‘It was just a kiss, I promise. We’re not… I’m not… That’s the first time I’ve spoken to Jack outside of work. I’d never show favouritism, I didn’t ask about Pagari, I don’t know anything about him outside of F1. Iswear.’ I sound so convincing I almost believe myself.
‘I believe you, but even so. You’ve compromised our reputation as a broadcaster.’
‘I know. I’m so s?—’
‘Behaving unprofessionally during a professional weekend undermines not only your creditability, but ours too. And doing it with a driver makes us all look careless and, more importantly, biased.’
Don’t cry, Minnie.Don’t cry.‘Of course.’
‘We’re beacons of knowledge. People trust us completely.’ That’s a bit far but I get his point. ‘How can they trust someone who looks like they’re onSun, Sex and Suspicious Parents?’ How old is that reference? And why does he choose now to grow some balls?
‘I’m so sorry, Greg. I am trustworthy, and I so value this job. I’m delighted ratings are up and the Micah feature went down so well. I really want to continue working hard and being part of this team and a… a beacon of knowledge.’
He nods resignedly and sits back. ‘Well. We’ll see what London says.’
Chapter 37
JACK
I’ve only been summoned to the team principal’s office three times: when Luca crashed, when Martinelli tried to poach me, and now. Lorenzo takes his glasses off from his perch on the desk. He towers above me in my little office chair. It’s all very theatrical and Italian. Thinks he’s Vito Corleone.
‘Ragazzo mio.’ He sucks in a long breath. ‘I have spent the last three hours on the phone with sponsors. They are not happy.’
‘Sorry boss.’
‘They worry about their reputations.’
‘I understand.’
He looks to the ceiling, hands in prayer. ‘Maybe they are right, maybe they are not.’ Pause for dramatic effect. ‘I tell them “tutto a posto”– nothing to worry about, my friends.’ Finally, he winks, confirming this is all a formality. Probably instructed by the Head of Comms who’s had the morning from hell. I make a mental note to buy her flowers.
‘Thank you, boss,’ I say.
‘You arecampione. On Sunday, all will be forgotten. They will see.’
‘Yes, they will.’
‘The team at Modena are worried about you leaking material,’ he goes on, voice graver. Oh fuck, he’s talking about his boss, and that accusation’s pretty tough to disprove. ‘I wasincensed! Our Jack would never do something like that.’
‘I—’
He lifts a palm. ‘You don’t have to defend yourself. I threatened to drive to Modenatonight.’ He stabs the table with his finger, hair flopping over his eyes, and I jump. ‘I will not accept disloyalty! They will lose trust in me before they lose trust in mycampione.’
Jesus, this is bigger than I ever imagined. Lorenzo’s going up against his boss, our parent company Pagari Automobili. Then again, they’re a hot-headed bunch. Hate each other one minute, clinking glasses of Franciacorta the next.
‘Thank you, sir.’
He smooths his hair back. ‘Micah’s father has been calling me non-stop.’ Here we go. The twinkle in his eye gives me a glimmer of hope. ‘I’ll keep sending him to voicemail. I am a busy man.’
I press my lips together to keep from smiling, but we’re both thinking the same thing. There are few people in the world Lorenzo hates more than Micah’s dad. The team are pros at keeping them apart on race weekends. I heard Lorenzo threw a wrench at him once.
‘I love a beautiful woman as much as any man, but let’s choose a stick Christophe Blanchet and his Martinelliimbecillican’t beat us with, eh?’ His bushy eyebrows lift.
‘Got it. Sorry, boss.’
An indulgent smile. ‘You didn’t mean any harm. You’re a red-blooded man, after all.’
I bow my head.‘Grazie mille.’
