Page 22 of Formula Freedom (Race Fever #3)

Reid

M onaco looks like it’s been dipped in gold tonight.

The marina sparkles with lights from a hundred yachts and the rooftop of the Hotel Hermitage pulses with music, laughter and high-octane glamour.

This isn’t some casual get-together. It’s a full-blown spectacle—the kind of night where deals get made in dark corners and everyone’s selling something—even if it’s just the illusion of importance.

None of that’s important though because I’ve got Lara on my arm.

She looks like sin in a deep green silk dress I bought for her.

She has her red hair pinned in a way that shows off the long, bare line of her neck.

I know she doesn’t think she belongs, but every damn step she takes is elegant and poised.

Still, tension radiates from her through the grip of her hand in mine.

She’s smiling, but it’s the kind of smile that’s more for armor than ease.

“You okay?” I murmur as we approach the roped VIP entrance, paparazzi cameras flashing.

“Just… trying to take it all in,” she says, her voice low, her head turning down and away from the bulbs. “This isn’t exactly your average Friday night of beers and pizza on the beach.”

“No,” I admit with a reassuring squeeze to her hand. “But you look like you belong here more than any of us.”

That earns me a soft laugh, and I watch her exhale, shoulders loosening somewhat as we make our way to the rooftop.

The moon is full, proudly glinting off the Mediterranean beyond.

If it weren’t for the thumping music and dozens of people around us, it could be romantic.

Regardless, I’ll get more than one slow dance with Lara before night’s end.

Tonight’s event—the Lemarc Foundation Gala for Global Youth Initiatives—is hosted by French billionaire and shipping magnate étienne Lemarc, a man who collects art, islands and influence in equal measure.

The gala is both charity and spectacle, drawing royalty, CEOs, celebrities and yes—Formula International drivers.

Brienne Norcross is a strategic partner through the Norcross Foundation, and the guest list reads like a Forbes spread.

I wonder if she’ll be here with her husband, Drake.

I wouldn’t mind talking to him some more as he seemed like a cool guy, all bearded and tattooed next to Ms. Norcross’s sophisticated elegance.

Hand in hand, we navigate the crowd. Soft jazz mingles with the hum of conversation. Waitstaff in black vests float by with trays of champagne, diamonds glitter in every direction, and Lara’s eyes are wide with awe.

I spot Carlos first, wearing a navy tux with no tie, shirt open just enough to broadcast that he’s unconventional.

I see a few of the other drivers—Gunner, Sebastian Wolff and Ronan Barnes talking to two men I don’t recognize, but they’re most likely team sponsors.

They’re all flanking Carlos, deep in conversation that has them all laughing.

Carlos is the first to clock me. He raises his glass and lifts his chin in greeting, flashing the same disarming grin he uses to charm pit crews, reporters, and the occasional race official out of a penalty.

Carlos’s eyes dance as we approach. “?Hermano! You clean up well.”

We clasp hands and slap backs. Carlos takes Lara’s hand with exaggerated reverence. “Senorita Candlish. Hermosa. Monaco has officially been upstaged.”

Lara laughs, genuine this time, and she relaxes a little more. I’m glad Carlos is here as she’s got one other genuine friend to help her feel at ease.

The other guys check out Lara in open curiosity, respectful enough my hackles keep flat.

Gunner is dressed down compared to the others—no jacket, shirt sleeves rolled—and his easygoing vibe is pure Southern California.

Sebastian Wolff is all sleek tailoring and sharp jawlines, like he walked off the pages of GQ .

Ronan Barnes? Predictably, he’s holding court, one hand tucked into his designer blazer pocket, the other gesturing mid-story like he’s narrating a movie trailer in real time. I’ve always found the dude pompous.

“Mates,” I say with a nod. “This is Lara Candlish.”

Sebastian steps forward first. “It’s a pleasure,” he says warmly in a German accent lightened by years of international travel. He takes her hand and presses a light kiss to her knuckles. “You’re the one keeping Reid from getting too cocky?”

Lara laughs nervously. “I mean… I try.”

“Try harder,” Gunner deadpans, then grins. “Nice to meet you.”

“Same,” Lara replies, clearly charmed by his laid-back energy.

And then Ronan turns toward us, making it obvious he was paying attention as we joined the group, despite the fact he was talking to someone else.

“Lara,” he says with an exaggerated drawl, his posh British accent lacking warmth. “I’ve been hearing whispers. They said you were beautiful, but I see they were underselling it.”

Lara blinks, startled, but she doesn’t understand how fast gossip can spread through a paddock. I’m sure it got everyone’s attention she was in the garage during the race and she was the first person I hugged after.

I shoot Ronan a look sharp enough to cut carbon fiber. “Mate.”

He smirks, unrepentant. “Relax. Complimenting her is just my way of being polite.”

“Try being less polite,” I mutter.

Lara presses her lips together to hide a smile, but I don’t miss the slight tension in her shoulders. I know her well enough to recognize the micro-reactions—when she’s overwhelmed, unsure, quietly bracing.

I lean in, my voice pitched low. “I promise he’s harmless.”

“I’ll take your word for it,” she says, soft but steady.

“I’ve got your back,” I promise so only she can hear.

“I know… just so many beautiful people. Loud energy. It’s… a lot.”

Before I can respond, a new presence is behind me and I turn to see Lex Hamilton approaching with Posey on his arm. Lara beams a smile at Posey and I’m so glad she’s here as they really seemed to hit it off the other day.

“Smooth operator,” Carlos teases. “Hamilton shows up looking like he owns a casino.”

Lex is dressed in a sharp, tailored black velvet jacket with satin lapels, paired with a crisp white shirt and slim black trousers.

His shirt is open at the collar and a vintage gold watch gleams at his wrist. Lex knows fashion and his black loafers probably cost more than most people’s rent.

Posey is radiant beside him in a sleek black dress and vivid red lipstick perfectly matched to the soles of her shoes that I know are designer, though which designer I’m not sure.

Those are things I’m learning myself since my entry into FI and the wealth that’s attached to the sport.

“Glad to see you here,” I say, shaking Lex’s hand.

“Wouldn’t want to miss the free champagne and social posturing,” Lex replies dryly.

Posey pulls Lara into a hug without hesitation. “You look amazing,” she says, stepping back to admire her. “Seriously, the Monte Carlo set has nothing on you.”

“Monte Carlo set?” Lara asks, eyebrows knit in confusion.

Posey grins and lifts a shoulder. “It’s a term that refers to the elite, fashionable social crowd in Monaco.

” She waves her hand around. “Think influencers, heiresses, models and high-society types who frequent places like Monte Carlo. At least… that’s what I read in my research.

I’m going to set one of my novels here.”

Lara chuckles and nods down to the red-soled shoes. “You’re the one who looks amazing. Are those Louboutins?”

“Yes, and they’re killing my feet,” she says from the side of her mouth. “But don’t tell Lex that as he took great joy in buying them for me.”

“I’m standing right here and can hear you, love,” Lex replies drolly.

Huh? So that’s the designer. I’ll tuck that away, but I probably won’t buy a pair for Lara if they’re so uncomfortable.

Lex eyeballs the rest of the group. “So, this is it, huh? The annual meeting of the Fast and the Famously Single.”

“You’re decidedly not single,” I say, nodding to Posey.

Lex smiles at her, leans in and kisses her neck. “I’m definitely taken.”

I curl my fingers gently around Lara’s and pull her close to me. Yeah, I’m definitely taken too.

Ronan raises a skeptical brow. “You’ve fallen fast, Hemsworth.”

“Considering I was fifteen when I fell for her,” I reply, voice even. “Not so fast, so get your facts straight.”

Eyes sparkling, he throws up his hands in mock surrender. “Hey, I’m just here for the charity and the wine.”

But it’s Lara I’m looking at. We haven’t progressed to getting deep into feelings for each other, but there’s no sense in hiding the fact that she’s been my girl for a long damn time. Even if neither of us fully realized it.

The way she smiles back at me tells me all I need to know… I’ve been hers for a long time too.

As the group turns toward the bar, chatting and laughing, I let my fingers drift to Lara’s back.

Her posture’s relaxed as she chats with Posey, but she’s scanning—taking it all in.

And I know what she’s seeing… polished people, practiced charm, the way some women glance too long at me or Carlos or Lex.

I lean down and murmur into her hair. “You don’t have to play a part tonight. Just be you.”

She glances up, her eyes searching mine. “And if that version of me doesn’t fit here?”

I squeeze her hand. “Then you’ll break the mold.”

Posey loops her arm through Lara’s, grabbing her attention from me. “Come on, let’s get drinks and hide in a corner and judge everyone.”

I think that might be code for “We’re demanding girl time.” I’m happy for her to take it, because Posey seems so down-to-earth and she’s exactly the right person to introduce Lara to this jet-set lifestyle since she’s just learning to navigate it herself.

Lara shoots me a quick smile. “I’ll be right back.”

I nod and watch them go, lapsing into a discussion with Lex and the other guys.

I consider getting a drink, but before I can slip off, someone taps my arm.

I turn to see two women—both stunning, both very aware of it—standing a little too close.

One’s blond and tall, the other brunette with legs for days and a neckline that’s probably in violation of at least three dress codes.

“Reid Hemsworth, non ?” the brunette says, her French accent lilting around the edges of each syllable. She smiles like she already knows I’ll say yes to whatever comes next.

“That’s me,” I answer, polite but edging toward guarded.

“We watched you in Melbourne,” the blond adds, her accent even thicker, flirtation fused in every word. She places a hand lightly on my forearm. “ C’était incroyable. That last lap? You were unbelievable.”

“Thanks,” I say, offering a small smile as I glance toward the bar.

Lara and Posey are still chatting, but Lara’s eyes are on us now.

While she stares at me without judgment or fault, her smile is dimmed.

I know her well enough to see it—the shift.

The flicker of discomfort as she stares at the brunette’s hand still lingering on my arm, all while keeping an ear on something Posey’s saying to her.

“Maybe you come have a drink with us?” One manicured thumb strokes my arm.

I shake my head and take half a step back, gently disengaging. “I appreciate the offer. Really. But I’m here with someone.”

Her pout is exaggerated—performative—but she gets the message and both women drift off without another word. Although not totally unexpected, Ronan moves off to intercept them.

I turn back to Lara and decide to address this with her. She’s getting a slap-in-your-face dose of high-profile sport celebrity in one of the wealthiest destinations in the world. I know this has to be tough on her, so I head her way.

My eyes stay pinned to her as I approach and she covers her expression well, even putting on a welcoming smile. But I know her. I see the subtle tightness around her mouth, the guarded look in her eyes.

“Hey,” I say, brushing my fingers lightly along her lower back. “You good?”

Posey nudges Lara with her shoulder. “I’m going back over to Lex. Join us later?”

Lara nods and I smile at Posey, thankful for the exit so I can have a moment with my girl. Once Posey melts into the crowd, my gaze returns to Lara and I ask again, “So… are you okay?”

“Yes, of course,” she says too quickly. Then, after a pause, she levels a sheepish smile and a disgruntled sigh. “Just… learning what comes with dating a ridiculously attractive race car driver.”

I huff out a laugh, relieved she’s seeing the humor in this. “You jealous?”

“Maybe a little,” she admits, nodding toward the two women who are now fully engaged with Ronan. “That one had claws.”

I turn to face her fully. “You’ve got nothing to worry about. I didn’t even learn their names.”

She tilts her head, studying me. “Is that normal? Women just walking up to you like that?”

I wince internally, hating to divulge this to her. “Unfortunately, yes.”

Her gaze cuts to Ronan. “Some would say fortunately.”

“Some… but not me.” I lean closer, lowering my voice. “I’m here with you. That’s the only part of tonight that matters.”

If I thought that would ease her discomfort, I’d be wrong. Her eyes look even more troubled. “But before me…”

“Lara,” I say, interrupting the thought before she starts obsessing. “I hope it doesn’t matter what I did before, just as I know you had a past with Lance and maybe others. We can’t visit that.”

I hadn’t meant to sound so chiding but for whatever reason, it works. Her eyes flare slightly and then she blushes. “Oh, wow… I’m so sorry. I can’t believe I actually went there.”

I laugh, pulling her into me with an arm around her back so I can press a quick kiss to her mouth.

“Don’t worry about it. I know you’re curious.

I know you want to understand things. I’m an open book, Lara.

I’ve got nothing to hide from you, but I won’t pretend I was a monk either.

If you want to know, I’ll tell you, but I think we should leave it alone. ”

She nods effusively. “Yeah… right. Totally. I don’t want to know.”

I grin at her, and she levels one right back at me. The tension in her face is gone and I press a kiss to her temple just as fireworks explode over the harbor, coloring the night sky in silver and gold.

“We’ll figure this out… how we navigate our worlds,” I assure her. I put my arm around her waist and pull her into my side as we watch the show.

But as confident as I am that Lara and I are meant to be, my brother still hangs over us. I know we’ve got stuff to resolve and until we do, we can’t be free to do all this figuring out I’ve just promised her.