“I have to leave early, Anna says they want to add another interview before the season,” he explained. I felt the knot of disappointment since that would mean I wouldn’t see him before his first race back. We had a bit of a tradition, the three of us, before the end of break, would sit around the campfire and pull out a vintage from the wine cellars and swap stories all night before they had to leave. I was told they did it for me in the beginning to cheer me up that first summer, but Matteo and Alexander had come to love the tradition as well.
“Oh.”
“Okay, I’ll be seeing you then.” He rubbed a hand over his forehead. “Just find me before start, when you get in?” His eyes softened and he looked over to Gia. “And bring my girl with ya.”
I smiled so brightly. “Of course,” I said softly, looking at Gia, who stared at Alexander with big eyes.
”Promise?” he asked, his voice smaller than I was used to as he knelt to Gia and kissed her forehead before looking up at me. And if my heart didn’t burst at the sight of him on his knees with my daughter being so gentle and kind. I was so in over my head with this one.
“Promise.” I nodded.
4
ALEXANDER
It was Saturday morning, and the last place I wanted to be was sitting on a plane, flying away from the people who had somehow become my family. I knew I had to start getting my head in the game and ready for racing, my usual pre-race rituals started on the plane. I watched old race videos, went over notes from my strategist and studied the map of the next racetrack.
But my mind was miles away. Solely focused on the rolling Tuscan hillsides, endless rows of vineyard, and a house perched on top of it all. By the end of the last season, I knew I wanted to make a home of my own in the small region near the DeLucas. I had just closed on a property next to the DeLuca Vineyards. It was about a twenty minute drive down the country road and our properties touched at a small lake in the middle, where the DeLucas had built a dock that we would spend the summers diving off of. I had plans to build more on the land, the small building could be used as a guesthouse or an artistic space, then I would build my perfect home. But the moment I closed on the property I had compiled a list for the perfect home. I wanted it to be warm, truly feel like a home. A stark difference against my apartments in London and New York, but that one felt the most like home. I knew I wouldn’t have much time throughout the season to focus on it, but closing on the property felt like a huge milestone in itself.
My manager, Anna, had called and told me she had a magazine photoshoot scheduled for the day before our first practice for the Dutch Grand Prix. I knew training was going to start and I had to get my head down and morph back into my race self. My summer self was rather relaxed, letting the days pass and doing things on whims. However, when I was in the race season, I was purely focused on my career. I couldn’t risk anything getting in my way. Seemingly every minute of my day was planned down to the second by someone from my team. Sure, I had allotted downtime, but I was never truly at ease when we arrived on the circuit. The fan base expected me to be prevalent on socials, at events, and doing interviews. They wanted me to keep the persona of a playboy. One I was growing more and more tired of by the second. I had cleaned up my act, I partied less, focused on my career more, but the fans liked the old me. Anna mainly focusing on the PR management side and some scheduling of events, and she had pushed to switch the narrative, had worked to get my reputation to match who I was now. It was an uphill battle.
I knew I had a good chance of qualifying for pole position here in the Netherlands, due to our car being pretty solid this year. But Matteo was giving me a run for my money. Last Grand Prix he knocked me out of first at the last minute, and a penalty from an incident with another driver knocked me down to P3. It was still a podium, but I wasn’t going to win my sixth championship by getting P3. I was sitting in second place in the Drivers’ Championship currently, Theo Brauer of Kaze Energy Racing just barely above me in points. There were a few championships, split into team rankings and individual driver rankings. My teammate was in fourth place. Matteo behind him in fifth.
The Dutch Grand Prix was one of my favorite tracks, and I knew Mateo would be a formidable opponent. He put up quite the fight last year during his rookie year. But Matteo was a seasoned driver now, according to the Formula One world—he was still a rookie in my eyes, though. Sitting in fifth place for the Drivers’ Championship, the other teams were already offered contracts, trying to get him on their own team. He raced for our biggest competitor, Moretti. I doubted he would leave the Italian team of his own volition. It was his childhood dream to race with them and he was blowing past everyone’s high expectations as a new driver.
I fell asleep on the plane with my phone in hand. Only when the stewardess tapped my shoulder notifying me we had landed did I realize I slept the whole flight, my pre-race flight routine ruined. I stretched my tight limbs knowing I shouldn’t have stayed seated all flight and I’d pay the price with my trainer tomorrow. The plane door opened with a loud pop, revealing Anna standing at the bottom of the steps, dark brown hair pulled into a tight bun, a leather jacket in place over a black dress. My savior.
“Hey.” She beamed as I walked out, squinting at the sun and wishing I was back on a vineyard. “All right, we have a shoot at three p.m. and an interview at five, and then I have a meeting set up with the team principal at six, dinner with your manager at seven.” She rambled off my schedule and I tried not to outwardly wince. She responded in tow.
“Okay, scratch that. Photoshoot at three, and meeting with the team principal at six. The rest I’ll move.” She tapped her long nails on her phone, typing away. Anna had the ability to read an emotion in five seconds flat. She managed my entire schedule and could somehow read one glance from me and adjust accordingly. In the last two years I’ve been avoiding interviews and doing fewer shoots, enjoying time off the track to rest and not be in the spotlight.
“Thank you.” I sighed, pulling my bag up and slinging it over my shoulder.
“When does Luce get here?” I asked.
“Last day of practice, I have a car picking her up and bringing her straight to the track. Someone will handle her bags and set up her hotel suite for her and Gia.” Anna nodded then broke her focus, a bright smile breaking through. “Who I am so excited to finally meet!”
“She’s grown so much.” I couldn’t help but smile wildly as well. Gia was this little ball of blonde sunshine. A mini version of her mother. Same gleaming green eyes and the ability to make me stop anything for them.
“I need any and all photographers who are allowed in the Belen and Moretti paddock to sign NDAs. No photos of Gia, no exceptions. If something gets leaked, we sue,” I said sternly. Anna nodded and jotted down notes.
“I’ll make a call now, and get in touch with the media handlers, no one in the circuit,” she said, stepping aside and pulling the phone to her ear. We walked to a waiting town car and got in. My phone pinged with a message as soon as the door shut. I pulled out my phone from my hoodie and was greeted with a text from Matteo—a picture of Gia smiling brightly and holding the plush version of my exact Formula One car.
Matteo
Is it wrong to want to rip a kid’s plushie in half? Why does she hate the one from me? They are literally the same thing!
Alexander
Mine’s better, obviously.
Alexander
Make the kid cry, I make you cry, mate.
Matteo
I would never. You land yet?
