Page 36 of Green Flag (StormSprint #2)

We were quickly called to our dinner, which Luca ate without inhaling, barely having enough breath to answer the interview questions Marina asked him. The boys engulfed their food nearly as fast as Luca, knowing there were presents to be opened.

Fia ate painfully slowly, glaring at our brothers with narrowed eyes.

Kade was nearly crying in his chair, nose screwed up, ready to throw his plastic fork at her across the table if she didn’t use hers faster.

She blamed it on ‘indigestion’. I blamed it on her being a twat too much like her sister.

When she finally finished, Marina was shaking her head at her and ushering the rest of us out of the room to open presents before dessert.

“Now, be polite when opening your presents,” said Marina, sitting on the sofa as Luca and I sat by the tree on the floor and he took great joy in passing them out.

He’d bought Kade an electric motorbike (with two wheels at the back) for the garden, but he spent the next hour zooming around the halls on it. Reid received the new StormSprint game, with a special edition of our dad as a player from when he raced, which caused him to go into an ecstatic meltdown.

Marina received a beautiful necklace with her birthstone in it and Fia a gift card to her favourite bubble tea cafe that she hadn’t shut up about in our nightly FaceTimes.

Then he turned to Dad.

“I don’t want anything,” he said thickly.

“My present to you is your daughter’s happiness.”

Marina smirked, looking down at her jewellery and Fia cackled.

“And this.” He gave him a thin gift bag and when Dad pulled out a bottle of gin, he couldn’t hide his smile, try as he might.

“And for my snuggle muffin,” Luca said, passing me the biggest box. “There are a few others too, but you’ve got to open this first.”

I narrowed my eyes at the box, opening it suspiciously to a brand new PlayStation 5.

“What!”

“Don’t act like I got you world peace,” he laughed. “It’s purely for selfish reasons. To stop you from playing mine. And so we can play together over the break.”

“But—”

“There are no buts,” he said, tsking. “There are some games in the box. Girly ones too.”

He’d bought me ten different games. The StormSprint one included.

And I vowed to only ever play as number 68 because there was no other rider who compared to Luca Mendes.

“There’s another present,” he whispered in my ear after receiving the ugly Christmas jumper I’d given him.

He wore it with pride — with the Ciclati colours of red and green, it hadn’t been hard to find one fitting.

Everyone was busy with setting up the boys’ new toys and didn’t notice our intimate moment.

“But it’s maybe not best in front of these lot. ”

My curiosity pulled him up and almost dragged him into the nearest room, which happened to be my dad’s office.

“What is it?”

My dirty mind immediately took me to underwear. With a slit in. For him to tease off me.

“Don’t get too excited,” he laughed. “It comes in two parts.”

A large box and a small wrapped parcel remained in his Santa sack.

First, the box had to be opened. Inside was a pair of beautiful white cowgirl boots with green embroidered flowers.

And I might die on the spot.

“These are… the most beautiful things I’ve ever seen,” I whispered, tracing the embroidery.

“Alright, alright,” he said and pulled me close. “You’ll water my ego.”

It needed growing.

He placed the smaller one in my hands. “Try this. This is my favourite present.”

I ripped apart the wrapping paper and found some black, lensless glasses. Connected to a rubber nose.

I pulled it out of the wrapping with my finger and thumb, letting the paper fall to the floor. “Luca, what is this?” I laughed.

“For all your detective work,” he laughed and brushed my hair back before taking them and putting them on for me. “Hot damn, Everly Bacque.”

There was no way he was being honest. I grabbed my phone from Dad’s desk to look at myself in the front camera.

And cackled. A complete, body-rolling laugh until my stomach hurt.

“Hot damn, indeed,” I managed to wheeze, brushing the tears out from under the glasses. “Surely I’m irresistible like this?”

His smile was soft. “Of course.”

Where was Fia with that mistletoe when I needed her?

Then I imagined how that would look and laughed again. My fake, plastic nose brushing his. The black frame of the glasses pressed into my face.

His smile grew.

“I don’t deserve this symbolic treasure,” I said and tapped the frame. “We haven’t been very successful in our snooping.”

Leaving Texas, we’d got the plane back with Dad to England and managed to snoop through his luggage again, only to find nothing other than an extensive collection of hotel soaps. Not a drug dealer, but indeed a thief.

And that had us laughing until others joined us on the plane.

Laughing was easy with him.

“Your laugh sounds weird with the nose thing,” he said and even though he was staring at the long schnoz, I really wished he’d been looking at my mouth, wanting to kiss me as much as I wanted to kiss him.

But that stopped me.

My laugh was gross. I knew it, I didn’t need someone else to tell me.

“Just that it sounds different,” he said quickly, reaching out. “I love your laugh.”

My brows came down. “You do?”

He nodded deeply. “It’s a good day when I manage to get that laugh out of you.”

Luca Mendes was too good for me. He always would be. There was no planet where he and I would ever be together.

Where he’d want to kiss me outside of sex or publicity.

“We, er, could snoop in here?” I said, looking around and stepping back. “He’s so old school, I wouldn’t be surprised if he kept receipts of all the drugs he had for his finances.”

Luca’s chuckle was false, but I took it. Whatever he would give me, I’d take.

“You check the filing cabinet,” I said. “And I’ll get the desk.”

We both went into action, looking through papers, the adrenaline kicking in.

When I realised, somewhere along the line, I’d lost touch with what we’d been doing. Revenge felt so far away when I wasn’t sure I actually wanted to find evidence of my dad’s wrongdoing.

Because he was my dad.

Because it would mean I’d lose Luca.

For so long, I’d had nothing.

I didn’t really have him either.

Why was it so hard to swallow? I suddenly couldn’t breathe through the plastic nose or my mouth.

And when I looked up to Luca to call for help because I might be dying, the way he was filtering through the papers had me second-guessing.

Because he wasn’t enthusiastic at all.

It was like a chore to him. Did he feel the same as me?

“We’re not finding much,” I sighed and sat on the desk.

He shrugged, turning his back to me. “We don’t have to.”

Because he liked spending time with me? Surely, with him coming to the house with no ulterior motive, he must like me a little.

“Because I’ve hired a PI.”

For a second, I was still as my ears rang. I must have misheard him. Did he say PI? As in, private investigator?

He looked over his shoulder with a sheepish smile. Or grimace.

What if the PI found details that meant he went to the police? What if Dad had no choice but to quit? My heart was thundering as panic built in my chest, echoing in my throat. I knew I’d started this… but the only reason I wanted to continue it was because of Luca.

“Shouldn’t we have discussed this… together?”

With two strides, he stood before me and removed my disguise, brushing the rogue hairs back behind my ears. “Everly, we’re not really cut out for this,” he laughed weakly.

This? Us?

My thoughts scattered, scrambled, tumbling over each other in a rush of ‘ What did he mean? Why would he say that?’

And a deep concern climbed my spine. I couldn’t lose him.

“We haven’t found anything,” he said and gestured around the room. “It’s been months of nothing and this is probably what we need.”

“We’ve got that interview,” I said quickly. “The couple interview.”

He cupped my elbows, his thumbs brushing my arms. “We’ll still do this. It’s a good cover for us, but… we’re running out of time. The last race of the season is in two weeks.”

I nodded, trying to swallow the lump in my throat.

When my phone chimed.

I jerked out of his hold to grab it from Dad’s desk.

It was Instagram.

@PVThrowaway: Merry Christmas. See you soon.

I practically shoved the phone in Luca’s face. “See? I’m getting somewhere. I’ve been strategically posting things to get his attention.”

“See you soon?” Luca repeated. “You’re not meeting him alone, are you?”

“No,” I said, shaking my head. He’d been right when he said I shouldn’t meet him alone. “I don’t know what he’s on about. I haven’t texted him like… not like that since…”

Luca braced the back of my neck with his hand, running gentle strokes into my hairline. “Everly, you don’t need him. I hired this guy so you never have to speak to him again. He hurt you.”

I tried to shrug it off. If only he knew how much.

“Do you just want his attention for our little project or… is it more?”

I couldn’t breathe.

Because—God. Is that what he thought? But… was he right? I’d always wanted Pedro’s adoration but wasn’t that just being young and in love?

It had started small. I laughed a little harder at his jokes, even when I didn’t get them.

I posted things I thought he’d find interesting.

I waited for the little “seen” to pop up beside my messages, then waited longer for his replies.

I changed how I dressed—less colour, more skin.

Not because he asked. He didn’t have to.

I just learned what got a reaction. I learned what lit up his gaze, made him fixate on me.

My sense of worth was hinged on his approval. But that had changed, hadn’t it?

Shouldn’t I feel relieved that I no longer needed to involve him?

He trained me to want his gaze, to measure myself against it.

I was a hound for attention, I knew that.

But not his.

I wanted him to see I was doing better without him.

I was with Luca. I wanted Luca weak for me; that wasn’t a secret. But I also wouldn’t change my foundations for him.

“I don’t want his attention,” I said, hands numb as I blocked @PVThrowaway and then wrapped my arms around Luca.