Chapter 27 Matteo
MATTEO
I’d been through enough media cycles to know when a question was coming before it was even out of someone’s mouth.
The reporter shifted forward in her seat, her eyes gleaming with that particular brand of journalistic glee that came with digging into things that weren’t theirs to dig into.
“So, Matteo,” she said, the smile too saccharine to be anything but bait, “There’ve been a few…photos circulating. You and Nicola Moretti looked very close after the last race. Is there something you’d like to share with your fans?”
I held her gaze, calm, practiced. A few years ago, I might’ve fumbled this. Might’ve joked my way out of it or dodged the question entirely. But now?
Now I just thought of Nicola’s text from earlier.
‘Would this make it any better?’ it had read.Attached was a photo that had nearly killed me.
She was laid back on the hotel bed in some lacey little thing that definitely did not count as clothing.
Her legs were crossed, lips parted in a smug little smirk like she knew exactly what it would do to me.
Because she did. Because she was evil. Beautiful, smart, funny—and evil.
God, all I wanted was to end this interview, find her, and ruin that set. Slowly. Thoroughly.
I cleared my throat and leaned in, voice even.
“I think there’s an important conversation to be had about privacy.
Drivers—public figures in general—we deal with a lot of intrusion.
But sharing personal photos without consent?
That’s a line no one should cross.” My jaw ticked slightly, but I kept it reined in.
“Those images were private. They weren’t meant for public consumption, and it’s disappointing that they were treated like gossip instead of the violation they are. ”
The room went still. A few reporters nodded—some scribbled notes. I could feel the next question coming, so I lifted a hand and added, “As for my personal life…”
Pause. Deep breath. Think before you say something that makes your PR team faint. “…I’ll keep most of it personal, because that’s what it should be. But I’ll also say this”—I glanced at the cameras with a smile that felt a little too honest—“I’m very happy. And very lucky.”
There were a few murmurs, some exchanged glances. My answer had just made headlines. Inside, though? Inside, I was replaying the way Nicola looked in that lace, imagining the click of her heels against the marble as she walked toward me later tonight, pretending she didn’t know what she’d done.
She knew.
She always knew.
And I was already counting the minutes until I could get my hands on her.
Another hand shot up immediately after I answered, this time from a journalist I recognized—British press, notoriously blunt.
“Matteo, does this mean you’re officially in a relationship? Or are we still in the ‘just friends’ territory you mentioned last month?”
I smiled, letting my tongue rest against the inside of my cheek. “You know,” I said, “I think the term ‘just friends’ seriously undersells how complicated and interesting people’s connections can be.”
A few quiet laughs around the room.
“I’m not big on labels, but I’m big on honesty. So if I say I care deeply about someone, that I respect them, that I’m proud to know them—that should count for something.”
And if I say I’m one text away from skipping this whole weekend to pin her against the wall of her suite?
Probably shouldn’t say that out loud.
Another voice jumped in—this time from an Italian reporter with a mic branded in Moretti red. “Is it hard, dating someone so closely tied to your team?”
My grin widened. “It’s Formula One,” I said. “Everything’s hard. You learn to compartmentalize.”
Like not thinking about how she looked with her hair up, or how she whispered good luck in my ear like she meant it everywhere.
Another hand went up, this one more hesitant. “Matteo, with the championship still undecided, and your teammate out of the points, all eyes are on you. How do you stay focused with everything going on—on and off track?”
I nodded slowly, that one grounding me a bit.
“This is my job. My dream. Everything I do is to be better—faster, sharper, smarter. I care deeply about the people in my life, but when I get in the car, it’s just me and the circuit. Everything else waits. I’m partial to yoga as some good training prep too.”
I sat back as the press officer announced one last question.
I kept my expression calm, hands folded loosely on the table.
I gave one final nod to the reporters and pushed my chair back, thanking the press officer as I stepped off the platform and into the cooler air of the hallway.
The moment the doors swung shut behind me, it felt like I could breathe again—sort of.
“Nice job in there, Starboy,” Anna’s voice chimed as she fell into step beside me, clipboard in one hand, phone in the other. Her stride was brisk, heels clicking against the polished concrete as we walked toward the paddock offices. “Very diplomatic. The internet’s going to eat it up.”
I ran a hand through my hair, trying not to look as restless as I felt. “Didn’t feel very diplomatic.”
“You almost twitched when they mentioned her,” she teased, eyes still on her screen.
I shot her a glare, but it didn’t stick.
She was right. I’d almost fidgeted when they brought up the photos.
I could still see the curve of Nicola’s hips in that pale blue lace every time I blinked.
Anna turned the screen of her phone toward me.
“Anyway. I’ve got campaign notes for you.
Two shoots are going ahead after some final team approvals—one with Carrera, one with a new upcoming F3 star Serena Kolman.
Moretti might be picking her up as an Academy racer. ”
“Alright sounds good,” I muttered, trying to stay focused.
Anna smirked. “You sure are distracted today.”
We reached the Moretti team hospitality building, and I lingered at the edge of the sidewalk, tapping my fingers against my thigh. I didn’t have another meeting for twenty minutes. Technically, I had time to disappear for a bit. Technically.
Anna raised a brow. “You going to be able to focus the rest of the day, or are you going to spend it texting your not-girlfriend about lingerie until you combust?”
“How do you know about that?” My head spun toward her.
“We went shopping.” She rolled her eyes. “Okay get out of here, you’re useless to me like this,” Anna said, already turning toward her next task. “You’ve got about nineteen minutes before admin wants you back for a walk-through video. Try not to wrinkle your shirt.”
I didn’t wait for her to change her mind.
I was already halfway down the stairs, phone in hand, texting Nicola.
Matteo:
Guess what I’m about to get?
Nicola:
On my nerves?
Matteo:
Cheeky.
I’ve got a small break. About 19 minutes before my next meeting. Please dear God tell me you’re on track.
Nicola:
Location sent.
God help me.
I followed the directions on my phone like it was my new favorite scavenger hunt game.
People said hi as I passed, and I smiled and tried to give them a nod of hello or any acknowledgment, but I had a one-track mind.
I turned the corner and spotted my fucking kryptonite clad in red heels at the end of the hall.
“Took you long enough,” she said, her sunglasses dipping low on her nose as she looked up at me, those blue eyes that filled my dreams making me think of nothing other than getting her alone.
“Fuck, I missed you,” I whispered, pulling her into me, burying my head in her neck, kissing along the way. She tried to hold back a giggle at the spot I kissed last. And I let myself fucking bask in that moment. Nicola Moretti giggling—who’d have thought?
I mean, I did. I found that spot in Portofino during those sleepless nights. It haunted my thoughts; I wanted to do it again and again.
She pushed my chest with some effort, but it didn’t move me in the slightest. She was so fucking cute, it made my head spin.
“DeLuca, we’re in public. Our whole big reveal is all planned, don’t go mucking it up.”
“I don’t care,” I grunted out, pushing into her again, a moan escaped her as I put a thigh between her legs. Her body reacted before her head caught up. She arched into me, and it was like drugs straight to my veins.
“Matteo, I’m serious!” she seethed at me in that half whisper, half shout. I pulled back with a sigh.
“What about the calm room?” I asked, knowing she had one set up in the Moretti camp and the Belen camp. She glared at me but nodded and slipped out of the cage I’d created around her body, one over the shoulder glance was enough to get my feet moving.
“We’re using your room,” she said before opening the door and I followed her like it was a pavlovian response.
I closed the door behind me, flipping the lock.
Mine was one of the few rooms with it. Then I reached out, slipped my hand around her waist and tugged her to me.
She crashed into my chest, losing her footing only slightly before I caught her and flipped us.
My lips crashed into hers, I needed a fix.
“I’ve been thinking of that damn lingerie all day. You’re pure evil.”
She laughed, “It’s so easy to get under your skin, DeLuca.”
“Please tell me you’re in my damn hotel this time.”
“Didn’t get a room actually.”
“I’ll book you the one next to me. Pay off whoever is there, it’s yours.”
“That’s okay, I have my own key,” she smirked and then paused. “My clothes are already hanging in the closet and everything.”
“Where?”
“At yours.” She rolled her eyes at me. I let out a half breath.