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15

LUCIA

I had spent the entire night tossing and turning, only to wake up with dark circles under my eyes and the kind of exhaustion that no amount of coffee could fix. Today was qualifying day for Azerbaijan, and Alexander and I were making our first appearance as a couple . Nicola was staying back at the hotel with Gia, giving me the freedom to dive headfirst into this ridiculous, over-the-top plan of ours.

Naturally, I had spent most of the night overanalyzing everything and talking Nicola’s ear off about it. She had listened with an amused smile before breaking into laughter and waggling her eyebrows.

Good luck not falling in love , she had teased, her tone dripping with smugness.

Sure, I liked Alexander—who wouldn’t? He was devastatingly handsome, endlessly kind, and carried himself with the effortless charm of someone who always knew exactly what to say. Plus, he was a five-time world champion, for crying out loud. But just because I could appreciate all of that didn’t mean I was about to fall head over heels for him. I didn’t have time for love. My plate was already overflowing with reinventing myself, being a mother, and figuring out the rest of my life.

Still, Nicola had planted the tiniest seed of doubt in my mind, and it sprouted into full-blown panic right as I was about to leave.

“Are you going to have to kiss him?” she asked before I left, her eyebrows raised almost to her hairline.

The question hit me like a truck. Kissing . Right . That would definitely be part of the fake relationship package. Why hadn’t that crossed my mind before?

As I walked out of the hotel lobby to meet Alexander, the thought looped in my brain on repeat: I have to kiss Alexander Wright.

By the time I slid into the back of the town car beside him, I was barely holding it together. He looked unfairly good, as always, wearing a street-style-adjacent suit that somehow managed to make him look polished and effortlessly cool all at once. My brain was officially mush.

“Hey, pretty girl.” He smirked, laying on the act already.

I was vaguely aware that he said something to me as the car started moving, but I couldn’t process it.

“Hmm?” I asked, blinking at him like an idiot.

“I was saying that?—”

“We need to kiss,” I blurted.

The words hung in the air between us, heavy and unrelenting.

“Um…”

I waved my hands in front of me, as if that would somehow help me reel in my spiraling thoughts. “I mean, they’re going to expect us to kiss, right? At some point. And I didn’t think about it until now, but if you kiss me for the first time out there, in front of cameras, I might panic. And then I’ll flinch, or move weirdly, or you’ll miss, and we’ll end up on some Most Awkward Celebrity Kisses list.”

His eyebrows lifted, but his lips twitched like he was fighting a smile.

“So,” I continued, barely stopping for breath, “we should probably, you know, practice. For the cameras. For professionalism.”

“Professionalism,” he repeated, his voice laced with amusement.

“Yes.” I nodded so hard I might’ve gotten whiplash. “Exactly.”

Alexander’s gaze locked onto mine, his expression softening. Then, without a word, he leaned toward me, his hand reaching out to cup my chin.

And then he kissed me.

His lips met mine in a way that was both deliberate and gentle, sending a jolt of warmth through my entire body. Soft, easy, and utterly disarming. I forgot how to breathe, how to think. All I could focus on was the feeling of his mouth on mine and the way my stomach was now home to an entire swarm of butterflies.

When he finally pulled away, a lopsided smile tugged at his lips.

“Figured we should get the first one out of the way,” he said, leaning back in his seat like it was the most normal thing in the world.

I stared at him, utterly speechless.

“You’re welcome, by the way,” he added, smirking.

“For what?” I managed to croak.

“Saving you from the Most Awkward Celebrity Kisses list,” he teased.

I rolled my eyes, doing my best to act unfazed despite the fact that my heart was still doing flips.

“Right,” I muttered, crossing my arms and staring out the window. But my reflection in the glass betrayed me, showing the stupid grin I couldn’t quite suppress.

Alexander just chuckled softly beside me. I was either in a trance, or we were closer to the racetrack than I had previously thought, but soon the car pulled up and I looked outside, seeing the front entrance, the grand signs, and where we scanned our passes. I also saw the sheer amount of photographers present. Anna must have worked her magic, making sure our appearance would be well documented. She had sent us a message earlier wishing us good luck and that she would be in the Belen garage when we got in.

“Hey.” Alexander’s voice was low, his accent curling around the word like velvet. His hand brushed my exposed thigh as he leaned closer, his touch featherlight but electric, sending a ripple of chills up my spine.

“We got this,” he murmured, his thumb grazing the edge of my knee now, grounding me in the moment. “I’ll get out first and open your door. Then we walk in together, nice and easy.”

He smiled, a real one, the kind that could light up an entire room, or in this case, calm the onslaught of chaos in my brain. It was maddening how effortlessly he could make the storm in my chest quiet with one look.

I exhaled slowly, nodding as I met his steady gaze. “All right,” I said, my voice steadier than I expected.

His lips quirked in a teasing grin as his eyes roved over me for the briefest moment. “Plus,” he added, his tone dropping slightly, “you look stunning.”

And just like that, he slipped out of the car, leaving me to sit there like a deer caught in headlights, my cheeks heating faster than a Formula One engine.

The door swung open moments later, and the sounds of the outside world hit me all at once, fans shouting, cameras flashing, voices calling out Alexander’s name.

“Alexander! Who’s this?”

“Alexander, over here!”

“Alexander, is that Matteo DeLuca’s sister?”

That last one sent the crowd into overdrive, and I swore my stomach dropped somewhere near my knees. Alexander didn’t falter. He bent slightly, his hand extended toward me, his signature smile firmly in place. “Ready?” he asked, the word just loud enough for me to hear over the din.

I nodded, taking his hand as if it were a lifeline. His palm was warm and steady, his grip firm but not overwhelming, and the moment our skin touched, some of the tension in my shoulders eased.

The crowd roared louder as I stepped out, but I focused on him. Just him .

He kept his gaze forward, waving casually with his free hand while his other stayed wrapped protectively around mine. Then he dipped his head down to me, his breath warm against my ear, sending another wave of goose bumps across my skin.

“You’re doing great,” he murmured.

The words were like a balm, and I let them sink in. I forced a wide smile, tipping my head up toward him as if he’d just told me the funniest joke in the world. My laugh was soft but deliberate, a signal to the cameras. He pulled back just enough to meet my eyes, his expression soft and encouraging, and I knew I could do this.

We walked hand in hand through the crowd, the questions and camera flashes fading into white noise. I kept my grip on him firm, matching his pace as we passed through the security checkpoint. Even then, he didn’t let go, his hand staying intertwined with mine like it was the most natural thing in the world.

As we moved deeper into the circuit, past the teams’ lounges and toward the Belen Racing tent, the chaos of the crowd gave way to a more controlled buzz. But Alexander’s hand? It stayed with me, his thumb occasionally brushing against mine in a way that felt deliberate. Comforting.

I couldn’t help but glance up at him. He was calm and collected, a walking portrait of confidence and charm, but there was something grounding in the way he stayed connected to me, in how he made it feel like we were in this together. I felt steady.

The energy in the Belen Racing tent was electric, a buzzing mix of adrenaline, nerves, and excitement. Alexander stood in front of me, his arms crossed, but his expression was soft, his lips pulled into a small, teasing smile.

“So,” he began, his voice casual but with a curious edge. “Do you want to stay here or head over to the Moretti tent with Matteo?”

I knew he was giving me an out, an escape to be with my brother, my safe zone, to start easy and not dive in head first. But I was ready to dive. I squared my shoulders and tilted my head at him.

“I think,” I said, dragging the words out as if giving it serious consideration, “that if I’m going to be your fake girlfriend, I should probably stay and, you know, support my fake boyfriend. Commitment to the bit and all.”

Alexander chuckled, the sound warm and low. “That’s very selfless of you.”

“I’m nothing if not dedicated.”

He leaned in slightly, his expression shifting to something more serious, though his eyes still danced with humor. “And here I thought you just wanted better snacks. We have the good espresso machine, after all.”

I feigned shock, placing a hand on my chest. “How dare you? As if I would be bribed by snacks and non-Italian coffee.”

He smirked. “Not even a little?”

“Fine,” I admitted with a dramatic sigh. “Just the snacks though.”

His laugh was soft, almost too quiet to hear over the chaos of the team preparing for the race. I glanced around at the engineers, the mechanics, the monitors showing the track, and then back at him.

“Good luck out there,” I said softly, my voice cutting through the noise like a secret meant just for him.

“Thanks.” His voice was equally quiet, his gaze steady.

Before I could overthink it, I leaned up on my toes and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek. The touch was brief, but the heat that climbed up my neck as I pulled back was anything but.

“For luck,” I added quickly, stepping back and trying to act like my heart wasn’t pounding.

His smile widened, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “I’ll take it.”

With that, he turned and headed toward the pit lane, leaving me standing there feeling like my feet weren’t quite touching the ground. We would do it all again tomorrow, with an even bigger crowd.

* * *

From my spot in the Belen garage, I could see everything; the mechanics working tirelessly, the monitors showing every angle of the track, and the sea of fans in the grandstands. It was a surreal experience, being so close to the action yet so removed from it at the same time.

The race began, and the tension was immediate. Alexander’s car shot forward, holding steady in the top positions. My heart raced with every turn, every pit stop, every daring overtake. I found myself gripping the edge of my seat, holding my breath whenever the camera lingered on his car.

When a particularly intense battle for first unfolded between him and another driver, I couldn’t help but gasp aloud. The crew around me cheered and groaned with every move, their energy infectious.

In a moment of distraction, I pulled out my phone. With the hum of the race in the background, I snapped a selfie, the Belen Racing logo in clear view behind me. I added a simple pink heart emoji to the caption and hit Post, feeling a strange mix of nerves and satisfaction. The soft launch of our “relationship” was officially underway.

When Alexander crossed the finish line securing his first-place position for tomorrow, the entire garage erupted in cheers. I found myself swept up in the excitement, running out with the crew to celebrate.

* * *

The finish was chaos. Alexander’s car rolled to a stop, and he was out in an instant, throwing his arms around the crew members gathered at the barriers. His helmet was off in seconds, his hair a mess, his grin brighter than the sun overhead.

And then his eyes found mine.

I froze as he broke away from the crew and strode toward me, his expression a mix of exhilaration and something else—something that made my breath hitch.

Before I could process what was happening, his arms were around me, pulling me into a tight hug. The world seemed to blur for a moment, the noise fading as I felt the solid warmth of him against me.

Our faces were close, so close that his forehead brushed mine. His breath mingled with mine, and I swore the earth tilted slightly on its axis.

In a flash of a decision, his lips met mine. It was soft, chaste even, but it sent a rush of warmth through me that left me feeling weightless.

When he pulled back, his gaze searched mine, a question lingering in his eyes. I couldn’t find the words to answer, but the smile tugging at my lips must have said enough because his grin returned, just as dazzling as before.

The crew’s cheers pulled us back to reality, but I couldn’t shake the buzz of my skin, my heart racing, or the tingling on my lips.