Chapter Seven
Luca
When I left the conference room, I was fuming. This charade had my father’s stink all over it. After the yacht incident, he’d made it very clear that if I didn’t “get my act together” he would take matters into his own hands. And judging by today’s ambush, he’d decided to make good on that threat.
I stormed into Hermes’s hospitality suite, only to find both of my parents sitting calmly at a bistro table, sipping espresso like they hadn’t just orchestrated a coup over my life.
“A little heads-up would have been nice,” I grated out, pointedly glaring at my father.
“If I’d warned you then you wouldn’t have gone to the meeting,” he replied evenly, not even bothering to look up from his paper.
“Tell me, why Georgia Dubois?” I paced in front of their table, not waiting for a response.
“I don’t think she’s even capable of having a conversation that isn’t centered around tire temperature or fuel loads.
” My teammate’s sassy sister might be one of the most beautiful women in the paddock, but even that couldn’t redeem her dull personality.
Or the fact she couldn’t open her mouth without talking about racing—or my father.
“Good, maybe she’ll teach you something, and then you’ll be better suited to answer actual questions about the car,” my dad retorted. I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. I’d been a Formula 1 driver for much longer than Georgia, and I was well versed in the car’s setups.
My mother gestured for me to take a seat as she poured me an espresso.
“Now, Flash, don’t be rude. She’s doing you a favor, and I think you’ll find that there’s a lot more to her than meets the eye.
” I sneered at the insinuation that Georgia was doing me a favor.
She needed this as desperately as I did, but my mother was the kind of person who couldn’t speak ill of the devil himself.
My father finally set the newspaper down, his jaw tight. “Georgia is an excellent racer. Her talent makes her brother look like a rookie, and her passion for the sport is that of a champion. I’m hoping some of that rubs off on you. She reminds me of me, back when I was winning championships.”
“Great, exactly what I want, to date my father. Lucky me.” Judging by the slight twitch of my father’s jaw, he’d had just about enough of me.
“Luca, you’re doing this,” he said flatly.
“And what if I refuse?”
He didn’t even blink. “Then maybe I’ll let that paper print that horrific photo of you from a week ago.”
“Michael!” My mum gasped, and from my father’s wince, I knew she’d just kicked him under the table.
“No, I’ve had enough of this. You’ve got one shot to fix your reputation, and this—” he gestured broadly “—is it. Clean image. Steady girlfriend. Legit teammate. And maybe, maybe, a second chance with Helios Sunglasses.”
My father’s words hung in the air, heavy with disappointment and frustration. I couldn’t meet his gaze, instead focusing on the intricate patterns of the tablecloth, tracing the swirling leaves and vines with my eyes as a small ounce of shame crept in.
Shame I deserved.
He leaned forward, and I looked up at him, his eyes narrowing as they locked on to mine.
“Honestly, Luca, if you didn’t want to be saddled with Georgia, then you shouldn’t have been photographed kissing her last weekend.
What was going through your head? I can see the tabloid headlines now the first time Georgia has a bad race: ‘Playboy driver breaks the heart of F1’s first female race winner.
’ You’ll be crucified in the papers if you don’t do this, son. ”
There was no denying that my father was right.
While the journalists had been nothing but cruel to Georgia, they still loved the idea of having a female driver on the grid.
My father could only save me from so many clickbait stories, and I wasn’t sure if he would even bother trying to save me from this one.
My father took another sip, watching me over the rim of his espresso that had likely gone cold by now.
“It’s time you learn what an honor it is to be a Formula 1 driver, something that you’ve clearly forgotten.
Back in my day, we weren’t drivers because it meant we could date the latest TikTak model.
We did it for the thrill of feeling the wind in our faces as we stood on the podium in victory. ”
“That’s how low you think of me, hmm? That I just do it for the TikTok models?”
His accusation lingered in the air. Somewhere over the last year, that burning desire to get into the car every weekend had vanished. An inconvenient truth I knew I could never say out loud—not if I wanted to keep whatever fractured part of my relationship with my parents I had left alive.
I shoved up from the table, seething. “Fine. I’ll do your stupid stunt, but when this ludicrous plan backfires, just remember that it was your idea.
Doesn’t bother me, I don’t give a fuck either way.
” Snatching my espresso, I stormed off to the driver’s room, which now felt more like a padded cell than my sanctuary.
I slammed the cup down, flopped onto the leather couch, and ran both hands through my hair.
“Whoa, aren’t you gonna knock first?”
Startled, I immediately spilled coffee down the front of my jeans.
“Fuck. Edward! What are you doing here? In my driver’s room?” Edward tossed me a towel, and I made quick work of wiping up the hot coffee that was staining my trousers.
“Your mother let me in.” Edward shrugged. “Said you could use a friend after a tense morning meeting.”
“Oh really?” I drawled. “How nice of her. Did she also tell you about her betrayal?”
“Come on, Luca. Dating Georgia won’t be that bad. Hell, after the impressive response to today’s tabloid article, it’s sort of a good idea. The fans love the two of you.”
“Et tu, Brute?” I tossed the damp towel into my laundry basket and fell back onto the couch, facing Edward with my arms crossed. He joined me on the opposite end, propping his grubby feet up on my coffee table.
“Let me guess,” I muttered scornfully, “you’re here to talk me into it.”
Edward glanced at me, his brow furrowing slightly. “Well, from what I can see, you don’t really have much of a choice.”
“Thanks, Ed, just want I want to hear.” He shot me a sympathetic look, his eyes softening as he leaned forward.
“Luca—”
“Save it,” I snapped, waving my hand dismissively.
With the number of lectures I was getting today, it felt like I’d been enrolled in university.
“I know I have to do this. My father made that crystal clear. Georgia and I are splashed across every tabloid, and my phone has been blowing up all morning. If I don’t do this, the press will crucify me.
Dating random girls is one thing, but breaking the heart of the newest female driver on the grid?
Any remaining sponsors I have left will run for the hills. ”
Edward leaned back onto the couch, crossing his arms over his chest.
“You know my father had the nerve to say that dating Georgia would help with my driving. I can fucking drive an F1 car, Edward. I have countless trophies sitting in my cabinet at home from the last five years, but why bother trying to win when Hermes prioritizes Henri? I mean, in Australia, I was running in second, ahead of Henri, and they still demanded I move aside for their precious number one driver. Not that my father gets that, considering he was Henri when he was racing for Hermes.”
“Luca, I’m sure he didn’t mean it.”
“Oh no, he did.” My voice cracked, and I turned away, blinking hard. “He thinks I’m in it for the social perks, as everyone likes to say. Like I had a choice, as if racing wasn’t forced on to me since I was a child. Why does it even matter if I like the social perks? Am I not allowed to have fun?”
I reached over to the side table to grab my water bottle, but my attention was immediately drawn to a fallen picture frame.
My stomach sank as I recognized the photo of me and my dad at one of my early karting competitions, another reminder of the racer I used to be.
Edward noticed my distraction, inching closer to look at the photo.
“Your dad talks about that track often,” he remembered. “You used to love racing, Luca. What happened?”
I set the photo back in place, brushing off the dust. “When I was a kid, I wasn’t a Formula 1 World Champion’s son.” My voice was barely above a whisper. “I was just Flash, the kid who loved to go fast.”
“And now?”
“Now I’m Michael Rossi’s disappointing failure of a son.
The son of Hermes’s most beloved champion, who finishes behind his teammate.
” I tried to laugh, but it came out thin and bitter.
“You know, last week someone in the press accidentally asked Henri about how wonderful it must be to have a Formula 1 champion for a dad? I’m so embarrassing, even the press can’t believe I’m Michael Rossi’s son. ”
Edward put a reassuring hand on my shoulder.
“I hate how we’re forced into all of these painful press interactions.
I’m sorry that happened. You aren’t a failure, Luca.
It’s a new week, a new race. Hermes signed you because you’re talented, and there’s still time to show them that you’re worth investing in, too.
Or even better, maybe show another team that you’re worth their time.
There have to be other teams interested in you. ”
“Hah,” I snorted. “As if my father would ever let me race for someone other than Hermes.”
Why would Hermes want to invest in an almost 30-year-old racer when they had an up-and-coming 25-year-old star as the lead driver? If I was lucky, I had maybe another three-year contract before all the teams considered me washed out.
I was still stewing in that grim thought when Edward, in true Edward fashion, cut through the spiral with a smug grin. “You know what I think?” He leaned in like he was about to tell the world’s biggest secret. “I think by the end of this season, you and Georgia will actually be dating.”
I scoffed so hard I nearly choked. “Pretty sure Georgia would rather crash into a barrier during Monaco than date me.”
He held up his hands. “A thousand euros says I’m right.”
“Look, if you want to lose some money, who am I to stop you? Deal.”
Edward shook my hand with unwarranted determination.
“Hopefully, there’s a softer, more complacent Georgia,” I added, “or this media training they’re expecting me to give her is going to be near impossible.”
“Well.” Edward sprung from the couch, downing the remainder of his coffee. “If anyone can teach Georgia how to become a charismatic, egotistical asshole, it’s you, Luca!”
I grabbed my dirty towel and threw it at him, but he was already out the door, cackling as it hit the floor behind him.