Chapter Twenty
Georgia
As soon as I walked into my garage, Nora’s nails were dug deep into my arm as she dragged me into the makeshift office hallway.
“Georgie! How was the podcast taping last night?” she asked cheerfully, but I just gave her a look of disbelief that said, “As if you didn’t spend all night checking social media. ”
Before I could respond, Isabelle popped her head out of her office, waving us both in. There was no smile on her face, but the gleam in her eyes told me she was pleased.
“Good morning. Georgia, looks like you had a productive evening last night,” Isabelle announced.
If she only knew how I’d ended it.
“Well, I have some excellent news! I just got off the phone with the clothing brand, Maison de Klotho, and they have requested a meeting with us next week in Monaco.” Nora turned the computer monitor around, presenting the email to us both.
“Oh! My! God!” Nora screamed, prompting Isabelle to motion for her to quiet down. “Sorry, sorry,” Nora quietened. “But this is amazing!”
“It’s just a meeting,” Isabelle added, “but still, it’s a step in the right direction for us.
If we keep up the good work, we should have a sponsorship deal scored before the summer break.
” Isabelle turned directly to me, squinting her eyes.
“That means no Sassy Dubois this weekend, got it, Georgia?” As much as I wanted to complain about the toddler treatment, I knew it wouldn’t be fruitful, so I opted for a sweeter approach.
“Yes, yes, I’ll do my best to quell the beast inside of me.” Truthfully, this was probably the best news I’d heard since winning Barcelona.
“Good.” Isabelle frowned, and I suspected she didn’t completely believe me.
A well-deserved sentiment considering my track record.
“Now, remember, we have the Italian Drivers Association event tonight. You will be attending with Luca. A car will pick you up at seven p.m. Do not be late. I took the liberty of having a dress sent to your room.”
“I’ll be there with bells on.” I ignored Isabelle’s frown. “Now, if you don’t mind, I have plenty of race footage to review.” Feeling a sense of undeserved accomplishment, I strutted out of Isabelle’s office and towards my driver’s room to talk strategy with my engineer.
The day flew by in a blur of VIP meetings and photo shoots, leaving me feeling as if it had ended before it even began.
At four p.m., I made my way back to Luca’s car and sank into the passenger seat.
I opened my mouth to say something, only stopping when I caught sight of the tense frown and creased lines on Luca’s face.
Unlike the usually chipper Luca I was used to, this Luca said nothing as he drove us back to the hotel in complete silence.
When we finally reached our suite, I opened the door to my bedroom and saw it. Laid across the bed was a sleek black dress, the kind that whispered scandal with every sway of fabric.
Silk. Low-cut. High slit.
“Fucking, Nora.” Opening my phone, I immediately dialed my press officer, intent on giving her a piece of my mind. She answered on the second ring, almost like she was expecting my call. “Care to explain the dress Isabelle had sent to my room?”
“Isn’t it just so gorgeous? You are going to look stunning.” Nora had her sickly-sweet voice on, the one that told me she was loving this far too much.
“No way I can wear this! There’s going to be sponsors there tonight!”
“Exactly. What better way to secure a Maison de Klotho sponsorship than you making headlines with a sexy black dress designed by them?”
Before I could argue, the line went dead.
With no backup plan, I showered and then slipped on the dress, smoothing out the ruffled edges.
To be fair to Nora, she was right, it was certainly a statement piece.
With a long slit up the side and a sweetheart neckline, this dress was sexier than I was used to, but a part of me loved how it hugged my curves.
We spent so much of our time in team polos or sponsored athletic dresses filled with corporate logos.
It was nice to get dolled up, nice to feel glamorous for once.
The moment I stepped foot into our shared living room, Luca greeted me with a piercing wolf whistle from where he was lounging on the sofa. His eyes were heavy with exhaustion, but his face was relaxed, especially with the possessive smirk on his lips.
“What did I do to deserve this honor?” He was clearly pleased with himself as he took in the dress, starting at my neckline and not-so-subtly lingering on the slit at my thigh.
“Ready to go?” I asked, trying to ignore his heated gaze.
“Almost.” He pushed off the sofa, grabbing a small navy box from his bag. “I have a gift for you first.”
“I don’t really wear—” I began to argue.
“Just open it,” he said with an exaggerated sigh.
Inside, nestled in velvet, was a delicate silver necklace. A thin chain, and dangling from it, a single charm: a lightning bolt.
I stared at it. “Seriously? Your racing logo?” Luca had adopted the lightning bolt onto all of his helmet and clothing designs.
My words were dripping with sarcasm, but Luca’s smile didn’t falter. Even if it was beautifully designed, the idea of wearing my competitor’s emblem around my neck irked me to no end, and my annoyance only grew as I met Luca’s beaming, eager gaze.
“Designed it myself, amore. Don’t want the other drivers getting any ideas when they see you in this dress tonight. I’ve seen how your friend éliott looks at you.” Luca’s voice was cocky, but I didn’t miss the hint of jealousy in his voice.
Deciding to ignore Luca’s comment, I grumbled, “Whatever. Be quick and put it on then. We’re going to be late.” Realistically, everyone would expect me to be wearing something of Luca’s.
Taking the necklace from my hands, he motioned for me to turn around.
His rough fingers grazed my shoulders, adjusting the delicate chain around my neck.
The cool metal rested against my skin, and I knew my cheeks were blushing at how intimate the moment felt.
Luca’s fingers lingered on the clasp, his touch sending electric tingles through my body.
I tried to play it cool, keep my face the epitome of stoicism, but I knew he could feel how much the soft caress of his hands was affecting me.
“Bellissima.” His voice was low and warm, like honey sliding over silk.
We both gazed into the mirror. I was admiring the delicate lightning bolt glinting at the base of my throat, but Luca’s eyes were somewhere else entirely—fixed on mine.
There was a kind of heat in his gaze that felt heavier than the weight of the necklace.
When he finally pulled away, his absence left a trail of goosebumps down my skin.
After a short drive to the hotel, we arrived at the Drivers Association dinner.
Crystal chandeliers dripped from the high ceilings, casting a soft glow over the opulent space.
The air was filled with the gentle hum of chatter as drivers, sponsors and VIPs mingled, their voices blending with the soft classical music playing in the background.
The Italians never spared any expense when it came to their parties.
Spotting the bar, Luca tugged me behind him like a toddler whose mother was on a mission. I started to object when Luca handed me a champagne flute, but as I noticed everyone staring at us, I couldn’t find it in myself to refuse.
A little liquid courage never hurt anyone.
“Well, well, look who it is? If it isn’t Hermes’s number two driver.” Anthony’s voice drawled behind me, and I glanced at Luca, who was gripping his glass so tightly it looked like it could shatter at any moment.
Lacing my fingers with his, I leaned in toward Luca and whispered loudly enough for Anthony to hear, “Luca, I think Hermes’s number three driver is trying to speak to us.” To my surprise, he turned to me, the frown on his face completely wiped.
How bad would it be if I punched the smug grin off Anthony’s face?
Luca’s eyes looked like he was contemplating the same question, but before I could tell Anthony to piss off, he glanced at our intertwined hands.
Anthony’s smirk widened, clearly unfazed. “Nice to see the two of you are still going strong.”
“Jealousy doesn’t look good on you, Anthony,” I bit back.
A familiar voice chimed in. “You might want to keep your eyes to yourself.” Edward approached, a glass of champagne in both hands.
“Luca once threatened to crash my car if I asked Georgia out on a date. Be a shame to see all that Texan oil money splattered about the track—there’s enough oil on it as is.
” Edward was always one to get in a quick joke, an admirable quality.
Anthony grabbed his drink from the bar, taking a moment to look both directions before leaning in closer to Luca. “Let’s hope your speech doesn’t go as horrifically as your driving.”
Luca’s hand slipped from mine as he balled his fists, stepping forward. But Edward slid between them like a well-practiced bouncer, holding up a hand. Anthony snickered as he walked away, swaggering off to his table at the back.
“He’s not worth it, Luca,” Edward whispered finally, nodding for us to both take our drinks.
“Fucking hate that guy.”
“Anthony is a moron who will never get a Hermes seat. Just ignore him.” Luca nodded as he grabbed his glass and took a sip, but I could see the hurt in his eyes, could sense the frustration.
“Let’s find our table, hmm?” I suggested, and Edward gave me a small hug, before giving Luca’s arm another tight squeeze.
We settled into our seats, and while the others at the table—Henri, Isabelle, a few engineers—chatted animatedly about next year’s specs, I watched Luca. His fingers trembled against his napkin, and he kept rubbing his palms against his trousers like he couldn’t dry them fast enough.
I intertwined our fingers, smiling at him. “Your speech is going to be great, Luca.”
“I don’t know why they asked me to give a speech,” he whispered back, not bothering to look at me. “I’m not a champion like my father.”
“Not yet.” Luca ignored my encouragement as his eyes darted around the room nervously.
His grip on my hand was shaky and clammy, and he let go abruptly so he could wipe his hands on his pants again.
Gently, I let my hand rest on his thigh, tracing soft circles.
He glanced at me, eyebrows raised in question.
I’m not entirely sure why I felt responsible for helping Luca overcome his anxiety about the upcoming speech.
Maybe it was because I had experienced similar intense media pressure before and knew how debilitating it could be.
Or maybe it was because after Miami and the podcast taping and this morning’s car ride, I was starting to genuinely like Luca more and more, and I couldn’t bear to see the charming Luca Rossi everyone loved crumble under the pressure. He didn’t deserve to feel this way.
And then, an idea hit me. Wild. Ridiculous.
Fuck it. I’m doing this.
Excusing myself, I quickly made my way towards the restroom, purse in hand. When I entered the stall, I slid off my purple lacy thong, a huge smile on my lips as I thought back to when Luca called me boring.
See if you think I’m boring now. I smirked, stuffing the panties in my purse with a little too much enthusiasm.
Exiting the bathroom, I looked left and right, as if someone was waiting to interview me on my underwear status, and then cautiously started to make my way back to my table.
“At least now you can picture one person in the audience naked. I hear that’s good for pre-speech nerves,” I whispered, sliding the lace thong discreetly into the inside pocket of his jacket.
He blinked at me. Then his mouth twitched as his hands slid into his pocket. His eyes went wide with disbelief, and no small amount of delight, as a grin crept onto his face.
When his name was called moments later, Luca rose, adjusted his jacket, and walked toward the stage with a swagger that was pure Rossi. Gone was the trembling hand, the bouncing knee. He grinned, took the mic, and gave the room a master class in charm.
He spoke about his time karting as a little boy on the Monza track and gave the Hermes F1 Team a heartwarming thank you.
Then, instead of exiting the stage, Luca paused. He’d left a copy of the speech on the table earlier this evening, and I knew the Hermes thank you was supposed to be the end of it.
“And last, but definitely not least, I want to thank Team Valkyrie.”
Isabelle stiffened beside me.
Now where are you going with this one, Rossi? I thought to myself.
Luca smiled as if he was also amusingly surprised by the words coming out of his mouth. “Thanks for hiring me a racing coach,” he chuckled.
Isabelle waved him off with her hands.
“Now, I know everyone here is wondering what’s it like to date one of the most talented drivers in the paddock.” His eyes locked with mine before he continued. “And fortunately for you, when I’m done with this speech, you can ask Georgia herself.”
The crowd let out a few laughs, and Luca smiled at me from the stage.
“But in all seriousness, Georgia, thank you for pushing me. For believing in me. And thank you to everyone here tonight. I very much look forward to seeing all of you down from the Monza podium on Sunday. Thank you.”
The crowd’s response was electric, and as Luca walked off the stage, various people stopped him on the way back to his table, wishing him luck for the weekend as they snuck in a photo.
I’d seen a dozen versions of Luca Rossi over the years—cocky teammate, smug rival, tabloid bad boy. But this version? The one who let me see his fear, who stood in front of the entire industry and thanked me?
I didn’t know what to do with this version.
There was something about watching Luca confidently up there that filled me with an unexpected warmth. Luca had always oozed confidence, but this confidence was different.
He might think his charming, sly Cheshire cat smile was attractive, but there was nothing sexier than watching a truly confident man give the speech of his life.
I wasn’t sure if it was the couple glasses of wine or lack of underwear, but all of a sudden, I found myself wishing that I could turn my dream from earlier this week into reality.