Page 5

Chapter five

Bianca

The first afternoon in Vegas went without a hitch. After the long flight and car journey to the hotel, the team and I were all booked in and did little but relax and unwind ahead of a busy weekend of racing.

After the interesting development in the team car, I had hoped to see Kristian again, but it appeared he was back to avoiding me. I wasn’t sure if he was doing so on purpose, but Mr Wright was a real tease and it drove me crazy, in the best way. I wasn’t used to not getting what I wanted when it came to the attention of men, and his being hot and cold excited me more than I would care to admit.

Instead of worrying about it, I’d slipped into one of my tiniest bikinis and had joined Sophia out on the deck that surrounded the private pool. Each of the suites had access to it and I knew it was only a matter of time before Kristian, and I crossed paths out here. I waited for him, but as the hours ticked by and the sun began to set, it became apparent that day was not to be today.

Sophia and I went our separate ways, each exhausted from a long day of travel and an afternoon of sun and headed for our rooms. As I entered, I caught sight of my reflection and lifted the edge of my bikini bottoms to check my tan lines. I was certain they were already a little more vivid, even from just that short time out basking beneath the desert sun.

I threw myself down onto my bed, belly first, and sat up on my elbows. With my phone in hand, I scrolled social media, my feeds already swamped with well wishes from fans and posts from my fellow drivers as they each arrived in Vegas with their teams.

With my mind still on Kristian, I navigated to Instagram and pulled up his account. It was decidedly tame, no real posts that weren’t promotional or about his work with Invicta. His other accounts were much the same and it became clear he didn’t use his social media outside of a professional capacity. I scowled, I hadn’t expected to see him posing for a team principal nude calendar or anything, but I had hoped to see a little more of his personality. Kristian Wright was an enigma, and I was determined to figure him out.

Giving up on snooping through social media, I turned to Google. I opened a search and typed in what I was most curious about: ‘Kristian Wright girlfriend’ . The first image that came up was him beside a gorgeous brunette and my stomach dropped. I quickly scrolled to the article.

‘Kristian Wright, F2 Invicta Racing team principal, splits from long–term girlfriend and model, Amélie Barber.’

She was a model, no wonder she was so beautiful. I stared at the picture of them, side by side at a red–carpet event. I wondered what had happened to split them up. I scrolled a little further past some adverts to read the rest of the article.

‘Kristian Wright and girlfriend Amélie Barber are over after almost three years of dating. The Invicta Racing team principal confirmed the split to Sporting Monthly, saying “Yes, Amélie and I broke up about a month ago.” He added, “There’s certain things that just didn’t work out.”

However, in April, an insider told us that "Amélie and Kristian have been doing their own things lately. Amélie is so busy and hasn’t been putting any pressure on herself to be committed to anyone or in a serious relationship.”‘

That sounded like perhaps it hadn’t been Kristian’s idea to split. The article was over two years old, so at least the breakup wasn’t a fresh wound, but I scoured the internet and Amélie was the only mention of a significant other I could find in relation to Kristian Wright. I supposed it wasn’t impossible that he was seeing someone new – he was certainly a private character and kept his personal life to himself – but I somehow doubted that was the case. My mind drifted back to the way he’d stroked his fingers down my leg in the team car and I shivered.

Hopping to my feet decisively, I opened my phone’s camera, adjusting my bikini and fluffing my hair. Satisfied I was looking the best I could, I snapped a few shots. I tested different angles until I got one, I was pleased with – one that made my boobs pop, and my waist appear slimmer. I fiddled with the filters, selecting one I liked before navigating to WhatsApp. I tapped Kristian’s name and brought up the short string of messages that had passed between us. They were all terse and strictly professional. I grinned, knowing what I was about to do would set the chat alight… hopefully in a good way.

BIANCA: Missed you at the pool.

BIANCA: Sent a photo.

With a flurry of excitement and nerves, I locked my phone screen. I knew Kristian had that fucking phone practically glued to his hand. I wouldn’t have to wait long until he’d seen the message. I pressed my lips together, fighting a smirk, my knee jiggling up and down as I waited for the response. When my phone buzzed, I snatched it up.

KRISTIAN: Did you mean to send this to me?

I laughed aloud. God, he was such a square. I tapped out a message.

BIANCA: That depends…

Kristian was still online, seeing my message instantly. I watched three dots dancing back and forth as he typed.

KRISTIAN: On?

BIANCA: On whether you like what you see in the photo, or not.

This time he didn’t respond immediately, though the blue ticks informed me he’d seen the message. A trickle of doubt seeped into my mind, and I suddenly felt a little clammy. Had this been a mistake? A step too far? Subtle flirting in person was one thing, but to send a blatant photograph like that… I was an idiot. The three dots bounced around and I held my breath.

KRISTIAN: What’s not to like?

Fucking hell. I breathed a sigh of relief, my excitement returning tenfold. Another message came through.

KRISTIAN: Not appropriate for workplace devices though. 07736 809 446 – that’s my personal number.

I grinned and threw down my McLaren issued device and added the contact to my personal iPhone. I opened the camera once more, this time plucking the edge of my bikini top away until it barely covered my nipple. My tan line was stark, and I snapped a photo of it.

BIANCA: You’re right, personal devices are a much smarter idea. Do you think I’ve caught the sun today?

BIANCA: Sent a photo.

Kristian came online and I noticed his profile picture was different. I tapped on it to bring it up to full–size, pleasantly surprised to see it was a candid photograph. He was sitting in some sort of lawn chair at a barbeque–type garden party. He was relaxed and smiling, wearing a simple t–shirt and shorts with a beer in hand. My stomach fluttered. I’d thought him handsome in his work gear but something about seeing him in his casual clothes seemed so much more personal, more intimate. My phone buzzed in my hands, and I turned my attention back to our messages.

KRISTIAN: You’ve definitely caught the sun. How long were you out in it?

I pursed my lips, almost amused by how rubbish he was at this. If I’d messaged any other man a picture like that, their next message would have contained some form of slathering, potentially asking to see more skin or maybe even a picture in return. Kristian? Kristian asks how much sun I’ve had, like he was my dermatologist.

BIANCA: Is that all you have to say? I promise I used sun lotion as prescribed, doctor.

KRISTIAN: Don’t get smart with me. You started this.

BIANCA: I know, but your response was not what I was expecting!

KRISTIAN: Sorry to disappoint. P.S. Nice tits.

At that I laughed aloud. I knew he was just messing with me, but I was flattered all the same. Before I could respond, I saw Kristian typing again.

KRISTIAN: Look, I’m not one for playing games. What’s this all about Bianca?

Straight to the point, I liked it. I wasn’t one for messing around either, as much as I enjoyed a good tease. I paused to consider my response before typing out a reply.

BIANCA: I think you’re hot as hell and I enjoy flirting with you. I know it’s complicated given we work together, but I’m looking for a completely casual arrangement, no strings, no mess. If that’s something you’d be interested in pursuing with me, then know I’m down.

KRISTIAN: It’s not just complicated, it’s downright risky. I’m your boss. I’m also twelve years older than you, if you didn’t already know that.

I did know that. It had been one of the first things I’d seen when I’d Googled him. It didn’t bother me in the slightest, but I could understand why Kristian was apprehensive. It didn’t look great to the outside eye, given he was in a position of power over me. The wrong assumptions could easily be drawn, and it would damage both of our careers. I sighed.

BIANCA: Is that a no then?

Kristian’s reply was instantaneous.

KRISTIAN: I didn’t say that.

BIANCA: Then what are you saying?

KRISTIAN: I’m saying let’s get this race weekend out of the way and think about it.

That sounded like I was going to have to be patient, and I wasn’t known for my ability to wait obediently. I frowned, but at least it wasn’t an outright no. I’d read Kristian correctly – he was interested in me, I just had to do my utmost to be persuasive.

BIANCA: Alright then, but I’m not going to take it easy on you.

KRISTIAN: I wouldn’t expect anything less. Now get some rest – we’ve got a hectic weekend ahead of us.

BIANCA: Yes, Dad.

Just as I was about to lock my phone, another message came through.

KRISTIAN: Hey, I’m not THAT much older than you! Watch that smart mouth of yours, it’ll get you into trouble.

BIANCA: Why? You going to fill it up to keep me quiet?

KRISTIAN: Fucking hell, Bianca…

I cackled and shut my phone down, scrambling up the bed to plug the charger in. Winding Kristian up was quickly becoming my favourite thing to do. With a smirk still playing on my lips, I got undressed and climbed into bed. My final thoughts weren’t of the race weekend ahead, but all the many, many ways I could provoke Kristian into action. He didn’t know what he’d started.

The race weekend was always hectic, but Las Vegas was on another level. The fans were so much louder and more boisterous than in some of the other cities we attended over the year, and I loved it. It was a night race that ran through ‘til gone midnight, which was exhausting yet exhilarating. The atmosphere was electric, and it hyped me up ready for a fantastic race.

We’d landed on Tuesday afternoon and whilst we’d all enjoyed our few hours of downtime after the long journey, Wednesday was straight back to work. I spent the whole day at the racetrack – which in Vegas was literally part of the road and along the famous strip – working with the McLaren team and checking the car had been delivered and reassembled correctly after transit. The afternoon and evening had been zipping from one interview to another, rounded off by a press dinner. Kristian and I had barely managed to find time to speak two words to one another, but I got the feeling the team principal wasn’t all that upset. It made it easier for him to pretend like our conversation the night before hadn’t happened, and true to my word I allowed my interest in him to sit on the back burner.

Thursday was all about practice sessions. I was glad to finally be back behind the wheel and get my head into the game as I prepared for Saturday’s race. Sophia and I worked tirelessly with the team, evaluating the set–up and performance of the cars via endless technical debriefings. Once we were satisfied that the car was as good as it was going to get, we headed out for the first of our qualifying sessions. All twenty drivers took it in turns to run a time trial around the track and depending on where you placed, that would be the deciding order for the following two qualifying races on Friday. McLaren was on point, and both Sophia and I found our way into the top three fastest laps. After yet another drawn out press conference, I was exhausted and gladly dropped into my bed when I was returned to the hotel.

Friday arrived, and the day was all about qualifying. Sophia and I attended two practice sessions and a warm–up ahead of the main event. The McLaren cars were looking good, and Harrington and I were feeling confident. We each went well – though I just missed out on pole position, losing it to McCarthy from Red Bull, and Sophia finished up in third. As much as we were thrilled with our result, unfortunately it meant we then had to attend an extra press conference, held specifically for those who finished at the front of the grid where we were grilled about our performance and what we were expecting from the weekend. It was another late finish, and we were graciously allowed to skip out on a sponsor function that had been arranged, enabling us to get an early night ahead of what was going to be an exciting afternoon of racing.

Saturday arrived and I was up with the sun, taking my time to get ready and completing a yoga routine designed to centre and focus your chakra – whatever that was. In truth, it wasn’t the yoga I enjoyed, I just loved the peace and quiet. It was the only opportunity I would get all day to be alone with my thoughts, and as the golden rays of morning sunlight shone through the huge floor to ceiling windows of my hotel room, I thought about the momentous day ahead.

I had mixed opinions on the Las Vegas racetrack. The atmosphere was top notch, and it was a fast and exciting circuit which played right into my skill set, however the grip on the tarmac could be sketchy in places and it was narrow, making overtaking risky.

My phone bleeped, letting me know it was time to get washed and dressed. I stripped out of my Lycra and hopped into the shower, drying off and dressing in my McLaren team kit. I’d be changing again later when it was time to get into my racing gear, but the branded clothing was great for the endless selfies I’d be posing for and autographs I’d be signing. I was just tying up my trainers when my phone rumbled beside me. Still down on one knee, I swiped the screen to read the notification.

KRISTIAN: Everyone meet in the hotel dining room for breakfast in 5.

The message was mundane, but it still excited me just seeing Kristian’s name in my messages. Neither of us had text one another since that first night where he’d given me his personal number, but that was no surprise. The whole team had been flat out preparing for the race. I hoped maybe we could resume some more risqué conversations once the race was done and dusted.

I made my way down to the hotel breakfast bar, helping myself to some fruit and a slice of wholemeal toast. The Vegas lights out was scheduled for 10PM, which seemed an eternity away, but I knew the day would be chock–a–block with meeting fans and fulfilling my media requirements with journalists and television crews. Las Vegas tended to attract a whole boatload of celebrities too, which was great but meant a lot more schmoozing and socialising. I was tired just thinking about it. The team ate breakfast together and much to my disappointment, Kristian was absent having been waylaid somewhere. Once we’d finished up, it was time to head to the track.

Outside the hotel was packed with screaming fans as they waited for us. Sophia and I took our time chatting with them and signing autographs whilst we waited for the cars to be pulled around. With one last smile and a wave, I clambered into the car, breathing a sigh of relief as I did. To my surprise, I wasn’t alone.

“Morning,” Kristian greeted me, briefly looking up from a stack of paperwork that was balanced on his knees.

“Morning yourself,” I replied with a sultry smile. I sat myself down and the driver closed the door behind me. “Wait, isn’t Sophia–?”

“She’s in the car behind. I arranged for you to travel separately. I figured it would help you get into the zone to have a bit of quiet time.”

I was shocked, grateful for Kristian’s thoughtfulness. I pushed the complicated emotions away, hoping I wasn’t blushing. I stared at him and sensing my gaze Kristian glanced up at me.

“What?”

“Then what are you doing here?” I asked with a cocked brow. “Other than interrupting my quiet time.”

The smile Kristian treated me to had my heartrate rocketing and I was helpless not to return it.

“I didn’t think you’d mind me being here. Correct me if I’m wrong, but I believe you said you enjoyed flirting with me.”

This time I knew I was definitely blushing, but I ignored it and lifted my chin. “And you said I’d have to wait until after the race.”

Kristian laughed. “I did, but I’ve been doing a lot of thinking since then. I’ll make you a deal.”

“I’m listening.”

“Be a good girl and bring me back a podium place, preferably pole position, and I’ll make it worth your while later.”

I could barely believe what I was hearing, but holy shit was I eager to please. I plastered my best cocky grin onto my face. “Done. I’ll be holding you to that promise.” I paused. “Now call me a good girl again, ‘cause it’s giving me major pussy flutters.”

Kristian chuckled but turned his attention back to his paperwork. His phone began to ring and I knew the moment was over, but god damn if my mind wasn’t running wild with fantasies. I always wanted to win my races, but this one? This one I needed to win.

The day had gone just as smoothly as ever, though it had been a whirlwind of interviews and engaging with fans. The driver’s parade – which was always a spectacle in Las Vegas – was complete, the pre–grid entertainment had been watched and the reconnaissance lap undertaken as well. The car was feeling great, and both Sophia and I were hopeful for success, though I feared I had much more riding on this race than my teammate thanks to the gauntlet Kristian had thrown down.

We’d finally had the announcement that there was thirty minutes until lights out, and that gave me just enough time for a quick bathroom break before heading to the grid for the American national anthem. I made my way back out beneath the lights, lining up beside my fellow drivers. Darren McCarthy from Red Bull grinned at me and I returned it, playfully giving him the finger, hoping the vulgar gesture wasn’t caught on camera anywhere.

“Hope you’re ready for the drive of your life, Rossi,” he muttered.

“Hope you’re ready to eat my dust, McCarthy,” I countered, smirking when he jostled his shoulder into mine.

Soon, the entertainer strode out to the roar of the crowd, and we all stood in silence as we listened to a beautiful rendition of ‘The Star–Spangled Banner’ . When it was over, the crowds went wild and the drivers split, each going their separate ways as they made their way back to the cars that were waiting for them and lined up in place on the grid.

A signal sounded overhead. There were ten minutes to go, and all non–personnel were requested to leave the grid. I barely noticed the television crews and celebrities leaving, my mind focused on one thing, and one thing only – winning.

“Good luck, Bianca,” Sophia called over to me from third place.

“Give ‘em hell, Harrington,” I replied, giving her a thumbs up before accepting my helmet from my minder and wiggling it on over my head.

“Mic check, mic check,” came the voice of the chief technical officer in my ear.

“Copy, Carlos,” I replied, holding out my hands as my minder pushed my gloves on and strapped them into place.

“Let’s have a nice, clean drive both. Don’t forget the track is narrow, so no undue risks taken please. Tyre temp is looking good, but the tarmac is cool out there, so take it easy.”

Another signal chimed. Three minutes to go. The mechanics flurried around the car, bolting the wheels into place. The tyre warming devices were still wrapped around the rubber, and they would stay there until the last moment. I climbed up into the car, squeezing down into the cockpit and doing my final run through of checks.

Another signal sent all the teams scarpering off the tarmac and back into the pit garages. I pressed the start button, a thrill shooting through me as the powerful engine roared to life all around me. One minute until lights out.

“Good luck this evening,” Kristian’s voice spoke in my ear, sending a shiver of an entirely different kind of excitement down my body. “Stick with plan A as discussed. We’ll leave you to it unless communication is required.”

“Copy,” I replied, pausing before adding: “See you in first place, as requested.”

“Here’s hoping,” Kristian chuckled.

There was one final signal, and moments later the green lights illuminated on the gantry. McCarthy eased his car forward, leading me and the pack of drivers at my back in our first formation lap. I weaved the car back and forth, desperate to build as much heat in the rubber as I possibly could. If I wanted to win this race, getting a good start off the line and past McCarthy was imperative.

It took less time than I’d realised before we were back at the grid. I slowed the car, coming to a stop in P2, eyes fixed on the gantry and hands gripping the steering wheel. Everything slowed down and my mind fell into a familiar hyperfocal state. I took deep, steady breaths, my heart leaping into my mouth as the set of five red lights began to light up above me.

Five, four, three, two… one! Lights out!

I got a great start, better than McCarthy. At turn one, I inched down the inside of him, holding my breath. Yes! I squeezed past him and into the lead. I was barely out of the first corner before I saw an alert flash up on my steering wheel.

“Virtual safety car. Absolute carnage behind. Debris on track.”

I gritted my teeth, forcing myself to slow as required and continued around the track. I was itching all over, desperate to return to the speed and exhilaration, but thankfully I didn’t have to wait long. A few minutes later, with the debris clear, I got my wish, and the green flag racing resumed.

Heading into the second lap, the DRS was enabled. I automatically checked for McCarthy, pleased to see him already out of range behind me and I charged ahead, eager to maintain my lead. I wasn’t hanging about, and by the end of the seventh lap, I was 1.8 seconds ahead.

“Stewards are reviewing that overtake at turn one. McCarthy is claiming you pushed him wide and should give the place back. Will keep you posted,” Kristian said in my ear.

I scowled. That was just like the Red Bull driver to be bitching and moaning, but it didn’t worry me. I was making great time and I’d be damned if I was losing this race and giving up whatever excitement had been promised to me by Kristian for later that night.

By lap nine, my radio gear crackled. “Not good news. You’ve been given a five second penalty for turn one. Push on.”

I snorted. “Yeah, sure, whatever. Send McCarthy my regards.”

At the start of lap ten, I was a whole 2.1 seconds ahead of McCarthy, but steadily the Red Bull driver began to catch me up. I was still on my medium compound tyres from the beginning of the race, and they were beginning to break down.

“Box, box. Box, box,” came the instruction and I dived into the pit lane, worn mediums replaced by fresh hard compound tyres. It was painful, but I obediently served my five second penalty, nervous to see where I would emerge in the pack once I was back out on the circuit. It felt like a lifetime, but soon I was on my way once more and rejoined the race in eleventh place. I narrowed my eyes and gritted my teeth. I could still do this, god damn it!

As other driver’s tyres began to wear down, more and more of my competitors began to split off and into the pit lane. By lap twenty–one, McCarthy was forced to give up the ghost and come in for a tyre swap. Sophia was now leading the Grand Prix, but she was due a pit stop herself, and I prayed she could hold on as I made overtake after overtake on my way back to the front of the field. I was in P7 now, up from P11, and still gaining as I made short work of the other drivers.

“Harrington has dropped back to P2 behind McCarthy.”

Damn it! I couldn’t get to her in time. I had to pray that luck was shining on me tonight in Vegas. As soon as the thought had entered my head, my steering wheel lit up once again. Another safety car?

“Safety car is being deployed, debris on track. Pit as soon as possible.”

Though it had only been a handful of laps on these tyres, I’d have been an idiot not to capitalise on a free pit stop under a safety car – a sentiment that was clearly held by the entire grid as car after car came flying into the pit lane for fresh tyres. We emerged back on track, but we’re unable to do more than play follow the leader as we coasted behind the safety car. It was good news for me. The field was bunched up nicely, and sat in fifth as I now was, I had McCarthy at the lead firmly in my sights. Sophia was still sitting in second place, but now she had fresh tyres. I had to hope my teammate would be able to duke it out at the head of the field with McCarthy – or at the very least keep him occupied whilst I fought my way to the front.

The safety car was retired, and we were back to racing. I immediately pushed on hard, pleased with the extra pace my new tyres provided.

“Harrington P1. P1.”

Good job, Sophia. Now hold him back and slow him down until I get there.

I screamed past Tanaka in the Ferrari to take fourth place and my on–board display informed me I’d set the fastest lap time on track. I grinned – oh, it was on!

“Keep up that pace, Rossi,” Carlos instructed. “You’re set to be caught up with McCarthy and Harrington in a lap or two. Push, push, push.”

“Received,” I replied, my voice tight with concentration as I threw my car around a corner.

During lap thirty–five, I heard the announcement I was dreading: “McCarthy retakes P1. Harrington P2.”

Damn it! I fought on harder still, desperate not to allow the Red Bull driver to put any more ground between us. I gritted my teeth, pushing my car to its very limits.

Sophia’s car loomed ahead, and I caught her with ease. My steering wheel flashed to inform me I was within DRS range, and I flew up the outside of her, screaming past to sit in P2 once again. The real fight was just beginning. I set my sights on the back of the Red Bull car ahead.

“Am I on pace to take McCarthy?” I asked.

“Absolutely. Push on and take him down,” Carlos replied.

I grinned. That’s what I liked to hear. My hands tightened around the steering wheel and my car eagerly ate up the distance between myself and McCarthy.

As we approached turn fourteen, with fifteen laps to go, I finally saw DRS activation flash up on my screen. I narrowed my eyes. This was it – time to take back what was rightfully mine and when I spotted a hole, I darted down the inside of McCarthy. As I passed him, I nailed the brakes and watched with glee as the Red Bull driver was denied the opportunity to fight back around the outside of the track. I’d done it! P1 was mine once again! Now I just had to hold onto it.

“Great job, Rossi!” Carlos shouted over the radio. “But you’re going to have to work hard to break the tow. Get McCarthy out of DRS range.”

“Copy,” I gasped, setting yet another fastest lap time. That was a good sign. I just had to keep pushing on.

“0.8 second lead from Red Bull.”

I focused on the track ahead. Come on… You can do this… The laps counted down as we all whizzed around the track at breakneck speed. As I crossed the line, with only ten laps to go, I finally broke away from McCarthy.

“1.6 second lead. Great job. Look after the tyres and hold it steady to the finish.”

I wasn’t about to ease up too much. I kept my eyes on the readings and kept pushing. I knew how quickly things could go wrong, and I wasn’t about to leave anything to chance. I needed this win. I needed Kristian.

“Five laps to go – lead extended to 3.8 seconds.”

Come on, come on, come on…

“Three laps to go – lead extended to 4.5 seconds. You’ve got this race effectively won.”

Yes! Almost there…

“Last lap! Finish this, Rossi!”

I made short work of the final lap, eating up the tarmac and held my breath as I screamed across the finish line in first place. I screeched with elation.

“Viva Las Vegas,” I sang down the radio as I brought the car to a halt, rolling into P1, my chest bursting with pride. I hurriedly unbuckled myself and leapt from the car into the arms of the McLaren crew as they crowded around to celebrate with me. I saw Sophia pull into P3 a short distance away and I ran to greet her, wrapping her up in a tight hug as the team jumped and screamed all around us.

“Well done!” I shouted. “Great job out there!”

“You too!” Sophia beamed. “What a race!”

We didn’t have long to relish our success. A car pulled up beside us to collect the top three drivers and taxi us over to the podium which was located right beside the fantastic Bellagio hotel fountains. Sophia, McCarthy and I all clambered into the back, and I allowed the Red Bull driver to wrap his arm around me, giving me a squeeze.

“Fuck, you’re one hell of an adversary, Rossi.” He grinned. “You absolutely demolished that race.”

I laughed. “ Don’t I always?”

“Well, yeah, but you were like a woman possessed. Winning Vegas sure meant a lot to you, huh?” he replied.

I felt my cheeks flush. “You could say that, yeah.”