Page 31 of Formula Fling

I’ve also been able to observe Lex and Ronan during a string of interviews with major sports networks, social media content creators, and photo shoots. Lex is a natural in front of the camera, exuding charm and confidence. Ronan’s more egotistical, although I suppose some women might find that charming. I find it cringy and try to limit my interaction with him.

One afternoon, I spent half a day with Harley, watching her juggle a million things at once. She’s a force of nature,managing everything from team logistics to sponsor meetings. It was inspiring to see a woman command such respect in a male-dominated sport, and I left that day even more impressed by her than I already was.

Of course, the more I’m impressed by her, the more guilt I feel for duping her, but it’s going to be my cross to bear forever.

Today, though, is a day off. A chance for the entire team to relax and bond. Lex said it will be the grandest, most over-the-top event I’ve ever seen with no expense spared. There’s going to be skeet shooting, live music, catered food and an open bar.

“Does Spencer really do this every year?” I ask as we round a bend, the massive estate coming into view in the distance.

“He does,” Lex replies, his voice light with amusement. “It’s ostentatious, sure, but that’s Spencer for you. The guy’s worth hundreds of millions of dollars, so he doesn’t exactly hold back.”

Any follow-up questions are forgotten as the beauty before us steals my breath. The long, winding driveway is lined with perfectly manicured hedges and ancient towering trees, their branches still bare from the winter cold, creating a natural tunnel that leads to the main house.

The estate itself is a sprawling three-story manor, built from honey-colored limestone. The stonework is impeccably maintained, with ivy creeping up the walls. The large, mullioned windows reflect the midday sun, glinting a welcome. The roof is adorned with steep gables and chimneys, the architecture an absolute marvel.

The front of the house has a circular drive, centered around a beautifully sculpted stone fountain. Red-jacketed valets wait in a line to take the guests’ cars elsewhere to park. As we exit, I see off in the distance that the grounds extend far beyond the main house, with glimpses of additional outbuildings and a far-off view of a private woodland. A few horses graze in a fenced paddock to one side of the property, adding to the pastoralcharm. It’s a setting so idyllic, I can’t imagine ever wanting to leave.

“Is Spencer married?” I ask as we walk toward the stone steps leading to the front door, curious about the man who’s managed to keep such a tight-knit, successful team.

“Not a chance,” Lex says with a chuckle. “Confirmed bachelor, through and through. I think he likes the freedom too much. Can’t imagine him settling down.”

“Bad boy just like you?” I tease.

“I think relationship averse, but it’s just a vibe,” he clarifies.

Upon entry into the grand foyer, we’re directed straight through to the back of the house where we step out into an incredible terraced garden of neatly trimmed hedges, rosebushes waiting for summer blooms and large white tents filled with food and drink.

The booming sound of gunshots causes me to jump and Lex laughs, pointing off to one side where there’s a setup for skeet shooting. A large group—mostly men—are already gathered, waiting their turn.

Servers circulate with trays of hors d’oeuvres, offering everything from delicate smoked salmon canapés to tiny, artfully crafted desserts.

I’m boggled by the opulence of this lavish party and display of wealth, but there’s an undeniable sense of romantic and nostalgic decadence.

It’s all very Gatsby-esque and I’m here to soak it all in.

“Posey.” I turn to see Maeve bouncing over to us, her curly red hair catching the light. She’s wearing a bright yellow dress that perfectly matches her sunny personality, complemented with a light blue wraparound shawl to stay warm.

Lex touches my elbow, and I feel it all the way through my body. I glance up at him. “I’m going to head over to shoot some clays.” He nods that way. “Come join us. It’s a lot of fun.”

He’s gone by the time Maeve reaches me.

“How are you, love? Did you settle into your Airbnb?”

“I did, thanks,” I reply, smiling at her.

“Then we must get together for that drink soon,” she chirps.

“I’d love that.” My eyes slide from her over to where Lex has joined the group around the skeet range. Spencer is there, as is Ronan and other people I’ve met over the past week. Harley has a gun in hand and looks like a natural.

Maeve follows my attention and nudges me, a mischievous twinkle in her eyes. “You and Lex sure are joined at the hip.”

I feel a blush from the roots of my hair spreading all over my head and creeping into my face as I stammer, “Well, he’s my Crown Velocity liaison for the article I’m writing.”

“Of course he is.” She nudges me again. “Just poking a bit at you. But I suppose if you have to be tethered to one of the drivers here, he’s better than Ronan.”

“Oh yeah? Why’s that?”

I can immediately tell Maeve did not mean to open the door to my line of questioning and given her position as the communications manager, she’s not about to say a bad word about anyone at Crown, most especially to me. She’s about to backpedal.

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