“Someone is getting her mojo back,” Nick murmurs and I give him side eye, which leads to a cheeky grin on his ruggedly handsome face. “You should let your hair down too.”
“I see why my sister likes you,” I reply casually because the photographers that are here are kept behind a rope so no one can hear us with my voice so low. I yank the elastic out of my hair and give it a subtle fluff with my hands.
“Lucia doesn’t like me. She likes fucking me. There’s a big difference,” Nick replies. “Believe me, she’s explained it. Ad nauseum.”
I wrinkle my nose for a millisecond, hopefully not long enough to get the expression caught by the photogs. “Lucia is a turtle. She has a hard shell she hides in as long and as much as possible. But sometimes she surprises you. On her terms of course, in her own time.”
“Frankie!” I hear my name as we walk through paddock row as I call it, toward the Mirabella paddock. They’ve put petunias around each patio here in a dark, rich gold color. And just beyond them is Rocco, standing with Antonio and Billy.
As soon as Billy’s eyes meet mine, my body has a visceral reaction. My blood warms, my heart beat picks up, and the corners of my mouth want to turn up into a smile, but I fight it. I fight all of it. I cannotlook like a lovesick fool because I’m not one. I just have oxytocin still bouncing around my system. It’s science, nothing more.
“We’re calling an early meeting,” Rocco says.
I glance at my phone. Our first strategy meeting of the day shouldn’t have been for another forty-five minutes. Billy and Antonio should be in their respective rooms with the respective trainers doing pre-race exercises. Plus, our strategy was basically worked out yesterday after qualifying. This meeting that I clearly walked up on is way more intense than should be necessary looking at their stern faces.
“Okay. Let me get a coffee and meet you in the conference room,” I say easily.
“Can we skip your fancy latte, or can you have your assistant get it?” Rocco replies and I bristle. “This can’t wait.”
Nick stiffens because that assistant comment is being hurled at him.
“Okay then,” I say and the easy tone is gone. “I’ll skip the caffeine, and Nick is not my assistant. He’s my bodyguard. If you’d like to know what the difference is, I’m sure Nick can show you exactly what he does.”
“Would be my pleasure,” Nick growls.
“Oh good, now she’s threatening us,” Antonio barks.
“Tony, relax, mate,” Billy replies, and when Antonio turns to him ready to complain further, Billy’s expression darkens immediately. “I’m not kidding around.”
“We need to move inside,” Rocco says quietly, his eyes darting around to make sure we don’t have an audience.
Everyone swivels to the door, but Nick steps forward and blocks the men so I can enter first. I pretend like it’s not a big deal, but I know it makes Antonio rage even harder. I knew Dad giving me this position would be a hard sell for everyone, but I can’t for the life of me figure out why Antonio is making this as difficult as he is. Even Rocco has moments of professionalism, and he basically lost the job he has wanted his whole life. So why is it Antonio losing it every five minutes? Is it just the threat of Lucia moving up on the team? Because that’s always been there too, with or without me.
We enter the conference room, and I motion for Nick to stay outside. I know he doesn’t like the idea by the grimace on his face as he nods, but if I want to shift people’s perspective, I need my bodyguard to distance himself at least a little. Otherwise, I’m still the little girl who needs watching. People don’t think he’s protecting me from others, they think he’s protecting me from myself.
“Antonio doesn’t like the strategy. The Plan A,” Rocco explains.
I fold my arms over my chest. “Okay. Why?”
“Because I’m only seven points off Billy,” Antonio says. “And you’re basically ensuring his win. Telling me to back down at all costs.”
“Yep,” I reply calmly. “Billy is second on the grid. He has the best shot. If… when you start higher than him again, you’ll be Batman, he’ll be Robin. I promise. Does that make you feel better?”
“No,” he growls. “It should be a fight no matter who is where on the grid. I have a shot at the Championship right now as much as Billy.”
“This is nothing new, Tony. We did this all the time when Bash was in charge,” Billy tries to reason with him.
“Yeah, and it gained you a championship but never me, and I’m in it this year for my life, just like you,” Antonio barks back and stands so abruptly his chair topples. He glances over his shoulder at the television in the corner.
Someone before us had turned it on to the live stream of the F2 race. Lucia is in the lead. All our eyes go there, and I sigh. “My promotion doesn’t automatically mandate that she will get one of your spots next year. It’s no different than when Bash was in charge.”
“Yeah, well, she is having a hell of a season so far, and I’m not an idiot, Frankie. If she wins F2 she needs to move up,” Antonio replies. “So let me do my thing and securemyspot. Unless you’ve already made your decision.”
“I haven’t,” I say and my frustration shows in my tone. “I won’t keep placating you. You’re a big boy, Antonio. Be an adult, which includes following a strategy set forth by your team to garner the best results for Mirabella. Not for you or Billy.Mirabella.”
“You want no rules, mate. I’m up for it,” Billy says suddenly. He turns to me. “I’m sorry. I’m not trying to undermine you or your strategy, but seriously, Frankie, I’m getting as sick of this as you are. If Tony thinks he can take me, let him try. If he gets himself into a position that allows him a chance to overtake me, let him do it.”
“She doesn’t have to let me.” Antonio barks.
“Actually, yes she does,” Rocco interjects, pinching his dark brows together like it hurts him to admit that. But hey, he admitted it. Progress, I guess.
“If you are good with that Billy, then fine. But.” I raise a hand and point a finger at Antonio. “If you two get in some sort of dog fight and take each other out of this race, costing the team all the points, I’ll be done with both of you.”
I pivot on a heel and storm out of the room and head in search of that coffee I so desperately need. As I climb the metal staircase to the cafeteria, I feel eyes on me. Over my shoulder I glimpse Billy standing at the bottom of the stairs, staring up at me. Well, my ass. I pretend I don’t notice, avoiding any eye contact at all costs, and continue up the stairs, making sure my ass sways enticingly the whole damn time.
He might not ever have me again, but that doesn’t mean I want him thinking about it.
