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Chapter Eight

Shantal

T he elevator takes longer than I would like to reach the second floor. I try my best to avert my eyes from so-called André during this time, but he’s a better liar than I am – clearly – and is bold enough to attempt eye contact. I’m confused and insulted all at once. I’m not sure what kind of a sick joke it was for Darien Cardoso-Magalh?es to capitalize on the fact that I didn’t know who Darien Cardoso-Magalh?es is. It only stings further as I put two and two together, realizing that his stupid smirks and laughs were probably because this was all pretty entertaining as far as he was concerned. Not to mention the fact I’ve now got to work with this guy, who made a joke of my ignorance. Is it too late to go back to Clapham?

‘Right this way.’ I lead the two of them, Darien and his trainer, down the hall dedicated to office and board meeting spaces, and into the main conference room.

André – Darien – stops his trainer. ‘I’m just gonna be out here a moment. I have a couple questions for Miss, um, Mangal regarding this facility.’

Celina looks pleased at what she may be misinterpreting as his proactivity. ‘Sounds good.’

She heads inside, and I stare directly at him, my irritation refusing to take a back seat.

‘Oh, so you have a few questions?’ I cross my arms in an almost protective gesture. ‘I think I’ll start with one of my own. Who is André … Darien?’

He flinches a little on the last word – his real name. It’s been quite a while since my tongue was this sharp.

‘Um … me?’ he tries, pairing the sentiment with an extremely uncomfortable megawatt smile.

I just stand there in disbelief. ‘Are you really smiling at me right now?’

He gulps like a scolded child. ‘Okay. So. André is not completely my name. Hear me out—’

‘How could I hear you out?’ It’s a miracle I keep my voice even, what with the wave of temper rising in my chest. ‘You are a Formula 1 driver who is not, in fact, named André. Maybe I don’t know you, but the fact that you thought I was gullible enough that you could lie to my face about your identity hurts . Why, tell me, should I hear you out?’

‘Because I liked your ignorance. It wasn’t stupid.’

Now I’m even more confused. I squint. ‘What?’

‘I didn’t want you to care about who I was,’ he says quietly. ‘You didn’t even know. I liked that. I wasn’t about to change it.’

I hate to admit it, but that soft tone of his files away at the sharp edges of my internal rage. I feel my hands slowly uncurl from the fists they’ve made at my sides. The tension seeps away. I imagine being in his situation. Poor guy, millions of dollars and fans, multiple cars and houses. Right. But no privacy. No ability to truly know if your circle is real or fake.

‘Hmm.’ I put my guard back up the second I realize it’s coming down. He won’t win me over that easily. ‘At least one of us benefited from your charade,’ I observe.

He does that dumb head-tilt again, peering up at me from beneath the shadow of his cap. He smiles for real, the sort of smile that reaches his eyes, making them narrow happily, and reveals just the right number of pearly whites. ‘If I’m remembering correctly, we both benefited. You got to your hotel safely.’

I feel my cheeks go warm. Ugh. ‘You’re infuriating for someone who’s apparently so loved, do you know that?’

Darien laughs. Initially, his little confession seemed like it could be fabricated, but his casual manner erases any doubt I had of his honesty. Every movement he makes is so easy, from the way he messes with the hem of his T-shirt to the way he twists the back of one of his earrings in thought.

‘So my teammate likes to tell me,’ he replies, rich voice surrounded by a chuckle.

He breezes easily through the door to the conference room. I grit my teeth and file in after him.

We’re about the last ones in. I take my seat beside the Heidelberg team manager, a man named Afshin Demir. He’s not nearly as old as I thought he’d be – the guy is as young as his Formula 1 team. I’d been briefed on him the second I took the project, given that his vision had essentially shaped Heidelberg. Despite the team’s namesake being some exceptionally ancient German man, Demir has built it into a constantly evolving force keen on new talent. I suppose it was this philosophy that made the team decide they would build a training centre in Rio de Janeiro, of all places.

Like the rest of us, Demir is wearing the team shirt and jeans, off-putting given his role on the team. His salt-and-pepper hair is combed neatly off his forehead, smile lines wrinkling his olive skin as he grins in greeting.

All the other spots at the table are filled by six people: Celina, and another five members of staff, all of whom are predictably unfamiliar. It’s possible I’ve seen some of the others in passing, but there’s nothing that sparks recognition. Darien, on the other hand, takes his precious time after I sit down to greet the others with grins, laughs, and a ton of back-slapping. He takes his seat beside a dark-haired man with big brown eyes and a shadow of stubble across his strong jaw. The two of them can’t stop giggling like little schoolkids, elbowing each other and cackling before exchanging an aggressive ‘ shh ’ and nodding towards an amused Demir.

The team principal stands at the head of the table. ‘Welcome. Or should I say, bem-vindo , Heidelberg. Everyone is thrilled to have you all with us here today in beautiful Rio de Janeiro, as I am sure you will have gathered from the greeting you were given outside.’

I may not have been mobbed by the drivers’ adoring fans, but I did have to suffer through some terrible traffic, during which I got a good look at the mania. Demir is right. The fans are absolutely elated. Brazil clearly loves its sport.

‘Either way, our agenda for today is fairly brief. We will tour, get you all connected to the software, get you IDs, and finish our social media welcome photos. But let’s start with introductions for the newest member of the team,’ Demir begins with a nod in my direction. ‘I’m Afshin Demir, as you know, team principal for Heidelberg Hybridge F1 Team. I’ve headed up the Formula 1 division since the team was formed about ten years back. We are the newest constructor on the grid, which necessitates some extra effort from us in proving ourselves. You may have seen us in the headlines in 2021, with Peter Albrecht claiming our first Drivers’ Championship.’

This sentence earns a couple of proud whoops from around the table. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Darien bob his head appreciatively.

‘Let’s make it two, why don’t we?’ the man beside him quips, which only increases the volume of the cheers. This team hasn’t even begun their season, and they’re already giddy with excitement.

‘Why don’t we?’ echoes Demir with a laugh. ‘Yes, going into the 2024 season, that’s our goal – we want two, and we want a Constructors’ trophy out of it as well. So we’ve put in a little extra this year, a little extra in the form of the facility we stand in right now. Not only have we built this centre with Heidelberg’s advancement in mind, but we have also cemented our commitment to our own Darien’s Regional Formula team, Rio Redenc?o, for whom the Ring will hopefully serve as training facility next season.’ He beams and nods my way. ‘Which brings us to a short introduction from the woman of the hour, perhaps?’

Woman of the hour? Oh, no.

I manage an awkward half-smile. ‘I’m here on behalf of Conquest Athletic. We were instrumental in the development of the technology involved in this centre, and will be driving the accompanying equipment changes that will follow across Heidelberg. My name is Shantal Sanjeevani Mangal, and I’ll be here for at least the first half of the season as your team simulator specialist. I’ll be working very closely with drivers to make best use of some of the new fixtures this centre comes with, particularly the groundbreaking simulation system,’ I explain. ‘Pending that and external matters after the summer break, I’ll either remain with the team physically, or continue to work remotely from London as your round-the-clock specialist.’

‘Excellent. Let’s do a quick round-the-table. We’ll start with our drivers,’ suggests Demir, though it’s less a suggestion and more an obligation.

Darien grins his dumbass grin. ‘I’m Darien Cardoso-Magalh?es.’

He sneaks in a mocking wink my way, just subtly enough that no one else gives any indication of having caught it. I fight the urge to roll my eyes.

‘Raced for Heidelberg Hybridge for the past two years, this being my third. It’s super exciting; I can barely believe that we’ve got our team rooted in Rio now. So let’s make this off-season a good one, and let’s head into testing ready to bring that P1 home,’ he finishes, with a tip of his head to the guy next to him.

As much as I hate to say it, he’s well-spoken. You can see it in how easily he conducts himself, that same casual demeanour I’d seen before.

‘Miguel de la Fuente, with the misfortune of being Darien’s teammate,’ the next in line jokes, earning a cuff of his ear from Darien. ‘I’ve been with Heidelberg a year, this is my second; as for F1, I’m now six seasons deep. Pleasure to meet you, Miss Mangal. Really excited to see where things can go, especially with last season being pretty great for us.’

Miguel cues in another man, who’s easily the youngest person in the room. I hadn’t even realized he was a driver. ‘My name’s Henrique Oliveira Miranda, but you can call me Henri,’ he says with a smile, albeit a slightly nervous one. He looks like he could be just over eighteen – the Formula 1 age threshold – and appears as anxious as I feel. I decide I like him right away. ‘I’m in development this season, my first with the team. You guys are all actually new to me,’ he says with a wry laugh, ‘so it’s good to meet you all.’

The next three members of the team are trainers to each of the drivers. I already know Celina, who works with Darien. There is also Louie, Miguel’s trainer, and Jack, who works with Henri. The other remaining staff member is named Katrina, press officer to Darien and overseer of the Ring’s PR. She’s got pin-straight blonde hair, stands inches above everyone else in the room on towering stilettos, and looks as if she will suffer no fools.

After introductions, Demir leads the bunch of us through a quick tour of the place, after which it’s time for formalities. I make my way through the rest of my obligations over the course of the morning: scanning in IDs, pointing out personalized sims and trackers in the gym that are issued to each driver. Darien is thoroughly enjoying himself now that he’s no longer got to hide behind that André act, humour dancing in his eyes as he cracks little jokes. Poor Henri looks as if he’s been positively overloaded with information. Miguel breezes through it all. The trainers, naturally, listen in like there’s prizes at the end.

Which, evidently, there are.

Before taking photos, the session that is supposed to be my cue to leave, Demir rounds us all up merrily as the trainers gawk at the sim sensors. ‘So I have heard that we have here someone who is brand-new to Rio de Janeiro.’

Oh … no.

The three drivers glance about at each other, for the most part at Henri, in an attempt to single out the weak link, but he just shrugs and shakes his head like, ‘Wrong guy.’

‘Miss Mangal has never been to Brazil before,’ says Demir with a show-and-tell air to his voice. ‘She will also work as closely with you as your own trainers. Why don’t you all get to know each other? Show her around. See the beach.’

Demir bustles off with the trainers, gesturing as he announces something about an in-depth brief on the ‘state-of-the-art gymnasium’. This leaves me with three race-car drivers, and the prospect of the most uncomfortable afternoon of my life.