Page 32 of Racing Hearts
“Fine.”Not that I had a choice.Nora let out a sigh of relief.
Monza wasn’t just any race. It washisrace. Luca’s home soil—a chance to show off and potentially win in front of his home crowd. Outside of winning the championship, a racer’s “home race” was the crown jewel of their trophy collection, but it also meant you had to put on a special dog and pony show. At these sorts of races, everyone was laser focused not just on you, but your family, friends, and relationships.
This wasn’t going to be a casual PR stunt. This was going to be a spectacle, and there was no hiding from it.
“Excellent! I’ll email you the rest of your itinerary. Oh, and just one more thing.” She said it far too casually for the chaos she was about to unleash. “Hermes are booking two rooms next to each other for Monza. Since it’s Luca’s home race, fans will expect you guys to be alllovey-dovey.Didn’t make sense to have you in separate hotels.”
My head snapped up. “Separate rooms, right?”
After his rescue at the Miami race, my feelings on Luca had softened, but that didn’t mean I wanted to spend every waking moment with him. Hanging out with Luca might not seem quite so terrifying, but I still neededsomepersonal space.
“Yes, yes,” Nora assured me.
“Shame,” Lily piped up. “Sharing a room with Luca means you’d get to see him shirtless again. And we all know how much youlovedit the first time.”
Lily avoided my shoe as I hurled it across the room.
Chapter Fourteen
Luca
The Miami Grand Prix had been my best race of the season. After I swallowed my pride and listened to Georgia’s advice, I found myself second in qualifying. Turns out watching Henri’s practice sessions was invaluable advice, not that I’d admit that to Georgia. While there was no hope of convincing the team to let me pass Henri during the Grand Prix, for the first time in a long time, just being on the podium felt like a win.
Sitting in the brightly lit conference room at the Hermes headquarters, I waited for the rest of the social media team to arrive so they could debrief me on how they planned toruinmy home race weekend with a ramp-up in Georgia’s and my relationship. I kept reminding myself that the sooner my reputation was back on track, the sooner I could be rid of my parents’ meddling in my personal life.
My father waltzed in, patting me on the back as he stared at me like the sun shone out of my ass. A sure-fire way of telling me he wanted something.
“What a great race, Luca. Rescuing Georgia like that? Genius! And then defending her at the press conference? Very proud,” he congratulated, kissing the tips of his fingers like a chef who had just finished an award-winning meal.
I forced a smile, ignoring the twist in my stomach. Not a single word about the race itself, myactualachievement from Miami. In my father’s eyes a good racing result wasn’t going to fix my reputation or the damage I’d done to the Rossi name, but rescuing Georgia? Now, that was priceless PR.
Ridiculous memes of me wearing a cape, holding Georgia like a superhero, had surfaced all over the media. While Edward found them to be hilarious, I found the whole thing to be almost insulting. I wasn’t Georgia’s hero, I was just a decent human being.
“I’m not going to leave a driver who is suffering. Plus, that journalist is an asshole in press conferences. I’ve been wanting to put him in his place for a while.”
Did everyone think so low of me that no one expected me to help her?
Henri, sitting across from me, shifted awkwardly. “Howdidyou know something was wrong with Georgia?” There it was: the quiet frustration in his voice. He wasn’t upset at me. He was upset at himself. That he hadn’t been the one to notice.
“I just knew.” A teasing grin crept onto my face. Henri flipped open the purple folder in front of him, but I could see that the pages were upside down.
Pretending to read. Avoiding eye contact. Classic Dubois pride.
Matteo clapped his hands, garnering both of our attention. “The fans are loving this relationship. Monza is going to be a great race to go fully public. In fact, Georgia has thought of something fun to start the week off!”
“Fun?” I choked on my coffee, some of it spilling onto the table. “Oh, do tell?”
“Georgia thought it would be nice to do some karting at that local track you used to love.”
Of course she did.
“Let me get this straight. You want me to gokartingwith the few days I have off before my home race?” I narrowed my eyes at Henri, my voice filled with accusation. “Can your sister do anything that doesn’t involve racing?”
“What’s wrong with karting? Sounds fun.” The genuine confusion on my teammate’s face reminded me why he also drove me up the wall.
“I don’t see why the entire week has to be consumed with racing,” I demanded.
“Because it’s a fucking Grand Prix week, Luca!” The unwavering firmness in my father’s gaze made it clear that escape from this situation was utterly impossible. “It’ll be a good media day for you both. End of story.”
