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What makes you feel powerful and in control?

Honestly, not much, but flying in first class to Italy was next-level. I feel lucky and a bit like I’m living in a fairy tale. If I was going to write a fairy tale, I would make myself the main character and of course I would be powerful and in control, but I would also be kind and generous. A benevolent badass queen. Everyone in the kingdom would think I am awesome. Side note: this hotel is amazing. I’ve seen almost every driver in the lobby.

E xcept for one driver—there’d been no sign of Mr. Xander Bishop. And Mia could admit that she was feeling disappointed, but she had high hopes for media day.

She not only had a pass, but one that allowed her to be unaccompanied. It made her feel like anything was possible. Maybe she’d chat up a driver afterward? Stroll through the paddock and ask a mechanic about the ins and outs of their job? Grab one of the strategists and learn more about that? Fill up on pastries in Mega Racing’s hospitality suite? The sky was the limit as near as she could tell. There was no telling what kind of trouble she could get into, but she couldn’t wait to find out.

The walk to the track took almost an hour, much of it along storybook, tree-lined streets, and Mia spent her time soaking up the charming, magical atmosphere. She found her way through the swipe gate and managed to locate the media center after asking one of the security people. Inside was a buzzing beehive of activity with members of the media chatting and rushing around. Mia had a total fan moment when she spotted Claudia Simon, one of the foremost Formula One TV journalists, who worked for Cloud Sports in the UK. Mia made a promise to herself that she would find a way to talk to Claudia before the race weekend was over.

For now, it was time to find a seat and listen in on the press conference. This was another pinch-me moment, something she’d watched on TV countless times. It was so surreal to be sitting there, and it did make her feel special, but it was also a stark reminder that she was a podcaster and not a member of the “real” media since she didn’t have a pass that permitted her to ask questions. She was certain that if her mother were present, she would point out this fact. Repeatedly.

Mia wasn’t sure exactly which drivers would be on hand, but was excited when they began to file inside—Florian, Preston, Emilio and last came Xander. Mia’s heart practically flipped in the center of her chest as he strode past in a Mega Racing polo and jeans with his unruly hair poking out of a baseball hat. She wanted to yell out his name, but of course she didn’t. Bringing up the rear were the PR handlers for each driver, including Isabel. She didn’t look at Mia, either.

He sat with the other drivers and the session started. Unfortunately, that meant Xander was grilled from the word go.

How would you rate your performance in Miami?

“Less than optimal,” Xander said, looking straight ahead, his expression cold and composed.

Mia hated that he was giving such a short answer. She wanted him to fight back. Show some backbone. It did not bode well for his performance this weekend if he was going to be timid.

Are you nervous about losing your seat, Xander? There have been rumors. A lot of chatter about it.

“I’m focused on racing. That’s it.”

Mia’s heart seized in her chest. Right then and there she understood in a way that hadn’t been clear before—the things she said on her podcast mattered.

She’d given Xander shit about his driving—hell, she’d even made fun of him—and that had helped create this environment around him. She suddenly had a whole new perspective on her job, one that made her nervous and a bit sick to her stomach. Her little podcast had real-life repercussions for Xander and any other driver she chose to speak about. But her listeners expected her edge, her snarky opinion. They loved her for it. Was it possible for Mia to show true respect for the drivers in her favorite sport while creating an entertaining show? She wasn’t sure that balance was possible, but it was apparently her mandate moving forward, at least if she wanted to have access to the sport, build on her current success and still sleep soundly at night.

Luckily, the session moved on to other drivers and more pleasant topics after a few more rocky questions for Xander. Mia made a zillion notes and wished she could have made an audio recording, but she was forbidden from doing so, as well as taking pictures, another reminder that she wasn’t really the “media.” She was someone who’d gotten a pass because a driver couldn’t back down from the shit his teammate was giving him.

When the session wrapped up, Mia stood and that was when she made eye contact with Xander. Feeling hopeful, she waved. He waved back. For a split second, she was pleased, then he turned and walked out of the room so quickly she wondered if it had even happened. Fuck.

Mia started for the exit, but was stopped by a spindly man with a handheld recorder and a camera looped around his neck. “Excuse me,” she said, trying to get past him.

“You’re Mia Neal. The American podcaster.”

She came to a stop. “Do I know you?”

He held up his badge. “Reginald Huff. I write for The Daily Reflection out of London.”

Mia stifled a groan. The Daily Reflection was a terrible tabloid, world-renowned for spreading gossip about anyone rich or powerful in the UK. They’d given Meghan and Harry such a hard time, it prompted their exodus from England.

“Nice to meet you, Reginald. Now, if you’ll let me past, I have things I need to do.” That was a total lie, but Mia already didn’t like this guy.

“I saw you wave at Xander Bishop. He paid your way here, didn’t he?”

Now Mia was beyond creeped out. “How do you know that?”

“Including your hotel, I’m guessing. I know you’re staying at the Hotel de la Ville and a normal person can’t get a room there. You need a connection with a team or a driver. You were much nicer to him on your podcast after Miami, which is interesting since he had such a terrible result. Are you on the take from Mr. Bishop? Did he buy your favor in order to take the pressure off?”

Mia reared back her head. How in the hell did he know so much about her? How was he making these leaps? The answers hit her all at once—he’d listened to the Miami episode of her podcast where she’d come right out with it and said Xander had invited her to Italy. She’d divulged the info to be up-front with her listeners. It had never occurred to her that someone might twist around her honesty and use it against her.

“I wouldn’t say I was nice. I was less harsh. I felt bad for him. My podcast is my opinion, Mr. Huff. I can say whatever I want.”

Reginald scowled. “Oh, right. You’re an influencer . You think you can waltz into this sport with zero accountability.”

It was the first time someone had referred to Mia as an influencer and it certainly gave her pause. She’d strived for that label because it hinted at a certain level of success. Now she wasn’t so sure she liked it. It suggested a person who tried to mold public opinion, rather than merely present their own. Now she felt confronted by yet another fine line and another set of questions she might be forced to answer one day. Was she just a fan? A member of the media? Or something else entirely?

Just then, Mia felt a hand on her shoulder. “Is old Reginald giving you a hard time?” a musical British voice asked.

Mia turned to see Claudia Simon, absolute legend of Formula One broadcasting, standing at her side. “Ms. Simon—” Mia sputtered.

“You do not have to talk to him if you don’t want to,” Claudia said.

“I was only making a few queries about her relationship with Xander, Claudia. No need to be a pit bull about it. It’s my prerogative as a journalist.”

Claudia tutted. “That’s a very generous use of that word, Reginald. Why don’t you scurry off and pester someone else?”

Reginald rolled his eyes, but then he slid Mia an angry look. “Just remember. I’ll be watching.”

“Oh, my God,” Mia said to Claudia once Reginald was gone. A million things were running through her head, beginning with the realization that a woman she idolized had come to her rescue. “Thank you so much for stepping in. I love you.”

Claudia laughed. “Okay…”

“I mean I have loved you. Forever. Since I was a little girl.”

“Well, now I feel old.”

“No. No. That’s not what I’m saying.” Mia was tripping over her words. She needed to take a beat and formulate a coherent thought. “I’ve just always really admired your work, Ms. Simon. And thank you for getting him to go away. He started asking questions, and I wasn’t prepared. No one has ever put me on the spot like that. I’m Mia Neal, by the way. I do a fan podcast called Not So Fast .”

“First off, call me Claudia. Second, women in this sport need to stick together.” Claudia offered her hand. “It’s nice to meet you, Mia. I’ve heard a lot about your podcast.”

Mia wanted to pinch herself. What had her life become that Claudia freaking Simon knew who she was? “Thank you so much.”

“Don’t thank me too much. Not everything I’ve heard is good. But I like that you’re shaking things up. And making in roads. Good for you.” Claudia dug into her pocket and produced a business card, which she handed over. “Let’s keep in touch.”

Mia, slack-jawed, stared at the piece of paper now resting in her hand. “Keep in touch?”

“It’s an expression.” Claudia glanced over her shoulder. “I need to go now, love. Take care of yourself.”

“I will.” Mia watched as Claudia filed out of the room, then realized she needed to get going herself. She dashed outside and spotted the person she was looking for. “Isabel!”

Isabel looked up from a clipboard. “Mia. Hi. Everything okay?”

“Yes. Got in okay. Checked in to my hotel and everything. I was just wondering if I might talk to Xander at some point.”

Isabel squinted then returned her sights to her clipboard. “Sorry. Not today. You might be able to talk to him after qualifying, but I’m not sure. He’s incredibly busy.”

Mia understood, but it still felt like he was keeping her at arm’s length. Perhaps it was best to accept the distance between them. After all, creeps like Reginald Huff were sniffing around and Mia had a podcast to protect.

“Okay, well, just let me know,” Mia said.

“I will.”

“Wish him good luck in qualifying. In case I don’t see him.”

Mia sighed and looked around the paddock as Isabel walked away. She spotted a few drivers down at the other end. With no one around to tell her what to do, she figured she might as well try her hand at a few informal interviews. While she was at this race, she was going to make the most of it.

* * *

Xander had spent two days with his head down, shutting out the noise all around him. He’d seen Mia only once—the day before yesterday, at media day, but he hadn’t tried to talk to her. Something told him that it wasn’t a good idea for them to be any closer than they were. He wasn’t sure he could trust her. Sure, she’d gone easier on him after the Miami Grand Prix, but so many members of the media were absolute snakes. Did he think Mia was a snake? Maybe. A cute one who managed to make him laugh, but who might bite him, too. She’d certainly demonstrated she wasn’t afraid to tear him down.

On his way to the garage for qualifying, Isabel walked alongside him. “I think we’re all straight on everything,” she said. “No more extra interviews this weekend. Do you need anything from me?”

Xander wondered whether he should ask the question. “Have you talked to Mia Neal? I feel a bit bad that I’m hosting her this weekend and haven’t seen her, but I need to stay focused.”

“I ran into her. She asked me to wish you good luck in qualifying today.”

Xander felt like an ass. “When were you going to tell me that?”

“I’m telling you now.”

“How’s she doing? Is she enjoying herself?”

Isabel squinted at him, skeptically scanning his face. “She seemed fine. Why?”

Xander was eager to play it off. “Don’t want her to have any reason to bad-mouth me again.”

“Seems to me like you really made some inroads with her in Miami.”

Xander scoffed, perhaps a bit too forcefully. “Inroads? More like verbal sparring. That was about it.”

“Which makes it even more confusing that you would end up flying her across an entire ocean. Are you ever going to explain to me how that happened?”

No. Definitely not. “Bit of ego got in the way. That’s all.”

Isabel clapped him on the shoulder. “Whatever you did, just keep making her happy. It’s nice not having to field as many questions about her podcast. I listened to her Monza preview episode last night and she hardly insulted you at all.”

Xander’s ears perked up. He hadn’t listened to that episode yet. “Hardly insulted me?” He couldn’t help it. Curiosity got the best of him.

“She was talking about how well you drove in the first two practice sessions. She made some crack about you being more than a pretty face.”

A smile fought to cross Xander’s lips, so he pressed them together tightly. “She’s a funny one.”

“As long as she’s on our side.”

“Right.”

Xander strolled into the garage and actually didn’t recoil when he saw Dirk. The fact that Xander had outperformed Dirk in all three free practice sessions helped. Hopefully, that would continue for qualifying. He put on his gear and climbed into the car, laser-focused. His heart pounded in his chest. Yes, he was desperately clinging to any and all success these days, but when things hadn’t gone your way in a while, it was a natural response. Perhaps it was good for him to feel desperate. It would keep him hungry. And that would help him keep his seat in F1. There was only room for twenty drivers in this sport, and there were hundreds of young drivers dying to take his place.

He had to earn it. Every day.

* * *

Mia sat with her chin on the balcony, overlooking the pit lane. Monza was a charming place, but attending a race by herself was starting to wear on her. It wasn’t that much fun, especially since her host had ghosted her. When she’d attend races in Austin, she might not have been hanging out in the paddock club, but she always had a friend or two to keep her company. She enjoyed sharing this sport with others. It was part of the fun. It was part of the reason for her podcast.

Below her she heard the telltale roar of an engine as the first car came out of its garage and headed down the pit lane to start qualifying. Finally, some excitement. Now to see if Xander’s performance in practice would hold up in qualifying.

* * *

Xander made it through Q1, a feat that had often been a given before this season, but had become a victory in its own right. And now he felt like he’d owned his final lap of Q2, but he wasn’t sure.

“Tell me I got through. Tell me we got it,” he said over the radio to his engineer soon after he crossed the finish line.

“You’re P10. Through to Q3. Great job.”

Xander couldn’t believe the wave of relief that rushed through his body. It was his first Q3 of the year.

Maybe Mia Neal really was a good-luck charm. And this time, she was his good luck. Not Dirk’s.

* * *

As annoyed as Mia was with Xander, she was about to leap out of her own skin during Q3. Xander’s lap times had only been good enough to put him in ninth place thus far, an achievement for sure, but she was certain he’d be wanting more than that. She watched as Emilio raced across the finish line, setting a time no one would ever beat.

Come on, Xander. One more flying lap , she thought, wonder ing if she was losing all objectivity. She probably shouldn’t be so invested in him doing well.

* * *

Come on, Xander. You can bloody well do this. Just a few more corners. That’s it. Gun the throttle. You’ve got it.

He hit the straight. Flew across the finish line.

“Where’d we end up?” he asked his engineer.

“Waiting for Laurent and Hubbard to finish.”

His chest heaved. His back ached. He’d put a lot into those laps.

“All right, Xander. Looks like P7 for tomorrow.”

It felt like the sun had just come up. Like it was a new day. In some ways it felt like he’d just won the race . And although that was a sign of exactly how far he’d fallen this season, he was so damn grateful to be on an upward swing.

“Xander? You there?”

“Yeah, mate. That’s bloody brilliant. Thank you. Thank you for everything. Cheers to the whole team.”

“We’re super proud of you. Excellent driving. Now let’s just replicate that for tomorrow.”

Xander silently nodded, finishing his cool-down lap. Somewhere up in the stands, Mia Neal was watching. He had a lingering desire to see her reaction to his performance. To know firsthand that she’d not only seen that lap, but that she’d also seen he wasn’t a loser. But he couldn’t spend his time seeking external validation, especially from someone who might turn on him. He needed to focus on himself and the job ahead. And Mia was nothing but a beautiful distraction.