Page 17

16

ALEXANDER

T he checkered flag waved, and I crossed the finish line.

First place in Azerbaijan.

I exhaled a sharp breath, gripping the wheel so tight my knuckles ached. My radio burst to life with the sound of my engineer shouting my name, cheers and congratulations pouring into my helmet. The car still hummed beneath me, the vibration of the engine coursing through my body like electricity.

I’d done it.

The race had been brutal, a constant push and pull, wheel-to-wheel battles that demanded every ounce of focus I had. My rival had been relentless, cutting me off at corners, challenging me at every straight. But I’d stayed calm, waiting for my moment. And when it came, when I’d seen the perfect gap in the final laps, I’d taken it without hesitation.

Now, the world was an explosion of sound. The crowd roared, their cheers blending with the team’s celebration over the radio. I pulled the car into the pit lane, my heart thundering in my chest.

As soon as I climbed out, after standing on my car and throwing a fist into the air, I climbed down and ran to my crew, pulling me into hugs, shouting in my ear, their joy infectious. I laughed, unable to stop smiling. This was what I lived for—the thrill, the triumph, the shared victory with the people who’d worked just as hard as I had to make it happen.

But then I saw her .

Lucia stood at the edge of the chaos, a small smile on her lips, her eyes wide and bright as she watched. She looked slightly out of place in the sea of team uniforms and machinery, but somehow, she belonged.

Something shifted inside me. Without thinking, I broke away from the team and headed straight for her, like a magnetic pull. I couldn’t stop it even if I tried. Her expression changed as I approached, her smile growing, her eyes softening. I didn’t stop moving until she was in my arms, her body warm and solid against mine. Our faces were close, so close I could see the faint freckles on her nose, the way her lips parted in surprise. My forehead rested against hers for a moment, the noise around us fading into a distant hum.

And then, I kissed her.

It wasn’t planned. Hell, it wasn’t even logical. But in that moment, it felt like the most natural thing in the world. Her lips were soft, her breath warm against mine, and for a few seconds, the world stopped spinning.

When I pulled back, her eyes searched mine, and I couldn’t help but grin. She looked stunned, maybe even a little dazed, but she didn’t pull away.

The cheers around us grew louder, pulling me back to reality. I gave her hand a quick squeeze before the team tugged me toward the podium, their shouts of celebration ringing in my ears.

Standing on the top step of the podium, champagne dripping from my hair and my suit, I felt alive in a way I hadn’t in months.

The crowd was a blur of faces, their cheers vibrating in the air around me. I raised the trophy high, the weight of it grounding me. Cameras flashed, capturing every angle, but my mind kept drifting back to Lucia.

That kiss.

It hadn’t been part of the plan. Hell, I wasn’t sure what it meant. But it had felt right. More than right. I glanced out over the crowd, wondering if she was watching.

The adrenaline still hadn’t worn off by the time I was back in the motorhome. My skin buzzed with the memory of the race, of the kiss, of standing on the podium with my team.

I ran a towel over my face, glancing at my reflection in the small mirror. My grin was still there, impossible to shake. As I pulled on a fresh shirt, my eyes scanned the room. Where was she? I hadn’t seen Lucia since the podium. She’d been there one moment, and then the next, she was gone, lost in the sea of faces.

The sound of footsteps outside the door made my pulse quicken. It opened, and there she was, standing in the doorway with a hesitant smile.

“Looking for me?” she asked, her voice teasing but soft.

“Always,” I replied, the word slipping out before I could stop it. Her eyes widened slightly, but she didn’t look away.

I leaned against the counter, crossing my arms as I took her in. “So,” I said, my voice low, “about that kiss…”

She raised a brow, her smile turning playful. “Which one? The car, before or after the race?”

I laughed, shaking my head. “All, I guess.”

Lucia stepped farther into the room, her confidence growing. “Well, you did say we had to sell it.”

“Did we sell it?”

“Oh, definitely.” She smirked, pulling out her phone and showing me her social post. A selfie, her in the garage, the Belen logo in the background, and a single pink heart emoji.

“Subtle,” I said, grinning, knowing my own socials would be blowing up.

Her cheeks flushed, but her gaze stayed steady. “Seemed effective.”

“More than effective,” I murmured, my voice dipping as I took a step closer to her.

Her breath hitched, and for a moment, the space between us felt electric again. But before I could close it, she cleared her throat, breaking the spell.

“Congratulations on the win.” Her voice was light, but her eyes revealed more than she probably realized, always wearing her emotions on her sleeve.

“Thanks,” I replied, my smile softening. “But I think you might be the real victory today.”

Lucia rolled her eyes, but the blush on her cheeks gave her away. “Laying it on real thick, Wright.”

My grin widened as I watched her fight back a smile of her own.

Lucia’s blush was becoming one of my favorite things. It crept up her cheeks like a sunrise—soft, warm, and utterly captivating. She crossed her arms, clearly trying to brush off my teasing, but the way her lips twitched betrayed her.

I couldn’t help myself. “You know, you make it way too easy,” I said, my voice low enough for only her to hear. Her eyes darted to mine.

“You’re insufferable,” she muttered, but her cheeks darkened even more.

I laughed, unable to resist the urge to keep her on her toes. “Hold still,” I said, pulling my phone from my pocket.

“What are you doing?” She narrowed her eyes at me.

“Might as well confirm it properly,” I said, tilting the phone to frame both of us. She started to protest, but I slid an arm around her waist, pulling her closer. “Smile, Lucia. You have to look like you like me a little.”

She rolled her eyes but gave a soft smile as I snapped the picture. I glanced at the screen, satisfied with the image. Her eyes were bright, her hair slightly tousled from the race-day chaos, and she looked stunning.

“Perfect,” I murmured.

Lucia glanced at me, raising a brow. “You’re really posting that?”

“Absolutely.” I grinned, already opening the app. I typed out a caption, something simple and understated: Big win, big day, and lucky to share it with her. Adding a heart emoji for good measure, I hit Post.

“You’re ridiculous,” she said, but there was a hint of something softer in her voice.

“Maybe,” I replied, pocketing my phone. “But it’s confirmed from me first.”

Her expression softened. “That’s…thoughtful.”

I shrugged, though her words warmed me more than I wanted to admit. “Just making sure you’re seen in the best light. And, honestly, showering you with fake love online isn’t exactly a hardship.”

Her lips twitched like she was fighting a smile, but she didn’t say anything. I found myself lingering, admiring the way her eyes shone under the fluorescent lights of the motorhome.

“You coming with me to media?” I asked suddenly. I hadn’t planned on asking her, but I found myself wanting her with me, needed her with me, someone to see through the crowd, and keep me grounded. I had been doing this by myself for so damn long, but here I was already attached to my mate’s sister.

She blinked. “Media?”

“Yeah. Post-race press stuff. I’ll be surrounded by reporters for the next hour, and I’d rather not do it without my fake girlfriend nearby.”

Her lips parted, like she was about to argue, but then she sighed. “Fine. But only because Anna will be there.”

Hand in hand, we walked into the media center. The energy shifted the moment we entered, the usual hum of reporters giving way to a buzz of interest. Cameras flashed, and I felt Lucia’s fingers tighten around mine.

“You’re doing great,” I murmured, giving her hand a reassuring squeeze.

Anna intercepted us, guiding Lucia toward the back of the room, where she could observe in relative peace. But even standing behind the sea of reporters, Lucia was impossible to miss.

The questions began, directed at the three of us on the podium. They covered the usual topics—strategy, the car, the race itself. I answered easily, the routine familiar after years in the sport. But then, inevitably, the questions turned personal.

“Alexander,” one reporter started, her tone sly. “You looked especially jubilant today after the win. Is there someone special who might have contributed to that?”

The room chuckled, and I leaned into the microphone with a practiced smirk. “You know,” I began, my voice smooth, “I am very lucky. It’s not every day you get to win a race and have someone amazing waiting for you at the finish line.”

The crowd murmured, clearly enjoying the comment. I didn’t miss the way a few reporters glanced toward the back of the room, where Lucia stood with Anna.

Another reporter piped up, “Can we expect to see more of her at the races?”

“That depends,” I said, a glint of mischief in my eye. “You’ll have to ask her.”

The room laughed, but I caught sight of Lucia shaking her head, a small smile playing on her lips.

As the session wrapped up, I made my way back toward her. She was talking quietly with Anna, her expression relaxed despite the attention she’d received.

“Ready to head out?”

Lucia turned to me, her eyes searching mine. “You handled that well.”

“Comes with the territory,” I said with a shrug. “But it helps when I have good material to work with.”

She rolled her eyes, but her smile lingered.

“Come on,” I said, holding out my hand. “Let’s get out of here, I miss the mini version of you.” Her fingers slipped into mine, and I couldn’t ignore the way my chest tightened at the simple gesture.

“Me too.” She nodded. I wasn’t sure what was happening between us, or if it was just me, but for now, it was oddly comforting to have her with me. I mean, she had always been a comfort, had always made me feel as loved and welcomed as all the DeLucas, but this…her hand in mine. It was different. And it felt like a damn good different, I didn’t want it to end.