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CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

ROCCO AND NICO

R occo sat in the car, waiting for them to signal him onto the grid.

The forecast had said no rain, but Rocco had grown skeptical when he watched a large swath of ominous gray clouds drifting this way.

They grew darker the closer they got, and sure enough, there was a sudden downpour.

So the race had been delayed. They were going to have to start on wet tires, and the teams had quickly gone to work changing them.

He’d been worried about what it would be like in the paddock with Nico after Carnival.

But she acted as though nothing had happened.

In fact, she’d done so immediately after his nieces had shown up.

She was so convincing, he’d begun to wonder if anything actually had happened. Maybe he’d imagined it—all of it.

Had she known what he was about to do in that alleyway? Did she want him to? He thought she did. But she was difficult to read.

Sofia and Beatrice had gotten a big kick out of seeing Nico dressed as Inigo Montoya.

Afterward, they’d told him they invited her to come with him during the upcoming three-week break in the racing schedule.

He was going to visit his family in the small Italian village where he’d grown up.

But she’d told them she couldn’t. She’d made other plans.

He felt a hand on his shoulder. “Second row,” Dario said. “Good position.”

But not as good as first , Rocco thought.

The two drivers from Blue Jet Lightning were on the first row; he and Clarke were on the second—Clarke at #3 and Rocco at #4. Nico was starting from the fourth row at #7. It was her best starting position yet.

Qualifying was everything in Monaco. It was virtually impossible and a death wish to pass on the tight and twisting narrow circuit that took you through the streets of the principality. Passing a car was usually a guaranteed crash. That’s if you could even manage to find enough space to attempt it.

Where you started the race was nine times out of ten where you finished. Rocco wasn’t in a position to see the podium, let alone win the race.

The rain made it even more difficult.

But Rocco saw the rain as an advantage, one he intended to exploit. Never did a driver’s ability behind the wheel matter more than at Monaco—and in the rain, that truth seemed absolute.

He’d raced here before in the rain and won. Anker and Clarke hadn’t.

Nico gripped the wheel as she sat watching the rain. It was coming down harder now. What had begun as singular drops now looked more like a sheet of water splashed against a gray wall. The streets would be slick, the visibility—poor.

She’d never driven an F1 car in the rain.

At least things seemed okay between her and Rocco. She told herself that was a good thing even though she felt a pang in her heart when she did.

You couldn’t have been thinking there was something there.

And yet she had thought there was a moment. Before his nieces showed up.

A moment? What moment? That he might kiss you? Dressed up as you were? Wearing that wig? That moustache?

Now she could see how absurd that was.

Besides, there was Mickey.

Was it him who pulled me away from Rocco at Carnival?

The person was wearing a black mask like the Mascher and had whispered something to her, but it was too noisy for her to make out the words. She was grateful some drunken men had stumbled into them and broken his hold on her so she could get away.

She drew a deep breath and exhaled so forcefully, her breath echoed and bounced off the shell of her helmet.

Was it possible Mickey would try to get at her by targeting someone else?

He would only do that if he thought she really cared about the person.

Nico sighed.

Where was the woman who’d been in command at Drink and Dive? She’d left her behind because she wanted to leave that entire life behind. But now she might have to rally her back.

That woman cared for no one. She was distant, cool, untouchable. There was no way anyone could or would think that woman cared for Rocco Vittori. Not Mickey. Not even Dario and Celeste.

She drew another deep breath.

Focus. Focus .

Any minute now she’d be pulling out onto the grid. This would be her first F1 race in the rain. And in Monaco of all places! The circuit was difficult enough as is. Still, she’d put in her best qualifying performance yet.

Rocco had to be disappointed starting from the second row and in fourth position. It was difficult to see how he could win this one. He might still have a chance at coming in third and mounting the podium. But the odds were against it. Still, if they could work together as a team it might happen.

She could do that. And she felt confident he could too.

Rocco was driving through the tunnel. Anker and Mendelsohn had made contact with each other again.

They were pressing each other too hard, and neither one would make way for the other.

They were acting like they were the only two in the race.

Rocco knew what was driving them—the desire to come in first. They were just in front of Clarke, who was right ahead of him.

No position change since the start of the race.

Rocco: Those two are driving like a couple of maniacs!

Race Engineer: Just focus on your own driving, Rocco. How’s the grip?

Rocco: Holding steady. Has the rain let up at all?

Race Engineer: A little. You’re right on pace with Clarke. Stay close, but not too close.

Rocco: Copy.

He was nearing the end of the tunnel, approaching the fastest stretch of the track just before he’d need to break for the chicane—that serpentine curve in the road meant to reduce speed and slow down drivers. This was his best and possibly only shot at passing.

Just up ahead Rocco could see Mendelsohn attempt to overtake Anker and Anker squeeze him out, but Mendelsohn was too close and the two Blue Jet Lightning cars hit—this time with enough impact to throw the pair out wide and allow both Clarke and Rocco to shoot ahead.

Race Engineer: Well done, Rocco! You’re on pace with Clarke.

Rocco: Copy. Where’s Nico?

Race Engineer: Excellent, Nico. You’re at P5.

Nico: Copy. Is that … Anker? And Mendelsohn?

Race Engineer: It is. They went for too much just before the chicane.

Nico felt her heart racing as a huge grin engulfed her face.

Nico: What position is Rocco at?

Race Engineer: He’s at P2, but he’s on pace with Clarke. How’re the tires?

Nico: Good. Holding steady. Car feels strong. What was the pace on that last lap?

Race Engineer: Fastest yet. Two seconds faster than Anker and Mendelsohn up ahead.

Nico: What about the turn up ahead?

Race Engineer: No moves. Not now, Nico. Not with the two of them lined up like they are. You don’t have room.

Rocco: Damn, they’re right on my tail.

Race Engineer: Yeah, they’ve picked up the pace. Can you hold on? The checkered flag is just up ahead.

Rocco: Yeah. I can hold on.

I better fucking hold on.

Race Engineer: Nico, just hold steady. They’ve boxed you out.

Mendelsohn was in front of her, Anker ahead of him.

There was nowhere for her to go.

But while Anker was keeping close to the inside, Mendelsohn was riding the right rear tire of Anker’s car. Nico knew what he was thinking. Up ahead was a turn, and about midway through the turn, the road widened.

He’s positioning himself to pass Anker there .

I can’t pass them. But I can make them think I’m going to try.

The more she could draw Anker to the inside, the more Mendelsohn will see the widest part of that turn as his shot.

She veered ever so slightly left. As expected, both Anker and Mendelsohn did as well, blocking her way.

Nico inched back to the right, and they followed suit.

She did it again, and so did they. But on the third attempt, when they were coming to that widening of the road on the turn, after inching to the inside almost immediately after she jerked right, Anker did likewise and ran into Mendelsohn, who was attempting to pass on the outside.

That not only gave Nico room to pass on the inside but given they were all so close and bottled up, the impact between the two Blue Jet Lightning cars startled Clarke.

He lost momentum, allowing Rocco to shoot past him.

The checkered flag was just up ahead.

Rocco crossed the finish line first. Clarke regained control and came in second. And Nico …

She could hardly believe it.

Did that just happen? Did she really come in third?

She could hear the cheers in the paddock on the radio. She placed her hand over her heart where she kept the drawing of her grandfather.

I did it, Grandpa. I’m going to be up on that podium.

Rocco watched Nico mount the podium as the crowd cheered. Clarke followed. He was next.

He was happy. But it felt different than the times he’d mounted the podium in the past. Different than what he’d expected. It was as though the joy had an anchor attached to it.

They handed him a bottle of champagne. Soon he was drenched as Nico and Clarke sprayed him and the crowd. He joined in.

He looked over at her. She was smiling back at him, her dark eyes shining. And then he saw it—a flash of light, as though she’d opened a window—but just for him. And suddenly, that anchor had sprung wings.

After he and Clarke had given each other a bro-hug and she and Clarke had hugged, they stood, staring at each other.

This is ridiculous , Rocco thought.

He stepped over and pulled her in for a hug.

As he began to release her, he leaned in, thinking he would kiss her on the cheek and then staring at her lips, suddenly changed his mind.

But she looked surprised and had already turned her head partway so that his lips landed clumsily, half on the edge of her lips and half outside them.

They quickly pulled apart.

Rocco was grateful for one thing. It had happened so quickly, given all the excitement and commotion, no one seemed to have noticed.

Afterward, there were dozens of press interviews.

When they were finished, they headed back to the Maverick complex. It was just the two of them. And neither of them had said a word. Should he say something?

That kiss.

They were both acting as though nothing had happened. But something had happened, even if that kiss sucked.

It irked him. A part of him wanted to right that wrong. Now. But then someone might come around that corner up ahead. And just as he had the thought, someone did.

Carolyn.

She smiled. “Congratulations! I’m not sure which is more of a surprise—you, Nico, on the podium, or you, Rocco, darling, not only back on it but in first. A pleasant surprise, of course.

But a surprise nonetheless. I thought it might never happen again, dear,” she said, placing her hand on Rocco’s cheek.

“Surprise? Really?” Nico sneered. “I find that surprising.”

Up until then, Rocco had avoided looking over at Nico. But now he turned. He only caught her profile, but by the look of that lifted chin and determined jaw, he would bet anything those dark eyes were blazing.

“Do you?” Carolyn said, more statement than question.

“Well, yes. Rocco has, what, three championship trophies? Not only that, but he’s the only driver on the circuit who’s shown that he can master Monaco in the rain. I mean, he’s done it before— five times.”

“Right,” Carolyn hissed, her words spitting from behind clenched teeth. “Well. I’m sure I’ll be seeing both of you tonight at the party.”

Before Rocco could stop her, Carolyn leaned in and planted an intimate kiss on his mouth. He was just grateful he’d had the foresight to keep his mouth shut and so had she.

She turned to Nico. “You see, dear. That’s how it’s done. Just a little pointer in case you ever make it back up on the podium and try your hand at it again.”

“Hmm. Looked tepid to me. I was thinking something more like this.”

Suddenly, Rocco felt her hand around his neck.

She pulled him down until his lips met hers, her lips slightly parted so that her breath, hot and sweet, entered him, and like a bolt of lightning, shot straight through his veins.

She opened wider, and her tongue, slow and sultry, shattered that bolt into shards of electricity that sparked throughout every square inch of him and then suddenly lit a fire while that scent of hers, thick and viscous, landed heavy in his groin.

He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her in closer, squeezing tighter and tighter until he could feel her heartbeat against his own and her breath falter in his mouth.

“I can’t,” he heard her whisper, their lips still locked.

He felt her hand on his chest.

“I can’t,” she whispered again, “breathe.”

He finally released her. She looked stunned and then blinked.

Carolyn was gone.

“Well, we showed her,” Nico said before turning on her heels and walking away.