Falling off the cliff, p.13
FALLING OFF THE CLIFF, page 13
When Thiago didn’t reply as he pretended to read the menu, Kamari lifted her chin. She could feel her heart batter as he was giving her full permission to build their story from her imagination.
Kamari hated comparing whatever this was with Thiago to her ancient relationship, but she couldn’t help but notice it; James always talked for her, barely gave her time or space to express herself.
“About a year ago,” she admitted.
Leo flickered his gaze to Thiago. “And you’ve been dating for…”
She lifted her shoulders in a shrug, all nonchalance and indifference. “A few months or something, but who’s counting?”
Hurt and betrayal flashed across Leo’s features. Finding the athlete’s gaze, he frowned. “How come you’ve never introduced her? Does she know about all the girls you’ve been pictured with during those months of unconditional love?”
For a moment, for a heartbeat too long, she lost control of her emotions. Fury and pain came spiralling through her mind in a whirlwind, threatening to spread throughout her body to put every particle of her being through that affliction she knew all too well. The accidental nudge of Thiago’s thigh against hers forced her to come back to reality, and she had never been more grateful for his unsolicited presence.
Looking over to her right, she saw the subtle clench of Thiago’s jaw, the discreet thrum of his fingers atop his thigh. Perhaps they should have talked their scheme through before entering the lion’s den.
“I’ve seen the photos,” Kamari explained quietly. “Though there were never allegations of cheating.”
Thiago found her gaze. Searched her face. Dipped his chin in gratitude. “I’d never cheat on you, you know that.”
“I know.” She patted his leg, then instantly retreated her hand before she could feel the firmness of his muscles. “Besides, Leo, I was at most of those parties.”
“Were you?” he asked, suspiciously.
“She was,” Thiago confirmed. “But Kam is a very busy woman. She owns a café in London and is planning on opening another one soon. She’s also a private person, and I’ve always respected her choice of not wanting to attend races.”
“But I’m your agent,” Leo retorted, voice thick with emotion. “You could’ve told me.”
Kamari was quick to jump in. “I’m here now, aren’t I? Look, I’m not going to apologise for wanting to keep my relationship with Thiago a secret. Dating a celebrity can be overwhelming for a simple person like me. Let’s not fret about the past and just enjoy tonight’s dinner, yes?”
Leo couldn’t manage to answer verbally. He simply nodded and eyed the couple, warily. Kamari knew that flicker of resentment in his eyes, and she knew he wasn’t fond of her. Or maybe he was simply apprehensive.
The moment Thiago’s hand cradled the back of her neck, she stilled. “Is this okay with you?” he whispered.
Thankfully, Leo was now busy reading the menu, though she was sure he was observing the couple from the corner of his eye. The athlete ran his thumb between her shoulder blades, able to feel how tense her body was. She was supposed to be hating the feeling of his hands on her, to not enjoy the way he managed to coax her through the wave of anger and turmoil. Still, she didn’t move and let him caress her flesh for a few heartbeats too long.
She needed to say no, though she replied, softly, “Yes.”
Because she thought she was almost enjoying the sensation of his skin on hers.
She peered at him, and he was busy looking elsewhere—at the sky. She nearly found herself enthralled by the gleam in his eyes when it lit up the moment he found what he was looking for. Almost let her gaze linger on every inch of his face.
Finally, Thiago leaned towards her ear and whispered something only she could hear. “Thank you. I owe you.”
Kamari shook her head as if saying, “Don’t worry about it.”
When a waiter passed by their table, Thiago called the young man over. “Can my girl get a glass of white, please?”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
📍SPA-FRANCORCHAMPS, BELGIUM
Subtle notes of sage and green tea embraced him in a cocoon of pure solace, tethering him to that invisible bubble that procured an intense sense of serenity.
The feeling was foreign, though Thiago didn’t want to wake up. It took a few heartbeats to comprehend he wasn’t stuck in a dream but collapsing into a reality that felt as heavenly as this moment, soul-shattering in an oddly good way.
Body and mind in perfect synchronisation, Thiago awoke slowly. He could feel a warm body pressed against his front as his arm was wrapped around the person’s waist. Feeling the steady rise and fall of their chest, he allowed his breathing to match the soft rhythm of the other person’s inhales and exhales.
Slowly opening his eyes, he watched the early morning sun’s rays slip through the curtains, a soft yet bright white light lurking upon the walls of a room he’d never seen before. He didn’t want to move. Wanted to stay there, with his arm wrapped around—
His heart nearly made a full stop when he realised where he was. Who he was with.
The haze of fatigue instantly dissipated, awareness replacing the clouds of euphoria in his head. He stilled. Ceased to breathe. Blinked and faced a mop of dark brown curls.
Kamari Monroe was in his arms.
He had been snuggling with Kamari Monroe.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
Did anything happen last night? No, certainly not. That woman would’ve not wanted his hands on her body.
He inhaled calmness. Exhaled anxiety. Fearing to wake Kamari up, he didn’t move his arm away. Barely breathed, scared that his warm puffs of breath would disturb her peaceful sleep. His heart, though, started beating erratically, and he knew she would be able to feel his distress pounding against her back. After all, he wasn’t wearing anything. Only the flimsy piece of clothing sticking to her torso separated them and, if she wanted, she could simply turn around, take hold of his heart and crush it into dust.
Repressing a small grunt, he let the souvenirs of last night’s events flood his mind. Leo had asked questions, though he looked proud of Thiago for finally settling for someone. Still, Thiago knew his agent wasn’t wholly convinced by their act. He’d stayed by Kamari’s side all evening long, occasionally talking to her but mostly listening to her talk to the people around them. He remembered thinking, “God, she’s mesmerising. Is this just an act or is this really who she is?” He recalled touching, caressing her back and shoulders, sometimes grabbing her hand before she kicked his foot to let go. He recalled her stiffening beneath his touch a moment before relaxing when she understood that his strokes were nothing but genuine tenderness.
He remembered hating and loving the skin-on-skin contact. Remembered how she allowed him to have a certain power over her when it was evident she loathed every moment of it. Remembered it all: how natural and easy it felt despite their lack of communication.
Perhaps his initial plan of putting distance between them would never work. He wasn’t certain he could hate her, even if he tried.
They had gone back to their room after dinner, and Kamari hadn’t said a word to him as she went to hide in the bathroom to get ready for the night. He’d been busy scrolling through his phone when she emerged in the room, not particularly paying attention to the woman who would be sharing the bed with him. With the use of spare pillows, she had built a wall between them and told him to stay on his side. He had laughed, and she had scowled. Regardless, he had made no move to disrespect her and made sure not to lay a finger on her for the remainder of the night.
Before he’d been able to make small talk with her, exhaustion had overpowered him and pushed him to plummet into a deep, dreamless sleep.
So, where had the wall of pillows gone? How had they managed to end up in each other’s arms?
All of this was so bizarre to him—he never cuddled. Never allowed his one-night stands to stay over. But this had been, without a shadow of a doubt, the best night of sleep he’d gotten in a while.
“Valencia?”
The sound of Kamari’s harsh whisper made his heart stop beating once again. He swallowed, stiffened. He could feel how her body had gone rigid against his.
“Morning, sunshine,” he rasped in the crook of her neck. He was taking risks—he was aware but basking in her scent had never felt so relaxing.
A beat passed. He understood she was trying to remain calm, cool, and collected. “Why is your arm around me?”
Her smoky voice was laced with sleep, hoarse on its edges, making it all even more enticing to him.
“Maybe because you came crawling into my arms,” he teased.
Silence. “Did we…”
“No,” he was quick to say. “But we could.”
“You have exactly two seconds to move away before I kick you.”
He chuckled. “So violent.”
“Seriously, Valencia. Get away from me.”
“Why aren’t you moving? Seems to me you enjoy being in my arms.” Annoying her had become his favourite hobby. He pulled himself even closer, tightening his hold over her frame. “Come on, Kam. Isn’t this nice?”
“It’s not,” she bit out, still not moving.
“But friends cuddle,” he whined. He enjoyed her warmth, the soft press of the fabric of her nightgown beneath his hand, the way she fitted in the palm of his hand as though she had been made for him.
“We’re not friends, Thiago.” Grabbing his wrist to push him away, she stilled. “Is that your dick pressed to my bum?”
A loud laugh escaped his mouth and, finally, he loosened his hold to roll onto his back. Running a hand over his flushed face, he couldn’t contain the chuckles erupting from the back of his throat. He then draped his forearm over his eyes to shield his vision from the sun’s rays, the ball of anger Kamari was, and the reality of it all. “Sorry, love, but morning woods are just a natural thing for us men.”
He felt the bed shift as she crawled away, taking the warmth of her body with her along the way. “Keep your dick away from me. In fact, just stay away from me. I told you not to touch me in private.”
“For fuck’s sake,” he grumbled. “Maybe you’re so touch-deprived that you came onto me. Stop putting the blame on me when it’s obvious you like me.”
“Keep dreaming,” she muttered.
The moment she threw a pillow on his stomach, he laughed again. “So violent.”
Finally, his eyes landed on her. Back turned to him, Kamari was busy pulling her untamed curls into a rapid chignon. He couldn’t help but saunter his gaze over her physique—how could he not when she was sitting there, looking like that? Sighing heavily, she pushed herself off the bed, carefully sliding her feet into her slippers.
“Nice legs,” he told her.
She locked her gaze with his, yet this time genuine annoyance gleamed along the edges of her irises. Flickering her perusal over his exposed torso, she held control over her emotions by not showing how much this situation was truly affecting her. The duvet was covering him from the waist down, and the intensity of her scrutiny set him ablaze. There was an undeniable flash of exhilarating heat expanding her pupils, an unfathomable vehemence in her reaction that made him want to catch her wrist and pull her towards him.
“I detest you.”
He grinned. His voice had turned hoarse, husky. “I know.”
“I’m using the bathroom first.”
It was at this exact moment that he knew this plan would be impossible to execute. Staying professional with Kamari would be as complicated as redeeming himself.
“Are you sure you don’t want to eat anything?”
The faint melody of a Queen song was resonating softly in the background whilst the late August, summer breeze caressed the outline of his jaw. Drumming his fingers to the rhythm of the music on the steering wheel, Thiago glanced at Kamari who was sitting in the passenger’s seat. With his elbow resting atop the panel of the car, he passed his fingers through his hair whilst waiting for her green eyes to collide with his.
“I’m sure,” she replied steadfastly, putting her sunglasses atop her head.
The roar of his Ferrari Roma echoed loudly when he pressed the throttle. Thiago wasn’t paying attention to the fans walking along the road towards the circuit of Spa-Francorchamps, snapping pictures of his car. His attention was solely on Kamari who had been oddly quiet since the moment they had woken up. A small squeal of surprise fled past her lips when he accelerated once more.
“You only had a coffee,” he stated quietly.
Her brows slightly rose in surprise. “You noticed?”
Yes, he had spent the majority of breakfast ignoring Kamari and had only spoken to his two best friends. And, yes, he hadn’t so much as spared a glance her way, but nothing this woman did went unnoticed by him. “I’m very observant.”
“I’m not usually hungry this early in the morning,” she explained.
He smiled softly. “Well, we have great catering service in the motorhome. Feel free to ask for anything if you want to eat at some point during the day.”
Kamari nodded before turning her attention towards the screen. Her dark hair fell over her face like a curtain, and she tucked a strand behind a pierced ear. No matter how hard he tried to focus, he couldn’t keep his wild eyes on the road—not when she was there to distract him.
Thankfully, the journey from the hotel to the circuit was thoroughly short. It was only protocol for the drivers to arrive at the track in their cars.
“Is this your car?” She ran an idle finger over the yellow logo on her seatbelt.
“No, though I have a Ferrari in Monaco.”
He couldn’t see it, but he knew she was rolling her eyes. “Of course, you do.”
He glanced her way. “Primavera and Ferrari are partners. Every country we go to for races, they lend a car to Rowan and me to use over the weekend.”
“That’s cool.”
He shrugged and smirked smugly. “Being an F1 driver has its perks.”
Passing through security with fans lined up behind barriers, Thiago waved his hand through the open window. Cheers erupted, blending with overjoyed screams.
“This is insane,” Kamari mumbled, pulling her sunglasses back to the bridge of her nose.
“I know.”
He lifted a hand to thank a security guard before pulling into the private parking lot. Turning the engine off, he unbuckled his seatbelt and turned to face Kamari. She mirrored his actions, and for some odd reason, their surroundings seemed to blur for a moment. Photographers and reporters were waiting around his car for them to come out, but Thiago had no intention of putting an end to this moment.
“Are you nervous?” he asked.
She scoffed. “No.”
“It’s okay if you are,” he assured softly.
Digging into her purse, she retrieved a small tube of gloss. “Are you?”
“Obviously.” Loosening a breath, he watched her apply her makeup expertly. He was hypnotised by the fullness of her lips. By the way she tried, albeit unintentionally, to lure him closer and closer, like a siren with lethal intentions. “I can’t fuck up anymore.”
A small line drew itself between her brows. All he wanted was to make her sunglasses disappear because he needed to see forest green. Needed to get lost yet feel grounded at the same time. “Look, Thiago. I think you love racing, and I think you have it in you to win. But you’re going to need to do more than say empty words to reach your goals. Actions matter. Results matter. I’ve no clue what your agent, team principal, or media have been saying about you and me, and quite frankly I don’t want to know, but I hope you’re not solely relying on me to clean your reputation.”
She was right. He wasn’t sure if he enjoyed that; that sense of realisation, the uncertainty of it all despite thinking he had a firm grip over his future.
“You’re a pawn in my game,” he murmured fiercely. He watched her chest rise then fall when she realised his timbre had dropped to a lower octave. “And a king doesn’t win without his queen.”
When her lips curled into the smallest smile, Thiago felt a wave of relief wash over him. The rare moment crumbled to dust when she let a soft scoff fly past her lips. “Evermore the poet, Thiago Valencia.”
He grinned, wondering if her gaze had dropped to his dimples behind her dark glasses. “You haven’t heard any of it yet.” Ever so carefully, ever so slowly, he lifted a hand up, delicately cupping her jaw. The pad of his thumb ran over the corner of her lips, where he collected the barely noticeable stain of gloss on her skin. When he heard her breath hitch, he realised that he, too, had stopped breathing. “I’m going to be on that podium, Kam. I’m going to win.”
She placed her hand on top of his and, for a fragment of a second, he thought she was ready to lean into his touch. Instead, she pulled his hand away, though she applied a minuscule pressure around his fingers; a touch of encouragement, a touch of reassurance.
“Do it for you, Thiago. Not for anyone else.”
The rush of adrenaline was incomparable, irreplaceable, unique.
His staggered breaths could be heard, his heart thundering so wildly that it was nearly foreign to be living through this sensation of raw, unrestrained thrill.
“Full push,” Luke said through the radio. “Two laps left. You’re currently P2. I repeat, P2.”
Second place.
Finally.
After an exhausting race in the rare heat of Belgium, with a strategy that had required countless minutes of negotiations, an outstanding performance from his mechanics who had managed to make his pit stops impressively rapid—under two seconds and a half—Thiago would finally stand on the podium.
“Where’s Rowan?” Thiago asked his engineer as he decreased his pace in Stavelot’s corner.
“P3.”
So that would make a double podium for Primavera Racing.
“Come on, man,” Luke said. In the background, Thiago could hear cheers of encouragement, he could feel the anticipation through his engineer’s voice.
Kamari hated comparing whatever this was with Thiago to her ancient relationship, but she couldn’t help but notice it; James always talked for her, barely gave her time or space to express herself.
“About a year ago,” she admitted.
Leo flickered his gaze to Thiago. “And you’ve been dating for…”
She lifted her shoulders in a shrug, all nonchalance and indifference. “A few months or something, but who’s counting?”
Hurt and betrayal flashed across Leo’s features. Finding the athlete’s gaze, he frowned. “How come you’ve never introduced her? Does she know about all the girls you’ve been pictured with during those months of unconditional love?”
For a moment, for a heartbeat too long, she lost control of her emotions. Fury and pain came spiralling through her mind in a whirlwind, threatening to spread throughout her body to put every particle of her being through that affliction she knew all too well. The accidental nudge of Thiago’s thigh against hers forced her to come back to reality, and she had never been more grateful for his unsolicited presence.
Looking over to her right, she saw the subtle clench of Thiago’s jaw, the discreet thrum of his fingers atop his thigh. Perhaps they should have talked their scheme through before entering the lion’s den.
“I’ve seen the photos,” Kamari explained quietly. “Though there were never allegations of cheating.”
Thiago found her gaze. Searched her face. Dipped his chin in gratitude. “I’d never cheat on you, you know that.”
“I know.” She patted his leg, then instantly retreated her hand before she could feel the firmness of his muscles. “Besides, Leo, I was at most of those parties.”
“Were you?” he asked, suspiciously.
“She was,” Thiago confirmed. “But Kam is a very busy woman. She owns a café in London and is planning on opening another one soon. She’s also a private person, and I’ve always respected her choice of not wanting to attend races.”
“But I’m your agent,” Leo retorted, voice thick with emotion. “You could’ve told me.”
Kamari was quick to jump in. “I’m here now, aren’t I? Look, I’m not going to apologise for wanting to keep my relationship with Thiago a secret. Dating a celebrity can be overwhelming for a simple person like me. Let’s not fret about the past and just enjoy tonight’s dinner, yes?”
Leo couldn’t manage to answer verbally. He simply nodded and eyed the couple, warily. Kamari knew that flicker of resentment in his eyes, and she knew he wasn’t fond of her. Or maybe he was simply apprehensive.
The moment Thiago’s hand cradled the back of her neck, she stilled. “Is this okay with you?” he whispered.
Thankfully, Leo was now busy reading the menu, though she was sure he was observing the couple from the corner of his eye. The athlete ran his thumb between her shoulder blades, able to feel how tense her body was. She was supposed to be hating the feeling of his hands on her, to not enjoy the way he managed to coax her through the wave of anger and turmoil. Still, she didn’t move and let him caress her flesh for a few heartbeats too long.
She needed to say no, though she replied, softly, “Yes.”
Because she thought she was almost enjoying the sensation of his skin on hers.
She peered at him, and he was busy looking elsewhere—at the sky. She nearly found herself enthralled by the gleam in his eyes when it lit up the moment he found what he was looking for. Almost let her gaze linger on every inch of his face.
Finally, Thiago leaned towards her ear and whispered something only she could hear. “Thank you. I owe you.”
Kamari shook her head as if saying, “Don’t worry about it.”
When a waiter passed by their table, Thiago called the young man over. “Can my girl get a glass of white, please?”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
📍SPA-FRANCORCHAMPS, BELGIUM
Subtle notes of sage and green tea embraced him in a cocoon of pure solace, tethering him to that invisible bubble that procured an intense sense of serenity.
The feeling was foreign, though Thiago didn’t want to wake up. It took a few heartbeats to comprehend he wasn’t stuck in a dream but collapsing into a reality that felt as heavenly as this moment, soul-shattering in an oddly good way.
Body and mind in perfect synchronisation, Thiago awoke slowly. He could feel a warm body pressed against his front as his arm was wrapped around the person’s waist. Feeling the steady rise and fall of their chest, he allowed his breathing to match the soft rhythm of the other person’s inhales and exhales.
Slowly opening his eyes, he watched the early morning sun’s rays slip through the curtains, a soft yet bright white light lurking upon the walls of a room he’d never seen before. He didn’t want to move. Wanted to stay there, with his arm wrapped around—
His heart nearly made a full stop when he realised where he was. Who he was with.
The haze of fatigue instantly dissipated, awareness replacing the clouds of euphoria in his head. He stilled. Ceased to breathe. Blinked and faced a mop of dark brown curls.
Kamari Monroe was in his arms.
He had been snuggling with Kamari Monroe.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
Did anything happen last night? No, certainly not. That woman would’ve not wanted his hands on her body.
He inhaled calmness. Exhaled anxiety. Fearing to wake Kamari up, he didn’t move his arm away. Barely breathed, scared that his warm puffs of breath would disturb her peaceful sleep. His heart, though, started beating erratically, and he knew she would be able to feel his distress pounding against her back. After all, he wasn’t wearing anything. Only the flimsy piece of clothing sticking to her torso separated them and, if she wanted, she could simply turn around, take hold of his heart and crush it into dust.
Repressing a small grunt, he let the souvenirs of last night’s events flood his mind. Leo had asked questions, though he looked proud of Thiago for finally settling for someone. Still, Thiago knew his agent wasn’t wholly convinced by their act. He’d stayed by Kamari’s side all evening long, occasionally talking to her but mostly listening to her talk to the people around them. He remembered thinking, “God, she’s mesmerising. Is this just an act or is this really who she is?” He recalled touching, caressing her back and shoulders, sometimes grabbing her hand before she kicked his foot to let go. He recalled her stiffening beneath his touch a moment before relaxing when she understood that his strokes were nothing but genuine tenderness.
He remembered hating and loving the skin-on-skin contact. Remembered how she allowed him to have a certain power over her when it was evident she loathed every moment of it. Remembered it all: how natural and easy it felt despite their lack of communication.
Perhaps his initial plan of putting distance between them would never work. He wasn’t certain he could hate her, even if he tried.
They had gone back to their room after dinner, and Kamari hadn’t said a word to him as she went to hide in the bathroom to get ready for the night. He’d been busy scrolling through his phone when she emerged in the room, not particularly paying attention to the woman who would be sharing the bed with him. With the use of spare pillows, she had built a wall between them and told him to stay on his side. He had laughed, and she had scowled. Regardless, he had made no move to disrespect her and made sure not to lay a finger on her for the remainder of the night.
Before he’d been able to make small talk with her, exhaustion had overpowered him and pushed him to plummet into a deep, dreamless sleep.
So, where had the wall of pillows gone? How had they managed to end up in each other’s arms?
All of this was so bizarre to him—he never cuddled. Never allowed his one-night stands to stay over. But this had been, without a shadow of a doubt, the best night of sleep he’d gotten in a while.
“Valencia?”
The sound of Kamari’s harsh whisper made his heart stop beating once again. He swallowed, stiffened. He could feel how her body had gone rigid against his.
“Morning, sunshine,” he rasped in the crook of her neck. He was taking risks—he was aware but basking in her scent had never felt so relaxing.
A beat passed. He understood she was trying to remain calm, cool, and collected. “Why is your arm around me?”
Her smoky voice was laced with sleep, hoarse on its edges, making it all even more enticing to him.
“Maybe because you came crawling into my arms,” he teased.
Silence. “Did we…”
“No,” he was quick to say. “But we could.”
“You have exactly two seconds to move away before I kick you.”
He chuckled. “So violent.”
“Seriously, Valencia. Get away from me.”
“Why aren’t you moving? Seems to me you enjoy being in my arms.” Annoying her had become his favourite hobby. He pulled himself even closer, tightening his hold over her frame. “Come on, Kam. Isn’t this nice?”
“It’s not,” she bit out, still not moving.
“But friends cuddle,” he whined. He enjoyed her warmth, the soft press of the fabric of her nightgown beneath his hand, the way she fitted in the palm of his hand as though she had been made for him.
“We’re not friends, Thiago.” Grabbing his wrist to push him away, she stilled. “Is that your dick pressed to my bum?”
A loud laugh escaped his mouth and, finally, he loosened his hold to roll onto his back. Running a hand over his flushed face, he couldn’t contain the chuckles erupting from the back of his throat. He then draped his forearm over his eyes to shield his vision from the sun’s rays, the ball of anger Kamari was, and the reality of it all. “Sorry, love, but morning woods are just a natural thing for us men.”
He felt the bed shift as she crawled away, taking the warmth of her body with her along the way. “Keep your dick away from me. In fact, just stay away from me. I told you not to touch me in private.”
“For fuck’s sake,” he grumbled. “Maybe you’re so touch-deprived that you came onto me. Stop putting the blame on me when it’s obvious you like me.”
“Keep dreaming,” she muttered.
The moment she threw a pillow on his stomach, he laughed again. “So violent.”
Finally, his eyes landed on her. Back turned to him, Kamari was busy pulling her untamed curls into a rapid chignon. He couldn’t help but saunter his gaze over her physique—how could he not when she was sitting there, looking like that? Sighing heavily, she pushed herself off the bed, carefully sliding her feet into her slippers.
“Nice legs,” he told her.
She locked her gaze with his, yet this time genuine annoyance gleamed along the edges of her irises. Flickering her perusal over his exposed torso, she held control over her emotions by not showing how much this situation was truly affecting her. The duvet was covering him from the waist down, and the intensity of her scrutiny set him ablaze. There was an undeniable flash of exhilarating heat expanding her pupils, an unfathomable vehemence in her reaction that made him want to catch her wrist and pull her towards him.
“I detest you.”
He grinned. His voice had turned hoarse, husky. “I know.”
“I’m using the bathroom first.”
It was at this exact moment that he knew this plan would be impossible to execute. Staying professional with Kamari would be as complicated as redeeming himself.
“Are you sure you don’t want to eat anything?”
The faint melody of a Queen song was resonating softly in the background whilst the late August, summer breeze caressed the outline of his jaw. Drumming his fingers to the rhythm of the music on the steering wheel, Thiago glanced at Kamari who was sitting in the passenger’s seat. With his elbow resting atop the panel of the car, he passed his fingers through his hair whilst waiting for her green eyes to collide with his.
“I’m sure,” she replied steadfastly, putting her sunglasses atop her head.
The roar of his Ferrari Roma echoed loudly when he pressed the throttle. Thiago wasn’t paying attention to the fans walking along the road towards the circuit of Spa-Francorchamps, snapping pictures of his car. His attention was solely on Kamari who had been oddly quiet since the moment they had woken up. A small squeal of surprise fled past her lips when he accelerated once more.
“You only had a coffee,” he stated quietly.
Her brows slightly rose in surprise. “You noticed?”
Yes, he had spent the majority of breakfast ignoring Kamari and had only spoken to his two best friends. And, yes, he hadn’t so much as spared a glance her way, but nothing this woman did went unnoticed by him. “I’m very observant.”
“I’m not usually hungry this early in the morning,” she explained.
He smiled softly. “Well, we have great catering service in the motorhome. Feel free to ask for anything if you want to eat at some point during the day.”
Kamari nodded before turning her attention towards the screen. Her dark hair fell over her face like a curtain, and she tucked a strand behind a pierced ear. No matter how hard he tried to focus, he couldn’t keep his wild eyes on the road—not when she was there to distract him.
Thankfully, the journey from the hotel to the circuit was thoroughly short. It was only protocol for the drivers to arrive at the track in their cars.
“Is this your car?” She ran an idle finger over the yellow logo on her seatbelt.
“No, though I have a Ferrari in Monaco.”
He couldn’t see it, but he knew she was rolling her eyes. “Of course, you do.”
He glanced her way. “Primavera and Ferrari are partners. Every country we go to for races, they lend a car to Rowan and me to use over the weekend.”
“That’s cool.”
He shrugged and smirked smugly. “Being an F1 driver has its perks.”
Passing through security with fans lined up behind barriers, Thiago waved his hand through the open window. Cheers erupted, blending with overjoyed screams.
“This is insane,” Kamari mumbled, pulling her sunglasses back to the bridge of her nose.
“I know.”
He lifted a hand to thank a security guard before pulling into the private parking lot. Turning the engine off, he unbuckled his seatbelt and turned to face Kamari. She mirrored his actions, and for some odd reason, their surroundings seemed to blur for a moment. Photographers and reporters were waiting around his car for them to come out, but Thiago had no intention of putting an end to this moment.
“Are you nervous?” he asked.
She scoffed. “No.”
“It’s okay if you are,” he assured softly.
Digging into her purse, she retrieved a small tube of gloss. “Are you?”
“Obviously.” Loosening a breath, he watched her apply her makeup expertly. He was hypnotised by the fullness of her lips. By the way she tried, albeit unintentionally, to lure him closer and closer, like a siren with lethal intentions. “I can’t fuck up anymore.”
A small line drew itself between her brows. All he wanted was to make her sunglasses disappear because he needed to see forest green. Needed to get lost yet feel grounded at the same time. “Look, Thiago. I think you love racing, and I think you have it in you to win. But you’re going to need to do more than say empty words to reach your goals. Actions matter. Results matter. I’ve no clue what your agent, team principal, or media have been saying about you and me, and quite frankly I don’t want to know, but I hope you’re not solely relying on me to clean your reputation.”
She was right. He wasn’t sure if he enjoyed that; that sense of realisation, the uncertainty of it all despite thinking he had a firm grip over his future.
“You’re a pawn in my game,” he murmured fiercely. He watched her chest rise then fall when she realised his timbre had dropped to a lower octave. “And a king doesn’t win without his queen.”
When her lips curled into the smallest smile, Thiago felt a wave of relief wash over him. The rare moment crumbled to dust when she let a soft scoff fly past her lips. “Evermore the poet, Thiago Valencia.”
He grinned, wondering if her gaze had dropped to his dimples behind her dark glasses. “You haven’t heard any of it yet.” Ever so carefully, ever so slowly, he lifted a hand up, delicately cupping her jaw. The pad of his thumb ran over the corner of her lips, where he collected the barely noticeable stain of gloss on her skin. When he heard her breath hitch, he realised that he, too, had stopped breathing. “I’m going to be on that podium, Kam. I’m going to win.”
She placed her hand on top of his and, for a fragment of a second, he thought she was ready to lean into his touch. Instead, she pulled his hand away, though she applied a minuscule pressure around his fingers; a touch of encouragement, a touch of reassurance.
“Do it for you, Thiago. Not for anyone else.”
The rush of adrenaline was incomparable, irreplaceable, unique.
His staggered breaths could be heard, his heart thundering so wildly that it was nearly foreign to be living through this sensation of raw, unrestrained thrill.
“Full push,” Luke said through the radio. “Two laps left. You’re currently P2. I repeat, P2.”
Second place.
Finally.
After an exhausting race in the rare heat of Belgium, with a strategy that had required countless minutes of negotiations, an outstanding performance from his mechanics who had managed to make his pit stops impressively rapid—under two seconds and a half—Thiago would finally stand on the podium.
“Where’s Rowan?” Thiago asked his engineer as he decreased his pace in Stavelot’s corner.
“P3.”
So that would make a double podium for Primavera Racing.
“Come on, man,” Luke said. In the background, Thiago could hear cheers of encouragement, he could feel the anticipation through his engineer’s voice.
