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ALEXANDER

I t was Saturday morning, and the last place I wanted to be was sitting on a plane, flying away from the people who had somehow become my family. I knew I had to start getting my head in the game and ready for racing, my usual pre-race rituals started on the plane. I watched old race videos, went over notes from my strategist and studied the map of the next racetrack.

But my mind was miles away. Solely focused on the rolling Tuscan hillsides, endless rows of vineyard, and a house perched on top of it all. By the end of the last season, I knew I wanted to make a home of my own in the small region near the DeLucas. I had just closed on a property next to the DeLuca Vineyards. It was about a twenty minute drive down the country road and our properties touched at a small lake in the middle, where the DeLucas had built a dock that we would spend the summers diving off of. I had plans to build more on the land, the small building could be used as a guesthouse or an artistic space, then I would build my perfect home. But the moment I closed on the property I had compiled a list for the perfect home. I wanted it to be warm, truly feel like a home. A stark difference against my apartments in London and New York, but that one felt the most like home. I knew I wouldn’t have much time throughout the season to focus on it, but closing on the property felt like a huge milestone in itself.

My manager, Anna, had called and told me she had a magazine photoshoot scheduled for the day before our first practice for the Dutch Grand Prix. I knew training was going to start and I had to get my head down and morph back into my race self. My summer self was rather relaxed, letting the days pass and doing things on whims. However, when I was in the race season, I was purely focused on my career. I couldn’t risk anything getting in my way. Seemingly every minute of my day was planned down to the second by someone from my team. Sure, I had allotted downtime, but I was never truly at ease when we arrived on the circuit. The fan base expected me to be prevalent on socials, at events, and doing interviews. They wanted me to keep the persona of a playboy. One I was growing more and more tired of by the second. I had cleaned up my act, I partied less, focused on my career more, but the fans liked the old me. Anna mainly focusing on the PR management side and some scheduling of events, and she had pushed to switch the narrative, had worked to get my reputation to match who I was now. It was an uphill battle.

I knew I had a good chance of qualifying for pole position here in the Netherlands, due to our car being pretty solid this year. But Matteo was giving me a run for my money. Last Grand Prix he knocked me out of first at the last minute, and a penalty from an incident with another driver knocked me down to P3. It was still a podium, but I wasn’t going to win my sixth championship by getting P3. I was sitting in second place in the Drivers’ Championship currently, Theo Brauer of Kaze Energy Racing just barely above me in points. There were a few championships, split into team rankings and individual driver rankings. My teammate was in fourth place. Matteo behind him in fifth.

The Dutch Grand Prix was one of my favorite tracks, and I knew Mateo would be a formidable opponent. He put up quite the fight last year during his rookie year. But Matteo was a seasoned driver now, according to the Formula One world—he was still a rookie in my eyes, though. Sitting in fifth place for the Drivers’ Championship, the other teams were already offered contracts, trying to get him on their own team. He raced for our biggest competitor, Moretti. I doubted he would leave the Italian team of his own volition. It was his childhood dream to race with them and he was blowing past everyone’s high expectations as a new driver.

I fell asleep on the plane with my phone in hand. Only when the stewardess tapped my shoulder notifying me we had landed did I realize I slept the whole flight, my pre-race flight routine ruined. I stretched my tight limbs knowing I shouldn’t have stayed seated all flight and I’d pay the price with my trainer tomorrow. The plane door opened with a loud pop, revealing Anna standing at the bottom of the steps, dark brown hair pulled into a tight bun, a leather jacket in place over a black dress. My savior.

“Hey.” She beamed as I walked out, squinting at the sun and wishing I was back on a vineyard. “All right, we have a shoot at three p.m. and an interview at five, and then I have a meeting set up with the team principal at six, dinner with your manager at seven.” She rambled off my schedule and I tried not to outwardly wince. She responded in tow.

“Okay, scratch that. Photoshoot at three, and meeting with the team principal at six. The rest I’ll move.” She tapped her long nails on her phone, typing away. Anna had the ability to read an emotion in five seconds flat. She managed my entire schedule and could somehow read one glance from me and adjust accordingly. In the last two years I’ve been avoiding interviews and doing fewer shoots, enjoying time off the track to rest and not be in the spotlight.

“Thank you.” I sighed, pulling my bag up and slinging it over my shoulder.

“When does Luce get here?” I asked.

“Last day of practice, I have a car picking her up and bringing her straight to the track. Someone will handle her bags and set up her hotel suite for her and Gia.” Anna nodded then broke her focus, a bright smile breaking through. “Who I am so excited to finally meet!”

“She’s grown so much.” I couldn’t help but smile wildly as well. Gia was this little ball of blonde sunshine. A mini version of her mother. Same gleaming green eyes and the ability to make me stop anything for them.

“I need any and all photographers who are allowed in the Belen and Moretti paddock to sign NDAs. No photos of Gia, no exceptions. If something gets leaked, we sue,” I said sternly. Anna nodded and jotted down notes.

“I’ll make a call now, and get in touch with the media handlers, no one in the circuit,” she said, stepping aside and pulling the phone to her ear. We walked to a waiting town car and got in. My phone pinged with a message as soon as the door shut. I pulled out my phone from my hoodie and was greeted with a text from Matteo—a picture of Gia smiling brightly and holding the plush version of my exact Formula One car.

Matteo

Is it wrong to want to rip a kid’s plushie in half? Why does she hate the one from me? They are literally the same thing!

Alexander

Mine’s better, obviously.

Alexander

Make the kid cry, I make you cry, mate.

Matteo

I would never. You land yet?

Alexander

Yeah. Principal already wants to meet

Matteo

I’m sure it’s nothing, just start of season shit.

Alexander

I hope so. Wish I was there.

Matteo

So does G!

Another photo came through. G was wearing a Moretti Racing shirt, looking like she was about to cry.

Alexander

Stop torturing her. I’ll fly back right now.

Matteo

You wish

Matteo’s face filled my phone screen, a big grin and an equally grinning Gia, who was now holding a large piece of bread. I rolled my eyes at it but the smile stayed. I missed them already. When did I get so soft?

* * *

The photo shoot was a blur. I liked fashion and working with designers. Breaking the mold of wearing Belen Racing branded items that my teammate, James, wore into race days, I preferred to wear something interesting. One of the designers showed up on set and I was greeted with smiles and excitement. Their designs were fresh; I dug the blue velvety chunky sweater so much I asked if I could buy it. The designer sent me on my way with it at the end, refusing to accept any money for it. I messaged my stylist to place an order for some other items as I left the shoot, planning on wearing them for walk-ups.

Anna shot me off some emails, having me read over a few items and sign releases. I was eventually shuffled into the town car again and driven to the hotel I’d be staying at this weekend. It was posh, and vintage elegance dripped from every corner. I smirked at the old-fashioned details, odes to the original architecture here, and Lucia invaded my thoughts. There were golden framed paintings that I knew she loved. There was one weekend last summer when Matteo dragged us to Florence, determined to cheer up Lucia after a particularly hard week. It was the first time she had left Gia overnight. I had caught her with tears in her eyes on the train as she read a book in the window seat. When we wandered into a museum, there was a room with impressionist paintings in large golden frames, and it was the first time she had really smiled in months. That memory had burned into my head somehow.

“Okay, here are your hotel suite keys.” I jumped at Anna’s voice. She had a bad habit of suddenly appearing, I swear the woman moved silently.

“Fuck, you scared me,” I muttered under my breath, rubbing a hand over my face.

“Get yourself a nap. You need to be fresh for the meeting tonight.”

“Do you know what it’s about?”

“No. But there’s some weird energy going on throughout the team. So head down and focus.”

“Aye aye, Captain.” I was met with a roll of the eyes as she trailed over to a bellboy carrying her luggage.

“Anna,” I asked, “you got Matteo and Luce suites, right?”

“Yeah, across from you. We basically have the whole hall.”

I nodded and sent her a wave, trudging myself and my luggage to the elevator. Anna had fussed over me bringing my own things, but I desperately needed to take a nap, and being woken up by a bellman bringing it up just sounded awful. Plus, I liked things in my control. After fucking up my own pre-race flight routine, I just needed to do this myself.

* * *

The sun was glowing over the paddock, casting a warm glow across the sea of team trailers and racing equipment. My meeting with the Belen Racing team principal a few days ago had gone as I expected, no new contract yet. This year was the last one on my current contract, meaning I was about to be a free agent. While other teams had shown interest, I didn’t care. I wanted to stay at Belen Racing.

I was still lost in my thoughts zipping up my race suit for the day when I heard it—an unmistakable, joyful shriek that sliced through the usual din of engines and chatter. My head snapped up, searching for the source.

And there she was—Gia, a bundle of energy and joy, barreling toward me. Her tiny legs carried her faster than I would have thought possible, her blonde ringlets bouncing with every step. Her laughter rang out like a bell, everything else faded into the background. She spotted me and her face lit up with pure, unfiltered happiness.

I dropped to my knees, arms wide open, my racing suit crinkling as I stretched out to catch her. I could see her tiny fists clenching in excitement as she made a beeline straight for me. My heart swelled, an overwhelming wave of affection washing over me. Nothing prepared me for this—the real, tangible joy of her presence here in the paddock. Gianna DeLuca was a whirlwind of a kid. After summers with her over the last few years, she had decidedly picked me as her best friend. She used to scream “OW OW” before she could even make out my name, demanding my attention. I loved it, though. Feeling so important to someone was something I wasn’t used to. On the track, people saw me as a champion, but to Gia, I was just Alex. She didn’t care about wins or titles, she was just a kid who thought race car driving was super cool. That simple, pure love made me want to be better, to be someone she could look up to, to be good.

During the season, I would make time to FaceTime Lucia after races, just to see the little gremlin’s smile. Matteo and I would fly back occasionally when we were a short flight away. For her first birthday, we snuck away and flew to the DeLuca’s home. We were both fined excessively for missing some media days. We stuffed the private jet with presents, I bought her a stuffed bunny rabbit that year, which she now keeps with her always. The two days we snuck away were worth every penny of the fines. We did the exact same thing for her second birthday. She had the DeLuca spunk, the sassy attitude and the same blonde hair as her mother. It dawned on me that for the next few months at least, Gianna would actually be here for races. She talked endlessly about wanting to be a race car driver like her “Ow Wex” and Zio. It made Lucia roll her eyes and Matteo beam with pride.

“Alex!” she cried, throwing herself into my arms. I caught her easily, her small body pressing against my chest. She clung to me, giggling as if she’d just conquered the world. I couldn’t help but laugh, the sound coming out as a genuine, deep chuckle. “Well, if it isn’t my favorite little whirlwind,” I said, hugging her tightly. “Look at you!”

“Hi, best friend.” She giggled in my ear, squeezing her little arms around my neck. My heart squeezed.

Over Gia’s shoulder, I saw Lucia approaching. She was dressed in an oversized Belen Racing jacket that practically swallowed her, but in Lucia fashion, she paired thigh-high, heeled boots with it, a purse slung over her shoulder, and just under the sleeve of her sweatshirt were colorful beaded bracelets, the ones Gia loved to make. God, she was a vision. Her long blonde hair fell in waves over her shoulders, and her smile was soft, warm, like a cozy blanket on a chilly day. She watched us with a mixture of amusement and affection washing over her features, her eyes crinkling at the corners as she took in the sight of Gia nestled in my arms. I waved at her, still holding Gia, who seemed to have no intention of letting go anytime soon.

“Hey, Luce!” I called out. I tried to keep my voice easy and casual, but seeing her here. In my team’s sweatshirt .

Fuck.

Something had changed over this last summer break with Lucia. Like something clicked in my brain, sorting her as Lucia, this strong and amazing woman and not just my best friend’s sister. She was bold and brave, with this exceedingly bright energy. She had become a constant presence in my thoughts.

“This feels surreal, having you guys on the circuit. I think G is going to be my good luck charm, huh?” I leaned down and tickled Gia, who giggled in turn. Gia was wearing a miniature version of the same jacket, Belen pink and blue colors splashed onto the dark fabric.

“Love the sweatshirt, G,” I said to Gia, who beamed up at me.

“We made bracelets!” she announced, pushing up a sleeve clumsily and showing off her pink and blue bracelet. She turned her wrist, revealing two white beads and two numbers.

One and four.

Fourteen.

As in my racing number fourteen. My heart picked up speed as I looked up to Lucia, standing there with the corners of her mouth ticked up. She had her arms crossed, but she casually pushed one sleeve up, revealing a matching bracelet, the same pink and blue with two white beads.

They were both wearing my number.

“She insisted we wear your number today, to go with the jackets. We have Matteo’s, too, in red, of course.”

“Of course,” I replied, the smirk growing.

Lucia laughed, a sound like tinkling chimes. “She’s been so excited. I think she’s convinced you’re a superhero.”

“Well, I’ll take that.” I grinned, finally setting Gia down but keeping a hand resting gently on her back. “But Matteo’s gonna be pissed when he finds out you’re not wearing Moretti gear on day one.”

Lucia rolled her eyes, but her smile didn’t falter. I laughed again, this time more softly. “But don’t worry. I’m sure he’ll find a way to forgive me once he sees how happy she is.”

I could see Lucia’s relief, the way her shoulders relaxed as she watched Gia interact with me. She wore her emotions right out in the open, and had never been good at hiding them away. It was like this small slice of normalcy, and joy was something she’d been looking forward to. I hoped being out at the track would help her find pockets of joy again. It was thrilling to be here, you couldn’t help the buzzing and exhilaration of it all get to you.

For a few minutes, it was just us: Gia, who was now chattering excitedly about all the things she’d seen, Lucia, who seemed to be soaking in the moment, and me, enjoying the rare opportunity to connect with the people I cared about in my space, in my world.

Life on the circuit could be a whirlwind of adrenaline and intensity. The summers had been a needed break, calming and so removed from high-paced life. As I watched Lucia and Gia together, it struck me just how important it was to hold onto these simple, genuine connections, no matter how fast the world might spin around us.

“Excuse me, why am I seeing my family in the enemy’s colors?” Matteo’s booming voice broke through the Belen garage. He was dressed and ready for practice, as I was. His red racing suit looked so out of place in the Belen’s trademarked electric blue and pink.

“Zio!” Gia screamed, turning and running to Matteo. His faked annoyance quickly dropped, replaced with a wide smile.

“ Principessa !” Matteo said, bending down and holding out his arms for Gia. She quickly threw herself at him, a blur of blonde curls and my racing colors.

“What is this?” Matteo asked, pointing at her sweatshirt.

“Ow Wex,” she said, a stern look on her little features. I couldn’t keep the smirk from my face when Matteo’s eyes met mine. He rolled his eyes.

“That’s fine on practice days, but race day?” He focused back on Gianna. “What colors do we wear on race days?”

“Red!” she cheered. He beamed and shot me a glance as if to say, I win.

I only crossed my arms in reply, and proceeded to look busy. I was the one winning, with both his sister and niece wearing Belen gear, but whatever made the man feel better, I guess.

“You in the zone yet?” Lucia asked quietly, stepping close to me while Matteo and Gia had their moment and people walked by saying hi.

“I fell asleep on the plane,” I grumbled.

“No!” She mock gasped. “Not the pre-race flight routine!”

“Listen, every part of a ritual is important,” I replied.

“I think missing one more review of races you have one hundred percent already watched back is okay, Alexander.” She smirked at me.

“I might have missed something.”

“No, you drove a perfect race, the team choosing to undercut was not on you.” I tried to keep my heart from jumping out of my damn chest at the comment. I knew she watched the races, for her brother obviously, but it did something to my head to know she was paying attention to my own team and their strategies.

“Better get you on the payroll, because my engineers could learn a thing or two from you.”

“About time.” She smiled and turned, walking back to her daughter. Gianna had been waving while in Matteo’s arms to every single person who passed by. A few crew members from surrounding teams had stopped to say hi. I, however, could feel the glare on my brow. I pulled out my phone, texting Dante.

Alexander:

Are the NDAs signed?

Dante:

Yes.

Alexander:

And fucking ironclad?

Dante:

Your possessive prick complex is showing

I put my phone back down on a nearby ledge with a huff. Like Dante was one to speak, the man was like a Doberman all wrapped up into a scary Italian man who had some insane connections. He was also as loyal as they come. And I paid him enough to do whatever I wanted, so there was that.

“Where is Anna?” Lucia asked, looking between Matteo and myself.

I shrugged as Matteo spoke. “Regretting taking me on as another client, probably.” His lopsided smile was ever present. A constant on and off the track. Lucia was just as bright, her soft smile in place as she turned her attention to Gia, who was half explaining about how she saw a puppy and wanted to find who had the puppy and also could they get a puppy. I took a mental step back, enjoying the mundaneness of it all. Of my people all together. I didn’t have much of a family. My dad was all that was left, but his memory had begun failing years ago—early-onset Alzheimer’s. I saw him as much as I could, had him in the best facility money could buy. He had worked his whole life to give me my future, to build karts, spend every weekend on a track, or driving across the damn country for certain races. He worked harder than anyone I know, and I would be forever grateful to him. As for the rest of my family, it was easier to pretend they just didn’t even exist. My mother had left long ago, not wanting to be a mother at all. Years passed, I worked my way through lower-level racing up to F1. I found out through one of those trash magazines I saw one day walking in London that she had a new family. I pushed it as far down as it could go, and visited my dad that same day. It was a bad day, no memory of who I was. The good days were far and few between now.

Matteo on the other hand, his family had such an abundance of love and support to give. I even received a text message from his parents today wishing me luck. They had sort of adopted me against my will years and years ago. They would make sure to come say hi to me when visiting Matteo in the Moretti paddock, always inviting me to come stay with them during breaks. But I was too busy going to parties, dating celebrities, and being a grade A asshole. That life felt far behind me now, much to Anna’s relief. Probably why she had the bandwidth to take on Matteo as another client— not to mention I had practically begged her to take him on after his last manager had fucked him over.

“We’re going to scout out the lounge and find some snacks,” Lucia announced, pulling me from my thoughts.

“Mine has better food,” I noted.

Matteo shot me a glare. “Fuck off.” He laughed as they walked away.

Lucia mouthed, Bye , and Gia waved, still in Matteo’s arms as they walked away. My stomach growled right on cue. I couldn’t wait to get to the Belen Lounge to eat after; their food was genuinely really good. My phone pinged loudly through the quiet garage; the crew had dispersed when Lucia and Gia came in, giving me some privacy I was extremely thankful for.

Anna

10 minutes, meeting at the lounge deck

Right, back to work.