Chapter 5
Max
Don’t turn around and watch her walk away.
Do. Not. Do. It.
The words repeat like a mantra, all the while I hold my breath. It’s not until I count down from one hundred backwards that I finally release a breath and turn toward the entrance.
She’s gone.
Good.
I had zero expectations of running into Annalise today while moving in. Or maybe I did since I damn well knew she lived in this building. But this move isn’t about her or anyone else. It’s about me.
Living in Monaco puts me closer to Amato’s headquarters and training facilities. Also, the many opportunities to network with sponsors and businessmen within my sport is unmatched.
Those are the only reasons I chose to move to Monte-Carlo from London. It was just circumstance that I found the perfect flat in this building … a building where my new teammate’s sister happens to live.
Liar.
Ignoring the pesky voice at the back of my head, I assist one of the movers with a box he has stacked on another as we approach the elevator.
When I enter my flat, Edwin is on the phone pacing back and forth.
“Yeah, he’ll be there. Next week. Got it.”
He nods as he notices me enter.
“Next Tuesday is the photoshoot.”
I raise an eyebrow.
“The driver’s shoot. Oh,” he snaps his fingers, “your team photoshoot is on the same day. All of the teams booked the same facility as the FIA. Amato’s is at noon before the group shoot.”
“Right,” I respond. The annual group shoot doesn’t come as a surprise, but it dawns on me this will be the first time I come face to face with Travis since he found out that I’m his new teammate.
That revelation didn’t go over too well. Not that I expected it to. When Drake Horner first approached me about coming over to Amato, I laughed in his face. Figured it was a joke.
But he didn’t crack a smile.
Drake isn’t one to joke often, not about something as serious as this. It took me months to think it over. Can’t say I’m certain about my decision even now, but I’ve signed the contract.
“Your mum’s on her way.” Edwin’s words cut into my musings.
“Why?” I ask, fighting hard to keep the impatience out of my voice.
He shrugs and goes over to one of the opened boxes of silverware. “Since you haven’t done the shopping yet, what do you say we order something for lunch? I’m starving.”
“Why is my mother coming here?” As far as I know, my mother was in London and would be there for another week.
“What?” He glances up from his phone. “Oh, she wants to see your new place. What else?”
I run my hand through my newly shortened hair. I’m still getting used to the length. Can’t say I don’t miss my wavy locks touching my shoulder, but all change requires adjustment. Since my life is undergoing a number of changes lately, I figured why not shed the extra length.
“When will—”
“Are those my son’s trophies?”
Thanks to the still opened door, my mother’s voice enters the flat before she does. I glare at Edwin for not giving me a heads-up sooner, but he doesn’t notice since his head is back in his phone. I assume he’s working on reaching out to the sponsors we discussed earlier today.
That or ordering food for lunch. Either one is a win.
“Max, why did you bring so many of your belongings from your London flat?” my mother asks instead of a normal greeting.
“Mum,” I greet, leaning down to press a light kiss to both of her cheeks. I don’t have to lean too much since at five-eleven my mother’s model statuesque is part of where I get my height from.
“Why are so many of your belongings here?” She tosses her platinum blonde locks over her shoulder as she scans the living room and assortment of boxes with her ice blue gaze.
“This is where I’m living,” I tell her. I glance over at Edwin, who’s still concentrating on his phone. He must’ve given her my address since it wasn’t me. The last I spoke with my mum, I told her that I was looking for flats in Monte-Carlo.
That was weeks ago.
“How many bedrooms are there?” She doesn’t wait for my response before she’s searching out the answer for herself.
I watch in silence as her heels tap out a steady rhythm down the hallway from one bedroom to another.
“Three?” Hearing the incredulity in her voice, I brace myself. “Where am I supposed to sleep when I come to stay?”
“Three bedrooms is more than enough,” I assure her instead of reminding her of the oversized flat in the heart of London that I pay for her to live in. Another reason why my moving to Monte-Carlo was the better decision.
Distance from my dear mother.
“I assume you will take the master as your room. The other two are not big enough for me to sleep in. Let’s be real, son.”
I bite my tongue and opt not to argue with her. The more I engage, the longer she’ll stay. There’s also the chance that she’ll decide to stay longer just because she wants.
“Whenever you choose to drop by, either room is large enough to accommodate your needs. Are you hungry? Edwin was just about to order us lunch.”
“Huh?” Edwin finally picks up his head, as if realizing it’s no longer the two of us with the movers coming in and out.
“Charlotte, I see you’ve chosen to grace us with your illuminating presence,” he says, turning on his usual flattery.
I’m used to it by now. He does it in the presence of all women and potential sponsors.
“Edwin.” My mother extends her hand as if she expects him to kiss her palm, which he does. “Was it you who convinced Max to buy this place?”
He glances over at me. “The decision was all his.”
“It made no sense for me to continue living in London,” I tell her, finally. That should be obvious, but nothing is ever obvious with my mother. “Not with my new team being so far away.”
My mother doesn’t bother to hide her frown. The moment I see it, I regret ever mentioning my new team.
“Yes, that …” She trails off as her eyes drift over to a box on the floor by the door.
I glance down at the box, not having paid attention to it before. My heart sinks when I see the contents that peak out of the partial opening.
“Is this your father’s signed championship photo?
” She asks the question at the same time she rips the box open to see for herself.
“I can’t believe you stole this from London,” she chides, holding up the twenty-year-old black and white photo of my father kissing the Driver’s Championship trophy while confetti and the spray of champagne rains down on him.
Across the bottom of the image is his signature.
“Stole is a bit harsh since I actually own it,” I reply.
Her frown deepens. “You don’t even have an appropriate place to hang this photo. Why didn’t you return it to me before you chose to move?”
Because it’s mine.
My father signed and framed the photo and gave it to me on my fifth birthday after I told him that was the only thing I wanted that year. He went a step further and took me to Legoland and invited my friends from school where we had a birthday party. Then he presented me with the picture.
“I have the perfect place for it.” I take the picture from her hand more gently than she handled it.
“I’m going to pick up the lunch I just ordered,” Edwin says, excusing himself.
I watch him go wordlessly, not bothering to ask what he’s chosen.
“Which brings me to the question,” my mother starts, once he’s gone, “why did you choose to sign with Amato in the first place? I mean, at this point in your career, you should’ve been satisfied with Kr?mer.
Why tarnish the legacy your father built with Amato by going over there just to play second fiddle to Travis Townsend? ”
I clench my teeth together reflexively.
“Second fiddle,” I repeat.
“Yes,” she answers immediately. “Severino knew how to build a team. Do you think Amato was who they became before he signed with them? No, but he knew the value of hard work, of what it took to become a champion.”
“And I don’t?”
She stops, slowly looking me up and down. Though I know where this is going because this is where it always goes with her, there’s something inside of me that still holds out hope that my own mother won’t find joy in crushing my dreams.
“No.” Her words come out as flat and cold as her eye color. “You and I both know that you don’t have what Severino had.” She pushes out a heavy sigh. “I’m just glad that he’s not alive to see his own son tear down his reputation.”
A vision of kicking my mother out of my flat, and telling her never to come back until she can find a modicum of respect, fills my head. Instead, however, the words of my father that I’ve carried for almost two decades pass through my mind.
“It’s our responsibility as men to take care of the women in our lives.”
Just months before he died, he made me promise that if something ever happened to him, I’d step up and be the man my mother needed. To always make sure she was taken care of, the way he would’ve if he were around.
At six I didn’t give it much thought. All I knew was that my dad was my hero and I’d do anything he said to make him proud. Little did I know that I’d have so much less time with him than I thought.
Which is also the reason why I don’t have any room for a real relationship in my life. Women are more trouble than I have time for right now, maybe ever.
“My father’s reputation is safe with me.” My voice is tight as I push the words through my tightening vocal cords.
“I certainly hope so,” she throws back. “But I doubt it. Just do your best not to embarrass our family. Let Travis be the standout that he is, while you …” she looks me up and down again, “can be his number two.”
“I’m nobody’s second driver.”
She rolls her eyes toward the roof. “That is your problem right there.” She points with her red-tipped fingernail.
“Your jealousy. Severino knew how to learn from others. Then again, he had no reason to be jealous of anyone because he was already the best. And he raced back in the days when the sport took real talent and work. Today the car does everything for you.”