by Nell Stark
“I need to go to the Meridien to discuss business with Thalia d’Angelis. She’s a Formula One driver,” Alix added, perhaps unnecessarily.
“Yes, ma’am,” was all David said before trailing her out of the palace.
The breeze off the Mediterranean cooled her face as they walked, for which Alix was grateful. She tried to imagine the conversation she was about to have with Thalia. If she could predict it, she could solve it—like a mathematics equation. Alix knew she should be the one to speak first in order to keep the power firmly in her court, but she had no idea what to say. And after the impromptu lecture she’d delivered in Monza, might it not possibly be more daunting for Thalia if she presented a silent and impassive front?
That was when Alix realized she wanted Thalia off-kilter. She couldn’t talk to the version of Thalia who was always “on”—always plugged in, always fully charged. Despite her better judgment, Alix wanted to see below the layers of studied extroversion, beneath the devil-may-care aura she projected to the rest of the world.
As she walked into the opulent lobby, Alix considered presenting herself to the front desk with an alias. The past few weeks had revealed the extent to which Thalia’s private affairs were under scrutiny by the media, and the last thing Alix wanted was to become grist for the rumor mill. But then she realized that the name by which Thalia knew her was probably enough of an alias, even here in the heart of Monaco. And sure enough, the clerk didn’t so much as blink when she gave her name. Being the forgettable princess certainly had its perks.
By the time Alix stood before the door of Thalia’s suite, she was no closer to knowing what she should say. Perhaps this had been a mistake, and she should just turn around, leave the hotel, and feed Thalia some story about a sudden crisis—
The door opened. Thalia stood in the frame, barefoot and dressed in a tight black Petrol Macedonia shirt and matching sweatpants. The shirt clung to her sculpted arms and pulled across her breasts. Her dark hair curled around her shoulders, still visibly damp from what must have been a recent shower. As always, the magnitude of her physical beauty caught Alix off guard. But unlike the last time they had been in the same room, this time Thalia’s body language was uncertain and her expression uncharacteristically vulnerable.
“Hi.”
“Hello,” Alix said evenly, empowered by Thalia’s evident discomfort.
“Thanks for being here on such short notice. Come on in.”
The act of moving past her in the narrow space felt oddly intimate. She smelled of soap and a hint of jasmine, and the combination was pleasant. Needing some distance, Alix walked quickly through the small entryway and into the suite’s sitting room, where Thalia gestured to the wet bar. “Can I get you a drink?”
“Just some water, please,” she said, watching to see whether Thalia would follow suit or choose the liquor she enjoyed so much. But instead of going behind the bar, she reached into the refrigerator and brought out three water bottles, one of which she handed to David.
“I’ll need to do a quick sweep of your rooms, Ms. d’Angelis,” he said.
“Of course.” Thalia looked to Alix and gestured to a pair of sofas arranged before a coffee table. “Shall we sit?”
When she did, Thalia chose the other couch. She appeared to have abandoned the aggressive flirtatiousness of their last meeting, which was a relief. Why, then, did Alix also feel a twinge of disappointment? So much for being a robot. Computers couldn’t hold a “1” and “0” in the same memory space, but apparently, humans managed quite well with self-contradiction.
“So,” Thalia said into the silence. “How have you been?”
Flustered, Alix fell back on habit. “Fine. Busy. You?”
Thalia’s grin was more tired than wry. “Not so red hot.”
Alix felt like she had to apologize for being so callous. “I’m sorry. That was an instinctual response, not a real question. I know the last few races have been difficult.”
“And here I was hoping you hadn’t been watching.” Thalia rolled her as-yet-unopened water bottle between her palms.
Alix didn’t know what to say. Thalia had claimed that she wanted to apologize, but now it seemed she was more interested in girl talk. She might be sober and contrite at this particular moment, but all Alix had to do was think back to the scandalous photographs and videos that had set fire to the Internet, and her teeth were back on edge. Refusing to make this easy for her, Alix said nothing.
“Okay.” Thalia put the bottle down and leaned forward. “I invited you here to apologize for my behavior back in Italy. You were right about…well, about all of it. My conduct after the race was unsportsmanlike and unconscionable.”
Alix could tell she had rehearsed that little speech. “What’s changed?”
This time, Thalia didn’t have a ready answer. Her left leg jittered as she stared at the table, and when the awkward silence became prolonged, Alix started to wonder whether she had any answer at all.
“I’m not doing as well as I should be. A few people in my life have recently helped me understand that I’ve been making excuses instead of confronting my challenges. That despite the ups and downs of Formula One, I’m in charge of whether people take me seriously or not.” She finally looked up to meet Alix’s gaze. “But they’re not the first person to deliver that message. You were, and I refused to hear it.”
Alix held Thalia’s eyes. Her words sounded good. But was there any substance behind them? Then again, what did Thalia have to gain by dissembling? Alix wasn’t one of the people she needed to impress in order to return to the good graces of the FIA or the public.
“I accept your apology,” she said.
“Thank you.” Thalia nodded and finally looked away, out toward the Mediterranean.
Alix followed her line of sight, but instead of focusing on the dark expanse dotted with lights, she was caught by the elegant lines of Thalia’s profile. Regardless of how she felt about Thalia’s choices, she could never help being struck by her beauty. Even after weeks of separation—weeks in which Thalia had, by her own admission, behaved badly—her magnetism had not diminished. It was confusing and irritating and suffocating, and Alix wanted to leave. Immediately.
But just as she was about to rise and make her excuses, logic intervened. Why was she letting Thalia’s attractiveness get under her skin? Thalia had control over what she said and did, but not over her physical features. To resent her for being beautiful was beyond ridiculous. So what was the source of her resentment? Did it stem from feelings of jealousy?
No, that didn’t make any sense. Camille was beautiful too, and Alix wasn’t jealous of her anymore. She had accepted long ago that she was the relatively ugly duckling in her family. Searching for answers, she scanned the bland prints on the off-white walls without really seeing them. What was it, then? Did Thalia’s sexuality make her uncomfortable? When the question jangled brightly in her mind, she knew she couldn’t dismiss it. She had thought herself different from the rest of her family—more liberal and open-minded because of her intensive scientific and sociological training. The notion that she might still be bigoted, deep down, was disturbing. Could it be true?
Suddenly self-conscious, she leapt to fill the silence, lest Thalia perceive her internal struggle. What had they been discussing? Oh, yes—her apology. “What do you intend to do now?”
Thalia roused herself with a swift shake of her head. “Figure out how not to be volatile and self-destructive, I guess. Stop associating with the wrong people and going to the wrong parties…” She laughed, but without humor. “Change my entire lifestyle. Shouldn’t be too hard, right?”
Frantically, Alix grasped to approximate the tone she had used before realizing she was thrown off by Thalia’s sexuality. She had never given Thalia an inch, and if she began now, Thalia would know something was amiss.
“Now you’re treating me like a therapist,” was what she settled on. Good enough.
“You can bill me.” Thalia smiled wanly
. “As long as you help me find a new scene.”
“A new scene?” As their banter picked up speed, Alix began to relax. “I don’t have any kind of scene at all.”
“What if that’s exactly what I need?” At first, Alix thought Thalia was teasing her, but on second glance, she seemed entirely serious.
“Look,” Thalia continued, “maybe this will sound crazy, but I’m starting to think we can help each other.” Something in Alix’s expression must have betrayed her doubts, because Thalia cracked a self-deprecating smile. “I can tell what you’re thinking. You want to know what I can possibly offer you.”
“The question had crossed my mind.” There was no use in denying it.
“I can help with your charity. Help raise its profile.”
Alix was more intrigued than offended, but she wanted to make Thalia sweat a bit. “Excuse me?”
“I didn’t mean you’re not already high-profile,” Thalia said quickly, raising both hands in the air. “But I can reach a significant audience too—”
“When you’re not alienating them,” Alix said pointedly.
“Right, which is part of why we’re having this conversation.” Thalia leaned forward. “Really, though, think about it. We’d make a good team. We each have a unique kind of star power. And with the Ruffords backing your project, we’ll also have capital.”
Alix’s heart was slamming against her rib cage at the thought of having to spend more time with Thalia, but perhaps that was exactly what she needed in order to get over her discomfort.
“What exactly are you proposing?”
“I can publicly endorse your charity and help out with some fundraising opportunities.”
The mental image of Thalia doing a charity keg stand made Alix wince. She needed to be sure they were on the same page. “Help out in what way?”
“You know—autographs and signed paraphernalia, driving a high roller around in an old safety car—things like that.”
Alix exhaled in relief. “On one condition.”
“Name it.”
“You don’t publicly endorse Rising Sun until you’ve proven yourself. Right now, I can’t trust you not to be volatile.”
“Vola—” Thalia bit back her protest, and took a sip of water. Perhaps she really was capable of change. “Prove myself? How would that work?”
“I’ve arranged to visit a children’s hospital in Graz prior to the Austrian Grand Prix.” Alix watched Thalia’s face closely for any sign of distaste at the idea. “Come with me. If you can manage to behave yourself, then we have a deal.”
Thalia didn’t hesitate. Leaning over the coffee table, she extended her hand. “You’re on.”
Chapter Twelve
Thalia squared her shoulders and gave herself a silent lecture as she followed Alix into the Children’s University Hospital in Graz, Austria. She hated hospitals, but Alix had made these arrangements with her in mind, and so she was going to make the most of the day. Dr. Konig, one of the lead researchers, was there to greet them just inside the lobby. Thalia used almost every German word she knew in the course of saying, “Hello and thank you for having us,” while Alix launched into a conversation with him as though she had been born to it. English, French, and now German—that made three languages in which she was fluent. At least.
They walked through a series of corridors that had been brightly painted, presumably for the children. But there was no disguising the harsh, antiseptic scent that clung to the walls, and no hiding the faint beeping of heart monitors from behind closed doors. The children behind them had come here in hopes of some kind of salvation. As she obliquely caught sight of her reflection in a window, Thalia realized she had done the same.
Looking past herself, she focused on the distant, snow-capped peaks of the Alps. The closest major city to the Austrian Grand Prix, Graz was nestled in the shadow of the mountains but boasted a much milder climate. Thalia had been here twice before, but only to enjoy the nightlife after a long day of testing. By day, Graz boasted that appealing blend of Old World charm and twenty-first-century savvy typical of most major European cities.
The sound of Alix’s amusement drew her attention. She was laughing in response to something the doctor had said, and her fingertips briefly rested on his forearm. Thalia was abruptly overcome by a wave of jealousy and anger strong enough to make her flash back to Monza. She clenched her left hand, forcing her nails to bite into the meat of her palm.
No. She was not going to lose control—not here, not now. Her jealousy was unfounded. She and Alix were…what were they, exactly? Friends? They had clashed too much for that term to seem right, but they had shared too much to be acquaintances. Business partners? Not really—not yet. There was something happening between them, but it appeared to defy any term Thalia could think of. But did Alix feel the same way? Did she sense the subtle shifts in energy, like eddying magnetic currents, when they were in the same room?
Maybe she didn’t. Maybe she was completely straight and flirting with Dr. Konig. He was decent looking, she supposed—not that Alix would pay any attention to purely physical attributes. She cared about what was going on in someone’s head, not whether they had a pretty face. So much more the pity for the girl with the pretty face, Thalia thought wryly.
“I’m sorry,” Alix said as they paused before a bank of elevators. “Here we’ve been chattering away in German. Dr. Konig has been telling me about the hospital’s newest advancements in the treatment of juvenile diabetes.”
Thalia wanted to ask what was so humorous about that topic but managed to restrain herself. “That sounds very interesting,” she said instead. “Will we be seeing some of those patients today?”
“No, today we’ll be in the pediatric oncology ward.” He favored her with a quick smile. “We have several Formula One fans in that group who are eager to meet you.”
Thalia’s steps faltered. Ever since Alix’s lecture about being a role model, she had avoided interacting with children. The last thing she wanted was to be a disappointment to someone battling cancer. And then she caught herself. Was she seriously having qualms about bringing a small ray of joy to a sick child? How selfish was that?
Suddenly filled with self-disgust, Thalia lectured herself silently all the way to the ward entrance, where a nurse greeted them and asked whether they were ill or had been in proximity to anyone with flu-like symptoms over the past forty-eight hours. Alix had already asked her the same question, so that was easy enough to answer. The nurse then explained how the visit would work—there were twenty-four beds in this particular ward and they would stop briefly at each.
“Doing okay?” Alix murmured as the doors swung open.
“Absolutely,” Thalia said with more confidence than she felt.
The first child they visited looked so small and fragile in the hospital bed, ringed as it was by all kinds of monitors and devices. But when they entered, he sat up eagerly, introduced himself as Franz, told them he had just turned ten, and proceeded to talk their ears off—in English—for the next five minutes. Franz liked football better than motorsport but had an older brother who raced dirt bikes. He was confused by Alix’s lack of a crown, but seemed to accept her explanation, delivered with a perfectly straight face, that it was too heavy to wear for long periods of time. Thalia tried not to laugh as he continued talking a mile a minute, until the nurse gently interrupted him with the news that his guests had to move along.
As they progressed through the ward, Thalia watched Alix interact with the patients. She seemed to feel none of Thalia’s unease, and Thalia wondered whether that had to do with her personality, her medical training, or her experience as an older sibling. Regardless, the self-consciousness Thalia had sensed from Alix on so many occasions was completely absent here. Each time she pulled up one of the uncomfortable chairs to a new child’s bedside, she made him or her feel like the only person in the room. When they spoke little or no English, she served as a translator. She made every single one of them
laugh—even the little boy who had been in tears when they entered.
By the time their visit was winding down, Thalia had learned from Alix how to look past the illness to see the child beneath. They were people, not patients. It would be a great injustice to define them by their symptoms. So when they entered the last room to find a teenage girl who was practicing walking on a prosthetic leg, Thalia thought of the times she had been temporarily sidelined from driving by an injury—how she had hated seeing pitying looks and hearing sympathetic platitudes. The girl, who had turned at their entry, was now making slow progress toward them. When Alix started to move forward to save her the trouble of crossing the room, Thalia reached out and grasped her wrist to hold her back.
“Trust me,” she said softly before releasing her.
Alix greeted the girl in German, and she replied in a deferential tone, introducing herself as Lena. That much, Thalia could understand. But when Alix introduced her, Lena’s eyes went wide and her color rose.
“You are my favorite athlete!” she blurted out in charmingly accented English that Thalia was certain sounded better than anything she might say in any other language.
And then the meaning of the words hit her. She was Lena’s favorite athlete. Lena probably watched Grands Prix from this hospital bed and cheered her on every time. Lena probably looked out the window toward the mountains and wished she could be in motion under her own power, instead of confined to her bed as her body coped with the loss of a limb. Would she have access to a running “blade,” as Thalia had seen other amputees use? Was that kind of thing even covered by health insurance?
Lena halted in front of them, bowed formally to Alix, and then held out her hand to Thalia. Thalia stepped forward and embraced her instead. She was so petite, so thin, but not fragile. Strong. She clung to Thalia’s shoulders for one brief, vulnerable moment before pulling away.
“It’s an honor to meet you,” she said.
“The honor’s all mine.” Thalia decided to take a gamble. “Mind if we sit?” If they took a seat, Lena might feel more comfortable about resting in their presence.
