Chapter Fourteen
Luca
The Miami Grand Prix had been my best race of the season.
After I swallowed my pride and listened to Georgia’s advice, I found myself second in qualifying.
Turns out watching Henri’s practice sessions was invaluable advice, not that I’d admit that to Georgia.
While there was no hope of convincing the team to let me pass Henri during the Grand Prix, for the first time in a long time, just being on the podium felt like a win.
Sitting in the brightly lit conference room at the Hermes headquarters, I waited for the rest of the social media team to arrive so they could debrief me on how they planned to ruin my home race weekend with a ramp-up in Georgia’s and my relationship.
I kept reminding myself that the sooner my reputation was back on track, the sooner I could be rid of my parents’ meddling in my personal life.
My father waltzed in, patting me on the back as he stared at me like the sun shone out of my ass. A sure-fire way of telling me he wanted something.
“What a great race, Luca. Rescuing Georgia like that? Genius! And then defending her at the press conference? Very proud,” he congratulated, kissing the tips of his fingers like a chef who had just finished an award-winning meal.
I forced a smile, ignoring the twist in my stomach. Not a single word about the race itself, my actual achievement from Miami. In my father’s eyes a good racing result wasn’t going to fix my reputation or the damage I’d done to the Rossi name, but rescuing Georgia? Now, that was priceless PR.
Ridiculous memes of me wearing a cape, holding Georgia like a superhero, had surfaced all over the media. While Edward found them to be hilarious, I found the whole thing to be almost insulting. I wasn’t Georgia’s hero, I was just a decent human being.
“I’m not going to leave a driver who is suffering. Plus, that journalist is an asshole in press conferences. I’ve been wanting to put him in his place for a while.”
Did everyone think so low of me that no one expected me to help her?
Henri, sitting across from me, shifted awkwardly. “How did you know something was wrong with Georgia?” There it was: the quiet frustration in his voice. He wasn’t upset at me. He was upset at himself. That he hadn’t been the one to notice.
“I just knew.” A teasing grin crept onto my face. Henri flipped open the purple folder in front of him, but I could see that the pages were upside down.
Pretending to read. Avoiding eye contact. Classic Dubois pride.
Matteo clapped his hands, garnering both of our attention. “The fans are loving this relationship. Monza is going to be a great race to go fully public. In fact, Georgia has thought of something fun to start the week off!”
“Fun?” I choked on my coffee, some of it spilling onto the table. “Oh, do tell?”
“Georgia thought it would be nice to do some karting at that local track you used to love.”
Of course she did.
“Let me get this straight. You want me to go karting with the few days I have off before my home race?” I narrowed my eyes at Henri, my voice filled with accusation. “Can your sister do anything that doesn’t involve racing?”
“What’s wrong with karting? Sounds fun.” The genuine confusion on my teammate’s face reminded me why he also drove me up the wall.
“I don’t see why the entire week has to be consumed with racing,” I demanded.
“Because it’s a fucking Grand Prix week, Luca!” The unwavering firmness in my father’s gaze made it clear that escape from this situation was utterly impossible. “It’ll be a good media day for you both. End of story.”
There was no doubt in my mind of who’d actually thought of this idea.
With each inhale, my chest tightened, and I tried to focus on anything but how heavy my head felt.
Exhaling, I tried to get out from under the suffocating feeling that had overtaken my throat.
It felt like a hand had wrapped itself around my trachea, and all I could do was watch as it squeezed the life out of me.
Matteo and Henri’s voices faded into the background, and I closed my eyes, sinking deeper into my chair as I hoped to silence the roaring screaming in my head.
Get it together, Luca.
I forced a breath in. Then another.
Matteo’s voice cut through my thoughts, and I slowly opened my eyes. “And who knows, maybe if you get on the podium, Georgia will give you a little congratulatory kiss.”
Henri bristled next to me, his face no longer smiling. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” Henri said dryly, and my jaw clenched at his condescending tone.
Was I not good enough for his beloved sister?
“Don’t worry, mate, no one wants to kiss your sister less than I do.
” It was a joke—mostly. But Henri didn’t laugh.
His expression stayed hard, unreadable. Something flickered behind his eyes, but I couldn’t tell if it was relief or insult.
He didn’t want me to kiss his sister, but he was clearly offended on her behalf.
“Oh, another thing, you and Georgia will have adjacent hotel rooms so we can easily get footage of you two coming and going from the paddock.”
I couldn’t resist stealing another glance at Henri, his arms crossed over his chest. The number one benefit of dating my teammate’s sister?
Watching Hermes’s golden boy squirm.
While Henri had agreed to go along with the idea to help his sister, he’d made it clear he wasn’t particularly thrilled it was me.
After one of our practice sessions in Miami, I’d overheard him grumbling to Edward about how he’d wished Valkyrie had picked éliott.
Apparently éliott was more trustworthy than I was, a comment that hit a little deeper than I cared to admit.
“Cheer up, Henri. Maybe I can steal some Valkyrie secrets from her room.” Annoying Henri was probably not my smartest move, considering I’d likely need my teammate’s help to win in Monza.
But the twitch of his jaw was incredibly satisfying.
“Why would you be in my sister’s hotel room?” Henri challenged.
“Oh, I can think of a few reasons why a boyfriend would be in his girlfriend’s hotel room.”
Henri shot me a warning look, his lips tight with frustration. “Don’t push it, Rossi.”
No promises.