Lap 4 — P10.
Carlos was a few seconds ahead, just visible in the dirty air, his rear wing flashing our team logo like a dare. I pushed to close the gap.
My engineer’s voice sounded again, “Head down. Tires looking good.”
“Copy.”
I didn’t tell them my jaw was aching from clenching it. That my gloves felt too tight. That every time I blinked, I saw Nicola’s smile when she looked athim.
Lap 9
I was ahead on Turn 7, snatched P9 from a veteran who didn’t see me coming. He tried to fight back, but I owned the inside line and squeezed him just enough to shut the door.
P9.
Clean. Aggressive.
Controlled chaos—my specialty.
“Nice move. Let’s cool the tires a bit.”
I didn’t answer. I just breathed.
The rest of the race was steady. Couldn’t crack P8 without sacrificing tire life, and Carlos finished P4—not a podium, but higher than me. Again.
Still, I clawed four spots up in the midfield. No penalties, no damage, and some good points for the team.
Back at the garage, the crew clapped my back, offered water, high-fives. I went through the motions, smiling where I should, nodding at the right people.
And then I saw her.
Arms crossed, lips tugged up with Carlos who was standing next to her, his track suit pulled down around his waist, runninga hand through his hair. He leaned in and said something. She laughed again.
I swore I’d rather DNF than see that twice in one weekend. Someone handed me a bottle. I pretended to drink it. She finally glanced my way and our eyes locked. A flash of something I couldn’t read—guilt? Tension? Defiance? I smiled, wide and slow, all teeth. She didn’t smile back.
But shelooked,for a second too long.
And that’s all I needed to keep the shit-eating grin on my face.
5
NICOLA
The restaurant was low-lit and gleaming, tucked into a cobbled side street with just enough flash to impress the sponsors and just enough history to satisfy my father. We arrived together, after staying too long on the track. My father was always very involved, at the heart of it all because he loved this world and everything that went into being a team owner. He worked closely with the principal, upper management, and admins. He was already changed into a tailored navy blazer when I walked into his office earlier. My own dress was hanging in there to change out of my day outfit. I opted for wine-red tonight. Sharp lines and bare shoulders, a simple diamond necklace adorning my neck. Red-bottomed black heels paired with a hint of subtle revenge.
It wasn’t for anyone in particular, just for myself. Or at least I’d repeated that mantra to myself. But getting a little rise out of Matteo would just be a cherry on top.
The team was gathered around a long table, already half-filled with noise and wine. Matteo wasn’t there yet. And I couldn’t help myself watching the entrance for him.
Carlos spotted me first and waved me over with that too-handsome grin that always made him look like he was about to charm his way into trouble.
“Ciao, Principessa,” he teased, pulling out my chair. “Finally gracing us with your presence after disappearing this week?”
“I’ve been busy,” I said, letting my fingers trail over the rim of my wine glass.
Carlos arched his brow. “Too busy to respond to my texts?”
“I’m sorry,” I sighed, and I was. I loved Carlos like family, but I was busy between self-care in the form of shopping and spending time with Lucia and Gianna, and working with the Moretti Foundation team on new ideas for upcoming campaigns. After speaking with Henrietta, I had this new determination brewing; I wanted to keep doing more. To prove myself. However, memories of a drunken night with the devastatingly handsome driver who I was supposed to hate kept flashing in my head. I mean, sure, he was annoying, but I also wasn’t blind. His hands on my hips, the swallow tattoos on his thigh that I had never seen before. I was frazzled. And I didn’t do frazzled. I prided myself on being composed, but here I was feeling uneasy at the team dinner. Carlos leaned in, dropping his voice so only I heard. “Funny. You were never one to get flustered. But lately…you’re twitchy.”
