Page 19

18

ALEXANDER

I was screwed. Completely, utterly, and irrevocably screwed.

It had been a full day since Lucia and I went out, leaving Matteo and Nicola to enjoy a quiet night in with Gia. And yet, I couldn’t stop replaying the way the light had danced across her face, catching the warmth in her green eyes. It was maddening. I was acting like the leading man in one of those rom-coms Lucia seemed to love so much—head in the clouds, heart racing at the mere memory of her laugh.

This whole fake-dating idea had been practical. It made sense at the time. I needed a PR miracle to salvage my reputation with Belen Racing. The team wanted stability, proof that I could be more than a reckless bachelor. A committed relationship screamed responsibility, maturity, and growth. All the things my bosses wanted to see in me.

Lucia had been game. She didn’t hesitate when I asked, offering to help without batting an eyelash. She said yes to fake dating like it was a casual favor, something she could do in her sleep.

So why didn’t I see this coming?

The constant pull to touch her, to make her laugh, to kiss her—not for the cameras or the narrative, but because I wanted to. Desperately. I was in deep trouble because she was my best friend’s sister, and I was supposed to be pretending.

Instead, I was thinking about her bows. Matching bows, for God’s sake. Lucia and Gia had left for brunch earlier, wearing coordinated outfits, and Gia had spent ten solid minutes trying to convince me to join them. The kid even grabbed my hand and gave me that puppy-eyed pout I could never say no to.

And yet, I stayed behind because Matteo plopped on the couch beside me, beer in hand, ready to critique last week’s race.

Now I wasn’t sure if I should’ve gone to brunch, just to be near Lucia. The way she smiled when Gia tugged on her hand had my heart doing cartwheels.

I was losing my mind.

“Mate, are you even watching this?” Matteo grumbled, gesturing to the race highlights playing on the TV.

“Huh?” I blinked, realizing I’d zoned out completely. “Yeah, sure.”

Matteo raised an eyebrow. “You’re acting weird.”

I ran a hand down my face. Great. Now Matteo was noticing.

“Just tired,” I said, but my voice sounded unconvincing, even to me.

Matteo studied me for a second longer before shrugging. “Well, you should rest up. We’re hitting the circuit hard next week.”

I nodded, grateful for the out, but as Matteo turned back to the screen, I couldn’t help but glance toward the door, wondering when Lucia would be back.

Matteo muted the TV, leaning back against the couch with an appraising look. “Tired, huh? You don’t usually zone out like this unless something’s up.”

I forced a laugh, shaking my head. “I’m fine, Matteo. Just thinking about strategy for the next race.”

His brow furrowed. “Strategy? You’ve been racing long enough to know you don’t think about strategy until you’re sitting in the car. What’s actually going on?”

“Nothing,” I said, a little too quickly.

Matteo’s eyes narrowed, and he tilted his head. “You’re a shit liar, Alex. Always have been. Spill it.”

I hesitated, weighing my options. Matteo was my best friend, but I couldn’t exactly confess. Hey, your sister is all I think about, and I’m this close to kissing her every time we’re in the same room, no cameras necessary.

“Seriously, Alex. What’s eating at you? Is it the team? Are they still not talking about renewal yet?”

I opened my mouth to deflect again, but Matteo’s serious expression stopped me. He’d always had this uncanny ability to sniff out bullshit. I was stressed about a renewal, it just wasn’t at the forefront of my mind at the moment.

“Yeah, mate, I know I could find another seat, but I want to stay with Belen.”

“I’m sure it’s just some backend bullshit. The media is eating up the whole fake relationship. Belen has to see that the media is taking you seriously again, even though they should have always taken you seriously, they just suck.”

Matteo grabbed another round of beers and we got into it.