Chapter Twenty-Two
Georgia
After the gala, I expected things to be weird between us, but to my surprise, they weren’t. I’d contemplated bringing it up, but the moment never felt right.
Still, I could tell it lingered between us, unspoken but present. The way his gaze held mine too long. The way he bit his bottom lip like he was keeping words in. Based on Luca’s heated gaze and the subconscious biting of his bottom lip, I figured he was probably having the same debate.
And if I was being honest? I liked having the upper hand for once. I liked the way he looked at me, like he was still thinking about me on my knees.
Because God knew I was thinking about having him on his.
And based on his blown pupils and the desire lingering in his eyes, I suspected he would have returned the favor if I hadn’t waltzed out of the room.
But I’d stupidly let my pride stop me. In the moment, it felt more fun to tease Luca, to show him that I wasn’t as boring as everyone said—but now?
Now I had spent all weekend debating how to get myself alone with him in between our hectic schedules.
A loud noise from the living room caught my attention.
A thud, then something like a muffled curse.
Curious, I cracked the door open just enough to peer into the suite.
Luca was sitting on our living room couch, his head buried in his hands.
He was rocking back and forth, muttering under breaths that were barely audible.
I shut the door quietly. It seemed like a private moment, and as much as I was dying for a cup of coffee, I didn’t feel as though it was right to invade his personal space.
When the bathroom door closed, I took that as my cue and tiptoed out into the living room, making my way to the suite’s kitchenette so I could brew my much-needed coffee. As I carefully poured hot water over my ground beans, I noticed Luca emerging from the bathroom, holding his shirt in his hands.
Was this man genetically opposed to wearing clothing indoors?
I opened my mouth to make a joke about this being a shared living room where shirts were necessary, but before I could utter a word I tripped over my own feet, and a panged scream escaped me before I caught myself on the back of the sofa.
Absolute idiot, Georgia.
Luca turned. His eyes were red and puffy, slightly sunken in.
The vibrant gleam I usually saw in them dulled to something tired and heavy.
Thinking back, I realized I’d never seen Luca cry, not even after his first win several years ago.
His face was always a picture of stoicism, like one of Michelangelo’s sculptures.
He mumbled a quiet, “Morning,” before disappearing toward his bedroom, and the lump in my throat grew.
I hesitated only a moment before calling after him.
“Luca!”
He paused in the doorway. I wasn’t sure if I should bother him, but I thought back to what I always needed in moments like this.
Anxiety was common in the racing community, and I understood what this home race meant to him, the pressure that he was under.
Everyone he loved most in the world would be there today, watching him.
Expecting him to put on a show that would make Italy proud.
I lifted the carafe. “Want some coffee? There’s enough for two here.”
Luca’s eyes flickered up to the kitchen and then down to his toes, but much to my surprise, he nodded, taking a seat on the sofa. Handing him a cup, I sat down next to him on the plush maroon couch, letting the silence fill the room as I watched the ripples in my coffee.
Should I say something? Sometimes just having someone near me was enough to calm my anxiety. I knew this more than anyone, how comforting it was to just sit next to someone when the world felt so impossible and heavy on your shoulders.
After a few more minutes of sipping our coffee in silence, Luca finally spoke up. “I’m surprised you take your coffee black.”
“I would never insult a coffee roaster by adding cream and sugar,” I gasped, pretending to feign offense, although I was slightly offended on behalf of coffee everywhere. That earned me a small chuckle. He took a sip, hands wrapped tightly around the mug. “You feeling okay?”
Luca’s eyes darted to the window, before settling on the floor. “Just a lot on my mind. After yesterday’s qualifying, Henri had to take a penalty, so he’s starting at the back of the grid.”
Which meant today—for the first time—Luca would be the number one driver at Hermes. He would finally get the prioritization he deserved. But it also meant expectations. The kind that crushed you before you even got behind the wheel.
“I’ve never had so many eyes on me,” he said. “Family, team, fans… Italy.” He swallowed. “No Italian has won Monza since my dad. And now they all think I might.”
Words kept spilling out of him, as if the load on his mind lightened with each passing breath.
“Sometimes I feel like it’s all too much. It would just be easier if someone crashed my car, so I wouldn’t have to face the possibility of completing the race but not making it on the podium. The possibility of disappointing my father.”
I smiled at him softly, taking a moment to process and appreciate his vulnerability.
“The only person that you can let down this weekend is yourself,” I said finally.
“You don’t owe anyone anything, including your father.
You drive for you, and only you. You’re going to drive this weekend with the same amount of passion you have for your country, and I think it’ll transpire into something you’ll be proud of.
You have immense talent. If you want this win, then fight for it today. ”
“I just—”
“No,” I cut him off. “You’re many things, Luca, but you’re not a coward.”
A faint smile ghosted across his lips.
“Plus, you have a real opportunity to come second in this race, assuming that pesky driver starting pole doesn’t run you off the track.” He actually laughed, the sound low and real.
We sipped in silence again for a few more moments.
A strand of hair fell over my face, and Luca reached over, brushing it back, fingers lingering against my cheek.
His lips slowly parted as if he was about to speak, but he said nothing, his eyes instead flickering down to my lips as a familiar spark of butterflies surged.
My breath caught as he closed the space between us.
Wednesday’s gala had been teasing and fun, fueled by one too many champagne glasses from each of us as we both fought to dominate the other. But this? This was something else entirely.
His lips hovered over mine, our foreheads brushing. Luca’s thumb traced the corner of my mouth like he was memorizing it. The sun was rising outside. Warm light spilled across the living room floor, and for a moment, the entire world fell away.
All I saw was Luca. The one behind the headlines. The one who made me laugh. The one who got it, who understood the pressure, the performance, the fear.
I liked this Luca sitting next to me. Leaning in, I found myself drawn to the charming dimple on his left cheek. Our lips were now only inches apart, and I couldn’t deny the growing desire to feel them against mine.
“Georgia, you there?”
Loud banging on my hotel room door caused us both to jump, startled by the interruption. His cheeks were flushed pink, and he looked a bit embarrassed by our near-kiss.
Groaning, I got to my feet and cracked the door open. “Lily? You alright?” Lily and I were close, but it was unusual to hear her knocking on my door at seven thirty in the morning.
She nodded timidly as she fidgeted from side to side, biting her lower lip. It wasn’t until she entered that I remembered Luca was sitting on the sofa—shirtless—wearing some skimpy, soft athletic shorts as pajamas, which became evident by the cheeky smirk on Lily’s face.
“Oh,” Lily snickered quietly. “Am I interrupting something?”
I gave her a withering look, one I hoped communicated Not one word of this in the garage, or I will sabotage your car. She gave me a sweet smile and plopped herself into the nearest chair.
I poured her a cup of coffee, trying to ignore the way her eyes kept flitting back to Luca. Such a flirt.
After handing her the cup, I sat down next to Luca, closer this time. Possessive, petty, but I didn’t care. He might be a fake boyfriend, but for now, he was my fake boyfriend. Lily gave me a quick, bemused smirk.
“Luca, I finally listened to the podcast,” she said, taking a sip. “It was very funny. Although, I think Nora might murder you for the ending. Not exactly the part of the relationship they want to be made public.”
Luca chuckled, pleased with himself. “Glad you enjoyed it.”
“So, Lily, I appreciate the visit, but seven thirty is a little early, even for you.” Lily was a notorious early riser. She loved to watch the sunrise before a race, claimed it gave her serenity before a Grand Prix.
She shrugged. “I know. I couldn’t fall back asleep this morning. I just feel like the last few weeks haven’t gone as well as I’d hoped, and I’m nervous for today.”
Lily was a phenomenal driver and incredibly talented, but managing a Formula 1 car at the young age of twenty was hard for anyone, man or woman. I often reminded Lily that she shouldn’t compare herself to me. I’d won F3 and F2, and then I’d gone on to race open-wheeler cars in Japan and America.
Experience came with age, and I knew my teammate would get there.
“You know this, but I’ll say it again. It takes time to get used to a Formula 1 car.
Isabelle picked you for a reason. All you need to do this weekend is put your head down and drive with that hunger that got you a racing seat.
” Lily’s mouth curved upwards, her eyes brightening as she took a sip of coffee.
If my job as a driver didn’t succeed, there was potential in a job as a therapist.
“Wisdom comes with age, as my father always says,” Luca added. “I’ve no doubt that you have several World Driver Championship wins ahead of you, Lily. Probably more than this one will win.” He ruffled my hair, and I swatted his hand away, scoffing.
“And definitely more than Luca.” He feigned a look of hurt.
Lily stayed for another twenty minutes, finishing her cup of coffee, before returning to her room to get ready for the day. As soon as she left, I heard a ding on my phone, a text from Lily lighting up the screen.
Lily:
Why have you not had some angry hate sex with this fine man yet?
Lily:
Or was that what I was interrupting this morning?
Georgia:
A classy lady never tells.
I set my phone down, but the smile stayed. Across from me, Luca raised an eyebrow.
“You gonna tell me what that was about?”
“Not a chance, Rossi. Now get dressed. I’ve got a race to win.”