this is payback for the way I ogled him earlier. ‘Can you walk at all?’

‘I haven’t tried yet.’ I totter forward, like a baby giraffe taking its first steps.

‘Here.’ He closes the distance between us, catching hold of my arms as I veer off to one side. ‘OK, this is what we’ll do.’ His voice is deep and reassuring. ‘You’ll just have to hold on to me all night. I won’t let you fall, I promise.’

‘Really?’ I’m ridiculously grateful for the offer. ‘Don’t you need to mingle?’

‘Yes, but we’ll mingle together.’ His thumbs caress my bare upper arms so softly my legs tremble in a way that I don’t think I can attribute entirely to the heels. ‘Will that be all right?’

I nod like I’m in a trance. It reminds me of the night we first met, when I felt like I’d been mesmerized by his stare. His pupils are large and black, and his gaze is so intent and unwavering, I 100 per cent believe him when he says he’ll look after me.

‘There’s just one thing missing,’ he murmurs.

‘What?’ I blink, suddenly realizing that we’re alone in the room. I didn’t even notice that Izabel and Francesca had left.

‘You said I could give you a gift for passing your exams, remember?’ He removes his hands carefully, like he’s afraid I’ll topple over if he lets go, then pulls a red velvet box from his pocket and opens the lid. Inside there’s a necklace with a circular pendant, encrusted with …

‘Are those diamonds?’ I gasp and whip my head up.

‘Yes.’ He lifts the necklace. ‘It’s a wheel. See the little spokes? I thought it was fitting for both of us. Bikes and cars.’ He gestures to my neck. ‘May I?’

‘Wait.’ I’m so overwhelmed I have to close my eyes for a moment. Diamonds might be no big deal for a Formula 1 driver, but they definitely are to me. ‘This is only for tonight, right?’

‘No, I just told you, it’s a gift.’

‘Gio, it’s way too much.’

‘It’s perfect.’ He smiles and lifts my hair, draping it across one shoulder as he fastens the clasp and lowers the chain gently on to my collarbone.

I catch my breath as I feel the wheel nestle in the hollow of my throat. He’s right, it is perfect. And so thoughtful. And definitely too much for either a friend or a fake relationship, but it’s also the most beautiful piece of jewellery I’ve ever seen and I never want to take it off.

‘Thank you,’ I whisper.

‘You’re welcome.’ He lifts his gaze, his eyes filled with that warm, unguarded look I first noticed at Nadia’s restaurant, and then he clears his throat. ‘Shall we?’

We head out of the room, with me clinging to his arm for dear life, and into a lift that goes straight down to a crowded ballroom. The moment we enter, a murmur seems to spread around the room. It reminds me of the Haddons’ anniversary party, only this time I’m one of the shiny, beautiful people. Instinctively, I try to hang back, but Gio doesn’t let me. Instead, he stops, making sure I’m steady before taking hold of one of my hands in both of his and lifting it slowly to his lips, smiling over the top of my knuckles in a way that makes my heart start pounding. Somehow it’s smouldering and intense and playful and lazy all at the same time, setting the bar impossibly high for all future smiles. A shiver ripples through me and I catch my breath. Even though it’s just a performance for the crowd, this is hands-down the sexiest moment of my life.

‘There they are!’ Letitia Haddon calls out, coming to greet us. She looks amazing, dressed in a lavender evening gown that perfectly complements her pale-blonde hair. ‘Formula 1’s favourite couple.’

‘Did we displace you and Mark?’ Gio laughs, putting his arm round me again.

‘I forgive you.’ Letitia kisses my cheek. ‘Maisie, you look gorgeous. I love your necklace.’

‘It was a present.’ I throw a quick smile at Gio.

‘That was quite an entrance.’ Mark comes to join us.

‘Just doing our bit for the PR machine.’ Gio winks at me, though I can’t help but feel a little depressed at the words. I knew it was all for show, but somehow it hurts to have it confirmed.

‘Good.’ Mark nods approvingly. ‘Now, enjoy yourselves. But—’

‘Remember to network?’ Gio tips a finger to his forehead in a salute. ‘We’re on it.’

He leads me into the room and introduces me to a group of people I don’t know, reeling off a list of names I have no hope of remembering, before the conversation turns to the upcoming qualifying session.

‘Enjoying the evening?’ a familiar voice asks over my shoulder.

‘Bo …’ I turn and smile, though I’m suddenly nervous. I haven’t seen him since Silverstone, before my rather public argument with Gio. ‘Yes, very much. It’s nice to see you.’

‘You too.’ Thankfully he appears to be in a good mood, not at all annoyed at me for threatening to break his contract. ‘You seem to be doing well.’

‘Do I?’ I make a face. ‘I thought I must look nervous.’

‘Not at all. You just met Casper Henning and didn’t bat an eyelid.’ He takes pity on my blank expression. ‘Four-time world champion back in the nineties? Danish national hero? Gio’s dad’s biggest rival? Living legend?’

‘Oh.’ I look around the group, but I’m none the wiser. There are several men in the right age bracket. ‘Which one?’

‘The one with the beard.’

‘Ah. Is he nice?’

Bo looks surprised by the question. ‘Well, I think so, but I guess others might disagree. It takes a certain type of person to get into a Formula 1 car. They have to be egotistical enough to believe they can win, crazy enough to try and ruthless enough not to let anyone stop them, but within those parameters, sure, he’s nice. He always made sure I did my homework.’

‘What?’ I’ve been looking at Gio while Bo listed all his personal attributes, but now I whip my head back. ‘You mean, he’s your dad?’

‘Part of the reason Gio and I get along is the fact that we both have championship-winning dads. Most people can’t understand what that’s like.’

‘It seems like a lot to live up to.’ I quirk an eyebrow. ‘Didn’t you ever want to be a driver?’

‘Yes, but, unlike Gio, I wasn’t good enough. It took me several years to accept it, but now I’m happy as a manager.’ He lowers his voice slightly. ‘I’m pleased to report our little scheme is working too. Mark thinks you’re a positive influence, the sponsors all love you and, since I managed to contain the story of what happened at Silverstone, the press still think Gio’s cleaned up his act.’ He gives me a significant look. ‘The whole Cinderella aspect is playing really well with the fans too.’

‘Cinderella?’ I give him a sceptical look. ‘You mean because I’m a “normal person”?’ I make speech marks in the air.

‘Because you’re relatable,’ he corrects me. ‘You know, Gio was absolutely right about you, Maisie. Personally, I thought your podcaster friend would work better, but he insisted on you. It’s obvious the two of you have great chemistry.’

‘We do?’

I want to ask more, but then Gio spots another group of people he needs to speak with, so I say goodbye to Bo and move on, my mind reeling. Do Gio and I have chemistry? We’ve definitely been getting along better since our karting trip, and I can’t deny his good looks give me the odd tingle and hot flush, but I assumed anything I felt was one-sided.

Chemistry implies we both feel it, doesn’t it?

There’s no time to think about that now, however, so I push the idea to the back of my mind and do my best to keep up with the conversations around me, even the ones about engine parts. After his win at Silverstone, it seems like everyone wants a piece of Gio. I spy Luc Farron a few times, but he always seems to be on the opposite side of the room to Gio, like they’re deliberately avoiding each other. The evening is fun, though after a couple of hours I’m waning, mainly because my shoes are pinching my feet and I’m becoming aware of another problem, one that I really wanted to avoid, but apparently I’m not going to be able to – and I have no idea how to handle it …

‘Maisie?’

I turn my head to find Piper, the Quezada mechanic I met at Silverstone, coming towards me, wearing a yellow sheath of a dress and looking like she belongs on a catwalk.

‘Hi!’ I smile and pivot carefully away from Gio, who’s deep in conversation. ‘Are you here spying for Quezada?’

‘Totally.’ She laughs. ‘Actually, I have a couple of friends in Fraser and wanted to say hello. Are you OK? You look worried.’

I hesitate because this is only the second time we’ve met, and I’m afraid if I tell her the truth she’ll think I’m over-sharing, but I can’t see Izabel, I didn’t bring my mobile and there’s no one else I can ask to help me.

‘The thing is …’ I lower my voice. ‘I need the bathroom, but I don’t know how to get there in these heels. I’ve had to hold on to Gio all evening just to stay upright.’

She looks down at my feet. ‘Ooh. Those are killer.’

‘I know. I’d take them off, but I don’t want to go into a bathroom barefoot either.’

‘On a scale of one to ten, how desperate are you?’

‘Eight and a half.’

‘OK, I’m here for you.’ She cracks her knuckles. ‘So, you study sports psychology, right? Think of it this way. Our aim is to reach the bathroom without falling over. Visualize that. Then all we need to do is manage your anxiety, be alert to our surroundings, stay focused, believe in ourselves and use teamwork.’

I blink. ‘That sounds really impressive.’

‘Jaxon’s performance coach says this kind of stuff a lot.’ She smiles. ‘I pay attention.’

‘Is everything OK?’ Gio turns towards us.

‘Yes.’ I give him a meaningful look as I carefully transfer my hand from his arm to Piper’s. ‘We’re going to the Ladies.’

‘Oh.’

‘Don’t worry,’ Piper reassures him. ‘We’ve got this.’

‘Thank you,’ I whisper, as we start slowly away. I’m so grateful I could hug her, except it would probably throw me off balance.

‘Happy to help. Although I should warn you, if you’re seen with me, people might suspect you of being a Quezada spy too.’

‘I don’t care. It’s better than them seeing me wee myself. Why is this room so big?’

‘To fit in all the egos.’ She tightens her grip on my arm as I stumble slightly. ‘Careful. We’re halfway there already. Just keep putting one foot in front of the other.’

‘She who dares, right?’

‘Yep. Eyes on the prize.’

‘Focus and win.’

‘Nothing is impossible.’ She grins. ‘And here we are.’

‘Thank goodness.’ I hobble into a cubicle and sit down with a sigh of relief. Then, when I’m finished, I sit some more. I just need a few moments to compose myself before facing the return journey.

Doors bang as women emerge from the surrounding cubicles. I can hear them chatting, though it takes me a few seconds to realize who they’re talking about.

‘He’s clearly on the rebound,’ somebody says, and there’s a load of giggles that make me want to flush myself down the toilet.

‘Letitia says she’s nice,’ another voice says. ‘And her dress is gorgeous.’

‘The dress is gorgeous,’ the first voice answers. ‘But she doesn’t compare to Iris. It’s no wonder she’s clinging to him like a limpet. She’s probably afraid he’ll run off if she lets go.’

‘She’s not with him right now,’ a new voice says. ‘I looked over that way before I came in …’

A small silence follows this announcement because the implication is obvious. If I’m not out there in the ballroom, then the chances are I’m in here . Shit. I’m not sure which is more mortifying, the thought of hiding in a toilet cubicle for the rest of the evening or unbolting the door and facing them. I only know, for the sake of my dignity, that it has to be the latter.

I open my cubicle at the precise moment Piper emerges from the one beside me. I wonder if she’s been waiting for my cue because it seems like too much of a coincidence otherwise.

‘Ladies!’ Piper acknowledges them all in the mirror. ‘Have you met my friend, Maisie?’

‘Hi.’ There’s a chorus of half-hearted greetings.

‘Hi.’ I throw them the briefest of glances, as I head for the washbasins. I don’t want to know who any of them are. That way, if I ever see them again, I won’t be plunged back into this moment.

‘I like your dress,’ one of them says.

‘Thanks.’ I give her a brief smile, then pull my shoulders back and stride towards the door, willing myself not to stumble.

Amazingly, I don’t. I’m all the way through the door before my foot slips sideways and I have to make a grab for the wall.

‘I’ve got you.’ Piper catches me. ‘Don’t listen to them,’ she whispers as she helps me back across the floor. ‘Most of the women in F1 are really supportive, but a few are just trophy girlfriends with nothing to do except make bitchy comments.’

‘All good?’ Gio slips an arm round my waist as we reach him. He looks so concerned that I feel a bittersweet pang in my chest. I worried that nobody would believe we were a couple, but the truth is even worse: I’m a punchline! Despite Piper’s reassurance, I feel like everyone in the room is comparing me to Iris and laughing.

‘Fine.’ I put on my brightest smile because I know there are eyes watching. ‘Piper’s a lifesaver.’

‘That means you owe Jaxon an overtake.’ She gives Gio a peck on the cheek. ‘Now I’d better go before he thinks I’ve switched teams. And remember –’ she leans in close to me – ‘don’t let the bitches grind you down.’

‘What was that about?’ Gio looks quizzically at me as she walks away.

‘Nothing. We were just chatting.’

‘If you say so.’ His eyes wander over my face like he knows I’m hiding something. ‘Have I told you how beautiful you look this evening?’

‘Yes.’ I bat my lashes deliberately. ‘But it was like two whole hours ago. I’ve forgotten how it sounded.’

‘Ah.’ He moves closer so that his breath caresses the side of my neck. ‘In that case, you look beautiful.’

I smile slowly because, whether it’s true or just a really great performance, the look in his eyes at that moment makes me believe it. I feel a swell of gratitude towards him. He’s been the perfect fake boyfriend all evening: thoughtful and sweet, not arrogant or rude to anyone, even when they’ve mentioned his father. So what if I’m a poor substitute for Iris, I realize, or whether a bunch of people are snickering at me behind my back? I don’t have to let it bother me. I can embrace who I am and refuse to be their punchline. I can carry on enjoying my evening and show them how little I care about what they think of Gio and I as a couple too …

For once, I don’t stop to think, acting entirely on impulse as I lift my hands to Gio’s chest and splay my fingers out over those spectacular muscles I glimpsed earlier. Then I lean forward and brush my lips against his.

His mouth is soft and intoxicating, tasting faintly of champagne as it presses back against mine in a way that sends a tingling sensation shooting down my spine like a renegade bolt of electricity. There’s a moment where we stay that way, just lightly touching, but then the electricity hits me again and suddenly we’re kissing more deeply and he’s tightening his hold on my waist, pulling me up against him until we’re pressed fully together. There’s only one way we could be any closer.

Goosebumps wash over my skin and my whole body thrums with tension as the world around us seems to slow. I feel light-headed, completely swept up in the moment and our attraction. I’ve never felt this way before, like I could completely lose myself in his kiss. It suddenly hits me that this is turning into something more than a performance, for me anyway. Something other than proving a point.

Bo was right. Definite chemistry.

We break apart finally, and I catch my breath because I didn’t think to inhale before I acted so impulsively. Then I risk a look at Gio. He’s gazing back, studying me like he’s about to ask a question.

I feel a powerful urge to kiss him again, only the idea sets alarm bells ringing in my head. What are you doing, Maisie?! This is against the rules. Small PDAs, the contract said, nothing of an intimate nature. I’m breaking the very rules I asked for! Never mind that I basically just threw myself at him and he’s probably only going along with it because what else is he supposed to do?

So I don’t kiss him again. I step back like nothing just happened, like I’m simply a talented actress, then turn towards our companions and smile. I’m not sure what expression Gio’s wearing because I daren’t look at him again. But I’m acutely aware of his hand on my waist, still not letting go.

‘PHEW! SOCIALIZING IS HARD work.’ I wrench my heels off the moment we get back to the suite and throw myself headfirst on to the large, L-shaped sofa in the lounge area. Instantly, the world feels better, brighter, comfier. I’ve been determinedly upbeat and chatty for the latter part of the evening. I’ve networked so brilliantly. I’m practically Ava. If I can just keep it up until bed, then hopefully Gio will assume the kiss was all part of my fake girlfriend performance – which it absolutely was, to begin with. The last thing I want is for him to think I’m catching feelings for him when he only wants to be friends. That would be way too mortifying. My best option is to style this out.

‘How many of these events do you have to attend?’ I ask.

‘A lot, but it’s part of the deal. Formula 1 isn’t just about driving, it’s a business too.’ Gio throws his jacket aside and lies down on the other line of the L, so that while our bodies are at right angles, our heads are almost touching in the middle. ‘It can be so tiring, but I wouldn’t be where I am without my sponsors.’

‘I guess there are perks. A suite like this, for example.’

‘Actually, I upgraded as a thanks for giving me a second chance.’

‘You did?’ I roll on to my stomach. It’s a mistake because he’s beaten me to it. His chin is propped on his folded arms, his blue eyes studying me intently.

‘So …’ His voice sounds rougher than usual. ‘We’re kissing now?’

‘It was just a peck,’ I lie, quickly rolling back over and averting my gaze to the ceiling. I think about telling him about the women in the bathroom, but I don’t want to sound like I’m thirteen, telling tales on the mean girls. ‘I thought it would help our image, you know, as a devoted couple.’ Then I clear my throat because no matter what my excuse is, I owe him an apology. ‘But I’m sorry. I know it’s not in the contract and I should have asked you first. I won’t do it again if you don’t want me to.’

‘I didn’t say that.’

There’s a long silence while we both lie still and breathe. I find myself imagining the steady rise and fall of his chest. If he’s not saying that , then what is he saying? Did he enjoy it? Does he want to do it again? Or is he just being polite? I’m beyond confused, and my emotions have been so up and down all evening I have no idea how to interpret the words.

‘So, it’s practice tomorrow, right?’ I say, when I can’t bear the tension any longer. ‘A day for normal shoes?’

‘Practice, briefings, strategy meetings, data analysis, whatever footwear you like,’ he agrees. ‘The next two days are busier than the actual race. I’ll be in the garage most of the time, but Izabel will take care of you and we can hang out in the evenings.’

‘Fine. Great.’ I couldn’t sound any perkier. ‘Don’t worry about me.’

‘Hey.’ He touches a hand to my shoulder. ‘I had a good time tonight, Maisie.’

‘Me too,’ I agree, quickly rolling myself up to a sitting position. ‘Speaking of tomorrow, I’m ready for bed, and I’m sure Leon would tell you to get a good night’s sleep.’

‘He already has,’ Gio says, sitting up and resting his forearms over his knees. ‘But maybe we should talk—’

‘Wait,’ I interrupt him, frowning as something my subconscious has obviously been processing all evening suddenly hits me, a combination of details I was too tired and nervous to notice before: Gio coming out of the en suite when I was lying on the bed, his things being scattered all over the bedroom … ‘Oh no. No, no, no.’

‘What’s the matter?’

‘Gio, there’s only one bedroom.’

‘Actually—’

‘We’re not sharing a bed!’ I launch myself to my feet indignantly. ‘I know I kissed you earlier, but that was not what that meant.’

‘I didn’t think—’

‘Did you plan this?’ I go on, propping my hands on my hips. ‘Is this why you’ve been so nice all evening? Did you think I’d be so overwhelmed by designer dresses and jewellery and a luxury hotel that I’d fall into bed with you?’

‘Hang on.’ He stares at me incredulously. ‘ You kiss me and I’m the one who’s trying to get you into bed?’

‘Yes!’ Suddenly I’m seized with a sense of self-righteous fury. In retrospect, the whole evening seems like a trap designed to make me fall for him. I mean, yes, I was the one who initiated the kiss, but clearly I was being manipulated the whole time!

‘Is that what you think of me?’ He leans back and spreads his arms along the top of the sofa. ‘That I coerce women into bed?’

‘I don’t know. You’re the one who invited me to a one-bedroom suite.’ I narrow my eyes. ‘I’ll sleep on the sofa.’

‘Fine. Or you could just use the second bedroom.’

I freeze. ‘Excuse me?’

‘There’s a second bedroom.’

‘There is?’ I look around. ‘Where?’

He points to a door over his shoulder.

‘Oh. I didn’t … I mean …’ I cough. ‘What did Izabel say about you wanting a suite with two bedrooms?’

‘Nothing.’ His voice is flinty. ‘I don’t generally explain my sleeping arrangements to my assistant.’

‘But the dresses were in your room?’

‘I guess she hung them in the first wardrobe she came to.’

I drop my gaze and wish I could turn the clock back by five minutes. His expression is a stark contrast to the way he looked at me earlier. That was warm and caring and intimate; this makes me feel cold all over. ‘Gio, I’m … I’m sorry. I guess all the pretending this evening messed with my head. I forgot this whole thing was fake for a moment.’

‘Right, totally fake.’ He gets to his feet, not even saying goodnight as he walks past me into the other bedroom and slams the door.