Chapter Eight
Georgia
“Georgia, are you there?” Standing behind my hotel room door was Lily, shit-eating grin included.
Ah, so Isabelle had decided to fill her in.
“Thought I’d check in,” she said in a voice that sounded like it was dripping in sweet caramel. “Make sure you’re ready for your first date with Luca tonight.” Tonight marked the official start of my public relations romance with Luca Rossi: part media stunt, part horror movie.
“I’m just dandy, Lily. Managed to win myself that boyfriend the press are always so worried about,” I muttered sarcastically.
For months now, the media had been obsessed with my love life. Apparently, it was both appalling that I wasn’t dating, and scandalous that I might be. Lily snorted, helping herself to a cup of coffee before plopping down on my sofa.
“Keep your head up, Georgie. Who knows, maybe under that rugged, dark, handsome exterior, you might find something you like about Luca Rossi.” Grabbing a cushion from my couch, I hurled it in her direction.
“The only thing I imagine I’ll learn about Luca is that he is exactly as insufferable as I imagine him to be.” Lily’s look told me she was not entirely convinced by my performance.
“If I’d known we’d be given handsome boyfriends if we sucked at media, I would have started swearing at reporters weeks ago,” she teased.
“Happy to swap if you’d like.” I had no doubt she’d love to take me up on that offer, and I gave her shoulder a friendly shove before straightening a crinkle in my dress.
“So, you’re wearing that tonight?” Lily smirked at my outfit, and I knew we were both thinking the same thing. Wrapped in this royal purple dress, I looked like a Hermes present.
I nodded. “Nora dropped this off earlier.”
“Wearing Luca’s team colors on date one… spicy.” I flipped her off before giving myself one last solemn glance in the mirror.
A second knock rang through my hotel room, but I didn’t need to open the door to know who was standing on the other side.
“Georgia? You there?”
I gritted out a frustrated groan as my brother’s voice echoed through the hotel room, knowing full well that he’d also dropped by to observe my misery.
“Nice dress,” he chuckled.
Ignoring his amusement, I motioned towards the couch.
“Just wanted to pop by and see how you were doing. Big night. First date and all.” He took a seat next to Lily on the couch, the two of them now fully settled in like they were waiting for a reality show confession cam.
“Hermes booked us a little table at a Cuban restaurant on the water. Ninety minutes of Luca and I trying to survive each other.”
“Just try to talk to him about something other than racing,” Henri teased.
“Oh yeah, like yachts? Piracy?” The thin line of his lips told me he fully intended to ignore my pettiness.
“Maybe ask about golf? He’s very good.” My brother shrugged.
“Sure, let’s talk about the slowest sport in the world as we race in the fastest.” Henri and Lily both flashed me a couple of glares. “The only thing Luca and I have in common is racing. I don’t see why it’s so taboo to talk about it.”
Over the course of the season, it felt like the moment I opened my mouth about racing, Luca was headed towards the nearest fire escape.
“Well, just don’t drone on about his dad. I know Michael Rossi is your hero and all, but Edward told me they got into a huge fight yesterday. Half the garage heard it.”
Perfect, another issue I had to dance around tonight.
“Come on, Georgia,” Lily chimed in. “I know you and Luca don’t have a close… well, anything… but hey, if you’re going to fake a relationship with anyone on the grid, at least they picked the most attractive driver. There’s no denying it, that man is sex on wheels—literally.”
“Can we not talk about my teammate in that way?”
Lily just smirked, licking her lips exaggeratedly. Henri looked like he might physically combust. If there was one thing Lily was exceptional at, it was getting under my brother’s skin.
“Regardless, I’ll be there for the planned coffee date on Sunday before the race,” Henri insisted. “You aren’t in this alone, Peaches.”
“Thanks. I need to head down. Supposed to meet Luca downstairs at seven.”
Lily snickered, glancing at the time. “It’s five past already.”
“Cheer up, Georgia!” Henri pulled me into a warm hug. “This’ll get easier.”
When I arrived downstairs, I spotted Luca at the entrance of the hotel, leaning against his purple Lamborghini.
He was engrossed in his phone, scrolling through it absentmindedly.
He looked up the moment I cleared my throat, his eyes sweeping over me from head to toe, lingering just a second too long.
If I hadn’t been acutely aware of him at that moment, I might have missed the slight darkening of his eyes.
“Georgia, good of you to show,” he said dryly.
“Can’t put a time on beautification, Luca.” I casually looked at my watch. I was only ten minutes late.
The drive to the restaurant was quiet. Uncomfortably so. I wondered if he remembered that night in Monaco, the date he bailed on. I thought about bringing it up. But then we pulled up to the restaurant, and the moment passed.
After so many years, it didn’t seem worth bringing it up. We were such different people now.
Luca handed his keys to the valet and hurriedly opened my door.
Offering me his hand, I reluctantly took it, if only because getting out of a sports car that low to the ground with heels was next to impossible.
The Italian casually brushed off my mumbled thanks, and we followed the hostess to our table.
Curious eyes watched us as we trailed through the restaurant, and I suddenly felt Luca’s hand gently resting on the small of my back, commanding me forward. The soft touch sent a jolt of electricity down my spine as goosebumps appeared.
Traitor, I reprimanded my body.
We took our seats at a small, intimate corner booth at the back.
If Luca noticed everyone’s prying eyes, he didn’t show it.
Instead, he dove straight into the menu, clearly starving from a full day of training.
Truth be told, if I wasn’t so anxious, I would have been equally as ravenous.
Within minutes, a waiter approached and asked us for our drink order.
“Sparkling water.” Luca looked at me as if I had just ordered poison.
“We’ll take a bottle of the merlot,” he added. The waiter described the daily specials, then left us to peruse the extensive menu.
I drummed my fingers on the polished wooden table. “I don’t drink during race weeks. Well, not until after the race.” Luca stared at me like I’d just told him the earth was flat: dumbfounded.
“If we’re going to survive this hoax,” his lips curled into a smirk, “you might want to reconsider that habit.”
God, he was infuriating.
Luca snapped the menu shut, edging closer to me. “You know, it’s your fault we’re in this mess.”
“My fault?” I shot back. Just as I shifted, Luca casually slung his arm over my shoulder, anchoring me in place. He wasn’t entirely wrong, but like hell was I taking all the blame.
“You’re the one that leaned in for the kiss.”
“Well, you didn’t exactly pull away,” I retorted.
The nerve of this man.
Luca’s grip on my shoulders tightened and his fingers traced slow, teasing circles on my arm.
His gaze bored into mine, intense and searching, lips curved into a sly smile as he leaned in closer, his warm breath tickling my skin.
To the average onlooker, we looked like a couple casually having an intimate conversation, not a bickering pair of rivals.
“What are you doing?” I hissed, attempting to shake off his firm grip.
“Being your boyfriend,” he said, straight-faced.
“You know, what you wanted last Sunday, when you kissed me.” Luca licked his lips as he continued to stare down at me with intensity, and for a moment, I wondered if he’d even thought about our kiss.
Wondered if he’d also felt that electric pull between us back in Barcelona.
Probably doesn’t even remember it. A thought that left me with just a tad bit of disappointment. Ever since Luca had abandoned me in Monaco several years ago, a part of me wanted him to know what he’d missed out on.
“So, tell me, how does éliott feel about this little arrangement?” Luca looked incredibly pleased with himself, like he’d unearthed a deep, dark secret.
“What the fuck does that mean?”
Luca’s voice was casual, but I could tell he’d been wanting to ask about it.
The assumption that éliott and I were dating was a common one, and quite frankly, it drove me bananas.
As my brother’s best friend, he was a constant staple in my life, and I wasn’t going to forgo his friendship because the press couldn’t comprehend a woman and a man being friends.
“You two seem awfully close.”
“Luca, I’m going to say this only once. éliott and I are friends, and considering you and I aren’t actually dating,” I declared, my voice steady as I locked eyes with him, “it’s not any of your fucking business.”
He threw his hands up in mock surrender, but the glint in his eye said noted. “Fine, fine, just remember who you’re supposed to be dating in public next time éliott comes around.”
I ignored the dig, pulling out my phone. “Nora’s created some ‘getting to know you’ questions for us so we can be prepared for future interviews about our relationship.”
Luca said nothing, continuing to caress my shoulder as he stared at me with his dark brown eyes.
He had a way of pulling you in, like a deep, entrancing abyss that seemed to swallow every coherent thought.
His rich voice basically oozed charisma, and I felt more like a fisherman being sucked in by a siren, than a woman in control.