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TWELVE

CHARLOTTE

The knock echoing through my room has me groaning into my pillow. What the hell’s the point of putting a Do Not Disturb sign on my door if no one is going to respect it? Grumbling, I drag myself out of my pillow cocoon and shuffle to the door.

Swinging it open, I grit out, “Can you not read, or did you willfully ignore the sign?” It’s definitely not the friendliest greeting I could have gone with, but I’ve never once claimed to be a morning person, and everyone I know has been warned that I’m a bitch before I’ve had my caffeine.

As if my visitor has read my mind, a steaming Styrofoam cup is thrust into my hand. Even knowing it’ll singe my taste buds, I take a sip. I’m enjoying the smoky notes of the blend when something wet brushes against my foot. Cringing, I peer down. And there, at my feet, Champ Hollis-Gold sits, his pink tongue hanging out the side of his mouth. After he gives me a smile—I swear he does—he lowers his fluffy head and once again licks my toes.

If the coffee wasn’t enough to wake me up, that would’ve done the trick .

It’s hard to maintain my grumpy frown when an adorable creature with big brown eyes is watching me. Blake has always seemed like a German Shepard kind of guy. Yet he ended up with a twenty-five-pound cockapoo that looks like a stuffed animal.

“Morning.” Ella greets me with a dimpled smile.

She steps past me and into my suite with Champ at her heels. She’s dressed in her signature outfit: trainers, athletic shorts, and oversized T-shirt. Not many people can wear athleisure and manage to look professional, but Ella’s mastered it.

“Stop smiling,” I say, shutting the door behind her. “It’s too early to be happy.”

If anything, her smile widens. “It’s nearly noon.”

I vaguely remember the front desk calling to wake me up at nine, but I must have gotten right back into bed after brushing my teeth. The plan was to go to bed early so I could watch this morning’s practice before heading into the city center to shop and explore, but I couldn’t sleep. How could I when I couldn’t stop thinking about which of Lucas’s brothers is dating his ex? Is this ex the one Theo and Blake were referring to in Japan?

“My point remains,” I reiterate. “It’s too early to be smiling.”

“I brought you coffee so you wouldn’t bite my head off.” She eases herself onto the couch and crosses one leg over the other. “And I figured Champ would soften you up.”

Taking another sip of coffee, I close my eyes and savor the flavor. It’s exactly how I like it. Eyes open again, I squint at her. “How’d you know my coffee order?”

“Lucas.”

My surprise must show on my face, because that perma-smile widens.

She tries to hide it by looking away and patting the spot next to her. “C’mere, Champ. ”

The pup bounces toward her, but halfway there, he gets distracted by the clothing strewn around the floor. To him, my shorts and bras look like new, exciting toys. He picks up a dirty sock and drops it at my feet, then looks up at me expectantly, his tail moving from side to side so fast his whole butt goes with it.

“Am I supposed to throw it or something?” I love dogs, but I’ve spent little time around them. I’m not sure of the proper etiquette, but I know they like fetch.

“No,” she says with a laugh. “He’s just bringing you a welcome present.”

“He’s bringing me my own sock as a welcome present?”

Her shrug is easy. “I can’t say why he does it, but yeah, that’s exactly what he’s doing.”

“Thank you, buddy. That’s very thoughtful.” I crouch, careful not to spill my coffee, and give him a few scratches on the head. “I mean this in the nicest way possible,” I say, eyeing Ella, “but why are you here?”

I won’t complain, since she did bring coffee, but that can’t be the only reason she showed up at my door.

Her responding laugh is light. “I interviewed your brother for the podcast this morning, and he mentioned you were shopping today. Since I desperately need something to wear for Monaco, I wanted to tag along.”

“But how’d you know I was still here and not already out and about?”

She hums. “Yeah, I wanted to ask you about that.” Petting Champ absentmindedly, she tilts her head. “Why does Lucas have your location but Theo doesn’t?”

Rather than answer, I lift my brows and wait for her to come to that conclusion by herself.

It happens a moment later. “Okay, yeah. Much safer option,” she says, nodding. “Anyway, I’ve ordered a bunch of shit online, but hate all of it, so I’m in desperate need of your expertise and assistance.”

A squeal escapes me at the prospect, and I do a small happy dance that has Champ barking and running in a circle. This was so worth being woken up for. I’m fine shopping on my own, but it’s so much more fun with company. It’s like being in an episode of Sex and the City . And since Ella’s vibe is so different from mine, I get to browse pieces and options that I’d never consider otherwise. Finding the perfect item for someone else is like solving a puzzle. I have to pair their tastes with items they’ll feel comfortable in while simultaneously styling in a way that challenges them to step out of their comfort zone.

Settling down on the floor next to Champ, I ask, “Do you need something for a specific event?”

“I desperately need something for the Dom Pérignon party.” She sighs.

I’ve never been to the Monaco Grand Prix, or Monaco at all, for that matter, but I swear more celebrities and photographers attend the event than even an award show. The Dom Pérignon after-party is the crème de la crème. It’s invite only, and not every driver is invited. Even plus-ones have to be vetted beforehand.

“Didn’t you meet Nicholas Galitzine at that party last year?”

“No, but Blake did,” Ella says, scowling. “I didn’t know until I saw a picture of them in Vogue the next day. Blake thought he was a fan and didn’t understand why I was freaking out about it.”

I burst out laughing. Only Blake would think one of the hottest actors in Hollywood right now was a fan rather than an A-list celebrity.

After I’ve finished my coffee and given Champ all the belly rubs, I stand and head into my room to get dressed .

“How long is it going to take you?” Ella asks. “Do I have enough time to catch up on last week’s episode of Law and Order: SVU , or should I just scroll through TikTok?”

It looks like my longer than usual morning routine precedes me. “You can catch up on the episode.”

With a thumbs-up, she kicks off one shoe, then the other, and pulls her feet up under her.

It’s clear right away that Ella’s shopping strategy is “one and done” whereas mine is “shop till you drop.” Thankfully, she gets a second wind once we’ve refueled with gelato. We went to the shop she and Blake visited just before their first kiss, and once she had a double scoop of vanilla in hand, she was ready to hit more stores.

We found a dress for the party at the first place we popped into post-gelato. I forced her into trying on a stunning emerald green dress with a fitted bodice and short A-line skirt. She was convinced it would make her look like a “lumpy bag of Idaho potatoes”— whatever that means —but, of course, she looked like an absolute goddess. Once she got a look at herself in the mirror, it didn’t take any extra convincing for her to make the purchase.

I drag her and Champ into boutiques and markets, grand department stores and artisanal shops until even I’m ready to call it quits. With bags adorned with local shops’ logos draped over our arms, we trudge into our final vintage shop of the day. Inside, the scent of perfume mingles with the aroma of freshly ground coffee from the adjacent café. Like most stores of its kind, it’s a charming mix of nostalgia and chic, with racks of vintage dresses with intricate lace, tailored suits with sharp lines, bold hats, and patterned scarves.

Ella ventures over to the shoes, which I find risky, since Champ has a penchant for anything with laces, while I start at the front of the store. Immediately, my attention catches on a stunning watch. I don’t wear watches—although I probably should—but that doesn’t mean I don’t appreciate their artistry.

“Holy shit,” I mutter, running my fingers over the face of what has to be the Mona Lisa of timepieces.

A nearby shopper shoots me a dirty look, but I pay no mind. This gorgeous accessory deserves a stunned, dramatic reaction. Squinting, I angle closer to get a better look at the watch brand, but it doesn’t ring any bells. Not that my unfamiliarity means anything. My knowledge of designers doesn’t extend into watchmaking.

“Ooh,” Ella says from my left. “That’s a nice watch. Are you thinking about buying it?”

With a sigh, I pull my hand away. “No. It’s gorgeous, but it’s a man’s watch.”

“So? Maybe you have a special someone in your life who’d like it,” she says, bumping her hip against mine.

“Oh, you mean Bob?”

“Bob?” Ella’s tone is one of confusion and excitement. “You’re dating someone named Bob? I didn’t realize that was still a popular name. How’d you guys meet? How long have you been dating? Does?—”

Grinning, I grasp her hand. “Bob stands for battery-operated boyfriend.”

With a sharp intake of breath, she throws her head back and cackles. “Okay, so no actual boyfriend.”

“He gives me more orgasms than my ex ever did, so do with that information what you will,” I reply. “And it’s kind of hard to date when you’re living out of a suitcase and spend four out of seven days a week in the company of your overbearing brother.”

“Yeah, that’d definitely be a cockblock,” she sympathizes. “You could always go out with Cooper. You know he’s into you, right? ”

“Cooper Fraser?” I ask, shock weaving through me, making my heart stutter. I met the Scottish driver at the first grand prix of the season, and we’ve spoken briefly a few times since then, but I’ve never gotten anything more than friendly vibes from him. Regardless, it’s nice to be noticed.

“Mm-hmm. Blake said that Cooper asked about you last night. Of course, he gave me zero details. God forbid a man remembers a conversation. But he said there was definitely interest.”

Huh . “Did you ever find out if he has a penis piercing?”

The same woman who glared at me for swearing makes the sign of the cross, then shuffles out the door of the shop.

Ella bursts out laughing, which has Champ yipping, too.

“I couldn’t figure out a way to casually bring up frenum piercings, but that doesn’t mean you can’t do some research and figure it out,” she teases, her lips tugging up on one side.

I laugh. “You’re the journalist, not me.”

“You’re the single one,” she argues. “Not me.”

“True.” I scan the pieces in front of me, once again ensnared by the watch. I’m far more interested in finding out whether Lucas has a tattoo down there, though I won’t admit that to her. My attempt to get that information out of him was derailed when he revealed that his brother had dated his ex. My heart aches at the memory, at the hurt in his expression. No wonder he got into boxing.

Ella heads over to a table with neatly stacked piles of T-shirts while I pick up the watch and admire the small details I missed the first time around. Lucas isn’t my special someone, but he is a friend, and he happens to love watches.

While Ella’s trying on a new band shirt to add to her ever-growing collection, I quickly purchase the watch and slip the small box into my purse.

It’s not until I’m standing in front of Lucas’s door that I consider it might be weird for me to have picked up a gift for him. A few years ago, Willow and I took the quiz that determines a person’s love language. While mine is words of affirmation (to absolutely no one’s surprise), I show my love through gift giving. Not that I love Lucas. I simply enjoy giving people gifts. I love the way they light up. Because c’mon, who wouldn’t want a surprise present?

Fuck it .

I knock on the door, then anxiously shift my weight from one foot to the other while I wait for Lucas to answer. Is he even here? He may have my location, but he didn’t share his with me, so I have no clue if he’s in his hotel room. He and Theo have a team dinner in an hour, so he could have gone out to drinks beforehand. Or out to do some sightseeing? What if he met a really hot fan and went back to her hotel room to?—

The door swings open, and at the sight that greets me, I nearly choke on my tongue. Lord have mercy . Lucas stands in the doorway wearing a pair of gray sweatpants, with a towel draped around his neck. A few droplets of water trickle from his chest, and holy shit, the man has so many abs I could play a game of chess on them. I’ve seen him shirtless before, sure, but I’ve never been this up close and personal with his nipples.

“Hey, Roo,” he says, his voice scratchy from overuse after media interviews.

I drag my eyes away from the tattoos that twist up his left side and focus on his face. “That’s porn.”

Instantly, my face flames. Seriously? Why can’t I ever say hello like a normal person?

Because Lucas is normal, rather than a person who greets others by announcing “that’s porn,” his brows scrunch together. “Excuse me?”

“Gray sweatpants are girl porn.” How does he not know this universal truth? “It’s like the female equivalent of men thinking a woman’s arse looks good in yoga pants.”

With a smirk, he dips his chin. “Interesting. ”

Needing to focus on something other than his porn pants and chiseled chest, I root around in my purse and pull out the navy box the woman at the store packaged the watch in. “I got you something.”

“You got me a present?” He blinks at the box, studying it like it’s a compass that will lead him to the lost treasure of Atlantis. “What is it?”

“Cocaine,” I deadpan. Why ask when he can simply have the answer himself?

He tears his attention from the box and zeroes in on me. “What is it really?”

I toss it at him. I hate opening gifts in front of people. It’s too easy to tell when I’m not enamored by something. I’m grateful for any gift I get, but people expect recipients to act like they’ve just been given floor seats to a Taylor Swift Eras Tour show even when it’s a gift card to a local coffee shop.

Lucas absentmindedly licks his lips as he eases the top off the box. With more gentleness than a man with that many muscles should possess, he takes the watch off the cushion it’s wrapped around. Then he turns it over in his hand, examining it from all angles. “Holy shit. This is… I don’t even know the right word. Saying ‘it’s sick’ seems lame as hell.”

I swallow thickly, unsure of whether I’m pleased or embarrassed. “I know you like watches so… yeah.”

Great fucking sales pitch, Charlotte .

“Thank you, Roo.” He slips it onto his wrist and grins down at it. “Looks good on me, right?”

Even Crocs look good on this man, so yeah, this looks great.

Breathing past the pressure in my chest, I nod. “It looks great. Very distinguished.”

“Thanks for thinking of me.”

I always am .