Page 37 of Racing Hearts
“Well, let’s hope he got that win out of his system, eh?” Nora laughed. “Don’t need the enemy getting too confident.”
“Yeah, it was nice to watch him and Henri race again. Luca has always been known for his late braking and strategic overtakes, but somewhere along the way, he’s sort of lost that drive, that hunger to win…” Nora’s silence made me realize I was rambling, and I quickly inhaled a breath to slow myself down.
“Sounds like you all had a phenomenal time. Love to hear it!”
“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. I still wanted to kill him half of the time,” I mumbled back dryly.
“Well, that’s an improvement on the usual 80 per cent, so I’ll take it,” Nora teased. “Plus, it made for an amazing announcement post on your profiles. The picture of the two of you racing each other in those karts was just perfection.” I could hear Nora kissing the tips of her fingers on the other side of the line. “Your post alone got almost half a million likes!”
“So Lily told me,” I moaned. “Guess there’s no turning back now.” Not that I could exactly backtrack after the Miami fiasco.
“Keep your head up, Georgia. It’ll be worth it in the end.” Nora’s voice softened, a gentle reassurance that seeped through the phone’s static. “So where are you now?”
“I just reached the hotel room. One moment, I’m about to walk in.”
Grabbing the key from my purse, I opened the door to my room, letting out a gasp of surprise. Sunlight poured in through the expansive bay windows, illuminating the elegant suite, which was filled with beautiful paintings and ornate furniture. Within the room were two bedrooms and a vast living room.
“Now this I could get used to!” I exclaimed, my voice echoing off the high ceilings. “I meantwo bedrooms? Maybe we’d have enough money for next year if we cut down on the hotel budget.” I threw my bag onto the plush sofa before I immediately investigated the large kitchen.
“You drivers always get the nicest rooms,” Nora sighed. “Right, well, I’ll leave you to it. Glad the karting wasn’t a disaster. And remember, tonight is Luca’s podcast taping, so we need to be on our best behavior.”
As part of F1’s initiative to pull in younger fans, they’d started interviewing the drivers before each of their home races as part of a new podcast series calledHome Stretch. Each episode was recorded in front of a live studio audience full of superfans.
“Yes, yes,” I grumbled, running a hand through my hair as I reluctantly agreed.
“Good, and who knows, you might even learn a thing or two?”
“Oh look… I’m going through… a tunnel…” Not my proudest moment, but I’d heard this lecture no less than three times now and it all boiled down to one thing: avoid becoming Sassy Dubois at all costs.
Glancing down at my phone, I noticed a new text message from Henri lighting up the screen.
Henri:
I’ll drive us to the podcast recording. Meet downstairs at 7p.m.?
Georgia:
See you then.
Stepping into the shower, I turned the knob until the water was just shy of scalding, letting steam envelop me. Eucalyptus wafted through the shower from the incense the hotel had left. For the first time in what felt like days, my muscles stopped buzzing.
“You can do this, Georgia. You can survive being Luca Rossi’s girlfriend this week,” I reassured myself, breathing in the warm, soothing steam.
The hotel room door made a loud bang, catching my attention.
Fuck, has someone broken in?
Panic surged as I stood naked in the shower, contemplating my next move. As a female athlete, I’d received countless harassing fan mail and social media messages, some with death threats, over the course of my career. Not everyone was thrilled that the sport was “letting women in.”
Probably just Nora here to fill me in on some extras for the weekend.
I scanned the bathroom like it was a weapons locker and reached for the only viable object: one of my high-heeled shoes, the best I could do in the relatively empty bathroom. With only a towel wrapped around me, I stepped out of the shower with my shoe gripped tightly.
But as I walked into the living room, I saw somethingalmostworse than a rogue fan: Luca Rossi in my hotel room, grinning like he’d just won the lottery.
“Well, hello to you too.” Luca’s eyes roamed unapologetically over my body. “I guess after Miami, it’s only fair I also get to seeyoushirtless.”
So, he had seen the photo. Fabulous.
