Mark opened his mouth to speak, but I didn’t wait for him to respond. Claudia stood up before I could leave, shook my hand, and said goodbye.
Anna immediately intercepted me as I left the management’s office.
“So?” she asked expectantly, falling into step with me. I was walking at an unreasonably fast pace, too amped up to slow down. But she matched me, step for step.
“So?” Anna repeated, her voice sharp enough to cut through the haze of my frustration.
I didn’t answer immediately, weaving past a group of junior staff who scrambled to get out of my way. Anna stayed on my heels, unfazed.
“They love the relationship angle,” I said finally, my tone flat. “But they’re not happy about the fight. Apparently, decking that guy didn’t scream ‘brand ambassador of the year.’”
Anna huffed, rolling her eyes. “Of course, they aren’t happy about the fight. They’re corporate robots—they’d prefer you to smile and shake hands, even with someone who deserved a punch to the face.”
“Great advice,” I said dryly, pushing open the door to the quieter hallway that led to my private suite.
Anna followed, undeterred. “What about the renewal? Did they give you anything concrete?”
“No.” The word came out harsher than I intended. “It’s still ‘under discussion.’” I made air quotes with my fingers, my frustration finally bubbling to the surface. “But they made it pretty damn clear that my future depends on me keeping my ‘good reputation’ intact.”
Anna frowned, her pace slowing as we neared the end of the hall. “So let’s keep the relationship front and center, push on the family side with Gia too.
“I don’t know,” I said, running a hand through my hair. “I’m supposed to keep being the perfect boyfriend. Keep making them money, but the brand deals are up, money is rolling in, what else do they want?”
I paused outside my suite, the irony of the words hanging heavy in the air. Anna tilted her head, studying me like she was waiting for me to say something more.
“And what about you?” she asked suddenly, her voice softer now.
I turned to look at her, startled. “What about me?”
“Are you okay?”
The question hit me like a gut punch. Anna wasn’t one to mince words, and she had a way of asking things that made you confront truths you weren’t ready to face.
I opened my mouth to brush it off with a joke, but no words came out. Instead, I thought about Lucia—about her laugh, her fire, the way she held Gia like the world began and ended with her daughter. I thought about the way she’d smiled at me that morning, soft and hesitant, like she was still figuring out what to make of all this.
The answer was there, buried under layers of denial and complication, but I couldn’t bring myself to say it out loud. Not yet.
Anna didn’t press, just gave me a knowing look. “You might want to figure that out,” she said, her tone brisk again. “Because how much you care for that girl, both of them, that’s real. No matter how many times you try to tell yourself it’s a part of the act. I would tell her before it’s too late.”
Before I could respond, she turned on her heel and walked away, leaving me alone in the hallway with her words echoing in my head.
I exhaled sharply, pulling open the door to my suite. The room was quiet, dimly lit by the afternoon sun streaming through the curtains. I tossed my keys onto the table and sank onto the couch, my head falling into my hands.
Anna’s words wouldn’t leave me alone, no matter how hard I tried to push them away. Because deep down, I knew the truth. I wasn’t just playing a role anymore, hadn’t been in some time. And that scared the hell out of me. I pulled out a notebook shoved into a bag, a sketchbook I tried to keep on me. I had always liked to sketch when I had free time, it helped clear my mind. As I opened the notebook, a folded piece of paper fell out. I opened it.
As long as I’m alive, you’ll always have someone who’s proud of you in everything.
She left me a note.
* * *
It was the morning of the Mexico GP, and the paddock was alive with energy. Mechanics rushed between the garage and pit lane, finalizing setups while the engineers huddled over screens analyzing data. My team’s signature black, blue, and pink gear blended into the chaos, a testament to how close-knit and efficient we were. I had secured pole position in qualifying yesterday, but the weight of today loomed heavy. With Carlos from Moretti breathing down my neck in the Drivers’ Championship, today’s points were pivotal. A win here could solidify my lead—or leave me vulnerable. I had woken up with a certain type of determination. I had thought about what Anna had said, that whatever this was between me and Lucia, it was real. And if I didn’t want to lose her when this whole fake relationship was up, then I needed to man up. So I told myself when I woke up, if I win this race, then I’ll tell Lucia how I feel, for real.
My pre-race ritual was designed to keep me centered. I’d woken before sunrise, the city’s quiet broken only by my footsteps as I jogged around the track with my trainer. Afterward, I refueled with a perfectly portioned meal from my nutritionist—light, clean, nothing too heavy. Meditation followed, grounding me amid the pressure. Now, I was back in my private lounge, pacing the limited space like a caged animal, headphones in, playlist blaring. The bass thumped in my ears, syncing with my heartbeat as I tried to push away the nerves clawing at my insides.
Everyone on the team knew better than to disturb me during this sacred time. Even Anna, my PR manager, avoided me unless it was an emergency. The room was my sanctuary, and I intended to savor every minute of solitude before heading to the grid. At least, I thought I would. A knock broke my focus, cutting through the music and my thoughts like a sharp blade.
I tugged one earbud out. “Yeah?”
