“Yeah, fine. Do you and Anaïs have a moment?” I ask, pacing.
“For you? Always.” I smile. Chest rippling with warmth.
“Cool, can you meet me downstairs in the hotel?” I am already pressing the button for the elevator.
“Now?” I can hear him walking towards the door, the handle being pressed down.
“Please.” I say bye before cutting him off and pace the floor.
Athena’s words play over in my head, making me realise that maybe I am sabotaging myself without realising. I’m making a name for myself and not a good one.
A sigh rattles in my chest as I see my dad and his wife, Anaïs walk towards me. I still think it’s mad that they got married. It was a quick wedding at the end of last year, just as the season ended. I suppose when you know, you know.
Worry is etched over Anaïs’s face, and I give her a smooth smile.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” My dad’s fingers slip from hers before both of his hands are clasped on the top of my arms, his eyes flitting across every inch of my face.
My lips tug into a grin, my eyes set on his. “I promise, I just want some advice.”
He steps back slightly, and I can’t tell if it’s shock across his face or not.
“You? Royce… wants advice?” He chuckles.
“Yeah,” I mutter, nodding for them to follow me to the bar area. I cannot wait to be out of this hotel; I hate this limbo side of racing.
We’re seated in the corner at the back of the room, and I order coffees for the table. Dad fidgets and Anaïs hasn’t lifted her gaze from me.
“Google me,” I say to Anaïs and she looks to my dad before turning her attention back to me.
“Pardon?” She blinks a few times.
“Google me,” I repeat, dipping my head as I wait.
“Oookaaayyy then.” She flicks her gaze to my dad and he just shrugs. “Done.” She turns the screen towards me.
“What’s the first thing that comes up?” My fingers are clasped.
“Your bio.” She scrunches her nose.
“Ignore that, scroll down to the first piece.” I point at her phone.
“Royce Lexington, F1’s biggest playboy.”
“And the one after?”
“Saint Onyx’s arrogant race driver seen partying on the town.” Her lips twist.
“It’s not great, is it?” My eyes bounce between the both of them.
“I mean… not really, no. Has Nora contacted the sites to get them to remove the stories?” she asks, locking her phone and reaching for her coffee.
“What’s the point? Nothing is a lie. I am a playboy, I am arrogant… What is there to remove?”
Confusion paints across her pretty face.
“I need to clean my act up. Sleeping with any woman I see to cover up bigger issues clearly is damaging my image.”
“You’re not wrong,” my dad agrees, one leg crossed over the other.
