Page 9

Chapter nine

Bianca

The plane touched down in Budapest, and I’d never been so glad to see the end of a racing season. After the showdown between Frank and Kristian, the team principal had been tense and distracted. Though he did his best to shrug it off, I could tell the unknown future of his career was weighing heavily on him. I did my best to distract him, and often succeeded for a short time, but whenever we were at work, Kristian was followed by a dark cloud.

Davina’s article had caused quite the stir. Shortly after its publication, my phone and social media had blown up. The outpour of support had been amazing, from both fans and professionals within the racing circuit alike. Soon, similar stories of women being made to feel uncomfortable within Formula One began to surface and the press went for the jugular. There was a public outcry for change, and for the first time the FIA really sat up and took notice, promising a thorough investigation once the season was over. It was exciting and terrifying to suddenly find myself as the face of this campaign, and I often thought back to Maddie Michaels and her debut. How she had managed to survive under the scrutiny of everyone was a mystery, but I endeavoured to do my best and hold my chin high.

Kristian and I had never been better. When he wasn’t tense, thinking about work, we spent our evenings laughing, chatting and having some truly mind–blowing sex. I couldn’t quite grasp how it kept getting better, each time more intense than the last. I was obsessed with Kristian Wright, and I hoped he was feeling the same way for me.

Sophia and I left the airport and were bundled into the back of a car together, taken to the hotel. Kristian wasn’t with us this time, having gotten caught up in some mix up with one of the mechanic’s bags, but I knew I’d be seeing him later. Instead, Sophia and I did our best to relax ahead of a tough weekend of racing.

Everything rolled on, just as it always did, though I certainly had more press and fan attention off the back of the article. It was exciting to see the racetrack filled with women, waving banners and flags in support of the movement towards change and I made sure to sign as many autographs and pose for as many selfies as I was able.

Testing went well, both McLaren cars were on point and ready for action. They felt fast and nimble, and I was hopeful to see success here in Budapest. McLaren had all but won the constructor’s championship, provided there were no disasters, but neither me nor Sophia were in with a shot at the driver’s championship. It was disappointing that the unreliability of the car and mistakes of others out on track had scuppered my chances at bringing home the trophy, but such was the fickle nature of racing. You could be flying high, on top of the charts one moment, but you were only ever one or two poor performances away from falling to the bottom.

McCarthy at Red Bull was set to be the world driver’s champion this year and as much as I liked to rib my competitor mercilessly out on the track, he deserved it. McCarthy had driven spectacularly this season, and I was sure if his teammate’s car hadn’t been so unreliable, Red Bull would have been taking home both trophies. McLaren would have to up their game for next year if they wanted to be in with a chance of winning… Although, it occurred to me that depending on how things played out with Kristian, their success next year might not be any concern of mine.

The three qualifying races went well, and Sophia and I found ourselves in a McLaren 1–2 at the front of the grid. With my focus somewhat divided between everything that was going on regarding the article and my race, Sophia managed to pip me to the post. It was going to be a real challenge to get past her on this track, but I’d be on the lookout for any and every opportunity to do so. I wanted to win this one, to be able to hold my victory over Frank Matthews’ head and remind him of the calibre of driver he was at risk of losing if he continued to push back against me and Kristian. Change was coming, whether the old fart liked it or not and it was up to him if he wanted to support me or oppose me.

The race day began just like any other. The team and I were up at the crack of dawn, putting in any last–minute preparations and attending briefings regarding the race tactics for the day ahead. Though I was loath to be parted from Kristian, I knew the eyes of the press were set firmly upon him as well as myself. I accepted that it was for the best that we kept a professional distance from one another. Instead, I busied myself with interviews and meet and greets with the fans until it was time to begin preparation for the race.

After attending the drivers’ parade and with only forty minutes until lights out, the pit lane opened, and chaos ensued. The cars were prepped, and Sophia and I hopped in for our reconnaissance lap to check we had the right settings in each. It wasn’t unusual for even minor changes in the weather or track condition to adversely affect the car’s performance. Once we were happy with the setup, the cars were turned off and moved to their relevant position on the grid ready for the race to start. Sophia and I obliged interview requests from the press and gathered with the rest of the drivers to listen to the Hungarian national anthem.

I stood between Sophia and McCarthy, nudging the Red Bull driver playfully with my shoulder as we dispersed, returning to our cars. He simply grinned at me.

Sophia and I parted, each heading to our separate cars to get suited and booted ahead of the race beginning. We may have been teammates, but once we were out on track, we were rivals first and foremost. I wriggled my helmet on, nodding along as my race engineer reminded me of the smaller details that may have slipped my mind. My radio gear crackled in my ear.

“Mic check, Rossi. One, two.”

“Received.”

I clambered up onto the car, slipping down into the cockpit. It was like diving beneath the water. The race commotion was still going on all around me, but when I was here, crammed inside my race car, everything faded away. I was focussed on one thing, and one thing only – winning this last race for Kristian.

A signal sounded, alerting me to the time. One minute to go until lights out. I started up the engine, the car roaring to life and vibrating through my whole body. The rest of the team scattered, hastily retreating to the safety of the pits. I took a deep breath in through my nose and out through my mouth.

Here we go…

I waited for the green lights to be illuminated on the gantry, signalling the start of the formation lap. When Sophia inched away from me, I quickly followed suit, McCarthy falling in behind me with the rest of the field. We weaved back and forth, eager to warm the rubber in our tyres ahead of the race starting. The track in Budapest was often compared to a karting circuit with its lack of straights, and that was where I really shone. Finding a good rhythm was key to setting fast lap times, and overtaking Sophia was going to be a challenge, but I was primed and ready to fight for the opportunity.

In no time at all, we were back at the starting line and waiting for the race to begin. My hands tightened around the steering wheel. I fixed my sights on the back of Sophia’s car and clenched my jaw. My teammate didn’t know what was coming for her.

Five red lights illuminated one by one along the gantry and with a bleep… Five, four, three, two… One! The lights extinguished and I floored my accelerator, my car screaming off the line behind Sophia’s. It was three–wide into turn one as I edged alongside my teammate and McCarthy squeezed me tightly into the middle. Sophia held her nerve and so did I as McCarthy ran out of road and got pushed off the track. I watched, everything happening in slow motion as the Red Bull driver rejoined the race ahead of me.

“Hey! What the fuck?” I shouted into my mic. “He needs to give that place back!”

“The stewards are reviewing,” came the response from the pit wall. “Just keep your head down and focus on your own race for now.”

I gritted my teeth, pushing ahead, now sat in third place. This was not how this race was supposed to pan out. McCarthy held onto P2, and I waited anxiously to hear what conclusion the race stewards would come to. Thankfully, I wasn’t kept in the dark for long.

“Stewards have recommended that Red Bull let you pass and retake P2.”

“Received,” I replied, fighting on ahead and keeping my eyes fixed on McCarthy for signs that he was going to let me overtake him and get back to my rightful place. He eventually moved to the side, and I shot in front of him. I glanced at the instruments on my dashboard. Sophia was 2.3 seconds ahead, but McCarthy was only 0.8 seconds behind. Shit, I needed to get some space between us. I could practically feel the Red Bull driver breathing down my neck.

Just as I had been advised, I kept my head down and pushed hard, rejoicing as I gradually increased the gap between myself and McCarthy. By the seventh lap, he dropped out of DRS range and my attention turned back to hunting my teammate. Sophia looked comfortable out front with a decent 2.6 second lead, but I knew how quickly things could change in this sport.

“Next lap is the pit window for those who started on mediums,” Carlos’s voice said across the radio. “We’ll call you in as late as we can.”

“Okay, received.” I knew the plan. Our race was going just as we had expected (with the exception of that run in with McCarthy.) I knew I was being called in for a pit stop first before Sophia, but I itched to close our gap just a little more.

By lap sixteen, the message I’d been waiting for was relayed.

“Box, box. Box, box.”

I obediently dove into the pit lane, my worn medium tyres being switched out for a fresh set of hard compound ones. It was a great stop, and I managed to only drop one place, coming out behind McCarthy, third place once more – but this time I had the upper hand. With fresh tyres, my car ate up the tarmac and by the time we were heading into lap nineteen, I was within striking distance, just waiting for the opportunity to slide past the Red Bull driver.

Sophia was called into the pits ahead of me, but there was no chance that McCarthy or I would be getting out ahead of her. My teammate held onto her position at the lead, storming ahead on her own fresh hard tyres. Sophia was 3.2 seconds ahead now, putting in a quietly flawless performance so far. I had to keep fighting.

At half–race distance, McCarthy messed up a corner, going wide, and I capitalised upon his mistake immediately. I shot down the inside of him, retaking second place from him with ease. With the Red Bull driver out of my way, I pushed my car harder still and for the first time since the race began, I hit my groove. I was soaring around the track, setting the fastest lap time consistently and I didn’t have long to wait until Sophia was back within my sights.

It was just the two of us now. McCarthy’s mistake had cost him dearly, allowing both McLaren cars to pull clear. We headed into the thirty–third lap with a healthy 8 second buffer between us and the Red Bull driver in third place, and all I needed now was the go ahead from the pit wall to fight for P1 against my teammate… Yet the instruction never came.

I stuck to her like glue, just waiting for an opportunity. I had to admit Sophia’s driving was on point. Perhaps my tutelage had been a little too good over the last few months. Why wasn’t I being allowed to challenge her? What was going on?

Towards the end of a frustrating forty–fifth lap, a request came in over the radio, but it wasn’t the one I had been hoping for.

“Box, box.”

I obediently dove into the pit lane, accepting my new medium compound tyres. This was the strategy we had discussed at the briefing meeting this morning, but I still couldn’t understand why I was being held back from Sophia. It was another decent stop, and I rejoined the race without losing a position. Sophia would be pitting on the next lap too, perhaps with a fresh set of tyres on both cars I would finally be given a chance at winning this thing.

Sophia entered the pits, and I screamed past, taking the lead. It wasn’t how I liked to win a race, I much preferred to battle it out and gain my place fair and square but I wasn’t about to be complaining. Winning this race was too important. I surged ahead, eager to put as much distance between myself and Sophia as I could.

Carlos’s voice came in over the radio. “Re–establish the order at your convenience.”

“What?!” I spluttered. They wanted me to give the place back to Sophia? Why? I knew my teammate had driven impeccably today and a small part of me knew she deserved this win, but I couldn’t concede. Not now. I needed this win, not for myself, but for Kristian. I clenched my jaw and forged on ahead, pushing the car harder.

My lead extended further still until I was 4.2 seconds ahead of Sophia and gaining. There was no way she would catch me now unless I allowed her to.

“Rossi,” Carlos warned. “Come on. We know you’ll do the right thing. Stop stressing your tyres.”

I remained silent, refusing to acknowledge the team’s request. We were into the final ten laps and my lead sat at 5.7 seconds.

“You are using your tyres too much, Rossi, and so is Harrington trying to keep up with you,” Carlos muttered. “You’ve made your point. The way to win a championship is not by yourself. You are going to need Sophia and you’re going to need the team.”

Still I pushed on. There were only five laps left now. I could do this. I screamed over the line, sights focussed solely on my success, until my radio gear crackled in my ear.

“Bianca.” Kristian’s voice was in my ear. His tone was somehow familiar , and I shuddered. “Listen to me. You need to give the lead back to Sophia.”

“But—”

“Come on, be a good girl and do as I’ve asked.”

My face grew instantly hot. He was using his bedroom voice on me over the team radio! What was he thinking? The press and the fans could tune into this channel and given the drama I had started by refusing to give up my lead, it was a certainty that a lot of people were listening in right now.

I didn’t respond, but I took my foot off the accelerator along the main straight. The car slowed and I watched, feeling torn, as Sophia approached. Her car ate up the distance between us easily and she soared past me to retake first place.

“Thank you,” Kristian all but growled.

The last few laps of the race passed in a blur. Sophia crossed the line ahead of me, winning the Hungarian Grand Prix and I wasn’t sure how to feel about it, my thoughts well and truly fixed on the team principal.

We pulled the cars into the first and second place spaces and I took my time getting out of the cockpit. I watched the team running to Sophia’s car and my teammate hopped out, punching the air and celebrating. I heaved myself free, sheepishly accepting the congratulations from the mechanics that swarmed around me.

I tugged my helmet off, spotting Kristian beside Sophia. He was congratulating her, but his eyes were fixed on me and a shiver ripped through me. His gaze was so intense. What was he going to do? My thoughts immediately turned to Maddie Michaels and the end of her debut season in 2024. Her teammate, and at the time, secret lover, Nick Larson, had run to her during a moment just like this one. The world had watched as Larson had lifted Michaels into his arms and kissed her. It had become somewhat of an iconic moment within Formula One, and my heart pounded, wondering if I was about to receive my own with Kristian.

I held my breath, watching the team principal make his way over to me. He clapped me on the shoulder.

“Good job, Rossi.” He smiled. His words were mundane, but the heat behind his gaze was anything but.

“What were you thinking?” I hissed. “We are in so much trouble.”

Kristian simply shrugged. “Aren’t we already? I took a gamble on what the fans and press would want to hear… and I knew you wouldn’t refuse me if I asked in such a way.”

“You dick,” I laughed, flushing anew. “So, what now?”

“I guess we’ll find out, hm?”

“You mean you’re not going to emulate Nick Larson and sweep me off my feet?” I teased.

“Afraid not.” Kristian smirked. “That’s not really my style.”

“Shame,” I sighed. “I always wanted my own big television moment…” I felt an almost feral smile creep onto my face and Kristian faltered.

“Whatever you’re thinking about doing, don’t,” he warned.

“Forget a Maddie Michaels moment, let’s have a Bianca Rossi moment instead.”

“What are you—”

I darted forward, just as the television crews and journalists arrived. Before Kristian could stop me, I wrapped my arms around his body and tugged him close. My hands found their way to his arse, and I grabbed a vicious handful in each hand. The crowds in the grandstands went wild, the roars and cheers almost deafening. Cameras flashed all around us furiously, and I smiled brightly up at Kristian.

“For fuck’s sake,” he groaned before chuckling. “Are you trying to get me sacked?”

“Sacked? No. Into the sack? Maybe later,” I replied. “Let’s show Frank Matthews where he can stick his job.” I squeezed Kristian’s behind harder still, stomach fluttering when he laughed.

“You’re so much trouble, y’know that?”

“Yeah, maybe,” I replied with a smile. “But don’t forget I’m also your good girl.”

Kristian’s expression grew heated. “Yeah, you fucking are.”

The End