Page 16 of Faster

Chapter Ten

She was going to crawl out of her skin.

Micaela had gotten plenty of attention as a junior driver—because of her name and because she was the most talented of her crop—but the way the media felt entitled to every moment, every facial expression, would drive her completely mad.

Right now, she was sitting in makeup for the driver press conference instead of going over data with her engineer. Only a few of the guy drivers ever bothered with any makeup at all, and that was only the fashion boys.

Now, Micaela wasn’t opposed to becoming a fashion girl, but that had a time and a place. And it wasn’t at a racetrack.

She grunted when the makeup artist told her to blot, growing more restless with every passing second. And then, Paola walked in. She’d orchestrated this whole charade.

Micaela stood up with mascara on one eye. “I’m done.”

“No you’re not. Sit down.” She could see why Paola had been put in charge of wrangling Brent of late. She could be terrifying when she wanted to be. “One more eye of mascara, and then you’re done.”

Micaela sat down. “I’m not doing this for every press conference.”

“It’s part of your job.”

She wondered if Paola recognized how sexist that was. “Brent doesn’t have to slather a pound of makeup on every time he sits down for an interview.”

“He does have to sober up, though. And that takes longer than a glam squad.” Paola said that without any indication that she was joking, but Micaela laughed.

After a beat, Paola joined in. “I can teach you how to do it yourself in half the time. How’s that?”

Micaela sighed. “Perfect.” She looked at her colleague for a second. Her mouth was tight, and she looked tired. “Is everything going okay with Brent?”

Her ex-boyfriend actually hadn’t been quite as much of a dick when they’d both been at the factory the previous week. She wasn’t sure if it was because Paola had threatened to tase him in the nethers if he said anything sexist or dumb or whether being in front of his father had made him behave.

“I don’t know how you dated him for years.” This was the most Paola had ever said about Micaela’s personal life. She’d always appreciated her for being professional, but she started to wonder how much that cost her.

“I mostly never saw him,” Micaela said. And that was the truth.

She didn’t tell anyone, because it might hurt her image as a tough, take-no-prisoners kind of girl, but she loved reading romance novels.

And her relationship with Brent had always sort of felt like the prelude instead of the main event.

She was definitely never going to tell anyone she had started reading a lot of romance novels where the female protagonist fell into a relationship with her ex-boyfriend’s dad or her much-older boss.

Those she would definitely keep in the vault where she stored her ever-intensifying fantasies about her ex-boyfriend’s dad and much-older boss.

“Not ever seeing him would be helpful.” The makeup artist powdered over the cream blush and concealer she’d used. Paola looked at her and said, “Thank you.” Although the other woman opened her mouth to say something, she realized she’d been dismissed before anything came out.

Micaela sort of wished she could do that with the press. “I need more time with the engineers.”

“Seems you’re driving pretty well to me.

” Yes, but she could always be better. That’s what growing up with a father like Jack Cartwright had taught her.

No matter what she did, he always had a story about someone doing it better—from finger painting to ballet class.

She’d never finger paint like the avant-garde artist he’d shacked up with in New York for three months when Micaela was six—leaving her with the nanny.

And she’d never dance like the Russian ballerina that he’d moved in with while she was in boarding school.

And driving was the one thing her father was best at. Beating all of his records could be the only thing that made him proud of her. Or it would destroy his source of power and make his massive ego crumble into dust.

Either way. “I want to be the best.”

Paola smiled at her. “You will be. That’s why teams fought over you. I think Liam called you a ‘generational talent.’ We believe in you.”

At the mention of Liam’s name, Micaela’s insides heated up. What kind of fucked-up daddy issues did she have that she was feeling this way just because he’d praised her. Of course he’d praised her. He’d hired her.

“Thank you for offering to teach me how to do the makeup. It will really save some time.”

Paola winked and led her out to the press room.

Cece had been very careful to avoid being alone with Luca since New Year’s Eve. He’d thrown her glances laced with both anger and longing over the past three months that made her a little weak. But someone was bound to notice him staring sooner or later, and they couldn’t have that.

For all the world knew, Cece was still very happily married to Luca’s teammate and rival. She had to look like she was on Ethan’s side. That was part of the deal between them. Their actual romantic relationship might be murky right now, but that had to stay behind closed doors.

And financially, she was on Ethan’s side. He had to beat Luca to secure her future comfort. She was thawing toward her husband, but she wouldn’t let her support of him be about her feelings. It had to be about logic.

She’d held Ethan’s hand earlier as they walked into the paddock in Melbourne for media duties.

There were fans surrounding them on all sides.

Ethan had signed autographs with the hand that wasn’t entwined with hers as they walked along.

Cece stayed slightly behind him so people wouldn’t reach out and grab her.

Most people were cool, but some fans got excited to see Ethan and wanted a piece of him. They forgot boundaries sometimes.

It was harder now when everyone had a little paparazzi machine in their hands.

Part of the reason her feelings for Ethan had cooled from red-hot anger was that she had to look as though she was still in love with him.

For a few hours, almost every weekend, she had to look like New Year’s Eve had never happened. It was almost too easy to pretend.

This was only the third race of the year, and she’d skipped the second, but that was all it took for the memory of seeing her husband fuck someone else to fade away.

Maybe she was feeling vulnerable, but her edges around Ethan had softened even before Bahrain. She’d started listening to podcasts and books about how to heal after cheating. It would apparently require a lot of talking, which was still difficult for her.

Sooner or later, she was going to run into Luca. They lived blocks apart in Fontvieille, and he was part of the same team. Close quarters for over twenty weekends a year, traveling together sometimes. It was going to happen eventually.

Walking to her hotel suite later, Cece thought she was braced for the moment they came face-to-face.

But being close to him wasn’t something you could prepare for.

He was so full on at every moment that it almost took her down.

But especially since they were both rounding the same corner on their floor of the hotel from different directions.

He reached out and grabbed her upper arms, probably not realizing who he was touching. “Are you oka—”

His question stopped, and so did her heart for a split second. He dropped his hands like she’d burned him. In a way, she had. “I’m sorry, Luca.”

He shook his head, and his mouth twisted. He probably thought she was a feckless pushover. He definitely had to regret touching her. He likely wished Ethan had never existed. “I’m not okay, Luca. Despite how things look, I’m not okay.”

“You’re still with him.” The pain in his voice was tangible, and Cece wanted to tell him the whole story. But they were in public.

“I don’t have a choice.”

“I gave you a choice.”

Cece shook her head. She didn’t know if she wanted to deny that it was true or if she just wanted to shake thoughts about how much better things would be if she’d chosen Luca in the first place out of her head. “You don’t understand.”

She wrapped her arms around her waist. Luca said, “Make me understand.”

He took her by the arm and turned her, marching her to his door. “What if someone sees?”

She hated that she cared so much—hated that she had to think about what other people thought of her. She wished she could have both of these men all to herself. That thought blanked out her brain long enough that Luca maneuvered her into his suite.

It was empty—thank God. Luca had never traveled with a huge entourage.

He liked it that way. He’d always said it reminded him of when he was a kid, and it had just been him and his dad.

He had a team, but they were mostly in their offices in London and New York, making sure his life ran smoothly from afar.

“No one is going to come in. I’m the only one with a key to this room. Other than the hotel staff.” He turned and put the Do Not Disturb sign on the outside of the door.

Cece’s breath caught. They were alone for the first time since New Year’s Eve, and it didn’t feel like that long ago, even though everything had changed.

“It was only supposed to be once—”

He took a step toward her. She wasn’t looking at his face, couldn’t really bear it.

Her muscles and bones were trying to crawl out of her skin.

She wanted to touch him, and she needed to run far away.

She wanted to spill every thought in her head, like she had the night they’d spent together.

She wanted him as her friend, and the man who made her forget anything outside of them.