Chapter Four #2
The social media team had worked a discreet miracle, flooding Emiliano’s feed and seeding other accounts with enough content to bury that short clip of his interaction with the unidentified female.
Massimo had checked Lily’s online status personally.
While all employees had a contractual stipulation not to bring the team into disrepute, Hearnshawe Racing employees could have a public social media account.
The comms team even provided a roadmap with ideas and advice.
But like Massimo, Lily Jones had neither private nor public social media accounts.
She had no online presence at all. That fact had frustrated his weak moment of online stalking, but he’d found out further information in other ways.
He now knew she worked long hours. He also knew this diligence had been her habit from the start so he couldn’t flatter himself that her extra hours were in the hopes she might see him.
Like everyone in the team, like him, she simply gave her all to the job.
Initially, he’d been glad Shane had given her a permanent place on the travel team.
It meant he could work at headquarters without fear of bumping into her for all those away days.
He’d tried not to look for her every time he walked through the factory in the past couple of weeks—which had been far more than was customary and necessary.
He tried to ignore the random reasons his brain conjured to send him into the Belgian pit lane now.
Because it wasn’t his brain, it was his groin directing him.
Basic lust. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t forget those moments on the plane.
Worse, the brief moment they’d had at the British race meant she now haunted him even more.
He’d stood at the back and watched her sparkle as she’d celebrated Conrad’s result with her colleagues.
Then to his immense pleasure, she’d looked for him—because there was no other reason for her to glance away from the podium.
But she’d caught him watching her and completely frozen.
He’d felt guilty as fuck because he was quite sure what he’d wanted was written all over his face. And she’d been paralysed.
It was four weeks since that flight from Canada; surely, she was no longer worried she would suffer any ramifications because of what had happened between them.
The only ramifications were impacting him.
He felt the distance from her like a physical agony—it was as if he had the freaking flu. Frankly, he was furious about it.
But his last-minute arrival in Belgium had unforeseen repercussions.
He’d forgotten Princess Celine—the highly photogenic social media darling and minor royalty from a nearby principality—was one of their VIP guests.
Massimo couldn’t decline her request for him to take her on a tour of their pit lane spot an hour before the race.
He would stick to Emiliano’s side of the garage, not risk an encounter with the lovely, forbidden Lily.
Unfortunately, Lily was the first person they saw, and Princess Celine was fascinated to discover a female mechanic on the floor.
She swept towards her before Massimo could say anything.
Surely, Lily wouldn’t mind; there were so many damned witnesses it wasn’t as if he was about to try anything inappropriate.
He couldn’t resist the chance to see her from a little fewer than her wretched fifteen-foot requirement.
Shane smoothly stepped forward to welcome them both and made introductions to all the team members present.
The princess shook hands with them. Massimo numbly followed suit.
His smile was set as stress rippled through every muscle.
He’d not been this close to her in weeks.
He wasn’t supposed to get this close—not because it was what she’d requested, but to maintain control of his physical reaction to her.
But he couldn’t stop himself from studying her.
Her hair was swept beneath that cap. The polo was loose on her slim frame.
She looked pale, her fine features drawn.
She shook hands with Celine, offered a slight answer to the question he’d not heard.
‘You know Mr Hearnshawe of course,’ Shane said to Lily.
‘Of course,’ Lily replied.
The chagrin in her glance stopped him in his tracks but there was no way to avoid touching her.
He’d shaken hands with everyone else in the damned room.
He stared, watching her whiten slightly as he offered his hand.
There was a tiny hesitation before she put her hand in his.
He immediately tensed, gripping her too tightly as an electrical charge shot up his arm.
Shocked, he inhaled but with that, he caught her scent and then just held her hand longer.
His whole body tensed. Gold flecks sparked in her hazel eyes and he finally felt her gently tug away. He immediately released her.
Hell. That brief contact had been too much, too long. He couldn’t actually speak. But Lily could. She answered Celine’s questions with a polite, deeply annoying level of acuity until Massimo finally recovered himself enough to suggest to the princess that they move out to inspect the track.
He escorted Celine away, turning his back on the sharpness in Lily’s eyes as they left.
He’d breached the boundaries she’d imposed.
He’d stepped too close. But she needn’t punish him—he was already truly suffering for it.
He’d not wanted anyone the way he wanted her. And she didn’t want a bar of him.
Conrad came third again with Emiliano closer than ever in fourth.
This time, Massimo watched Lily at the podium celebrations safely from the suite.
She wasn’t sparkling this time. Maybe it was the screen but she looked paler than she had before the race.
There was an almost desolate downturn to her mouth.
He frowned. Was she tired?
Austria
Lily religiously participated in every prerace team fitness routine.
To make the pit crew, she had to hold her own strength-wise.
Of course she was physically weaker than the guys, but that didn’t mean she was too weak, so she showed up to any and every chance to prove herself.
But on the morning of the Austrian race she felt atrocious.
For the first time, there was no way she could run the track with the team.
It wasn’t surprising she was exhausted; the weekend thus far had been hectic. Plus, her period was due. She wished it would hurry up so she could get her usual energy levels back; there was too much on the line for her to feel off.
She skipped breakfast at the hotel, but by mid-morning needed something to take away the gross taste in her mouth.
The faint nausea was just nerves ahead of the race.
On her break she went to the team trailer—a gleaming, three-storied paradise with private spaces for the drivers, a strategy room and VIP suites that also housed a team café.
She walked in, about to scope the cabinet for a snack, when she saw Massimo at a corner table, a laptop open before him and a furrow between his brows.
She stopped but it was too late. He glanced up and went stock-still but his blue gaze sharpened.
What little appetite she had disappeared altogether as with one look she responded as if she was back on that plane.
Her body remembered every small, snatched moment they’d shared in the darkness.
She’d desperately wanted to forget it; instead, she was filled with the irresistible longing to walk over, slide onto his lap and lift her mouth for him to plunder.
She didn’t. She dragged in a shaky breath, trying to get control of herself.
Why was he working in here? Why was he at every race?
It was horrific and so awfully unfair. Because she hopelessly, endlessly wanted to see him more, but he was the boss!
More than that, he was so far out of her league—he entertained actual princesses like the one who’d been hanging off his arm in Belgium last week. The beauty was probably his new lover.
Strong wind suddenly rattled the windows, as if her bitter fury had manifested it. She backed out of the café and forced concentration; wind like this could impact the race hugely. She would snack later.
In the race Conrad placed second but to the team’s disappointment, Emiliano’s car had an engine fault and he was unable to finish.
‘This was delivered for you, Lily.’ Shane handed her a bag moments after the checkered flag fell.
Delivered by whom? Shane was gone before she could ask.
Lily peeked inside the paper bag. Chocolate-covered almonds.
Heat covered her in a whole-body blush. Her mouth watered—not in that horrible, nauseous way, but from hunger.
Fortunately, everyone was going to the podium.
Lily didn’t. She stayed in the shadows and indulged in the sweet and thought of the one person in the world who knew she couldn’t resist them.
Italy
As the Italian circuit was only five kilometres from Emiliano’s birthplace, Massimo had a list of sponsor meetings the length of his arm, plus family obligations.
But while the pressure on Emiliano was more intense than any other race on the calendar, Massimo kept an eye on the screen in the VIP suite as always.
In the final minutes of the qualifying session, Massimo was shocked to see Conrad spin out of control.
Time slowed as he watched his driver slam into the safety barrier, sending debris all over the track.
He froze. Waiting. But both image and sound on the screen were static.
After an interminable few moments, the team radio crackled.
‘I’m okay.’ Conrad uttered the best words in the world. ‘All good.’