“You—” I gasped in shock, at a loss for words.
“I liked that one best.” He turned to me again with a soft smile. His brown eyes were so light today, like caramel and gold.
“Me too,” I whispered, breaking eye contact with him and blinking back the tears. We sat like that for a time, side by side, watching Gia play before she ran back to us. We snacked on the food and she curled up in my lap. Alexander rifled through the basket, pulling out a picture book.
“One more surprise,” he said to Gianna, who beamed in return.
“Is it a princess story?” she asked.
“You bet, your favorite one, if I am not mistaken.” He turned the book over to reveal the front. And there was Gianna’s favorite princess. A certain ice queen that every single toddler to ever exist was obsessed with. Though I couldn’t be mad about it. Sisterly love winning the day? A badass ice queen who doesn’t need a man? Yes please.
Alexander moved over and put a hand on my shoulder, gently tugging me back. Gia giggled as we leaned back and she snuggled in even closer. Alexander began reading and my daughter was transfixed.
I wished the day could go on forever. That every day could be like this.
24
ALEXANDER
Iwas in love with my best friend’s little sister, my fake girlfriend, and the only woman who had ever captured so much of my attention. I didn’t want to be with anyone else, or doing anything else. Honestly, all this PR bullshit would have been insufferable if not for her. I wasn’t used to it, though—the wholenot being alonething. Not having to only rely on yourself.
When she had asked me about my angel wing tattoo, my heart felt like it might have thumped right out of my chest. Because it was from the poem, the dog-eared page, the underlined words. I had read every page of that book that day on the lake. I had committed it to memory. But that one hit me hardest. I was the first to admit that I was a sap for shit like that. Poems, songs, they just knew how to pull at the heartstrings.
“Well, Alexander,” started Mark, his glasses perched low on his nose as he tapped his pen against the table. He was not my favorite person currently, holding my renewal contract over my head like the rest of the management team for Belen that sat in front of me. “We’ve had an interesting week, haven’t we?”
The office had the kind of polished sterility that made me uncomfortable. Too clean, too controlled. The walls were a pale, uninspired gray, decorated with awards and framed photos of past victories. Nothing personal. Just the way Belen liked it. I sat in one of the sleek chairs across from the management team, three of them sitting like a jury on the other side of the long mahogany table.
“That’s one way to put it,” I replied, leaning back in my chair. My tone was calm, almost indifferent, but inside I was braced for the blow.
“We’re not thrilled about the fight being plastered all over the news,” chimed Claudia, head of corporate strategy. She folded her hands neatly in front of her. “It’s…unprofessional. Not the image we want associated with Belen Racing, especially not from one of our champions. While Anna was in contact with us about the so-called reasoning, it did not sit well with upper management.”
“I didn’t start it,” I said, meeting her gaze directly.
“Doesn’t matter who started it,” Mark interjected, his tone clipped. “What matters is that the world sawyouinvolved in an altercation. It’s not the kind of headline we want associated with Belen.”
“Understood,” I said, biting down on the words I really wanted to say.
“But,” Claudia cut in, glancing down at a stack of papers in front of her, “there is…a silver lining.” She looked up, her expression softening slightly. “Your relationship with Lucia.”
Mark nodded, leaning forward. “The public response has been overwhelmingly positive. People see you as more relatable, grounded. The fight, surprisingly, hasn’t overshadowed that narrative. If anything, it’s framed you as fiercely protective—of Lucia, of Gia.”
Claudia smiled faintly. “They like you, Alexander. The protective boyfriend, the father figure, it’s a good look. You seem…committed. In love.”
I didn’t miss the way she emphasized the last word.
I kept my face neutral, though my chest tightened at the mention of Lucia. “And about the renewal?”
Mark leaned back in his chair, his fingers steepled. “The play is to keep doing what you’re doing. Show that you’re serious about this relationship. Corporate likes the image. You in love and all. You’ll need to maintain that positive reputation if you want things to go smoothly.”
“If I want things to go smoothly?” I repeated, my voice carrying an edge. It felt like a threat and I did not like it. I knew how much went down behind closed doors, all the pieces that needed to fall just right, but still not having a renewal this late in the season was nerve racking, to say the least. I had seen the articles, questioning if I would even have a seat next year. Obviously I would; I had been consistently high in the points week after week. But would it be in a Belen seat or someone else’s?
“The renewal offer,” Claudia clarified, her tone measured. “It’s still in the works. There are…logistics to iron out.”
I nodded, though the frustration simmered beneath the surface. They were holding my future over my head, as if my performance on the track hadn’t already proven my worth a hundred times over.
“But,” Claudia continued, “if you keep up the good press, if you stay out of trouble and show the world the Alexander Wright they love—the loyal partner, the champion, the team player—all will be well.”
“Noted,” I said, standing up before they could dismiss me like some rookie. “Anything else?”
