Page 42 of Racing Hearts
Running through various scenarios, I tried to conjure up an excuse believable enough that wouldn’t insult their intelligence. Unfortunately, before I could think of an excuse worthy of Luca’s endearing parents, the elevator opened, and his mum linked our arms, gracefully dragging me toward the restaurant. For a woman who knew our relationship was fake, she was certainly acting like it was real, but that was the magic of Lucile Rossi. It was easy to see how she’d spent the majority of her life as a television host; the warmth of her smile and voice was absolutely captivating.
We stepped out the elevator looking like we’d been friends for decades, not mere acquaintances.
“Luca! Look who we ran into,” Michael called out cheerily. “Grab an extra chair, son.”
I thought Luca might refuse his father’s request, but after a couple of seconds of staring at me like a deer in headlights, he trotted over to the host stand and requested a fourth chair. His mother shuffled me into a seat and grabbed my bag, placing it underneath.
The host pulled up a chair, and Luca awkwardly sat down. There was a lot of pressure on him this weekend, and by the looks of his grim face, I suspected he wasn’t prepared to have breakfast with his pretend girlfriend.
“So, Flash, looks like you’ll have some real competition this weekend. Good! I look forward to an exciting race. That Valkyrie car has incredible speed, and your girlfriend clearly knows how to drive it,” his father preened.
I felt my heart skip at the word girlfriend. I knew I’d be hearing it all weekend, but hearing it for the first time left me with a weird mixture of butterflies and dread.
Luca’s face was the epitome ofjustdread. Staring at his dad with a stern look on his face, I could tell he was less than impressed.
Better get used to it, Rossi, I silently mused.
“Also,” Luca’s dad leaned in, his voice low, “I heard those photos from your excursion on Monday went over very well.” Michael looked incredibly pleased with himself. “A great idea! I know Anthony’s father has been sniffing around, making offers to Francesco and the Hermes leadership team, but this sort of good press is exactly what we needed, Luca.”
Luca gave a vague nod of agreement, but his mouth was tight.
Michael turned to me with a gleam in his eye. “So, Georgia, I heard you let my son beat you on the karting track this week?”
I shot Luca a confused look, but he just continued to stare down at his yogurt cup with such dedication, like it was a crystal ball willing to give him all the answers in life. Had Luca actually told his dad that I’d let him win? I wasn’t sure if I should be offended.
Georgia Dubois didn’tletanyone win.
“I think you’ve been lied to, Mr. Rossi,” I chuckled. “I might have won a race in the morning, but Luca beat me fair and square in the afternoon, even if that pass at the end was vicious!” I elbowed Luca in the side, earning me a small, discerning smile from him before he went back to listening to his yogurt bowl’s sound advice. “Plus, I’m not in the business of letting anyone beat me.”
Michael let out a booming laugh. “Ahh, now that’s the winning spirit we’ve all heard about!”
Luca flinched. His solemn eyes told me he was enduring this breakfast, not enjoying it, and for a moment my heart ached for him.
“How do you feel about today, Georgia?” his mum asked, pulling me out of my trance. His mother had such a calming air about her. Dressed in a beautiful red dress and lovely beige heels, she looked just as much the movie star as her son often did.
“Truthfully? Nervous. This is the first time I’ve arrived at someone’s home race as their girlfriend, and while I know I shouldn’t feel any different about walking into the paddock, part of me does.” All morning I’d dreaded the media circus Luca and I were about to walk into. At a large event like Monza, our relationship would be front and center, there for everyone to comment on.
“I always feel so bad for the girlfriends,” she sighed. “It’s constant scrutiny: what they wear, how they speak, whether they’re ‘good enough’ for someone the public doesn’t actually know.”
I tilted my head, surprised by the candor. “Exactly.”
“Well, as far as we’re concerned, you’re walking into the paddock as one of the finest racers to ever step foot in a Formula 1 car. Your parents must be so proud.” The compliment caught me off guard. I nodded politely, but the words hit deeper than I expected. Luca’s face was blank, but his eyes betrayed something else.
Resentment? Shame? I couldn’t quite tell.
“Well, that’s very kind of you to say, but I know they’re just as proud as you are of Luca.” Lucile’s eyes sparkled as she looked at her son. No matter the tension in the air, her adoration for him was unmistakable.
Meanwhile, the pressure of being Luca’s “girlfriend” at the biggest race of his career was beginning to chip away at my appetite. I poked at my oatmeal, suddenly unsure if I could stomach another bite. Luca must’ve noticed. He gently squeezed my leg, grabbing my attention, then leaned over, his voice low.
“You should have a little more breakfast,” he whispered. “It’s going to be a warm one today, and greeting all ofmyfans will be more exhausting than you know.” He flashed me a small smirk, clearly trying to make light of the situation, which I almost appreciated.
“Georgia knows what she’s doing, Luca,” his father chastised. “Clearly whatever diet the team has her on is working!”
Luca didn’t answer. He didn’t even look up. He just moved his eggs around his plate like they were pieces on a chessboard. I took another bite of my oatmeal, almost missing the frustrated glare from his mother.
Were all their interactions always like this?I wondered.
After a few more moments of watching him build an egg fort with his toast, I decided to break the uncomfortable chasm of silence that had settled.
