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Nicky

There’s something going on with Cherry.

She keeps telling me she’s fine. That there’s nothing wrong. But I can feel it. Hell, I can see it. She’s changing in front of me and I don’t know what to do to fix it.

“I’m sorry about the race today,” she says again. For the fifth time since seeing me after the checkered flag. Her eyes are shiny and her cheeks are flushed. She’s wringing her fingers and if you didn’t know better, you’d think she was the one who’d lost the race today.

Or come in sixth, as the case may be for me.

“I know you are.” I work to keep the exasperation from my tone, pressing my hand to the small of her back and guiding her into the waiting car. “Paul and I will get to the bottom of it.”

The ‘it’ I’m referring to is the sudden lack of performance in both of the Vortex Motors cars since we returned from mid-season break.

My fourth place in Zandvoort had been concerning but now combined with the eighth place in Austria and the sixth place today, along with Patrick finishing down in a dismal fourteenth, we know the team has taken a giant step backwards.

It’s an enormous concern for everyone, from Jack down to the people working in the factory, but I’m confident we’ll figure it out.

We have to. My championship is on the line.

“Is there anything I can do to help?” she offers. We’re in the car now, making our way from the track back to our hotel. Now that it’s just the two of us, with James up in front, she’s more relaxed. Her spine is less rigid, the creases in her forehead smoothing out.

I take her hand in mine, partly to stop her wringing her fingers, and mostly because when I’m near her, I need to touch her.

“Like what?”

She gnaws on her lips, glancing at her phone with a small sigh.

“Cherry? What is it?”

Grimacing, she thrusts her phone at me. I keep a hold of her hand, using my other to read the screen in front of me.

“ Formula One Fumble. ”

“Original headline,” I mutter, feeling her worried gaze glued to the side of my face.

Clenching my teeth, I continue reading.

“Since the mid-season break, this year’s title frontrunner Nicolai Dimitrios has lost his mojo.

What started out as a dominant display from the four-time world champion, with it looking as if this year’s title race was all but wrapped up in Monaco, has taken a turn for the worst. With that crash in Silverstone, and his poor performances in Zandvoort and Austria, it feels like the Australian driver has taken his foot off the pedal.

Literally. One can only speculate the reason for such a drastic turnaround. ”

Thanks, Mr Rosenburg from the BBC. Nice to know you have so much faith in me.

I hand her the phone back, searching her face for a clue. What about that article has her so upset? Rubbish like this is written about me and every other driver all season long.

“Do you think they think I’m the reason for your lack of form?” she asks in a small voice.

So, that’s it. Or at least that’s part of it. Part of the reason she’s been curling back in on herself. Reverting to the woman who joined the team in March. The woman who doubted every step she took.

“I think they know the reason for this slump in form from the team.” I put emphasis on the word team .

Does she think she’s responsible for us all flailing these last few weeks?

“We made an upgrade to the car that didn’t work.

Now we need to deal with it. The sports reporter from the BBC and every other F1 journalist know this; they just get more clicks if they write something vague. Something more provocative.”

Her shoulders fall from around her ears and she exhales a deep breath. Like she needed to hear those words from me. Why haven’t I said this to her before?

“Okay. I hope you guys get it sorted soon so they can all stop speculating about it.”

Before I can probe deeper into who they ‘all’ are and what exactly they are ‘speculating’ about, she gasps, her attention now focussed on the scenery outside our window.

We’re travelling to the hotel from the Hungaroring and as we cross over the Danube River from the Pest side to the Buda side, we are greeted by the architectural brilliance of the city.

It’s a gorgeous city and I love viewing it through Cherry’s eyes.

I’m pretty sure she’s in love with the place.

Now, if only I knew for sure how she felt about me.

“We’re here. ”

James hops out of the front seat and opens our car door.

I follow Cherry out of the car, noting how she winces as she walks.

I share a look with my bodyguard, who’s also watching her with concern, before rushing to lock my arm around her waist. Just in case those heels she’s suddenly so keen on wearing decide to give up on her.

“Tell me again why the sudden interest in wearing stilts all day,” I murmur close to her ear as we stand in the lift taking us up to the room we’re sharing this weekend.

She’d insisted we behave ‘normally’ during race weekends—aka, sleeping apart—an idea I’d vetoed after the Dutch Grand Prix.

Now that I knew what it was to have her in my bed every night, I wasn’t willing to sacrifice that for reasons only known to her.

Lucky for me, Cherry didn’t put up much of a fight.

“I just want to look nice,” she replies, sounding defensive. “Everyone else can wear heels all day. Why can’t I?”

Why do you need to? I want to press. And why all of a sudden?

“It’s just that, you don’t seem that comfortable.” I step lightly, feeling like this is a minefield waiting to explode. “And I kinda miss you in sneakers and my shirt.”

She softens, a sad-looking smile on her face. “You’d be the only one.”

What does that mean?

Frowning now, I follow her into our room, watching as she’s drawn to the large window taking over almost one entire wall. We have the perfect view of the Danube and the pinky-red Parliament house from up here; a view that will get more spectacular as the sun sets and the city lights up.

“What do you want to do tonight?” I step up behind her and wrap my arms around her small waist, revelling in the way her slight body melts back into mine. “We can go out. ”

She tenses and I bite back a curse. What’s going on? “Or we can stay in? Get room service, get into some comfy clothes, and binge-watch some shows.”

She’s nodding now, slipping away from me to sit on the edge of the bed.

I watch her moan softly as she slides off her heels—heels she’d informed me this morning were the latest Jimmy Choos, like that meant something to me.

Crossing over to her, I sink to my knees and rub the balls of her feet.

I don’t want to upset her again by bringing up the shoes she’s now glaring at with utter hatred, but it all seems to be linked with a bigger problem.

Something that started in Zandvoort and has only gotten worse.

“Why don’t you jump in the shower and I’ll order up some food?

” I offer. She’s purring as I massage her feet, while pulling at her clothes.

Today she’s dressed in a long, slimline silk dress with spaghetti straps and a low neckline.

The dress is a muted shade of green, a colour I’d heard her tell Serena worked well with her hair and her skin tone.

She looks stunning in it. But she also looks borderline uncomfortable as well.

“Sounds like the best plan.” Her voice is soft, her tone muted like the colour of her dress, and I search my brain for the last time I’d heard her animated. Or seen her excited; filled with joy. That I can’t recall it in recent memory has my blood running cold.

She presses a light kiss on my lips and limps over to the bathroom. When the door closes behind her, I pace around the room, determined to get to the bottom of what’s going on with her. Once I know what it is, I can fix it.

Digging my phone out of my pocket, I scroll through my contacts, stopping when I get to the one person who may have some answers.

Nicky

Hey, it’s Nicky. Can I ask you something?

I hold my breath as I wait for her response. Please don’t be out partying with the team, with your phone somewhere out of sight.

Serena

Sure. What’s up?

Breathing out a sigh of relief, I ponder how to word my concerns without betraying Cherry’s trust.

Nicky

Is there something going on with Cherry that I’m not aware of?

Serena

Can you be more specific?

Nicky

The clothes. The shopping. The hair?

This has been one of the most obvious changes since our relationship went public. Along with the designer clothes and shoes, Cherry now spends an hour getting ready in the morning. Making sure her make-up is perfect and her hair is straight. These days, her hair is always, always straight.

Serena

I’m as lost as you. In Zandvoort, she asked me if she needed a makeover. I said no! But I don’t think it got through to her. The day we spent in Vienna, shopping for new clothes for her… she looked miserable the whole time.

Zandvoort. I knew something happened there. Ever since that race weekend, there’s been something almost broken in her eyes .

Nicky

And she hasn’t said anything to you about it?

Serena

No.

But Nicky… the comments online about her…

They’ve been brutal.