Page 34 of Double Apex

“You know,” Georgie says, dropping her voice, “I looked uponelittle sentence in Romanian.” She trails a fingertip down my arm and delivers a clumsily rendered line:I want to go to bed with you.

This is of course the moment her husband returns, handing her a third drink. “What’s that, my love?” he asks.

“She said,” I tell him smoothly, “that she is sleepy.”

“Ah! My clever girl.” He leans to kiss her cheek.

Inge appears in the doorway leading to the deck. “The picnic is ready!” she announces in her musical voice. “Can some of you transport things to the tender so we can go to the beach?”

“Of course, liebling,” Jakob replies, pushing to his feet from a deck chair.

Alfie and I follow. As I’m toting a basket and emerge from the narrow stairs, I catch up with Reece.

“I’d like you to make my excuses to remain behind,” I say discreetly. “Headache, perhaps?”

“Has all my scolding about optics finally got through to you?” she teases. “Good call. We don’t want anyone thinking you’re encouraging that woman’s behavior.” She takes the basket from me. “Back downstairs with you until we’re gone.”

I loiter in the kitchen, waiting for the group to depart. The tender roars off, headed for the beach.

Minutes later, I hear the unmistakable sound of crying.

12

BARCELONA

PHAEDRA

I blame the stupid fucking banana for my breakdown.

I ask Inge if I can stay behind and rest in one of the bedrooms, because of (fake) cramps. She ushers me into bed with a cup of herbal tea, then comes back minutes later, offering a plate containing a sandwich and a banana.

“The potassium is good for cramps,” she assures me, pointing at the fruit.

After she gently pulls the door almost closed, I lie on my side staring at the plate, listening to the chattering and footsteps as the group leaves. It’s a relief not to have to go. Too much smiling, pretending I’m not frozen with terror inside. For that matter, I can’t take much more of watching Alfie’s cougar wife slobber over Cosmin.

The tender buzzes away, and silence descends. I stare at the plate on the bedside table, thinking about my dad.

Chondrosarcoma in the base of the skull. Massively rare.

He FaceTimed me a few days ago to deliver the news. I knew it was bad when I opened the call and my mother was on-screen as well, not just leaning into the frame in passing to say hello like we usually do.

She’s not interested in racing—the main focus of Mo’s life and mine—only in the “stuff” Emerald has provided. So I never know what to talk with her about, and we’re a little awkward. Mo is “my person,” and Mama is Aislinn’s—they’re far more alike, the kind of people who use hair spray, count calories, and iron their clothes.

More like Natalia, I guess. It hurts to think about her right now too.

When Mo brought up the coming transition during the call and wanted to discuss business—whether he might offer Klaus the chance to buy the Morgan family’s 60 percent, or whether I should become “head honcho” when Dad “crosses the bar”—I slapped my hands over my ears like a little kid and shouted,Don’t!

Not being able to talk with Nat has made everything harder. I realized I was equally in the wrong because I also hid something from her—I didn’t tell her about the kiss in Santorini with Cosmin. So I broke down and texted her the week after the Chinese GP, and twice more since then.

No reply. Looks like she wasn’t bluffing about being sick of me.

On the team, only Klaus and Reece know about Dad’s cancer. And Klaus has been odd—stiffly courteous or terse in away I’m not used to. I’ve always claimed I don’t want special treatment due to being the owner’s daughter, and I guess this is what that looks like. Yay.

I know there’s a chance his shift in mood toward me is because he and Natalia are cozy now, and she made me sound like a monster. But I also wonder if my father’s illness is bringing back, for Klaus, the pain of losing his wife, Sofia.

I’d been hoping to have a heart-to-heart today on the boat and talk it all out, but no such luck. I’ve never felt more alone.

But back to the freak-out over the banana…

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