I blinked. “You calling me charming?”
“I saidmask.Don’t push it, DeLuca.”
But she said it with a half-smile.
And I couldn’t stop watching her as she walked away.
God, I was so screwed.
9
MATTEO
It had been a day since the crash. I had to move, to do something, to make everyone smile again and leave the haze of the last day. So I called a meeting with a brilliant idea. We were all crammed into Alexander’s hotel suite like it was a boardroom and not the nicest room on the floor. The place smelled like the fresh espresso and pastries we had delivered. Lucia and Alexander sat curled together on the couch, Gianna giggling on the floor beside them making her tiny racecars zoom along a makeshift track built from throw pillows and a room service tray. Nicola was parked against the wall, eyes glued to her phone. I clapped my hands once, all enthusiasm. “All right, I have a master plan.”
Gianna didn’t miss a beat—revving one of her cars and yelling, “Go go go!”
“That’s what you’re calling it?” Nicola said, finally glancing up with a skeptical arch of her brow.
“No one asked for your opinion, Princess,” I shot back, aiming a half-hearted glare at her.
“Don’t be rude,” Lucia chimed in, narrowing her eyes at me.
I sighed. “Okay, okay. But seriously, I have a plan.”
Alexander, scrolling his phone like he was trying to fall into it, didn’t even look up. Since he was being forced to rest after the crash, he had been locked in on the gossip sites that were whirling about him being a loose cannon or hothead after he punched Lucia’s ex who had been harassing her, spinning him into someone he absolutely was not. “What exactly is this so-called plan?” he asked flatly, voice edged with exhaustion. I walked over, plucked the phone from his hand, and tossed it across the room.
“Seriously, mate?” he snapped, jerking upright. “You had to bloody throw it?”
“Yes, pay attention,” I said with a shrug. Lucia looked over to Alexander, the worry clear on her face. I knew that look—she was checking out and zeroing in on Alexander instead. So I focused on Nicola. “Listen, I couldn’t stop thinking—about how we finally have a week off. No races. No sponsor events. No drama. Just relaxation.”
“Suspicious,” Nicola muttered.
“So,” I continued, pacing, “Why not take advantage of it? Recharge. Eat real food. Drink a little wine. Maybe not almost-die for seven straight days. A holiday.”
Gianna sat up straighter. “Holiday?” she said all the syllables smashed together.
“Yup. I planned the whole thing. Anna handled the logistics—obviously. She booked us this super fancy private villa. We’re taking Alexander’s jet—thanks, mate—and we’re going to the seaside,” I said, hands outstretched. “One week in Portofino. The views are unreal, the food is basically heaven, and the town is so quiet we might even go unrecognized—assuming Alexander wears a hoodie and sunglasses and doesn’t speak. One week to ignore our phones and float in the sea.”
Nicola finally glanced up. “You’re bribing us with a holiday in exchange for a digital detox?”
“No,” I said, pointing at her. “I’minvitingyou to relax for the first time in your life. You’re welcome.”
I received a patented Nicola glare. “But picture this: wine tastings. Sunsets over the sea. Fresh pasta. Gianna eating gelato the size of her head.”
Gianna stood up like a queen delivering a command. “I want pink gelato!”
“There will be so much pink gelato,” I promised solemnly. “Endless pink gelato, Your Majesty.”
“Yay!”
I turned back to the group, smug. “See? It’s already a success. Right, so in conclusion, since you two are in love and refusing to admit it—” I gestured at Lucia and Alexander.
Lucia choked. “Wait, what?”
“—Nicola here is miserable or moody or whatever?—”
“Hey!” Nicola protested genuinely offended.
