Page 34 of Green Flag
Just one more person to overtake.
And he did it with no issue.
And then he overtook another, coming in position 14th.
This was what Pedro had been like when he raced before becoming Ciclati’s sports analyst. Never taking no for an answer. Commanding the track, making it his bitch. Pedro had loved this track. And he’d loved this team—right until everything crashed around him.
As the race ended, I should have taken myself off, but knowing he’d done so well and that the press were likely to find their way into our pit box, I wanted to be there in case he needed me.
Not that he would.
But he should learn to back himself up more.
The press had to be in the winners box for the three winners. Nix, Cesari and Eris, but people were crawling in pit lane, creeping to get to Ciclati.
Luca and his freckles had become viral sensations months ago, and after this, I wouldn’t be surprised if he did so again.
At least in the motor world.
He’d be as legendary as his cousin in no time.
When I got there, he’d just removed his helmet, but his brows were creased. Despite the fact he’d gone from position 24 to position thirteenth, he wasn’t happy.
“Fucking stalled it!” he raged and threw his gloves on the ground. Seeing him out of control, the power in his movement, the veins popping in his forearms… I needed a minute.
Instead of asking to give him a blowjob, I should have demanded it.
There was something so hot about a man unleashed.
That anger? Take it all out on me, Luca. Cause hot damn.
I’d seen rage before, but the destructive kind, not like this. He had the willpower to hold it in.
His fury turned me on for three very hot seconds.
Before I realised we had kind of hooked up once and that didn’t mean I could trust him. Hecaredabout the race. The team.And that meant I couldn’t expect him to work with me on tearing down Ciclati’s director.
Dad was nodding, trying to explain something about the electrics, but Luca dismissed him. “I’m not pissed at you or the bike. I’m pissed at myself.”
My dad stepped back with a sympathetic smile that was out of character. “It couldn’t be helped—”
“It could,” he snapped and looked to Abbé. “Couldn’t it?”
Abbé shrugged. “No one else is pissed at you though. Don’t worry about it. You gained points.Gainedthem, Luca.”
“Not as many as it should have been. I went from twelfth to…” He was shaking his head, placing the helmet on the side. “Henever would have—”
“Don’t,” my dad said softly. “Don’t compare yourself—”
“How can I not!”
And, when he saw me, he stilled and swallowed. “I just need a second.”
The press were coming forward but Dad lifted a hand. “We’re not taking any questions on the Ciclati Inquiry.”
“We want to speak to Luca about the race,” one said. “Presenters are coming down.”
With such a short turnaround, they couldn’t say no to that. The presenters spoke live and wanted to track down the highlight of the race.
