“Act natural?” he suggests.
“Funny,” I say, “But seriously...”
“Seriously, it will be OK,” Harrison tells me, “Just say you...fell asleep in the gutter.”
“How is that even a remotely good idea?” I cry.
“Sorry. I’m not used to making excuses. Usually, I just do whatever the hell I want and let everyone else deal with it,” he says.
“You’re kidding,” I drawl, throwing on my clothes. “I’ll think of something along the way, I guess. Kidnapped by traffickers? Roofied?”
“And you thought my excuse was bad,” he says, getting dressed in a hurry.
“At least you can just say you had a one night stand somewhere,” I say, “My team would never believe me if I told them that.”
“And yet, here we are,” he says lightly.
I pause and look up at him, hurt despite myself. Is that how he’s thinking about all this? As a drawn out one night stand? Could my feelings for him really be as completely one-sided as all of that? No time to press the issue now. Harrison has a preliminary to run in an hour’s time, and I need to get back to my team as quickly as I possibly can. The whole “share your feelings” thing will have to wait.
We leave the tangle of bed sheets behind and slip out of our room. The hallways are quiet as we race through them, and thank god. Most of the teams and spectators will be staying at the bigger hotels closer to the course. Our fancy little love nest isn’t on anyone’s radar. We draw up before the elevator and pause.
“How should we do this?” I ask.
“You take the head start,” Harrison says.
“This is reaching a whole new level of sneakiness...” I say.
“Well, it’s either sneak around, get caught, or make some grand announcement,” Harrison says, “I know which option I prefer.”
“Fine,” I say, “I’ll go first.”
“Hey,” he says, taking my hand in his, “Are you alright?”
“Yeah,” I say, giving him a quick smile, “I guess...This is just a little more unconventional than what I’m used to.”
“If it makes you feel any better, I’m out of my element too,” Harrison tells me.
“Yeah?” I ask, leaning up against the wall, “How so?”
“Well usually, I’m something of a...”
“Hit it and quit it kind of guy?” I offer.
“Yes, exactly,” he says, planting a hand on the wall above my shoulder, “To be completely honest, I’m not used to feeling much for the women I spend time with. I’ve always been in love with my sport, after all. And every dalliance feels a little like cheating on that one big love...”
“Uh-huh,” I say, my heart beginning to sink.
“But with you...” Harrison goes on, looking at me intently, “It’s something else entirely. With every other woman, I’m a driver. But with you...I’m just a man.”
My heart slams against my ribcage. “So...you have feelings for me, then?” I ask.
“And then some, my dear,” he smiles.
“You better,” I say cheekily.
“Oh come on,” he says, “I’ve spoken my heart to you. Now it’s your turn.”
All I want to tell him is the truth. That I can feel myself falling more in love with him by the minute. That I’d happily risk everything, forsake the life I’ve always known, betray my family and my career, if it meant being by his side. But everlasting love is a pretty heavy thing to drop on a guy at ten in the morning. “I’m really very fond of you, Harrison,” I tell him, “Fonder than I’ve ever been of anyone before.”
“I’ll take that,” he smiles, bringing his lips to mine. I wonder if he can taste all the words of love I’ve swallowed.
The elevator slides open, and I hop inside. Flushed, I shoot him one last glance before the doors close between us. His gaze is locked on me, ardent as ever. I wish that we didn’t have to part ways, that we could arrive at the course together hand-in-hand. But even though Harrison’s a dream come true, that particular fantasy may just be too far-fetched, even for us. I lean back against the elevator wall with a sigh, and try like hell to think of an excuse that my family will actually buy.
Chapter Fifteen
Red Handed
When I finally arrive back at my own hotel, the entirety of Team Ferrelli has already departed for the course. Enzo has preliminaries to run, and they certainly don’t have time to wait around for their truant PR manager. Or at least, all but one of them don’t.
I spot Charlie the moment I step into the hotel lobby. He’s sitting hunched over a morning newspaper, cup of coffee clenched tightly in his hands. His eyes flick up toward me as I hurry across the foyer. To put it lightly, he doesn’t look thrilled to see me.
“You didn’t have to wait for me,” I say, drawing to a stop in front of him, “I could have found the course on my own.”
“As if your dad would let you go traipsing through Budapest on your own...if he could help it,” Charlie says archly.
“Well,” I sigh, “I’m back now. I’ll just run upstairs—”
“I’ll come with you,” he says, standing.
“That’s really OK,” I tell him, “I’ll just get changed, and—”
“Don’t bother trying to shake me, Siena,” Charlie says, his voice a quiet growl I’ve never heard from him before, “I’m already in hot water with your family for letting you sneak off last night. I’m not about to let you slip away again.”
“I think you’re taking this whole watch dog thing a bit far, Spano,” I say coolly, crossing my arms, “I’m not yours to guard, you know.”
“Of course you are,” he shoots back, “I’ve been looking out for you our entire lives. Why would I stop now?”
“Because we’re grown up, Charlie,” I say.
“Grown up? You?” he scoffs. “Getting wasted in night clubs, staying out all night with god knows who, flirting with whoever you like, regardless of what it might mean for the team? Yeah. Sounds real grown up to me, Siena.”
“And trailing me around like some lovesick puppy is so much more mature?” I shoot back, “You need to stop this, Charlie. It’s starting to border on pathetic.”
“Lovesick?” he asks, “You think that’s why I keep such a close eye on you?”
“Come on, Charlie,” I sigh, “It’s obvious. It’s been obvious since we were kids. I don’t want to have this conversation with you.”
“What conversation?” he asks, a bit too loudly for the quiet lobby.
“The whole ‘I love you like a brother, nothing more’ conversation,” I say, lowering my voice. “I honestly can’t believe I have to spell it out for you.”
“Christ, Siena,” he says, shaking his head, “You don’t get it, do you? This whole running around, acting like some wild party girl...thing is just a phase. Someday, you’ll see that I’ve always had your best interests at heart.”
“It’s not for you to decide what’s in my best interests, Charlie Spano,” I spit, “You’re not my boyfriend. You’re not my brother. And even if you were, it still wouldn’t give you the right to preach at me like you do. I’m the only one who gets a say in what’s best for me. And it’s time that all of you Ferrelli men realized that.”
“Why don’t we just go upstairs so you can get dressed,” Charlie says, ignoring me completely, “We’re late enough as it is.”
“You know what, Charlie?” I say, “You go ahead to the course. On your own.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. You can’t go on your own.”
“I’m not going at all,” I tell him, “I’m staying here.”
“You can’t.”
“Oh, can’t I?” I ask, “Just watch me. Suddenly, the idea of watching you all salivate over toy cars going around in circles all day just doesn’t appeal to me. You can tell my father I said as much, too.”
“What the hell has gotten into you lately, Siena?” Charlie asks, “Ever since this tournament began, you’ve been acting like a completely differen
t person.”
“Call it perspective,” I say, as Harrison’s bright blue eyes flash through my memory.
I turn on my heel and march away from Charlie. He calls out my name, pleading for me to come with him to the track. But for the first time, I don’t listen. I don’t care that he’s acting on orders from my dad and brother, I don’t care how far back we go. They don’t get the final say anymore, where my life is concerned. And it’s high time they figured that out.
The minutes crawl by as I wait for the preliminary events to wrap up. I can’t convince myself to sit at my laptop to look up news and work on PR research for Ferrelli. I’m too livid with Charlie and my dad to even think about diving back into my work for them and Enzo. After a quick shower and a change of clothes, I slip back out of my room. I know that the team will be arriving back at the hotel any moment, and I don’t want to be here when they do. Without a plan or even the most general knowledge of Budapest, I set off into the city once more.
My feet carry me through the bustling streets, crowded with F1 aficionados for the big Grand Prix weekend. The unfamiliar sounds of foreign languages weave and surge together, forming a sea of white noise that engulfs me. I make my way past gorgeous museums and breathtaking feats of architecture, past bridges that arch their backs across rivers and castles that stand tall and proud against the rest of the city.
Finally, I find myself walking alongside a vast, green park. The first slice of green I’ve seen since touching down. Though I’ve been raised in cities my whole life, I still feel a wash of calm come over me whenever I wander along a stretch of grass and trees. I slip off my well-worn flats and walk across the park, feeling the cool grass between my toes.
A moment of peace and quiet, at long last.
I settle down beneath an old, leafy tree, resting my back against the smooth bark. Forcing deep breaths down into my lungs, I finally find a moment to step back and look at the frenzied mess I’ve stumbled into. And from where I’m sitting, it doesn’t look good.
It would be one thing if I’d simply had a fling with Harrison that first night in Barcelona. I didn’t even know who he was at the time, none of us did. It was only by insane and tragic circumstance that he ended up at McClain’s star driver this year. I can’t help but dwell on a thousand “what if’s”. What if Naughton hadn’t crashed that day on the track? What if Harrison had remained shrouded by anonymity? What if he was just a little less talented, and Enzo didn’t feel threatened by him at all? How many “what if’s” would have to shift in our favor to give us the smallest fighting chance as a pair?
Somewhere along the way, Harrison and I crossed a point of no return. There’s no longer any way to stop this ride without someone getting hurt. We care too much about each other to call it quits, but if anyone finds out about us, all hell will break loose. My family will see our affair as a betrayal of the first order, Ferrelli and McClain fans will be outraged, Harrison will fall out of favor with his team for bringing a gossipy scandal down on them during his first ever tournament. Harrison and I being together is a disaster waiting to happen, that’s for sure. But I know, despite all logic and reason, that the real tragedy would be to run away from this thing just because I’m scared of the consequences. I’ve let this sport, this team, rule over me for my entire life. Something, someday, has got to give. And if I’m going to go down swinging for anyone, it’s Harrison Davies.
With a clear mind, I make my way out of the expansive park, through the bustling city, and back to Team Ferrelli’s hotel once more.
I make a beeline across the lobby and head up to my room. The mood in the halls and open doorways is jovial—everyone in the hotel is chattering about this weekend’s Grand Prix. Despite all my misgivings, I can’t help but feel their excitement infecting me. However messed up my current situation happens to be, these Grand Prix weekends are what I’ve always lived for. There’s so much excitement, so much potential for joy and despair riding on each and every race, it’s impossible to be indifferent.
When I draw up to my room, I find that the door is already cracked open. I take a deep breath, knowing full well that there’s going to be some kind of tribunal waiting for me on the other side. Just be strong, I urge myself, You can do this.
I push open the door, bracing myself for a torrent of outrage to come crashing down on my head. But as I step inside, there are no screaming voices, no angry red faces charging toward me. I feel deflated, the spike in my adrenaline squandered. I peer across the room and see that instead of an army, a lone solider has stopped by to visit. Enzo is sitting by the room’s big bay window, looking out over Budapest, toward the course that he tore around just hours ago. He doesn’t look up as I pad into the room, closing the door behind me.
“Go ahead,” I say, keeping my distance.
“Go ahead with what?” he asks, his voice even.
“You’re here to give me hell about missing the preliminary, right?” I ask, leaning back against the door, “Just get it over with.”
“It’s going to be a good race,” he says, “Good, challenging course. Probably the most interesting one of the tournament so far.”
“Where’s Dad?” I ask, “I thought for sure he’d be lying in wait for me.”
“He’s too angry to see you just yet,” Enzo says.
“So he sent you instead?” I ask.
“No one sent me,” my brother says, finally turning to face me.
I feel my heart clench painfully as I take in the look on his face. His dark brown eyes are filled with confusion and hurt, his mouth pulled into a straight, stern line. I haven’t seen that look for years. It’s the same one he gave me when, at age seven, I took his go cart out for a spin without permission and crunched its nose against a tree. Then again, when I got carried away at a high school house party and had to call him to drive me home because I was too drunk. It’s the look he gives me when he can’t understand my actions, when we can’t see eye-to-eye no matter how hard we try.
“What’s been going on with you lately, Siena?” he asks, truly at a loss.
“I...I don’t know what to tell you Enzo,” I say.
“You’ve always been at my side,” he goes on, “Every race, every qualifier, every single preliminary. You’re my good luck charm, you know that. We’ve always been a team. Our family has always stuck together. What’s changed in you, all of a sudden? Tell me. Please.”
Part of me wishes that I could just come clean with him. Not because I think he’d understand or forgive me, but because the burden of secrecy is just too heavy to keep on hauling around. If only there was some way to make Enzo think of Harrison as just a man, rather than his rival. But that’s not the way my brother thinks. For Enzo, there is no world outside of F1. It’s the only context his world has ever had. And no amount of pleading and reasoning on my part is going to change that any time soon.
“Enzo,” I begin, walking slowly toward him, “Listen to what you just said, would you? I’ve always been your good luck charm. By your side. On your team. I know you don’t see it this way, but my whole life has been defined by the fact that I’m your sister. Maybe I’m just feeling like...Like I want to live my life for me, for a change.”
“There’s no reason for you to be jealous, Siena,” Enzo says, taking hold of my hand and pulling me down to sit beside him.
“I’m not jealous, Enzo,” I sigh, “I’m so so damn tired. You work so hard for your success, and it pays off. You get glory, and attention, and pride. But the work I do? It just evaporates. It doesn’t amount to anything at all. Imagine putting your heart and soul into something every single day that never culminates in anything.”
“But the work you do helps me win,” Enzo insists, “Doesn’t that make you happy?”
“It makes me happy for you,” I tell him, “But aren’t I allowed to track down my own happiness too, Enzo?”
“I wish you’d spoken up sooner,” he says quietly, pulling me into a hug, “Have you always felt like this?”
“Oh...only my whole life,” I laugh, feeling a thick knot tighten in my throat.
I was expecting ire and outrage after missing the preliminary today, but instead Enzo’s here, being kind as hell. I don’t really know what to do with it, to be honest. We’ve never been a share-your-feelings kind of family, yet here we are—curled up the window seat together like the two little kids we were so many years ago. For the first time in quite a while, I feel like Enzo’s little sister, rather than his employee.
“Don’t cry, Siena,” he says, smoothing down my hair, “We’ll figure this all out, OK? We’re family, after all. There’s nothing you could ever do that would make me stay mad at you.”
I swallow a sob and bury my face in Enzo’s shoulder. Guilt is twisting at my heart, making it hard to breathe. As much as we may argue and disagree, Enzo’s my flesh and blood. I’ve known full well this whole time that my being with Harrison would absolutely kill him, and yet I continue on. I can’t break things off with Harrison, I can’t tell my family what’s going on, and I can’t bear to rip open my brother’s heart.
“I love you, Siena,” Enzo whispers, rocking me like a child, “I know I’m hell to get along with, and Dad’s even worse, but we only want the best for you. You’re our angel. Our little girl. No matter how grown up you get.”
“But what if you hate what’s best for me?” I ask, unable to meet his gaze.
“That would be absolute shit,” Enzo says, “But we’d work it out, Siena. I’m sure of it.”
If only you knew...I think, looking out across the city. Enzo plants a kiss on the top of my head and holds me until my tears subside. How can he make feel so much better and so much worse at the same time? That’s just family, I guess.
Chapter Sixteen
Consequences
The day of the Budapest qualifier gets off to a shaky start for me. My frayed nerves keep me up most of the night before, and by morning I’m an absolute mess. Harrison and I trade a few short texts, but it turns out we’re both on thin ice with our respective teams. Harrison may be a rule-breaker, but he still has to answer to Team McClain. They were just as upset with him for showing up late to the preliminary as Team Ferrelli was with me. McClain had arranged for Harrison to take his turn early in the morning, and we slept straight through it. He’s heading into this qualifier without having tried out the course—bad news for a new driver.
Faster Harder Page 14
