Chapter 16
Chapter Sixteen
ROME
Every driver is anxious before a race. Some stay that way even with the tires moving beneath them, while others grow calm from the familiarity of it. I’m typically the latter. Even with a nagging voice in my ear and competition surrounding me, a sense of home settles.
Probably the only home I’ve ever known.
The rest of the race weekend fucking sucks, though.
Especially now, since I’m in the spotlight—and not for the right reasons.
Never mind the fact that Tessa is the first female engineer in our sport. The media has completely blown past that milestone to focus on why Rome Pierce switched teams, no longer driving under his father’s command.
“Remember what we rehearsed," Gia whispers, popping her head in between Tessa and me. “And act like you two get along. If other drivers suspect you two are at each other’s throats, like you’ve been since arriving in Bahrain, they’ll use that to their advantage and twist it to fit their narrative.”
Tessa pats Gia’s arm, the dainty gold rings on her fingers catching the light. “Relax, Gia. We’ve got this.” Her soft expression switches like a flick of a light when pointed at me. “As long as you let me do the talking.”
I snort. “Not a chance.”
Frankly, I’d rather skip out on this entire press conference and let Vanstone’s Princess do what she does best–keep the peace. But then that would mean I’d have to give in to her control, and in case she didn’t notice by now, I like to be in charge.
“I need a drink,” Gia mumbles.
Someone with a headset calls over to us. “They’re ready for you.”
I nod and let Tessa go first.
She hesitates, and I’m positive it’s because she’s confused by my nice behavior.
The cameras are rolling, though, and you never know who’s watching.
Once seated, I do a quick sweep of the room. A few rookie drivers linger in the back behind the camera and a cluster of journalists, along with Gia, who gives us an energetic thumbs up.
I exhale.
No sign of my father.
Yet.
“Rome,” a man garners my attention. “How confident are you heading into this first weekend after the long break?”
I put on my best persona and lie straight through my teeth. “As confident as someone who’s been racing since they were able to walk,” I pause. “Maybe even before then.”
There are a few chuckles here and there, and then comes the next question.
“How does it feel to race again after the season-ending crash last fall?”
My leg twitches beneath the table, a phantom pain burning the skin. “I’ve crashed plenty of times, so I feel the same. The only difference this time was that the world was there to witness it, but that’s just part of the job. I think most racers can agree.”
Tessa shifts in from beside me, her tan leg that I noticed right away when she showed up in a sporty-looking skirt brushes against mine, to distract me.
The journalist clears his throat, and I quickly snap back into the present, except I only catch the tail end of his question.
“—dynamic with your new team versus your father’s?”
My heartrate spikes. “I’m sorry, can you repeat that?”
Tessa’s leg brushes against mine again.
Fuck, stop it.
“How would you describe the dynamic with your new team versus your father’s?”
Think fast, Rome.
I lean back in my chair to seem more comfortable than I am. “It’s been different…” I glance at Tessa, who sits poised with her high ponytail, the hairstyle pulling my attention to her soft, slender neck. “Obviously.”
The crowd laughs again, and Tessa smiles—only, I know it’s fake.
I’ve seen her real smile, and it’s much prettier than the one she’s giving the media.
Prettier?
“Tessa? Would you like to comment?”
She leans over and grabs the microphone from me, our fingers brushing along the way.
“I grew up with four brothers,” she says, deadpan. “I can handle Rome Pierce as my driver.”
Her driver?
I grumble under my breath, something only Tessa hears.
This time, her knee knocks into mine on purpose. With an instinctive reflex, I grab a hold of her thigh with my free hand, the tablecloth hiding our battle from the rest of the room.
Laughter rings around us from her answer, but it’s muted from the pounding in my ears. My skin sparks when my palm collides with her smooth leg. Something deadly simmers just beneath the surface, and it’s so distracting I almost miss the new addition to the crowd.
My father stands alone with his arms crossed, a glare fixed in my direction. Arrogance seeps from his pores, the energy in the room awakens, and like a moth to a flame, everyone turns to catch a glimpse of him.
“We only have time for one more question,” someone says, their voice barely reaching my ears.
“Is there anyone you’re particularly eager to measure yourself against?”
Silence covers the room like a blanket.
The hand on Tessa’s leg grows heavy, and I can’t seem to pick it up.
I swallow and try to tie words together to make a decent sentence, one that can’t be twisted to fit someone else’s narrative of the weekend.
The microphone is still in Tessa’s left hand. I see it out of the corner of my eye.
I turn to look at her, and for the first time since coming to Vanstone, she isn’t glaring at me. Her eyes are soft around the edges, the brown color full of warmth. Then, her right hand falls to mine, still glued to her leg. She gives it a gentle squeeze, and it completely derails me.
We make eye contact for a second, maybe two, and that’s all it takes to bring me back to the present. Instead of taking the microphone from her, I lean close, her perfume engulfing me.
“Myself,” I say. “At the moment, I’m my own competition. It’s the reason I left Pierce Racing and came to Vanstone. I’d like to hone my skills in a different light and see how I do away from all I’ve ever known.”
“Like a challenge?” the reporter asks as a follow-up.
Tessa, sensing my ease, begins to pull her arm away, but I wrap my fingers around hers to keep her hand in mine–like some sort of security.
What the hell am I doing?
“Exactly.” I nod. “I love a good challenge.”
The words have never rung truer than they do in this exact moment.