Page 20 of Driving the Billionaire Wild

Grenada’s capital was a picturesque city with red-tile-roofed shops and homes dotting the hillside of an old volcano crater. She took a small detour, taking in the beautiful horseshoe-shaped harbour and yacht lagoon, and noting the sight of cruise liners from all over the world far out in the bay. The architecture was an eclectic mix of colonial styles with English, French and West Indian influence visible.

She almost wished she had more time to wander as she smelled the fabulous food, and slowed down past various restaurants and takeaway spots. Some higher end restaurants were also scattered around, offering a variety of international cuisines, but the creative local cuisine smelled the best. One sign proclaimed Grenada’s national dish—oil down—a one-pot meal featuring salted meat, chicken, dumplings, breadfruit and callaloo. Fresh local seafood, other fresh produce and meats prepared with true West Indian flare were offered from market stalls and shop fronts by friendly sellers and it seemed as if every stall offered the famous nutmeg ice-cream, the smell making her mouth water.

She aimed to be quick, so as not to leave Luca for too long, but she soon lost herself in the joy of scanning the shelves and stall-fronts as she selected gifts for Lucaand some small trinkets to bring home for Jem too. She adored gift-giving, much more than receiving. But, when it came to selecting something for Apollo, she came up short. What on earth did one buy for a man who could purchase an entire island on a whim? She settled upon a pair of carved turtle cufflinks, hoping he would at the very least appreciate the gesture, then went back in search of them in the now much busier afternoon crowd.

In hindsight, she realised she possibly should have left Luca at the villa, as the city was becoming increasingly loud with the build up to the annual carnival celebrations. She panicked when she couldn’t immediately find them, but needn’t have worried, as Apollo stood in a quiet spot at the edge of the town square with Luca up on his shoulders as they watched a traditional Grenadian costume parade of colourful dances. Performers in elaborate outfits pranced around whooping and hollering, much to the glee of the crowds that lined the streets.

The moment Luca spotted her, his little face crumpled up and he began to cry. Guilt piled upon her as Apollo’s face looked shellshocked at the sudden change in their son. Without delay, they moved away from the noise and back towards the car that waited at the edge of the street for them.

‘I thought he was enjoying it,’ he said, gently placing the boy in her arms and sliding in alongside her while the driver packed away her shopping bags. Astrid held Luca tightly as he rocked in her lap until he dozed off, exhausted.

‘He gets overwhelmed and doesn’t realise it sometimes until he sees me or Jem. Like a bottle of fizzy lemonade, the pressure builds up until it explodes.’

Apollo nodded ‘I guess that’s put a stop to the little surprise I had planned.’

‘Surprise?’

‘I had him booked into the karting track as a treat.’

Astrid felt her chest tighten. Apollo had seen Luca’s interest in his racing memorabilia, and she had told him how much he had enjoyed attending the races before they had moved back to London full-time. But the idea of Luca actually getting into a kart on a real track… ‘He’s…he’s only seven years old.’

‘I started when I was five,’ Apollo said proudly. ‘The younger the better, really, to start the skill building.’

‘No.’ Astrid shook her head. ‘Absolutely not. It’s much too dangerous a sport and I’m just not comfortable.’

‘You do know what I do for a living, yes?’ He attempted a half-smile. ‘I think it would be great for him. He’s a clever kid, and he already adores the track. You can’t keep him wrapped up for ever, and you won’t know what he’s capable of until you let him try.’

She felt guilty as he walked away but couldn’t help it. She’d been working in Elite One for so long; she’d seen so many accidents and how drivers’ careers could end in the blink of an eye. Thankfully the safety regulations had come on so much over the past couple of decades that there were very rarely any fatalities or serious injuries, but still, every race had things go wrong; it was unavoidable. It was a high-pressure, high-speed, high-risk sport and that was the reason why the drivers adored it. She had never met a driver who wasn’t a complete adrenaline junkie, who didn’t love the thrill of it all. It was in their blood.

She sat there for a long while afterwards, mulling hiswords over and over. Luca wasn’t a daredevil, not really. Of course, she had never actually allowed him to try anything she considered remotely risky… She thought of how proud Leona was of all Apollo’s achievements, and how she’d kept every single trophy and memento of his. Leona was a doting mother who also adored her son; she had likely feared for Apollo’s safety, but she’d been able to push past it. Was she being selfish in holding Luca back from something he might share with his dad? Was she brave enough to trust Apollo to take the lead?

* * *

Apollo had spent almost every birthday here in Grenada and he adored it. This year was entirely different, for obvious reasons, but watching his young son race down the stairs and rip open his birthday gifts held him almost entirely frozen on the sofa.

Luca was a blur of motion as he played with each of the carefully selected gifts Apollo had picked out and showed them to Astrid, and they both smiled at one another and got to assembling the various toys in turn.

Apollo was surprised when Astrid gave him a small wrapped box as a gift; he hadn’t expected anything. The velvet interior contained a perfectly detailed pair of carved wooden turtle cufflinks. She’d noticed his mild obsession, it seemed, and something warmed within him at that knowledge.

He took his time getting dressed in a shirt that best set off the small blue stones in the turtle shells, noting her eyes wandered to them with surprise when she saw he’d chosen to wear them immediately. Feeling slightly removed from the festivities once his family began to arrive and a delicious birthday feast was firmly under way,he poised himself to melt away into the background, only for Astrid to stand up and walk to him with another box in her hands, this one square-shaped and much bigger.

‘This one is also for you…a last-minute addition.’ Her cheeks burned with embarrassment. ‘It’s not quite as generous as what you’ve given us—in fact, I’m not even sure if it technically counts as a gift at all—but I wasn’t quite sure what to give the man who seems to have everything.’

He ignored that last line, knowing that she couldn’t be further from the truth. He tore open the wrapping paper on the box, feeling a solid weight inside. Nothing could have prepared him for what lay inside. He opened the lid and saw the smooth unmistakable red dome of a racing helmet. But not any racing helmet, his own—the very first one he’d ever raced in as a boy. His mother must have given it to her.

‘This is…’ He didn’t quite know what to say, and wasn’t sure what she could possibly mean by giving this to him.

‘It’s more a symbol than a gift, I suppose.’ She took a deep breath. ‘I want Luca to wear it. Specifically, I want you to give it to Luca, with my blessing.’

‘Your blessing…for me to take him karting?’

‘Yes,’ she said, her hands twisting together. ‘I overreacted yesterday to your plans and I realised that it was my own fear standing in the way of a bond I very much wish you to have with him. He’s a very lucky boy to have such a talented father, one who wants to take the time to share in his interests.’

‘My mother had the same reservations when my grandfather first offered to start me in karting.’

‘Yes, your mother was actually the one who helpedme realise that I was being stubborn. Luca has always shown a huge interest in racing, whether he knew you or not. Which…brings me to the next part.’

Astrid turned to their son, beckoning him over with her hand on his elbow. ‘Luca asked me something last night, and I told him that I’d like him to ask you himself, if he still wants to.’