Chapter 51
ALARIC
My alarm vibrates, alerting me that it’s truly time to get on with my day.
I’m not sure I’ve ever used the snooze feature on my phone, but the pull is strong.
I’ve been up for a few hours already, checking emails, working out, and running a few errands ahead of what promises to be the start of a grueling week.
But Evangeline is still sleeping, and I couldn’t resist crawling into bed before my breakfast meeting to savor a few extra minutes with her in my arms.
I picked up coffee and fresh pastries and plucked a single Mister Lincoln rose and left it in a vase on the island for her to find when she wakes.
It’s official. I’ve deeply and irrevocably fallen for this woman. She’s what I want. She’s all I want. Above all my career aspirations and desires to win, I want to be with her, now and forever.
I’ve never felt so detached from the demands of my job or the dreams I’ve been chasing my whole life. I still care—quite a bit, actually—but for once, I care more about something else.
With a featherlight kiss to the top of Evangeline’s head, I reluctantly peel myself out of bed and get on with my day.
Leslie requested a check-in this morning, which is typical for us after a break. She flew in last night. We’re meeting for coffee and a catch-up session away from the motorhome. I suggested the same café Evangeline is so keen on, and if I don’t leave this second, I’ll be late.
It takes a bit of hustling, but I make it on time and find Leslie set up near the picture window.
I circle the table, greeting my colleague and friend. “Hard at work already, I see.”
Leslie lifts her head, hitting me with a frown.
Her expression causes my stomach to sink. “What’s going on? Is everything okay at home?” I ask as I take a seat. She spent the last week in London with her family. Surely if there was a problem she would have reached out.
“I’ll just come out with it,” she says. “We have an issue, Ric. One we need to deal with head-on.”
I sit up straighter, instantly on high alert.
“Is there anything personal you need to share with me?” she asks.
This must be about Luca. Sighing, I pinch my nose and shake my head. “I’m handling it. Or at least trying to.” My son certainly isn’t making any of this easy.
Leslie’s face twists in distress. “So what do you intend to do about her?”
I bristle. “Her? What are we actually talking about here?”
My second-in-command sighs, lips pursed tightly as she side-eyes me.
“Evangeline Bennett traveled with the team on your private jet last week.”
Heat creeps up my neck. “She did,” I confirm. There’s no point denying it.
“Logic dictates that she’s been in Monaco for a week.
But her room reservation doesn’t start until today.
On its own, that isn’t a big deal.” Except her stern expression says otherwise.
“But then I heard rumors about yesterday’s media event.
I couldn’t find any footage of Luca’s rant, but I did find this. ”
She turns her phone around, showing me a screenshot of Evangeline and me seated on the couch during yesterday’s media event.
I stifle my reaction, not allowing the pleasure to rise to the surface as I drink us in. We look good together. Natural. Like we belong side by side.
With a frustrated huff, Leslie snatches the device, zooms in, and turns it around once more.
And there it is.
Evangeline is speaking, her face bright, her attention focused across the stage, probably on her sister or the moderator. But it’s the look on my face—the beaming, brilliant smile I’m not even trying to hide as I stare at her—that must be telling enough to warrant Leslie’s concern.
With a steadying breath, I lock eyes with my second-in-command.
“You have nothing to worry about. My son was out of line yesterday,” I start. “But we’ve got it under control. His outburst and wrongful accusations won’t be shared.”
The Formula 1 communications team took swift action, issuing a clear directive to all media personnel to exclude Luca’s outburst from both written and digital articles.
Defying those orders could result in losing access to future events.
That’s not to say something won’t leak, and truthfully, it’s practically a guarantee with the insidious rumor mill that fuels this sport, but for now, there’s no immediate blowback on him, me, Granata, or Evangeline.
Leslie stares back at me, deadpan.
“This isn’t about Luca, Ric. It’s about the girl sitting beside you in this picture and the way you’re staring at her with hearts in your eyes. On a media stage for the whole world to witness.”
I wipe away my defenses and offer Leslie nothing. Unfortunately, that just makes her push harder.
“I almost didn’t say anything.” She looks around the café, then lets her gaze fall back on me and shakes her head. “But two hours ago, you waltzed in here and placed a to-go order for a large coffee and a chocolate croissant.”
My heart stutters, my stomach dropping like a lead weight hitting the floor.
Shit.
Leslie has known me for years. She knows I don’t like chocolate and that I only allow myself the pleasure of caffeinated coffee on Sundays.
“What are you doing, Ric?” she implores, the question equal parts shocked and haunted.
I open my mouth to reply, but no words come.
“She’s half your age,” she whispers, angling forward.
Not quite. Though I want to correct her, it won’t help my case, so I keep that comment to myself.
When I cross my arms over my chest, she pushes harder.
“She’s Luca’s ex-girlfriend.”
I grind my molars and breathe in through my nose. “While technically true, he never cared about her and was an abysmal partner.”
Eyes widening, she smacks the table. “She’s your employee. Not even your employee; she’s an entry-level new hire.”
None of her accusations are wrong, but the implications and oversimplification don’t do justice to what’s blossomed between Evangeline and me.
Before I can explain, Leslie presses on. “You are team principal of Granata Racing. Have you completely forgotten the issues that plagued this company because of your sleezy predecessor? The man who also decided to lead with his dick?”
“That’s not fair.” Muscles locking, I scan the café to ensure no one is paying attention to us. “It’s not like that.” I rake one hand through my hair and tug at the ends as I sort out the best way to make her understand.
Leslie sits back in her chair and folds her arms across her chest.
“Really? Are you going to tell me this is different? That she’s special?
” She puts emphasis on the last word, then shakes her head, her lip curling in disgust. “This team is just starting to find its footing again. We won’t survive another round of debauchery, internally or in the media.
You’ve worked too long and fought too hard to get where you are today. ”
Fury and shame blend into an adrenaline-fueled rush. I want to push back, deny there’s any truth to her accusations. But the truth is that the optics are bad at best, and the potential fallout is critical not only to my career, but to Granata’s reputation and Evangeline’s mental health.
Luca’s accusations wrecked her yesterday, leaving her distraught and reeling for hours. It took all night for her to recover from his stunt, and that was without any social media chatter around the incident because of the embargo from the comms team.
“The media will eviscerate her,” Leslie continues. “She’ll never know privacy again, and you’ll have to answer to every single employee, explain why you’re sleeping with a subordinate twenty years your junior.”
“No one will find out,” I counter.
Leslie huffs. “Really? Because you’ve been so discreet? Look, I get it. She’s pretty. I’m sure she’s a good time. But if you get caught getting your dick wet with—”
“Enough,” I order, shoving out of my chair. “That’s not what this is. You know me better than that. I won’t sit here and listen to you speak disrespectfully of Evangeline.”
She lifts her chin, her expression tight. “End it, Ric.”
I can’t.
I won’t.
There’s not a damn thing on this earth I wouldn’t sacrifice to be with the woman I love.
Dropping back into my seat, I shake my head. “I understand you’re looking out for me, for the team, but—”
“End. It.”
Fury coursing through my veins, I cross my arms over my chest. Leslie and I rarely disagree. Our world views and leadership styles are closely aligned. But when it comes to Evangeline, I refuse to yield.
“Dammit.” She sucks a sharp breath in through her teeth. “End it on your own before this gets out of hand and someone ends it for you.”
My mouth drops open. The audacity. “Is that a threat?”
She shakes her head, sighing. “It’s not. But it’s a hunch. A gut instinct I can’t ignore.” Softer, she adds, “All it took was one picture of you two together for me to suspect something, Ric.”
Pain lancing my chest, I close my eyes and rub at my temples. Leslie’s instincts are historically spot-on. I trust her gut more than I trust my own most days. But she can’t be right about this. She just can’t.
Her hand brushes my arm, startling me.
“Listen, if you really care for her, think about her reputation. She dated Luca for quite some time. I couldn’t find much on my own this morning, but there has to be photo evidence of them somewhere out there. It won’t take long for the internet to connect the dots.”
While neither her socials nor Luca’s show any sort of connection—I know because I’ve found myself mindlessly scrolling through Evangeline’s online accounts when we’re apart—I’m sure there must be at least a picture or two of them floating out there in the ether.
Despite the media’s willingness to keep quiet about yesterday’s incident, there’s still the very real chance my son’s outburst will go public eventually. And it’s not unfathomable that his accusations will take off like a perfect start from pole position depending when and how they’re shared.
Leslie stands, her brow knitted with concern.
“I have work to do. I don’t have time to sit here all day telling you what you already know.
If nothing else, think about her. Women are always the ones who take the fall in situations like this.
The media will hound her. Bloggers will destroy her.
Granata will have to let her go. She’ll never work in Formula 1 again.
When all is said and done, she won’t even be able to show her face around the paddock. ”
Horror washes over me. Dread percolates low in my gut. I hate every sensible, logical word that comes out of Leslie’s mouth. But god dammit, she might be right.
What have I been doing, thinking I had any of this under control?
More importantly, what the hell am I risking, putting Evangeline in a situation that could not only harm her mental health but could also risk her job and her closest friendships?
Leslie’s phone chimes, and she glances at her smartwatch. “I have to get back to the motorhome. I’m sorry I had to be the one to make you see the truth. But at least you can handle this now before it spirals out of control. Don’t forget we have the MedLife Gala tonight.”
I wave her off mindlessly, lost in my head as the reality of what I have to do starts to sink in.