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ALEXANDER

I f someone had told me I would wake up next to my best mate’s little sister in a hotel room during the racing season, I wouldn’t have believed them. But here I was.

I woke up to the soft sound of her breathing, it was a peaceful contrast to the whirlwind of yesterday. For a moment, I stayed still, not wanting to disturb the warmth of her body pressed against mine. My arms were wrapped around her, and her face was tucked into my chest, her light hair spilling everywhere in a mess of silk. I wanted to stay like this. Right here, being needed by someone. It was a new feeling. I cared for my people deeply, but it was like something took over my body yesterday. The thought of her ex—Josh, that vile excuse for a man—filled me with a quiet, simmering rage. I’d knock him down again without hesitation if he even so much as thought about coming near her or Gia. When I walked to find them and saw them from afar, I knew something was wrong, their body language off. When I got within earshot and heard the words, my blood boiled. When I saw his hand raise as I ran toward them, saw Lucia flinch, I saw pure red.

The room was still dim, the first rays of sunlight peeking through the curtains, casting a soft golden glow over everything. My gaze drifted down to her, and I couldn’t stop the faint smile tugging at my lips.

She looked so small curled up next to me, her face relaxed and free of the tension that had gripped her last night. My thumb brushed lightly over the back of her hand resting on my chest, and I couldn’t help but marvel at how delicate she seemed—and yet how fiercely strong I knew she was.

God, she’d been through so much. More than anyone should have to handle. She stirred slightly, her nose scrunching up as she nestled closer to me, and I froze.

For all the people I’ve been with, this—this feeling of simply holding someone, protecting them while they slept—was unfamiliar.

I shifted slightly to adjust the blanket over her shoulders, and her eyes fluttered open. They were still heavy with sleep, a soft, mossy green that blinked up at me with lazy confusion before recognition set in.

“Morning,” I murmured, my voice low.

At first her brows scrunched together in confusion, but as she blinked in her surroundings, her lips curved into a faint smile. “Morning,” she whispered back, her voice raspy and warm, like honey dripping from a spoon.

We stayed like that for a beat, neither of us moving, neither of us rushing to shatter the fragile peace that had settled over us.

“How’d you sleep?” I asked, brushing a stray strand of hair from her face.

“Honestly, better than I have in a long time,” she admitted, her voice barely above a murmur. I kept my own voice low so as not to wake Gianna. Her words settled in my chest, heavy and warm. The thought that I could give her even a sliver of peace made something inside me tighten.

“I’m glad,” I said softly.

Her stomach growled, loud and insistent, breaking the moment. She groaned, hiding her face in my chest.

“Guess I should feed you,” I teased, chuckling as I pressed a kiss to the top of her head.

She tilted her head up, her cheeks pink. “Guess so,” she said with a smirk.

“Stay here. I’ll grab something.” I gently untangled myself from her, the loss of her warmth immediate and noticeable.

As I got out of bed, I couldn’t help glancing back at her. She was sitting up now, the blanket pooled around her waist, her hair a wild, beautiful mess. Her eyes met mine, it felt like the world narrowed to just the two of us.

“Thank you,” she said softly, her voice carrying more weight than the words themselves.

I just nodded, not trusting myself to speak. Because in that moment, I realized something dangerous, something I wasn’t sure I could ignore anymore.

I didn’t want to let her go.

Dragging myself out of bed with a groan, I immediately noticed the dull throb in my hands. When I glanced down, angry purples and blues painted my knuckles like a warning.

Great.

I tiptoed past a sleeping Gianna, her tiny form peaceful in the crib, and slipped into the adjoining room. My phone was abandoned on the couch where I’d left it, blinking incessantly.

Hundreds of notifications lit up the screen. Missed calls, texts—most from Matteo.

Matteo

Someone published photos of you knocking Josh out.

My stomach sank. Attached was a link. I tapped it, and there it was—a picture of me mid-swing, fists bloodied, with Josh crumpled beneath me. His nose was clearly broken. Not exactly my finest moment.

I swiped out of the article and checked my missed calls.

Anna (3 missed calls)

Belen Management Office (1 missed calls)

Belen Management Office (1 voicemail)

Matteo (25 missed calls)

I ran a hand over my face and grabbed my jacket. Sliding my phone into my pocket, I eased the door shut behind me, careful not to wake Gianna, and headed down the hall. Matteo’s door opened before I even knocked.

“Where the hell have you been?” Anna’s voice pierced the air, sharp enough to make my headache ten times worse. Her usual composure was gone, replaced by a fury that radiated off her in waves.

“Nice to see you too,” I quipped, though it barely came out as a mutter. Her glare could’ve set me on fire.

Behind her, Matteo lounged on the suite’s couch, looking grim. “It doesn’t look good, mate,” he said simply.

“I assume you’ve talked to Dante?” I asked, turning back to Anna.

Her lips pressed into a thin line as she stepped aside to let me in. “Of course,” she muttered, clearly irritated. Anna hated Dante. Their interactions were rare, but if she needed information and couldn’t reach me, she had no choice.

“I’m charging you for emotional damages,” she grumbled before flopping into a chair next to Matteo.

Once we were all settled, Anna launched into a furious lecture. “Do you have any idea how bad this is for Belen? For your career? The damage control alone?—”

I tuned her out as she scrolled through her phone, probably coordinating with every PR team in a fifty-mile radius. When she finally paused her tirade, she exhaled in frustration.

“The story dropped late last night, too late to suppress it properly. Every time I get it pulled from one outlet, it pops back up somewhere else. They’re spinning it badly. Anger problems, reckless Alexander is back, and so on.”

The tense atmosphere in Matteo’s suite thickened, the room buzzing with unspoken worries. I was about to respond when a soft knock sounded at the door. Matteo raised a brow at me, but before either of us could move, the door creaked open.

Lucia stepped inside, holding a sleepy Gia against her chest, her eyes flashing with determination. Even in her pajamas and with her hair in a messy knot, she looked like a force to be reckoned with. She was wearing the same shirt she had so many mornings ago now when I had shown up early. Hot pink letters spelling surviving on spite and coffee . Gia blinked at us groggily, clutching her little stuffed bunny.

“I got the texts,” Lucia said, her voice low but firm. Her gaze locked on mine, and I felt a jolt of something I couldn’t quite place. “And I saw the news.”

Her tone was steady, but there was a flicker of guilt in her expression, a shadow that told me she blamed herself for this.

“I’m so sorry, Alexander,” she continued, adjusting Gia on her hip. “This whole thing, it’s my fault. You shouldn’t have been dragged into my mess, but I’m going to help fix it.”

I opened my mouth to argue, but she didn’t give me the chance.

“First,” she said, stepping farther into the room, “we’re doubling down on the fake-dating thing. We need to get ahead of this. Appear together more often, give them something to focus on other than the fight.”

Anna, who had been furiously typing on her phone, paused and glanced up, eyebrows raised.

“And second,” Lucia went on, her jaw tightening, “I’ll go to Belen Management myself. I’ll explain the situation. They need to know this was my baggage, not yours.”

“Lucia—” I started, but she cut me off again, her voice sharp.

“No, Alexander. You’ve done enough to protect me and Gia. This happened because of me . Because Josh wouldn’t leave me alone, and I should’ve handled it before it got to this point.” Her voice cracked slightly at the end, but she held her head high, her fiery resolve unshaken.

Gia stirred against her, and Lucia immediately softened, kissing the top of her daughter’s head. For a moment, the room was silent.

“I appreciate the sentiment,” Anna said finally, her voice measured, “but walking into Belen Management and claiming responsibility won’t magically fix this. The optics are what matter now. If anything, making more public appearances together might help shift the narrative. Show unity, make people root for you two as a couple. Who doesn’t love a man protecting his woman?”

Lucia met her gaze head-on. “Exactly. That’s why I’m saying we lean into it. Hard. Give them a reason to talk about something else entirely. Pictures of us, interviews, red carpet appearances, whatever it takes.”

“You’re serious about this,” Matteo said, speaking for the first time in a while. His tone was laced with both admiration and concern.

Lucia nodded, her grip tightening on Gia. “Dead serious. I’m not letting Alexander’s career take a hit because of me.”

I stepped closer, lowering my voice so only she could hear. “Lucia, you don’t have to do this. None of this is your fault. Josh is?—”

“Stop,” she interrupted, looking up at me with a mix of guilt and fire. “You stood up for me. For Gia . The least I can do is stand by you now.”

Her words hit me harder than I expected. She was fierce, protective, and determined to shoulder the weight of this mess with me.

“All right,” I said quietly, nodding. “We’ll do it your way.”

Lucia’s shoulders relaxed, just slightly, and she gave me a small, grateful smile. Gia snuggled closer to her, unaware of the storm brewing around us.

Anna clapped her hands together, the sharp sound breaking the tension. “Then it’s settled. We’ll start crafting a plan. But Lucia, with regards to management, this has to be handled delicately. I’ll deal with it. I’d rather you don’t speak with them directly.”

We all settled into our respective roles—Matteo offering quiet support, Anna orchestrating the PR angle, and Lucia fiercely taking charge.

For better or worse, I wasn’t facing this alone.