Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 80321 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 402(@200wpm)___ 321(@250wpm)___ 268(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80321 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 402(@200wpm)___ 321(@250wpm)___ 268(@300wpm)
“That’s a shame,” I say with a sad shake of my head.
“And why’s that?” she asks, leaning into me as if we’re old friends having a deep conversation.
I smile, sympathetic. “Oh, Vivienne… you picked a terrible day for that. Today’s just practice—no excitement, no podiums, and you won’t even get to see him properly. The cars are in and out constantly. Plus, the forecast’s looking grim this afternoon—rain will have everyone diving for cover soon.”
She looks up, taking in the ever-present gray clouds. Chewing on her lip, she considers what I’ve just said. She makes a small sound of displeasure, eyes coming to me. “Really? Well, that does sound dreary. And I wouldn’t want my Birkin to get wet.”
“That would not be good,” I commiserate with her. “But maybe you can come back to qualifying tomorrow?”
I doubt Ronan wants her here, but it’s a tomorrow problem. Right now, I need her to leave before the media gets a hold of this and while she’s reasonably calm.
She considers, then nods once. “Yes… perhaps I’ll come back tomorrow.”
My time is precious before the next free practice, but I need to make sure she gets in her car. “I’ll walk you to the main gate. Can you ring your driver?”
“Good idea,” she says, pulling out her phone.
By the time we loop back toward the main gate, her tone is almost pleasant. I see her into her car, thank her for chatting, and wave as the driver pulls away.
I glance at my watch—fifteen minutes before I need to be back in our garage. The clock in my head starts ticking, and I pick up my pace, weaving through the crowd.
I stop short, heart skipping when I see Ronan waiting outside the Titans garage.
“You didn’t have to do that,” he says quietly, his gaze holding mine.
“I know.”
“I guess I should say I wish you didn’t have to do that.” His eyes drift over the paddock, then back to me, darker now. “She wasn’t drunk. She’s high. I know the signs.”
I nod, tucking that away for later—not the kind of thing you press on when you’re standing in the middle of garage alley. “Well… she’s on her way home.”
His face registers both gratitude and disbelief. “You’re something else, Accardi. I wish I could kiss you right now.”
A grin tugs at my mouth. “Save it for later. For now, just wish me luck.”
“Good luck,” he says, stepping aside like he’s letting me pass—but as I move, his hand catches mine. The contact is warm, unexpected, and I come to a halt.
“I mean it… good luck out there. You got this.”
The sincerity in his tone hits me low in my stomach. “Thank you,” I manage softly.
I pull my hand free, forcing myself to keep walking toward the Titans garage. But the echo of his grip follows me all the way back like a tether I don’t want to cut.
CHAPTER 23
Ronan
Dinner at Francesca’s flat is even better than the night before, and that’s no shade on her cooking, but her mum’s lasagna alla Bolognese is truly to die for. The only thing left on the table right now are the crumbs from her almond biscotti and empty espresso cups. My stomach is happy, if not a little overextended. I can see how eating meals prepared by these two women could be dangerous to the waistline.
I shouldn’t be this comfortable, leaning back in my chair and listening to her parents’ teasing banter over who snores the loudest, but somehow, I am. It’s a bit unnerving how easy it’s been with Luca and Giulia—two people I didn’t know forty-eight hours ago. But then again, from the start, even when she confronted me in that pub, Francesca had a way of getting me to step outside my comfort zone.
With animated hands, her father launches into a story—most likely to deflect from his snoring—about how Francesca and her brother once turned their sloped driveway into a “kart track,” complete with baking sheets for cars. I huff out a laugh, the mental picture too funny.
“Alessio still swears he won that race, eh?” Luca says with mock exasperation before shaking his head. “Shame he couldn’t be here tonight. But he’ll be here Sunday.” His attention shifts to me. “I think he’ll like you a lot.”
Francesca grins, nudging my knee under the table. “That’s saying something. My brother has very discerning tastes.”
I chuckle, shaking my head. “Sounds like someone I’ll need to be on my toes for.”
Giulia offers me a knowing smile. “He will grill you, Ronan. Over your affections for our Francesca. And he will not apologize for it.”
There’s no malice in her words, only truth. I manage a crooked half smile. “Then I suppose I’ll be ready.”
Funny how this shit used to scare me but now… it’s more like the adrenaline-fueled rush I get on the track. I better be careful, or I could start craving this connection.