TWENTY-ONE
‘SHIT!’ LORENZO SLAMS HIS phone down in the middle of breakfast. It’s still dark outside, but Helmut wants to get to the track early and I have no objections. I’m sad to be leaving the villa, but I can’t wait to see Gio again.
‘What’s the matter?’ Helmut looks up from his iPad.
‘Farron’s retiring.’
‘Really?’ I’m ignoring my devices to enjoy a freshly baked almond croissant, but this news makes me pause.
‘It’s so typical that he’s announcing it this weekend.’ Lorenzo makes a disgusted sound. ‘Just because it’s Gio’s home crowd, he’s trying to steal the attention.’
I frown at the obvious dislike in his voice. Lorenzo’s been so laid-back and good-natured until now, but hating Luc Farron seems to be a family trait.
‘It’s still good news, isn’t it?’ I say, wiping a pastry crumb from my mouth. ‘I mean, if Farron’s retiring, doesn’t that mean Fraser are more likely to keep Gio next year?’
‘You’re right, it is good news for Gio.’ Helmut reaches for his coffee. ‘Now he can be rid of Farron, once and for all.’
‘The sooner, the better.’ Lorenzo is still glowering.
I look between the two men in confusion. I really don’t understand their attitude, but judging by the fierce looks on their faces I’m also not sure I want to.
‘What’s Monza like as a race track?’ I ask to lighten the mood. ‘I read that it’s one of the oldest.’
‘Fifth oldest, but it’s held more Grand Prix than any other track.’ Helmut softens his clenched jaw and his voice turns almost affectionate, like he’s describing a lover rather than a strip of asphalt. ‘It’s beautiful, surrounded by woodland, with lots of long stretches so the drivers can see what their cars are really capable of.’
‘So it’s fast?’
‘It’s insane.’ Lorenzo laughs. ‘They can reach speeds of two hundred and twenty miles per hour. The whole race can be over in an hour and twenty minutes.’
‘Wow.’ Suddenly my pastry seems to lose its flavour. ‘That’s …’
‘Gio’s a professional. He knows what he’s doing, don’t worry.’ Helmut pushes his chair back. ‘But we need to be going if we’re going to beat the crowds.’
‘What he means is that he doesn’t want to miss a single minute of being feted like a hero all day.’ Lorenzo winks at me as he gets up. ‘Just wait and see.’
‘I go for the cars, not the people.’ His father scowls. ‘Be ready in five minutes.’
‘Why aren’t Adele and Tommaso coming?’ I ask Lorenzo, as Helmut heads for the staircase. My bags are already waiting by the door since I’ll be heading straight to the airport tomorrow morning. ‘They’re such big F1 fans.’
‘They are, but …’ He sounds evasive. ‘Maybe next year.’
‘There she is!’ Morena comes into the kitchen at that moment, arms outstretched. ‘I can’t believe you’re leaving us already.’
‘You said goodbye to her last night, Mamma.’ Lorenzo rolls his eyes.
‘I need to say it again.’ She pulls me into a hug. ‘You’re welcome here any time, Maisie. With or without Gio.’
‘Thank you.’ I feel tears prick my eyes at the offer. The way she holds me close reminds me so much of my own mother. ‘And thank you for everything. This holiday has been just what I needed.’
Five minutes later, Helmut, Lorenzo and I are on the road, watching the sun come up over the hills. It looks so beautiful and peaceful, I genuinely do understand why Morena chooses to stay here. The thought of all the commotion and media attention ahead is mildly alarming, but I feel ready to face it now. It’s like the past three weeks have helped me to grow a protective armour. From now on, I’m going to do what Gio suggested and stop overthinking everything. I’m going to follow my heart and see where it leads me.
We arrive at the hotel beside the track around seven, drop off our bags, then head straight for the paddock. I’m wearing denim cutoffs with trainers and a Fraser T-shirt to blend in, though I hang back with Lorenzo while his dad marches ahead, straight into the Fraser garage, and nobody stops him because he’s Helmut Bauer. The crew all gaze at him like he’s royalty.
‘Is it always like this?’ I whisper to Lorenzo.
‘This is nothing. Wait until the fans see him.’
‘Hey, you two!’ Izabel comes over as we loiter at the entrance. ‘Maisie, how have you enjoyed your holiday?’
‘It’s been great.’ I give her a hug. ‘Italy has been amazing.’
‘I thought so, when I saw Gio again. He seemed so preoccupied before, whereas now …’ She smiles knowingly at me. ‘Whatever you’ve been up to, it’s obviously been good for him.’
I clear my throat while Lorenzo chuckles. ‘Should we be here? It seems like we’re kind of in the way.’
‘There’s a strategy meeting upstairs. They’ll probably be another hour, I’m afraid.’
‘That’s fine. We’ll go and explore.’ I turn to Lorenzo. ‘Will you show me around?’
‘My pleasure.’ He holds an arm out.
We leave the paddock and wander along a path through some woodland, picking up a couple of caffè freddi from a stall to cool us down as the sun gets higher and hotter. There were more trees here before, Lorenzo tell me, but bad storms a couple of years ago destroyed a lot of them. It’s still beautiful, though, like walking through a park. Fans are gathering with picnics. You would never even know there was a race track close by if it wasn’t for the noise and excitement.
‘Oh no.’ Lorenzo stops walking abruptly as we head back to the team motorhome for lunch.
‘What?’ I stare at him in surprise when he hauls me backwards.
‘Maybe we should go and take a look at the grandstands?’ He swivels round, looking edgy.
‘Lorenzo, why are you being so weird?’ I refuse to budge.
‘Because …’
‘Because?’
‘Because of … her .’
‘Who?’ I look round to see a blonde woman in a strappy yellow top and tight white jeans sashaying her way towards us. There’s no need for Lorenzo to answer my question because I recognize her instantly.
‘Hi!’ Iris Calver’s smile is so wide it must be visible from space. ‘You must be Maisie. I’m so happy to finally meet you.’
‘Um … hi.’ I smile back uncertainly.
‘And Lorenzo.’ She kisses his cheek. ‘So good to see you again. Isn’t the atmosphere amazing?’
‘It was,’ he answers sulkily.
‘It is,’ I say, pushing my own smile even wider to compensate for his rude behaviour. He reminds me of Gio on our very first ‘date’ at Silverstone. ‘It’s very exciting.’
‘I mean, obviously it’s not my first Grand Prix.’ She flicks a strand of perfectly straight hair over one shoulder. ‘I went to all of Gio’s races back in April and May, but Monza is just special, you know, with it being his home crowd. It’s so great to be here to support him.’
‘Is that what you call it?’ Lorenzo’s gaze turns suspicious. ‘Who invited you?’
‘What kind of question is that?’ Iris laughs. ‘Anyone can come, can’t they?’
‘Not to the team village. I know it wasn’t Gio, so who was it?’
‘Gio isn’t the only person I know at Fraser.’ She compresses her lips and then tips her head towards me like she’s sharing a confidence. ‘I just love all of this. I’m such a Fraser girl. I wish both their drivers could win.’
‘Bullshit.’ Lorenzo hooks his hand round my arm again. ‘Come on, Maisie. Let’s get some lunch.’
‘Wait!’ Iris pulls out a phone. ‘We should get a selfie first.’
‘No way.’ Lorenzo is already moving on.
‘Don’t be such a spoilsport.’ She shoves her face next to mine and angles the phone. ‘It’ll be cute. We’ll hashtag it #GioGroupies, to show there’s no hard feelings.’
‘There aren’t any hard feelings,’ I say, putting my hand out to block her camera. I don’t want to be rude, but I’m not prepared to live my personal life online any more. ‘But I’m not Gio’s groupie. I’m his girlfriend.’
I give her one last, long look, then turn on my heel and walk away. Technically, I’m not sure what I am to Gio, but that felt really good to say.
FROM A FORMULA 1 perspective, the race is pretty boring. From my own personal one, it’s incredible. Gio starts in pole, stays in pole and finishes in first place. He’s two seconds ahead of Jaxon Marr when he passes the chequered flag and the spectators go berserk. So do Lorenzo and I, jumping up and down and high-fiving each other in the garage, before Helmut wraps us both up in a bear hug and practically carries us off to the podium.
Gio stops in parc fermé, takes off his helmet and comes running over. There was no opportunity to talk to him before the race, so it’s the first time I’ve seen him up close for days.
‘You did it!’ I can’t stop smiling as he reaches over the barrier, grabs my face in his hands and kisses me.
People start whooping around us, but the noise is muted because suddenly the whole world seems to have shrunk to just the two of us. Gio kisses me like it’s what he was racing for. When he pulls back, his gaze is hot and so am I.
‘Save it for later, man.’ Lorenzo laughs, slapping him on the shoulder.
‘Later, then?’ Gio grins, blowing me another kiss before running off to be weighed.
‘Who came third?’ I ask Lorenzo. In all the excitement, I didn’t even notice.
‘David Llewelyn with one of the Chilterns, which is an amazing result for them. Farron is fourth, so that’s only twelve points, which means Gio’s three points ahead of him now.’
A few minutes later, Gio emerges on to the podium for his trophy, and the crowd goes wild again. A homegrown victor is exactly the result they wanted. The Italian and British anthems play and then Gio, Jaxon and Llewelyn start chasing each other, spraying champagne over each others’ heads before turning it on us.
Shortly afterwards, I find myself, soaking wet, being pulled along a corridor in the Fraser motorhome, Gio’s hand clamped firmly round my wrist.
‘Izabel’s going to kill you!’ I laugh as he pulls me into an empty room and kicks the door shut behind us. ‘You have a gazillion more interviews to do!’
‘They can wait. This can’t.’ He pushes me up against the wall and braces his forearms on either side of my head. ‘I haven’t seen you for days and I need to say hello properly.’
‘I thought you already did that outside?’
‘That was a preview.’
‘Good. Because I’ve missed you.’ I thread my arms round his neck and pull his face to mine. I’ve fantasized about this moment so much I’m afraid reality won’t be able to match up, but it turns out Gio is more than up to the challenge. His kiss is hungry and deep, and a blush rushes to the surface of my skin. We’re pressed together so tightly I can’t move, but I don’t want to either, not unless it’s to gyrate against him, which I’m already doing, I realize. We’re dry-humping against a wall in a motorhome while thousands of people are waiting outside for him to show his face again. Timing-wise, it’s not ideal.
‘Fuck.’ Gio buries his face in my neck as somebody knocks on the door and coughs. ‘I have to get back out there.’
‘I know.’ I gasp. ‘You smell terrible, by the way.’
‘Hey! It’s the smell of victory.’ He laughs, breathing as heavily as I am. ‘I’ll get all this PR stuff over with as soon as I can.’
‘Don’t.’ I put one hand on his shoulder as I use the other to straighten my clothes. ‘You just won your home Grand Prix. You should enjoy it.’
‘There are other things I want to enjoy.’
‘Me too, but I’m not going anywhere.’
‘You’d better not.’ He slips his hand through mine as he opens the door again. ‘Because you and I are celebrating properly later.’