“They already think I don’t deserve the position, and if I promote you right away…” I let my sentence trail and Lucia’s frown deepens.
“Let me guess, turfing James is off the table now?” Lucia asks and folds her arms across her chest angrily. “Because of last night?”
“It’s off the table because he’s better than you, Lucia.” I reply in a factual tone. “He’s currently a very close second in the championship run.”
“And I’m holding a strong lead in F2, which I could also do in F1 if you people would just move me up,” Lucia groans. “If I have to leave Mirabella, I will.”
“Okay. Okay,” Nick intervenes and looks at the giant hunk of metal on his arm. Seriously, who still wears a watch let alone one that looks like it weighs as much as a Fiat? “Frankie, you’ll be late if we don’t head down now.”
“Fine.” I huff out a tense breath and try not to glare at my sister. “I love you. See you next weekend. Andsuerte.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Lucia mutters but then she pauses and swallows hard, regaining her composure and sticking to our promise to each other that we started after our mom died. I always wish her luck for racing in Spanish. “Baci.”
I smile and follow Nick out the door and down the hall. It isn’t until we’re in the elevator that he speaks. “She isn’t ready, and if you force this, it will damage your career and hers.”
“I know.”
“But she’s serious about the offers. Shewillleave.”
I nod at my bodyguard turned business consultant. “I know that too.”
I sigh and wish the elevator would reach the ground floor and keep on chugging. Head right down to hell because I probably have a better chance there than I do in this new job. “My mother always told my father don’t let anyone or anything force you into a decision. Be patient, and the right choice will present itself.”
“I hope Lucia heard that advice too and took it to heart,” Nick mutters under his breath and I don’t know if he’s talking about her racing threat or their fling.
The elevator doors slide open, we step into the lobby, and he walks just a little behind me as I sashay my way to the meeting. There are people filming me on their phones. Race fans and reporters likely, although no one is technically supposed to be in here if they aren’t a guest. The hotel has a hard time policing it when my dad is here, and the retirement announcement must be making it even harder.
“Frankie, a question,” a dude in a ratty t-shirt and faded jeans says as he approaches me, stepping directly into my path so I have to stop. Nick steps in front of me immediately, but it doesn’t stop this guy from blurting out his question. “What do you say to the comment that people who pose half naked on Instagram every five minutes maybe shouldn’t try and run a race team?”
I open my mouth to answer but Nick does it for me. “What do you say about getting charged with trespassing?” He snaps his fingers. He has a way of doing it that is the loudest I’ve ever heard. The blonde woman at the front desk snaps her head up. She motions for the doormen to leave their post and handle this.
“Nothing?” Dude says with a sneer, ignoring Nick and baiting me.
“A general rule of thumb is not to feed the internet trolls,” I reply and Nick bristles in front of me a little, which is a sure sign he thinks I shouldn’t have said a thing. “Race fans are passionate and opinionated, but the real ones will be cautiously optimistic. And I won’t let them down.”
“What about drivers? Are you calling them internet trolls?” Dude says as the two doormen flank him and one announces this guy, and all the Randoms still filming me, must produce room key cards or leave. “Because this is a quote from Billy James.”
Nick has already led me, with a gentle hold on my elbow, around this guy, and I’m almost to the restaurant doors when he calls out this tidbit of information. The sole of my shoe literally squeaks on the marble floor as my step falters. Nick’s firm hand on my elbow keeps propelling me forward, inside the restaurant, before anyone can see the horror on my face. And the pain.
“He did that?” I whisper to myself more than to Nick.
“No idea. But I’ll investigate while you…” his voice trails off to nothing, and as soon as I spot my father at his usual table, I know why. He’s not with Adelaide, like usual. Instead the round table is crammed full of chairs holding testosterone. Rocco and Dario Conti, Antonio De Luca, and Billy James.
The mouth that was on my pussy less than eight hours ago is pulled into a smug smile. My heart tries to do a backflip but with the confusion the reporter caused, my brain is holding it firmly in place. The result is a clusterfuck of conflicting emotions that make me feel nauseous.
I force my eyes from Billy and march over to my dad. “Father,” I say, indicating I’m pissed. “Is ambushing me you’re new hobby in retirement?”
“Sweetheart, you’re going to have to expect that every meeting will be a team meeting going forward,” Dad says and stands to kiss both my cheeks. This is when I hate being European, because all the other men stand and I’m expected to double kiss every single one of them. It’s custom.
I lean across the table to make the kissing rounds. One of the only things I wanted covid to change forever was this tradition, but it didn’t. Billy is at the total opposite end of the table, back to the curved glass window, so I kiss Rocco who is next to my dad and Dario next to him then move to my right to do the same to Antonio and then act like the table is this Grand Canyon sized obstacle and lean over it just the slightest and blow Billy air kisses. “Gentlemen, sit. Let’s chat.”
“Rocco and Dario still have concerns about this change in administration,” Antonio says, his Italian accent heavy. He’s a good driver but lacks the confidence Billy has both behind the wheel and in life. Billy. Did he give that quote before or after he gave me the best finger fucking of my life? Either way, I’m equal parts angry and humiliated.
“And you, Antonio?”
He levels me with a point-blank stare. His brown eyes are darkened by concern. Not sure if it’s concern over what to say or how I will react. Antonio clears his throat. “I have doubts, Frankie. I’m sorry. But I’ll continue to try and win. As long as you are on board with that, I’m on board with you.”
“I’m on board,” I confirm with a nod. I turn to Rocco and Dario and wave a hand toward Antonio. “What more can I say to you two?”
