Page 11 of Fast-Track Fiancé

He smiled, revving the engine loudly to life. ‘Lying.’

She schooled her expression so as not to give away how utterly unsettled she felt about everything that had taken place between them in less than twenty-four hours. How on earth was she going to survive another three months like this?

‘I’ll be in touch about our next date.’

‘My schedule is full. As I’ve said more than once, there is no time.’

‘And as I’ve also said before, you will make time for me.’

His parting words had her grunting and growling the entire climb up the steps to headquarters as she wondered what on earth she had just agreed to.

CHAPTER FIVE

AFTER WRAPPING UP three very successful practice sessions on the first day of the Italian race weekend, Nina had half convinced herself that the previous weekend had been a dream. Despite his threat, Tristan had not been in touch to demand any more of her time, nor had he appeared at the track during any of the press conferences that had taken place yesterday.

Conveniently, their playboy team owner had left Nina alone to issue a litany of ‘No comment’ and ‘Next question’ after every journalist’s probing and snide remarks about the speculation surrounding their public displays of affection.

The Falco Roux team principal was an older man named Jock, a man who already begrudged Nina’s presence on the team at all. As predicted, the recent events had only worsened his treatment of her. Her fellow drivers and team members, thankfully, had interjected a couple of times to remind the press that their new team owner had not attended any races yet so far and had very little to do with the day-to-day running of the team. This was after one particularly barbed comment from a news reporter asking if she didn’t think her family name had already given her enough privilege in Elite One.

Usually, she shrugged off the overwhelmingly negative opinions of herself as a pay driver, but being accused of using her body as a way of climbing the industry ladder felt different. It had got under her skin, making her feel shaky and tight. A feeling that she struggled to throw off, even today on the track as she moved through their strategies and worked on a few last-minute issues with the car.

She had seen the other team drivers and crew looking at her and whispering when they thought she wasn’t looking. It didn’t take much to imagine what they might be thinking. Despite the overwhelmingly positive public reaction to the romance, from a professional point of view, some people were uncomfortable with the notion. Billionaire playboy or not, Tristan was older than her by twelve years and he was essentially her boss. And despite his assurances that he would swing the narrative, Tristan had done nothing to protect her from the backlash so far. On the contrary, he’d practically fed her to the wolves.

Friday of the race weekends was often a strange mix of on-track and off-track commitments, followed by whatever events and public appearances were required of her in the evening. She took her time showering in her modest hotel suite, taking advantage of the sleek high-pressure shower and steam room to try to blast away some of her stress. She didn’t have a high-maintenance beauty regime by any standards, but as she took in her reflection in the mirror, she had a feeling that her usual routine of moisturiser and mascara wasn’t going to be enough to mask the sheer exhaustion on her face.

At least the cocktail dress the PR team had sent up was a delightfully lightweight and comfortable satin stretch material that wouldn’t irritate her skin for the entire evening. She couldn’t avoid heels, but compromised by sliding a pair of simple black flats into her clutch for when the discomfort became too much and she could slip away. Which she fully intended to do as early as possible.

There were three events on the roster from what she could remember, a charity meet and greet, a dinner with their Italian investors, the Marchesi family, followed by a rooftop cocktail hour and dancing.

With the track qualifying sessions beginning tomorrow, it was accepted that the drivers could leave at their own discretion once their minimum appearance had been made. Appearances meant photographs, lots and lots of them—and as far as she knew, Tristan Falco was still in hiding. Perhaps she’d imagined the entire debacle at the beginning of the week, or perhaps he’d taken her advice and realised that she was far more trouble than she was worth. That a match between the two of them would never convince anyone.

Perhaps he’d simply found someone else to fulfil his temporary fiancée needs. Perhaps she was about to be fired, after all. Her stomach tightened at the thought.

Her security guards escorted her in the lift down to where a sleek limo awaited her outside, a much more extravagant ride than she was used to being assigned. Her curiosity was short-lived, however, as the door opened when she was a few steps away and out emerged the object of her thoughts.

Tristan Falco had come to Milan after all, and that meant the deal was still on. She didn’t know whether the sudden tightening in her stomach was from fear or anticipation as he leaned forward to place a kiss upon her right cheek. Again, the smell of his cologne was surprisingly pleasant, as was the weight of his hand upon her waist as he looked down at her.

‘Miss me?’ he asked.

‘It’s been five days.’

‘You poor thing, you’ve kept count.’ The tilt of his head and slight smirk to anyone else might seem like a gentle lovers’ back-and-forth. No one looking on would know that Nina was desperately resisting the urge to smack him in the face.

‘If I were to keep count of how many race weekends you’ve actually attended, I wouldn’t need to go further than my thumb. That is, if you actually plan to attend the race.’

‘After the spike in sales this week, I’m under strict instruction from Astrid Lewis not to miss a single race weekend for the rest of the season.’

Of course, he wasn’t here to watch her race or cheer her on or anything of the sort. His appearance here was entirely to do with the optics of this nonsensical PR stunt his team was executing. Apart from the speculation around their relationship, the other main news point in the motorsports world was Apollo’s decision to return to Elite One for his family’s rival team. It was an action that no team had ever seen in the past, a driver bearing the name of a historic team signing for their family’s biggest rival.

Of course, no one was talking about the fact that Nina had spent four days this week with the team as they began the monumental task of readying their new driver for the second half of the season. With the Belgian Premio next weekend, followed by Spain the weekend after, and then the three-week summer break, Apollo’s first race would be a historic one, starting as it was with the revival of the Argentinian Elite One Premio in Buenos Aires. She doubted that Astrid had to coerce Tristan to attend that race.

‘I know I haven’t been around anywhere near enough. Thankfully I have my beautiful fiancée to step up now and give me all the harsh truths I’ve needed to hear.’

‘I wasn’t trying to be harsh.’

‘I know,’ he said with a slight smile. ‘It took a moment for me to realise that; it’s just your nature to be rather...’

‘Blunt?’ she offered defensively.

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