Chapter 2
One
Emilio stalked through the garage after qualifying, sweaty and frustrated. A twelfth-place finish, meaning he’d be starting
on the back half of the grid in the race tomorrow. Not what he’d hoped to achieve. Not even close.
“Don’t beat yourself up,” his race engineer, Tom, said. “Your lap times have really improved over the last two days. You’re
making strides. It just might not feel like it after last year.”
Last year. Emilio’s driving life had been dramatically different then. He was racing for Vermillion, on top of the world in a car that
flew every race weekend. He’d felt invincible. And he was. He’d reached his greatest goal in life. He’d won his first world
driver’s championship at the age of twenty-nine. Then things went to shit for reasons that had nothing to do with driving.
He still wondered if he’d made a tragic mistake. His stint at his new team, Mega Racing, wasn’t off to a great start. Thus
far, he’d finished behind his teammate, British driver Xander Bishop, at every race. It was still early in the season, but
in Formula One, if you finished behind your teammate, you were a loser. There were only two of you—someone had to come in
last. Emilio hated coming in last.
“Thank you for your hard work. We’ll see what we can do in the race tomorrow.” Emilio stepped closer to his engineer’s screen.
“How is Xander doing?” It was the closing minutes of the third and final stint in qualifying. Soon, they’d know where Xander
would be lining up on the grid tomorrow.
“Unless something dramatic happens, he should be able to hold on to P5.”
Seven places better than me? What in the hell am I doing? “I’m going to endure the media pen. Can’t wait to get that out of the way.”
“Good luck,” Tom said.
Emilio emerged from the back of the garage and was greeted by Isabel, one of the PR handlers for the team. She was clutching
her clipboard and wearing a fake smile. “There he is.”
“Don’t spin it. I sucked.”
Isabel started for the media center. “Don’t say that to the eight drivers starting behind you tomorrow.”
“I had pole position for all but three races last year. This is just . . .” He pinched the bridge of his nose and shook his
head. Thinking about how effortless his success had felt last year, and how impossible everything was this season, gave him
a headache. “It’s a fall from grace.”
“It’s not,” Isabel insisted. “You’re a world-class driver. Xander struggled with the Mega car his first year. She can be a
fickle bitch.”
“I can’t make excuses.”
Isabel shrugged. “Maybe just exercise some patience?”
That was a word often spoken by the more supportive members of the team. The problem was that the media, the sponsors, the
executives at Mega Racing and the fans expected him to be amazing again now.
He and Isabel arrived at the media pen, and Emilio took his place behind a metal barrier, just like a sheep, waiting for what
would surely be some horrible fate.
“Emilio,” one reporter started, shoving a microphone in his face, “you’re struggling with the Mega car. How much are you regretting
your departure from Vermillion?”
The only thing Emilio regretted was that his departure had been made necessary by forces outside his control. Namely, Vermillion’s
team principal. Tristan Highbridge had charges of sexual harassment levied at him by three female employees at the end of
last season. Emilio had been shocked by how swiftly Vermillion closed ranks, refuting all allegations. The team said they’d
conducted an internal investigation and found no evidence of wrongdoing. It was such a bad look. If Tristan was so innocent,
why not allow an outside party to investigate? The press had the same questions and looked to Emilio for comment. So Emilio
was honest about it. He used his platform and spoke up. He asked for one simple thing—a real third-party investigation. It
would not only clear the cloud of suspicion surrounding the team he loved so much, but it was also the right thing to do.
But team management turned on Emilio. One month after winning a world driver’s championship, he was out at Vermillion. If
it had been any other year, it would’ve shut Emilio out of the sport, too. A seat in Formula One was unbelievably difficult
to get. There were only twenty spots in the entire sport. The entire world. Luckily, Mega Racing still had a vacant seat at
the time, and they picked him up. Small blessings, he supposed.
“I don’t regret my departure from Vermillion. Things happen for a reason.” He stood a little straighter, tired to death of
answering this question.
“But you were on top of the world last year. Now you’re nowhere.”
Please stop reminding me. “I’m not nowhere. I am a Formula One driver. That’s not an easy job to get.”
“Do you think the Vermillion car is the real reason you won the championship last year?”
Emilio grit his teeth and did his best to remain cool, calm and collected, but anger coursed through his veins. He worked
so hard. Sacrificed so much. And too many people devoted so much energy to giving him shit about perceived missteps. “Someone
had to turn the steering wheel and hit the brakes at the right time. I’m pretty sure that was all me.”
The reporter rolled his eyes.
Emilio’s blood went straight on the boil. “Maybe you’d like to get behind the wheel? Take a crack at it?”
“Is that the time?” Isabel tugged on Emilio’s arm. “Sorry, everyone, Emilio has another interview to do.”
“Interview?” Emilio asked as they bustled through the paddock in the direction of Mega hospitality.
“I had to get you out of there. Before you dug yourself a hole.”
Emilio sighed. He worked so hard to keep his emotions in check. It was a crucial part of being a disciplined driver. But sometimes,
he lost his cool. “Thanks for looking out for me.” Emilio didn’t want to ask Isabel for yet another thing, but there was a
pressing issue to attend to. “How’s Gus? Were you able to find someone to watch him tomorrow?” After the dog sitter quit a
few hours ago, Emilio had gone to Isabel for help.
“Gus is fine. He’s asleep in your driver’s room. I took him for a pee break right before qualifying.” They walked inside the
Mega hospitality building and headed for his room. “As for tomorrow, I have a call in to a service called Fido & Friends.
I haven’t heard anything yet.”
“Great. Thank you so much. I really do appreciate your help.”
“Also, you should know that your mom is in the paddock. She said she’s coming back here. Just a heads-up.”
Emilio choked back a grumble and opened the door to his room. “I’ve been warned.” He closed the door quietly when he noticed
that Gus was asleep, but of course, his dog had excellent hearing and immediately perked up. He bounded over, wagging his
tail. Emilio blew out a breath and felt his shoulders relax as he gave Gus a few pets. When Gus was okay, one half of Emilio’s
life was okay. He only wished he could find Gus a permanent sitter. Maybe even a full-time dog nanny. Someone who could travel
the world with them, so Emilio could focus on racing.
The truth was that Emilio couldn’t stomach the thought of leaving Gus at his new home in England or boarding him in a kennel.
Gus was the one creature on the planet who was always there for him. And the other drivers who had dogs always brought them
to the track. They were a fixture in the paddock, and he hated the idea of seeing everyone else’s dogs and knowing Gus wasn’t
there. The only difference was that those drivers either had full-time dog handlers or they had wives or girlfriends to take
care of them. Emilio had struggled to find the former and had no interest in the latter. He and romance were done.
A knock came at the door and Emilio’s mother, Bianca, rushed inside, teetering on heels with an expensive designer handbag
in the crook of her arm and a scowl on her face. “Why do I come to Miami? The humidity. It does terrible things to my hair.”
“Because I’m your son and you want to support me?”
“Of course.” She flattened her hand against Emilio’s cheek. “And it’s my weekend. If I don’t come, your father will. I can’t
let him win.”
Emilio’s parents were in the middle of a divorce—another stress he didn’t need in his life. When his parents first announced
they were splitting, close to the end of last season, Emilio was shocked. He’d always thought they’d loved each other. Ask your mother, his father had said. Love fades, his mother had said. Emilio still hadn’t had time to figure out how those answers led to two people turning their backs
on more than thirty years of marriage. Regardless, it quickly became clear that they couldn’t be within a mile of each other
without screaming, so Emilio did the only sensible thing and split the year’s races between them. Like a custody agreement,
but with Grand Prix weekends instead of kids. “I think your hair looks nice.”
His mother sat on the couch. “Tell me about the Dutch driver. Dirk Van Dijk. He’s very handsome. Is he single?”
Emilio shook his head. “Mom, no. Just no.”
“What?”
“You are not going to get romantically involved with one of my competitors. Just no.”
“He’s forty. It’s not like he’s your age.”
“So, he’s ten years older. That’s not that big of a difference. Please, just stay away.” I don’t need life at the track to be any more complicated.
“I’m human. I need love. I need affection.”
“And there are only twenty Formula One drivers in the world, which leaves the rest of humanity up for grabs.”
His mother tutted. “How am I supposed to meet someone? Dating apps? I have discerning tastes.”
“Meet someone the normal way. By accident.” Emilio never met anyone by accident anymore. Formula One had exploded in growth,
and the fans and media were everywhere, so out of necessity, he was tucked away in a bubble. It was fine with him. It made
things easier. Gus and racing—those were his only concerns.