Leonidas #2
His mind traveled deeper into the past, retrieving a memory of his first meeting with Lavinia, his future mother-in-law.
She is adamant about going to college.
The older woman had divulged this with a pained look on her face, her voice heavy with the bewilderment of a woman who had devoted her entire life to being a proper wife.
And she desires to study something about machines! Machines!
Leonidas would later find out that Lexy’s course of choice was mechanical engineering, which did surprise him, but ultimately, he had not given it much thought.
What his wife wanted to study was her business.
..just like the companies that their respective parents owned would be his business to merge and manage, not hers.
The older woman had shaken her head, genuinely lost. ‘So you understand what I’m up against. And what you will have to deal with, if she were to agree to marry you.
I love my daughter, but I am not blind, and I do not want to be accused of deception either, in asking you to consider taking my daughter as your bride.
You must understand...she is not your typical Greek girl.
She is not your typical...anything. You understand? ’
By the time the main course arrived, and his would-be bride was set to join them, Leonidas had expected to meet a creature half wallflower, half monster. Some hunched, scowling girl who would make his arranged marriage a daily punishment.
But instead...
Go?tevménos.
The word translated to ‘enchanted’ in English.
And that was how she had made him feel that first night...and why he had known without a doubt Lexina Aryanis would be the perfect fit as his wife.
Lavinia excused herself as soon as Lexina arrived, but only after warning her daughter sotto voce to ‘please do behave’.
Cynical as he was, he had thought Lexina would then try to charm or flirt with him, or perhaps play the ‘reverse psychology’ card by trying to pick a fight with him in hopes that this would make her seem more interesting.
But instead...she had done nothing.
Or rather, she had met his gaze with a mixture of curiosity and tranquil thoughtfulness, and it was only when ten full minutes had passed that Leonidas had realized with amusement she had no plans of speaking first.
And strangely enough, all of those things combined had been what enchanted him, and even more surprising was how she continued to enchant him throughout the evening...and without even trying.
When he’d explained the arrangement he had in mind, she’d listened with those quiet dark eyes. No interruption. No negotiation. And when he’d finished, she’d nodded once and said: I can be a perfect wife for you. In exchange, I want to live my own life.
Those had been her very first words, and even now, he remembered how he had found the tone of her voice just as enchanting. Soft but serious, every word spoken as if it carried the weight of a lifelong vow, and it was why she often chose silence over pointless speech.
He had then asked her to clarify and specify what she meant.
Taught her to apply actual numbers to turn vague thoughts into measurable conditions.
And instead of trying to play coy or making use of the usual feminine wiles that were naturally at her disposal, she had listened intently, even asked for a few minutes to compose her thoughts, and then she had nearly made him smile when she said afterward—
‘Thank you for being so nice. I’m ready to renegotiate.’
He hadn’t known it then, but his role as husband would naturally evolve into being her mentor as well, with Lexy obeying his every command because she had deemed him worthy of her trust and respect.
That same night, they had discussed and negotiated every detail of what their marriage would entail.
Sleeping arrangements. PR commitments. The possibility of offspring.
..or divorce. But the one thing that did not come up.
..was the one thing he had been waiting for her to ask about.
But when coffee and dessert had already been served, and she had yet to say a single word about it—
‘What about money?’ Leonidas had asked finally.
And to this, Lexy had simply blinked at him as if confused by the fact that he even had to ask such a question. ‘Are you not supposed to take care of that on my behalf?’ A small furrow between her brows. ‘Is that not why we’re marrying?’
An answer that was not quite an answer, but it was one that enchanted him the most, and so, even though he had no ring in his pocket, he had asked her to marry him, and she had—as expected—said ‘yes’ without asking about a ring.
It had been eight years since then.
Eight years.
And in every day of their marriage, his wife had been nothing short of perfect. She had made a promise about the kind of wife she would be, and she had kept it. He had made a promise about the kind of husband he would be, and he, too, had kept his word.
It was a marriage made perfect because both of them understood what honor meant.
And valued it.
Which was also why he didn’t think it was fair to subject her to what lay ahead.
“If you’re here—”
Aivan’s voice had Leonidas turning in time to see his friend stride back into the conference room, still dressed in his racing suit, and his hair slightly matted with sweat after joining his trainees for a single race.
The Sicilian billionaire moved with the easy confidence of a man who’d conquered every track that mattered.
Dark hair, sharp features, the kind of presence that made photographers and sponsors salivate in equal measure.
At thirty-eight, Aivan Cannizzaro still topped those ridiculous lists where women voted for the world’s most attractive athletes.
Much to his wife Sienah’s apparent amusement and his own visible irritation.
But there was something different about him now. Softer around the edges. The cold machine Leonidas had first met a decade ago had thawed into something almost human.
Marriage, Leonidas supposed. Or rather, the right marriage. The kind where you actually let yourself feel something.
“I’m assuming you’ve made a decision?” Aivan settled into the chair across from him, gesturing for Leonidas to sit as well.
The conference room was pure Aivan. Sleek, functional, dominated by screens displaying real-time telemetry data from the track below. Trophies lined one wall, arranged with the carelessness of a man who had nothing left to prove.
Leonidas reached for the contract that had brought him here. The document was substantial, dense with technical specifications and legal provisions, but the core proposal was simple enough.
A new patented technology. Modified car design. Adaptive systems that would compensate for his damaged ligament by redistributing control inputs, allowing him to rely on his still-lightning reflexes rather than the knee that had betrayed him.
A second chance at the championship that should have been his.
“Why me?” Leonidas asked finally.
“First, there are the official reasons. The ones we’ll present to the press.
” Aivan ticked them off on his fingers. “Our friendship. The business deals we’ve worked on together.
The privilege of being instrumental in your return to racing.
Your incomparable skills as a driver. Skills that were never in question, only your body’s ability to execute them. ”
“And the unofficial reason?”
“You need to sign a considerable number of waivers.” Aivan’s expression sobered.
“This technology comes with risks. Risks that only a billionaire like you can afford to take, in case things go south. We need someone with deep enough pockets to absorb potential liability, and enough personal stake to push the boundaries of what’s possible. ”
“So I’m to be your guinea pig.” Leonidas’s tone was sardonic. “Let you turn Formula One into one big experimental stress test.”
“I prefer ‘pioneer,’” Aivan drawled.
“And why should I sign up for this?”
“You mean aside from the fact that we both know you’re meant to return to the track?
” Aivan leaned forward. “If we can make this technology work, it won’t just change racing.
It can be applied to other fields. Medical.
Military. Emergency response. We’re talking about adaptive systems that could save limbs.
Save lives.” A pause. “Your return to racing would be the proof of concept that opens those doors.”
The silence that followed his words was expected, and the thought of trying to persuade his friend with the usual promises of fame and fortune didn’t even cross Aivan’s mind.
Leonidas was not like the usual crop of young racers that came knocking on his door, eager for fame and fortune.
His friend already had it all...and more.
In the world of finance, his friend was a modern-day monarch, but with a business empire to run rather than his own kingdom.
In the eyes of high society, Leonidas was an enigma whose attention they slavishly tried but failed to capture, a man who had a lion for a soul, and as with all predators—Leonidas only cared about its next prey.
And yet...here he was, asking for Leonidas to consider turning his world upside down and risking everything he had worked hard for. If everything went right, Leonidas would claim what should have always been his. But if just one thing were to go wrong...
Leonidas knew there was a lot at stake if he were to accept his friend’s offer, and these were things he knew he should care about.
The racing world had a long memory. Many would celebrate his return: the prodigal champion, finally healed, racing to a podium finish that was so many years delayed.
But he also knew just as many would pray for his failure.
The sponsors who’d written him off. The rivals who’d risen in his absence.
The journalists who’d built careers on his tragedy and wouldn’t appreciate having their narrative disrupted.
If he failed publicly, spectacularly, it wouldn’t just end his dream. It would bury the technology that might have helped countless others. These were the factors he should deem most important. And yet...all he could think of was something else.
Or rather, someone else.
“The moment people find out I’ve returned,” Leonidas said slowly, “my life becomes public again. Every move scrutinized. Every relationship examined.”
And if all eyes were on him, so they would also be on his wife, whose quiet life and peaceful anonymity would be inevitably disrupted, through no fault of her own.
“What exactly are you worried about?” Aivan did not believe for one moment that life outside racing had so changed his friend that he had suddenly become sensitive to public scrutiny.
“It is not like before,” Leonidas said grimly. “Just like you, I have a wife to think about, and I do not think it is fair—” He stopped speaking, his gaze narrowing at the subtle shift of expression on his friend’s face. “What is it?”
Instead of answering, Aivan rose from his chair and moved to the sleek cabinet behind his desk, withdrawing a second set of documents.
“I was asked to keep this confidential for as long as it was financially feasible.”
Leonidas accepted the folder with no particular expectation, but when he flipped it open, the first page alone had him frowning. This contract had to do with the patented technology that Aivan wanted him to try.
“Did you not tell me in the past that the patent owner wishes to remain anonymous?”
“You remember correctly,” Aivan acknowledged, “and just as I said earlier—we both agreed that anonymity would only be maintained as long as it was financially feasible.”
“I take it that is no longer the case?”
“Because of you.”
What did that even mean?
Leonidas began flipping through the contract, skimming impatiently in search for more answers even as his mind went through a series of names. Perhaps Leonidas wanted him to work with a former rival or—
What the—
The name.
Typed in clean black letters on the signature line.
Lexina Aryanis Gazis.
Leonidas stared at the page.
Read the name again.
Lexina Aryanis Gazis.
His wife.
Lexy.
His absent-minded, occasionally na?ve wife was the patent owner.
And thus, the reason he now had a choice to return to professional racing.
How had he not known about this?