Page 23

TWENTY-THREE

LUCAS

The roar of the crowd in Spielberg, Austria, is deafening as I pull my car into the pit lane. My engine idles down, filling the air with the smell of burning rubber and high-octane fuel. I may like the cologne I made in èze—the one I refuse to call Velvet Desire out loud—but nothing, absolutely nothing, beats the smell of the track after a few laps.

I unclip my helmet and yank it off, my hair damp with sweat and plastering itself to my forehead. The cool air is a relief against my flushed skin. Team members rush to meet me, clapping me on the back and shouting congratulations. I can barely hear them over the pounding in my ears, caused by the adrenaline still coursing through my veins. As I climb out of the cockpit, every muscle in my body aches, but there’s no stopping the wide grin spreading across my face.

“Unreal job out there, mate,” a race engineer shoots over the nose, a look of pure elation on his face. “P3, man. You nailed it.”

“P3?” I rasp, still trying to catch my breath.

With a harsh inhale, I peer at the big screen, where the final standings are displayed. There it is: third place. A front-row start, just behind Cooper and Harry. It’s not pole position, but it puts me in a prime spot for the race tomorrow.

I peel off my gloves and wipe my forehead with the back of my hand. Sweat drips down my temple, and my racing suit feels like it’s glued to my skin.

“How’s the car feeling?” David asks as Mitchell hands me a water bottle.

Taking a long drink, I nod. “It feels good,” I say on an exhale. “We made the right call changing to hard tires. The grip was there and the balance was spot-on.”

David beams. “Great. We’ll fine-tune a few things tonight, but I think you’re well set up for success.”

“Mm-hmm,” I agree through a mouthful of water.

A heavy arm lands on my shoulders, then tightens a little around my neck, pulling me into a headlock. I elbow Theo—I know it’s him; no engineer or mechanic would put me in a headlock just for fun—and he stumbles back with an oomph .

“P3 is great and all, but I’ll be passing you in the first lap tomorrow,” he taunts, wearing a mischievous smirk. “Just thought you should know.”

Brow cocked, I huff a laugh. “You’re going to be looking at my car’s back wing until the final lap, Walker, but I love your enthusiasm.”

Our ribbing continues through a few post-qualifying interviews. Blake’s not good at engaging in good-natured shit talking, so as usual, he smacks Theo in the back of the head while grumbling “bugger off, wanker.” This just makes Theo laugh like a maniac and double up in his efforts to get Blake to make playful remarks.

Charlotte’s nowhere to be found after qualifying, and when I casually mention it to Theo, he says she’s “getting ready or something.” He assumes it’s for the sponsor party later, but knowing her, she could also be getting ready to grab a coffee. It’s a crapshoot.

Distracting myself from thoughts of Charlotte ends up being surprisingly easy, thanks to Mitchell. He catches a ride back to the hotel with me and talks business the whole way. Despite his initial concern about Theo being my new driving partner, he’s now 100 percent on board. Annoyingly so.

“I don’t know why I was so worried,” Mitchell admits as he clacks away on one of his three phones.

“Because he likes being the center of attention,” I say, using Mitchell’s words from previous conversations. “You didn’t want him to sideline me and turn AlphaVite into the Theo show, because I’m a powerhouse in my own right and work too hard to be outshined.”

He briefly lifts his head and stares at me, the expression emphasizing the frown lines bracketing his mouth. “Yeah, well, he forces you to talk during the interviews, so forget I said any of that.”

“I always talk during interviews,” I defend. I act like a mediator half the time, but I’m sure to answer questions with a fucking smile on my face.

“Yeah, about the race,” Mitchell replies, his expression unimpressed.

“Exactly,” I say, drawing out the words. “Considering I’m an F1 driver, it’s probably what I should be talking about.”

With a grunt, he slips his phone into his pocket. Shit . When Mitchell’s phone is in his hands, it means he’s multitasking, so the topic at hand isn’t high priority. But when he puts his phone away and focuses all of his attention on me, then the subject he wants to discuss is serious . He’s just doing his job, but I hate when he gets all businesslike. I want to race, not talk about how signing with a brand will bring me a substantial amount of money, or the optics of partnering with another brand, or how attending a specific event will open up my network.

“Of course it is, but that doesn’t help people get to know you ,” he argues, straightening in the leather seat. “When Theo goes off topic, as bizarre as it is, you’re forced to engage in a subject that allows your personality to shine through.”

“Personality to shine through,” I mutter, lowering my head. “You sound like my mother.”

Ever since Netflix aired a Formula 1 documentary, the population at large wants to learn about the sport, and not just what goes on during a grand prix weekend. They want to know about us , the drivers. To a certain extent, I don’t mind. I’ve always known that if I ever “made it,” my life would no longer be solely my own. Not only could the decisions I make affect my family and friends, but people will always be interested in my every move, no matter how insignificant. Why a person would want to photograph me leaving a boxing session or picking up a new bottle of shampoo is beyond me, but they do, and I’ve come to terms with it. Like most things, I fall somewhere in the middle of Blake and Theo when it comes to my private life. I won’t hire a security team to keep reporters away like Blake, but I also won’t be inviting journalists over for dinner to chat about life over a fucking charcuterie board like Theo.

Sighing, I press my fingers to the corners of my eyes. Shit, does Mitchell know it’s a tell? Ever since Charlotte pointed out that it gives away my irritation, I realize how obvious it must be. “I’m glad you’re appreciating the good things that come along with having Theo as my driving partner.”

“Hmm. I’m not the only one appreciating it. We’ve had quite a few brands reach out about potential sponsorships.”

“Yeah?” I say, sitting a little straighter. “Anything we should pursue? ”

While AlphaVite pays me a multi-million-dollar salary plus performance bonuses, a decent amount of my income comes from endorsements, appearances, licensing, and other business ventures. Forming relationships like this can lead to partnerships that’ll benefit my brand—a.k.a. the money I’ll depend on once my career driving in Formula 1 comes to an end.

“Yep,” he says, staying suspiciously mum about it. “I want to connect with Natalie and the rest of the team before presenting you with the information, since you’re a picky motherfucker. I’ll set up a meeting for after the Hungarian Grand Prix next weekend.”

“I’m only picky because I have no interest in working with a company whose products or clothes I don’t use, wear, or know much about,” I remind him. Most of the campaigns I’ve done and sponsors I have are directly related to racing, but I’ve been interested in branching out for the past few years. I’ve worked with Gucci and Under Armour on small campaigns. Both are brands I admire and wear often, but nothing long term came from either.

He holds up a hand to halt me. “Not saying it’s a bad thing. I simply want to get all the details so we can sort through what’s practical and bring it to the table.”

I nod once, lips pressed together. “All right, then. Fair enough.”

“Both Walkers have been good for you,” Mitchell muses, tapping his fingers against his thighs. He slips his phone back out of his pocket, and just when I think he’s not going to expand on what he means by “both Walkers,” he hands me the device, which is open to an email from my assistant.

My cheeks warm as I read the email. I’ve yet to bring up my interest in traveling more to Mitchell. I figured I’d see if it was doable before attracting his scrutiny. Too little too late for that . Natalie took my request to heart and completely reworked my calendar.

Holding the phone out to him, I shrug. “What’s wrong with wanting to explore during my time off?”

“Absolutely nothing,” he says. “Nat and I both think it’s amazing.”

“What does this have to do with Theo and Charlotte?”

Mitchell lets out a hearty laugh. “Lucas. I’ve known you since you were twelve years old. Want to know what happened then?”

“Is that rhetorical?” I ask with a raised brow. “Or has hitting fifty finally made your memory faulty?”

He ignores my teasing. “The moment I began managing you, and you realized that your dreams were a very possible reality if you put in the work, you stopped being a kid. You grew up like that.” He snaps his fingers. “Then Charlotte shows up, and suddenly, you’re finally enjoying your youth. I’m not saying it’s all her, because honestly, I think this has been a long time coming, but Little Miss Sunshine definitely shined some of her light on you.”

“Hmm,” I murmur, simultaneously pleased and crushed. “I guess so.”

His lips twitch with the barest hint of a smirk. “I know so.”

I check my watch for the third time in the past few minutes. To no one’s surprise, time has not magically sped up. Charlotte’s taking her sweet-ass time getting ready for tonight, considering we’ve been here for an hour and a half and she hasn’t made her fashionably late appearance yet. Theo has been camped outside the kitchen doors, waiting for the servers to come out with more trays of food since we got here, so I haven’t had a chance to ask him. There’s no doubt in my mind that he’ll complain about an upset stomach at breakfast tomorrow. There’s no point trying to stop him. He’ll do what he wants, regardless.

The event’s sponsored by Salesforce, but from the look of the floral centerpieces covering every available inch of open space, it looks like a wedding reception. Instead of meats and cheeses, they should be handing out allergy medication. Rubbing my nose to stop myself from sneezing, I take another look around the room. Nope. Still not here.

To distract myself, I shift my attention to Blake, set on asking him if he knows what’s being served for dinner, but he’s staring at Ella, wearing a worried frown.

“Everything good, love?” he asks her.

My lips curl up at the pet name. He’s gone from broody bachelor to best boyfriend in the span of three years, and as much as I love my friend, I wouldn’t have put my money on that.

“Hmm?” Ella asks, her eyes glued to her phone. “Why wouldn’t it be?”

“You’re obsessively checking your phone,” Blake says. “You only do that when you’re waiting for news.”

As if on cue, her phone buzzes with a text. Thanks to the protective screen, we can’t see what’s got her laughing with glee and responding at rapid-fire speed. She’s been trying to get Simone Biles on her podcast. It’d be incredible if the text is from her manager confirming it.

Ella finally looks up from the device, and when she finds the two of us staring down at her, impatiently waiting, her eyes widen a bit. “Oh. It’s just a text from Char.”

“Is she on her way?” I take a sip of my drink in an attempt to appear casual.

Blake rolls his eyes and shakes his head at me, clearly seeing through the facade. While I haven’t outright told him about my feelings, he’s not an idiot. He hasn’t pressed me for details, although I doubt he’ll give me much more time before he demands them, considering I jump to attention any time the woman’s name is mentioned.

“Who?” Ella mutters, still distracted by the message. “Charlotte?”

“Yes.”

“No,” she says, giving her head the slightest shake. “She’s on a date.”

It’s a miracle the glass in my hand doesn’t drop to the floor and shatter into a million pieces. Nope. Only my heart shatters. I should want her happy, but I haven’t yet moved on from wanting her happy with me .

“What do you mean she’s on a date?” I ask, my tone harsher than intended.

Ella raises an eyebrow at me, unfazed. “It’s been a long time since you’ve been out on the scene, but surely you know what a date is. It’s an event that takes place when two people find each other attractive and want to see if they’re compatible.”

“I think Lucas means who is she on a date with,” Blake interjects. His dark eyes meet mine in clear warning not to jump down his girlfriend’s throat for simply being the messenger.

Ella brightens and pulls her shoulders back. With a grin, she sets her phone face down on the table and finally gives us her full attention.

Shit. That alone tells me I won’t like her answer. Even so, I still wait with bated breath.

After what feels like millennia, she chirps, “Cooper.”

My lungs seize and my throat gets tight. Still, I need clarification. “Blake’s driving partner?” I croak.

Ella tilts her head and frowns, looking at me like I’ve lost my ever-loving mind. “Obviously. Do you know any other Coopers who happen to be in Austria right now and have a thing for Charlotte?”

Sucking in a lungful of air, I ignore her sass, and when the tightness in my chest eases a little, I ask, “Why’s she on a date with Cooper?”

Ella looks at Blake for support. I can’t blame her. Clearly I’m having trouble understanding the basic details she’s laid out. “Because he asked her out.”

“It can’t be going too well if she’s texting you while out with him.” Blake says it to Ella, though I have a sneaking suspicion it’s to appease me.

He’s right. Unless Charlotte asked him one of her cute random questions, then took out her phone to google it, it can’t be going too well. Even the thought of her asking him her silly questions has my chest constricting again. Dammit.

“Oh, no. She’s having fun,” Ella says, nodding as if this is a good thing. “She was just keeping me appraised of the piercing situation.”

I blink in confusion, and in my periphery, Blake leans forward. Piercing?

He finds his words first and demands, rather rudely, “What piercing?”

Rather than responding, Ella scowls.

He holds his hands up in apology. “Sorry, baby. You caught me off guard, is all. What piercing are you talking about?”

Her hazel eyes dart from Blake to me and then back again. “You know there’s a rumor circulating about that piercing, right?”

“No, love, we don’t,” Blake says, using the soft and sweet tone he reserves for her alone. “What piercing?”

Across the table, Ella grimaces, looking like she’d rather swallow glass than tell us, but with a sigh, she says, “Well, um, you know Wren?”

Blake grunts out a reluctant “yes.” Wren is part of McAllister’s marketing team—and a good friend of Josie’s—but she and Blake don’t exactly see eye to eye. He recently threatened to snap her phone in half if she didn’t stop asking him to learn a TikTok dance.

“Well,” Ella hedges. “Wren heard from someone at Ithaca who’s dating an engineer at Porsche that their friend slept with Cooper last year and that he has a piercing. Down there.”

“You’re yanking my chain,” Blake deadpans. “Cooper fucking Fraser has a dick piercing? ”

With a huff, she smacks his arm with the back of her hand. “Play nice. His Scottish accent is sexy.”

Blake makes a choking noise. “That’s not helping.”

“I don’t get why you’re freaking out,” she argues, lifting her chin. “It’s not like I’m the one confirming his penis piercing. And by that, I mean confirming that it’s indeed a rumor. He doesn’t have one.”

“Baby, for the love of all things holy, please stop talking,” Blake groans, running a hand through his hair. Even with it styled like it is tonight, he rocks a messy bedhead look, and with the way it’s standing on end now, he looks like he just woke up from a seventy-hour nap and doesn’t know what year it is.

Ella lifts her hand to her lips and mimes zipping them shut, but I’m absolutely nowhere near done with this conversation.

“So Charlotte’s on a date with Cooper,” I confirm. “And while on this date, she’s debunked a rumor that he has a penis piercing? Did she say how she discovered this?”

My stomach roils so violently I worry I might actually throw up. Ella digs her phone back out of her purse—a bag that’s about a fourth of the size of Charlotte’s—and slaps it into my palm. “Read it yourself.”

Ella Gold

How’s it going? I saw Cooper in the hotel lobby earlier, and he looked so cute and nervous, lol.

Charlotte Walker

So far, so good! Did you know his family lives in a castle? And his sister’s married to a viscount?

I told him they should rent it out for weddings, but I think they’re already rich and don’t need the extra income.

Ella Gold

Wow. Already talking weddings on the first date!?

Charlotte Walker

LOL. You know me.

I can also confirm that Coop has jewelry-free junk.

Ella Gold

OMG SHUT THE FUCK UP.

I AM UNWELL.

TELL ME EVERYTHING.

Charlotte Walker

Brekkie tomorrow? I’ll give you the scoop.

Taking back her phone, Ella shoots the two of us a dirty look. “I know you guys think of Charlotte as a little sister, but she’s a grown woman. Cooper’s a good guy. She could do a lot worse.”

Blake palms his face, knowing full well that Ella’s response isn’t helping to ease my agitation.

“Where’s the date?” I ask, my voice strained. I can look up her location myself, but hopefully it’ll come across as less invasive if I crash her date after a friend told me about it rather than because I was stalking her like the main character in one of Willow’s dark romance books.

Blake drops his heavy hand to my shoulder and gives it a squeeze. “Stop. Whatever fucked-up crazy thing you’re thinking about doing, stop.”

I notice then that Ella has disappeared. Frowning, I scan the space.

As if he can read my mind, Blake grunts. “You look like you’re about to do something idiotic. She read the room and decided to give us some space.”

“ Humph .”

“Think,” Blake says, squeezing my shoulder again.

“Think?” I twist my ring so aggressively I’m surprised I haven’t given myself a rash. “All I do is think about her, man. I kissed her and then told her nothing can happen between us because she’s Theo’s sister, and now she’s on a date with Cooper.” A strangled sigh escapes me. “And yes, I’m jealous, but I’m also so in love with her it hurts to breathe sometimes, so you’re going to need to give me better advice than think .”

“Fuck,” he says, puffing out a breath. He takes a long sip of his whiskey, his attention on me the whole time, and when he’s finished, he flags down the bartender for a refill.

Head bowed, I massage my brow. “Yeah. You can say that again.”

“Is she worth it?” he asks, his probing stare drilling into me.

“Is Ella worth it?” I snap. The second the words are out, guilt settles on my shoulders. Fuck. He’s trying to help, not be a dick. “Sorry. Obviously, she is. But it’s not that simple, you know?”

Blake shrugs. “You can’t live your life on someone else’s terms, mate, and if my assumption’s right, that Theo’s the only thing holding you back from pursuing her, then fuck it. What’s that Taylor Swift lyric? About being a pathological people pleaser? That’s you. You want everyone to be happy, but you do it at your own expense.”

For the first time since Ella mentioned the word date , a modicum of lightness sweeps through me, and I burst out laughing. I love Taylor Swift as much as the next guy, but I can’t say I know enough of her lyrics to quote a song during a heart-to-heart. “Theo will kill me. You know that, right?”

“Maybe, but it’s better to die happy, don’t you think?” Blake rests his forearms on the table. “Now, let’s have another drink, and after tomorrow’s race, once you’ve had some time to think, you can decide what to do. Sound like a plan?”

Still wishing I could barge in on Charlotte’s date but knowing that’ll only make matters worse, I nod.

Get through the race, then get the girl.