Page 62

I finish drying my hands and turn the lock on the door. I open it and find Mason standing there, looking sheepishly at me. “I’m so sorry. Jacques was convinced I was cheating on my meal plan and barged his way in here. It was the only thing I could think of to get rid of him!”

“And you went with Anabella?”

“It was the first Italian name that popped into my head.”

“So you don’t want a hookup with a gorgeous Italian woman instead?” I tease, stepping into his embrace.

“Nope. I want a gorgeous British woman named Catherine,” he says, dropping a kiss on my lips. “Mmm. You taste like wine.”

“Mason?”

“Yeah?”

“I know it’s none of my business, your life before me, but you really haven’t been with anyone since Bahrain?”

“No,” he says, tilting my chin upwards with his fingertips. “I have not.”

I smile as he kisses me again. I like this boy a lot.

And I get the feeling he really likes me a lot, too.

* * *

Race day in Monza was beautiful, with gorgeous blue skies and warm temperatures. Mason didn’t have the race he wanted. Xavier was able to overtake him for the lead. He had the perfect strategy, managed his tyres, and won the race by more than ten seconds over Mason.

We celebrated another dual podium finish for Collings Motors, with Mason in second and Caleb hanging on to third place. I took so many pictures and videos of the celebration in parc fermé, as well as the champagne celebrations on the podium and outside of the garage. Mason and Caleb were both happy and smiling.

I check the time. They had to attend an engineering debrief after the team pictures were taken, and I took the time to borrow Caleb’s shower and change into something that isn’t soaked with champagne.

Definitely first-world problems.

For the flight home, I’ve put on jeans and a simple white long-sleeved button-down. I’ve been hanging out with Mum and Isla in the canteen, sharing some celebratory glasses of wine as we wait for Caleb and Mason to change. I plan to sneak in a goodbye to Mason before we all hop on the Collings Motors jet back to Monaco, and I’m waiting for his text telling me to come up to his room.

My phone buzzes. I eagerly pick it up, but I see it’s a text from Caleb:

Hey. I don’t know what is going on with Clark next door, but I can hear shouting through the wall.

What? Who could Mason be shouting at? Yes, I’ve heard him get angry on the radio during a race, but even then, he’s almost deadly calm.

Something is wrong.

“Um, I’m going to see someone before we leave,” I say quickly, standing up.

“Of course you are,” Mum says flatly.

I ignore her and turn to Isla. “I’ll meet you guys back here.”

She nods. “See you in a few.”

I hurry up the stairs, where the staff of Collings Motors is heading out. Either they have flights out of Milan this evening, or they will travel out tomorrow morning. Soon, the process will begin of deconstructing this whole hub, packing it up, and shipping it on to Baku to be set up all over again.

When I reach the floor with the drivers’ rooms, I can hear muffled noises coming from Mason’s. I get to the door, and something he says stops me:

“I know it wasn’t the race you expected from me. You don’t have to tell me that. Nobody is more disappointed in me than myself, Dad!”

My chest grows tight as I hear the pain in Mason’s voice. I raise my hand to knock, but another sentence keeps me from doing so.

“Of course I feel bad! I don’t want to be the worst investment you’ve ever made!” Mason says, his voice full of anger and hurt.