Luca stepped fully into the room.He was dressed in tailored navy slacks and a crisp white button-down, the sleeves rolled up to reveal his tanned forearms.He really had a way of looking effortlessly stylish even in the simplest of outfits.
“Don’t you two look stunning?”he said, his eyes twinkling as they landed on Georgia.“Especially you,amore.”
“You don’t look so bad yourself,” she teased, pressing a kiss to his cheek.“I think we’re about ready.Lil?”
I nodded, taking one last glance in the mirror before following them out to the living room.They’d transformed the flat for the party, with twinkling string lights draped along the walls and vases of vibrant flowers scattered throughout.Soft music played from the beautiful record player Georgia had gifted Luca for Christmas the year prior.
People arrived one by one, each one greeting the hosts with an unspoken eagerness.I don’t think it was lost on anyone what was going to be happening tonight.
Someone shouted my name from the hallway.
“Lily!”Ollie called out, dragging me in for a hug.When he pulled back, he kept his hands on my shoulders, studying my face like I was something precious.“God, you look absolutely stunning.”
“Oh, Ollie,” I laughed, my cheeks warming.
Georgia just chuckled before thanking Ollie for the flowers.
“That was sweet of you to bring flowers.”My eyes flicked over to the bouquet.An assortment of roses—nothing like the ones that had appeared in my room after Miami.
“I was glad to be invited.Gives me another excuse to see you!Now, I want to hear all about your Monaco prep.”Ollie waved his phone in the air.“Off the record, of course.”He winked.
Henri stepped through the door a moment later, looking annoyingly handsome in charcoal trousers and a tight shirt that hugged his chest perfectly.A smile broke across Henri’s face, slow and genuine, and it carried a warmth that spread through his eyes and reached every corner of the room.It was almost unsettling how much gravity his smile held—how it drew me in like it was meant only for me.
Ollie said something beside me, before leaving my side, but I’d stopped listening.Henri’s hair was still damp from a shower, and I could see where he’d run his fingers through it, leaving it messier on one side.I watched him touch it self-consciously before dropping his hand and shoving it in his pocket instead.The door closed behind him and carried his cologne forward: vanilla and cedar, unmistakably him.My champagne glass was suddenly slippery in my palm.
I hadn’t been able to stop thinking about the kiss in the elevator all week.
The memory kept ambushing me at the worst moments.During practice laps, in team briefings, in the shower.His mouth on mine, the elevator wall cold against my back, his hand at my jaw tilting my face up.The way he’d tasted like whiskey and bad decisions.How I’d gripped his shirt and pulled him closer instead of pushing him away.The sound he’d made against my lips, somewhere between relief and surrender.I couldn’t stop replaying it over again in my mind.
“Henri!”Georgia exclaimed, hurrying over to embrace her brother.“I’m so glad you made it.”
“Wouldn’t miss it,” he replied, but there was a tightness to his voice that made me wonder how many excuses he’d gone through before deciding to show up.
He gravitated toward the back of the room, falling into conversation with Éliott about their upcoming photoshoot.But every few minutes, I felt his gaze land on me.A quick glance when he thought I wasn’t looking.Our eyes would meet for a split second before one of us would look away.A game of chicken neither of us wanted to be playing.
Part of me wanted to approach him and bring up Montreal.But what would I even say?Any idea who sent me that threat?Does that kiss also consume your every waking moment?
Both terrible options, especially the last one.
Ollie re-appeared beside me with a fresh drink, his hand immediately finding the small of my back.“There you are.Sorry, I got distracted.I’ve been fielding questions about the podcast all night.Apparently, everyone wants to know who I’m interviewing next, which is a bit annoying, considering all I can think about is getting five minutes alone with you.”
From across the room, I caught Henri watching us, something unreadable crossing his face before he looked away.
“The podcast’s really taking off then?”I asked, turning my attention back toward him.
“It is, but that’s not what matters right now.”His thumb traced small circles against my back through the fabric of my dress.“What matters is that you’re here, and you look absolutely stunning.I haven’t had nearly enough of your attention tonight.”
Before I could answer, another guest approached Ollie.I took the moment to excuse myself, mumbling something about needing the bathroom.Truthfully, I needed air, and I was happy to discover that the balcony was blissfully empty.
Grabbing a fresh champagne flute on my way out, I let the door slide shut behind me, muffling the party noise.Music from a yacht below drifted up through the warm night.I raised my glass, took a sip too quickly, and immediately regretted it.The bubbles burned down my throat.I bent over coughing, bracing one hand against the cool metal railing.
A glass of water appeared beside my champagne flute.I didn’t have to look to know who it was.Henri’s presence was always something I could feel—in the paddock, in press conferences, in a room full of people.
“Thanks,” I managed between coughs.Our fingers brushed in the exchange.Barely a touch, but I felt it everywhere.
Henri leaned against the railing, close enough that I could see the faint scar above his eyebrow.“Try not to die.”He nodded toward the drink.“It would ruin Georgia’s night.”
“Yours too?”My voice came out smaller than intended.
