Chapter Six #2
Ollie’s eyebrows lifted, clearly amused. “Defending your rival now? Oh, sweet Lily. Will I ever be able to get you to say a mean thing about anyone?”
I half-laughed. “I’m not defending anyone.” I took another sip of wine, feeling the warmth spread through my chest. “Just stating facts.”
“Right.” He dragged out the word, and I knew he was studying me. You can take the journalist out of the media pen, but never the insatiable curiosity out of the journalist.
The bill arrived, and Ollie slipped his card inside without hesitation, handing it back to the server without even looking at it.
“My treat,” he said, waving me off before I could even find my wallet.
“Thank you. Dinner was lovely.”
“And the company even better.” He winked before sliding out of the table and pulling back my chair. He flagged down the waiter with an easy smile. “Would you mind taking a quick photo for us?”
The waiter obliged, taking Ollie’s phone.
“Need at least one photo from tonight. Can’t have dinner with the future World Driver’s Championship winner and not document it.”
The camera clicked.
“Cheers,” Ollie said to the waiter, then he glanced at the photo. “Oh, that’s a good one. We look properly fancy, don’t we?” He pocketed his phone as we headed toward the door.
As we walked toward my hotel, Ollie offered his arm, but I shrugged him off, suddenly aware of how visible we were on the Montreal streets.
When we reached the lobby of my hotel, I mumbled something about needing sleep before tomorrow’s race.
Ollie caught my hand briefly, his thumb brushing across my knuckles in a way that sent warmth spreading up my arm, before he leaned in for a kiss on each cheek.
“I had such a lovely time tonight, Lil,” he said, genuine warmth in his voice. “Can’t wait to see you on the podium tomorrow.”
By the time I’d swiped my keycard and stepped into my room, exhaustion had hit all at once. The city noise outside faded to a muffled hum, and I let my blazer slide off, tossing it onto the chair with a contented sigh.
“Rough night?”
I jumped but couldn’t suppress the smile that immediately spread across my face.
“Jesus, Andy. Don’t sneak up on a woman.”
My physio was sprawled in the armchair, legs crossed casually, studying me with knowing eyes.
“Team gave me an extra key. Someone’s got to keep you alive.” He looked me up and down, taking in my obvious good mood. “You look very nice for just a casual chat with Georgia. Where were you really?”
I kicked off my shoes and fell back onto the maroon sofa, unable to hide my grin. “None of your business.”
“Darling, everything you do is my business.” Perhaps a tad dramatic, although over the past three years, Andy had become more than my physio. He was coach, advisor, babysitter, and friend.
I held his stare before letting out a hesitated sigh. “Fine. With Ollie Johnson.”
Andy groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “Oh, Lily, no. The podcaster?”
“He’s not just a podcaster,” I said defensively. “He writes articles too, and some good stuff.”
“Uh-huh.” Andy’s tone was deeply skeptical. “Where did this brilliant writer take you?”
“This gorgeous little restaurant close to the hotel. We had a beautiful table outside with a nice view of the city.”
Andy stared at me. “Outside? Where every reporter, sponsor, and half the bloody paddock could walk by? Lily—”
“It was nice, Andy,” I interrupted, leaning forward enthusiastically. “Really nice. He ordered this great wine which he knew would pair excellently with the duck that he—”
“Um, did he order for you?” Andy’s voice was flat with disbelief.
“He made a recommendation,” I corrected, rolling my eyes. “No need to defend my honor. When did you become such a cynic? He was a complete gentleman.”
“Lily…” Andy sat forward, elbows on his knees, his expression turning serious. “Just be careful with this one, yeah? I’m sure there’s nothing he’d love more than dating an F1 driver to boost his career. The guy lives to turn stories into clicks and engagement.”
“Why are you being like this?” I stood up, suddenly annoyed at having my good mood punctured. “I had a nice dinner with an old friend who turned out to be really interesting and charming. That’s it. You’re reading way too much into this.”
Andy studied me for a long moment, and I watched something shift in his expression, realization hitting. “Oh my god. You like him, don’t you?” He tsked, but a smile grew on his face. “Never thought blond hair and blue eyes was your type.”
I crossed my arms, swaying a hip to the side. “I-I mean, he’s nice. And yes, fine, I think he’s attractive. Is that a crime?”
“Not a crime,” Andy said carefully. “You’re right. I’m sorry.” He stood, grabbing his jacket. “Look, you’re a grown woman, and I trust your judgment. Plus, since your mother threw him at you, I imagine he doesn’t jeopardize this stupid morality clause that was shoved into your contract.”
Right after I’d signed, I’d called Andy to complain about it. As my personal physio, he was well aware of all my contract stipulations. “Andy—”
“It’s bullshit, Lily.” His voice was sharp now, frustrated. “It’s bullshit that you have one and your teammate doesn’t. What century are we living in?”
“It’s not exactly from Rennen,” I said quietly, sinking back onto the sofa. “It’s from a sponsor. They wanted… assurances.”
“Assurances,” Andy repeated flatly. “That you won’t—what, date the wrong person?”
“That I won’t create controversy that reflects poorly on their brand.
And the team.” The words came out like I’d rehearsed them.
Because I had. To myself, to my mother, trying to make peace with it.
“And my mother thought it was smart to add protections. Even after three years, it’s still hard keeping sponsors as a woman, Andy. You know that. So, I agreed.”
Andy’s jaw worked, clearly biting back what he really wanted to say. “Right. Because God forbid you be seen with another driver in a way that might generate the wrong kind of headlines.”
My mind flashed back to Las Vegas. To my hotel room, and the way Henri had looked at me that night—like he’d finally found something he’d been searching for.
I would’ve tried. Would’ve found a way to navigate the complications, the clause, all of it.
But he never gave me the chance to even suggest it.
He just left after some pathetic excuse, and the rejection stung worse because I still didn’t really understand why.
My throat bobbed as I pushed the memory down where it belonged, buried and forgotten. “Ollie’s safe,” I said, forcing brightness back into my voice. “He’s media, not a competitor. No conflict of interest.”
“Safe,” Andy echoed, although his tone made it sound like an insult. He sighed, scrubbing a hand over his face. “Just keep your eyes open, yeah? Make sure he’s interested in Lily the person, not Lily the driver.”
“I’ll be careful.”
Andy grabbed my shoulder gently. “I’m heading out. Get some rest, all right?”
I nodded, watching as he grabbed his jacket and left. The door clicked shut behind him, leaving silence.
Safe.
The word clung to me as I pulled the covers up, my eyes tracing the hotel ceiling’s texture in the dark. Ollie was safe, straightforward, and most importantly, interested in me. Not like Henri, who’d bolted the morning after our night together. He’d done all the things Henri hadn’t.
The realization came unwanted but impossible to deny. Henri wanted a single night, then vanished. Told me racing took priority, that he lacked time for more. A relationship would’ve been too much of a distraction for him.
But not Ollie. And tonight had been fun. Devoid of any expectations or fighting or championship battles.
I found myself almost looking forward to the next time I’d see him.