“Would you stop that?” I hiss at Adrian when he eats his fifth cracker, making the loudest crunching noises I’ve ever heard.
This is not the first time today I’ve complained about something he’s doing, which is, for some reason, bothering me all the way down to my bones.
“Okay, so, to summarize: I can’t eat, drink, or breathe in your presence anymore. I’m going to sit over there now,” Adrian says and attempts to get up, but I drag him back into his seat.
We’re waiting for Colin Reiner to welcome the new and returning drivers. My brother insisted on coming along when he saw how nervous I was this morning. I asked him to travel to Maranello with me, and he assured me he could stay a day before flying to Silverstone for the fourth race of the season. James and Gabriel are already there, getting ready for the weekend despite their offer to join us here too. I didn’t want to be the person with three emotional support people, one is enough.
“I’m sorry, it’s not fair of me to act like this. Thank you for being here, but can you munch on those a little more quietly?” I ask, and he shakes his head with a chuckle.
Adrian fishes around in his pocket for a moment before taking out his phone and earphones. He places one bud in my ear and the other in his, playing a list of my favorite songs to calm me. It works like a charm, and I even take the cracker he hands me, ignoring the nauseous feeling in my throat.
“Hello, everyone, thank you for waiting. It’s a pleasure to have you all here, ahead of this exciting new chapter of your life,” Mr. Reiner says, his attention drifting to Adrian, who gives him a nod to tell him to go on without acknowledging his presence to the others.
I notice Christian didn’t bother to show up today at the same moment he walks through the door.
“You’re late, Mr. Crovetto,” Mr. Reiner scolds, but the brat simply sits down at the back of the room.
“My bad. Had this annoying blonde in my room, who just wouldn’t stop talking,” he replies, and I shake my head. Mr. Reiner’s eyes go wide, and Adrian sits up to face the prince.
“If you already find yourself annoying, how do you think we feel?” my brother asks, and everyone in the room bursts into laughter.
“That’s enough, Mr. Romana, thank you. And Mr. Crovetto, if you could refrain from sharing your personal life with us, it would be greatly appreciated.” The Royal Dickhead, a nickname I’m sure Gabriel will come up with too, leans back in his chair and balances it on two legs, smiling at the man in charge.
“What are you going to do about it?” Christian asks, challenging Colin Reiner.
“Me? Nothing. But they will,” he replies before someone pushes the brat’s chair back into place, on all four feet. “Drivers, meet Andrea Russo. They will be your instructor.” Andrea is staring at Christian, their arms now crossed in front of their chest.
“You may be a royal in Monaco, but, here, you are a trainee. You listen to me and obey my commands, not the other way around. Piss me off, and I will have your royal ass kicked out of the academy before you can say the word ‘sorry’. Understood?” Christian makes no sound or movement except for a single nod, and I grin from ear to ear. “Glad to see we’re on the same page then,” they add and give his shoulder a squeeze. “You may call me Andrea unless you get on my nerves, then it is Boss Russo to you. I will be your instructor, coach, and, if I do this right, friend for the duration of the season.”
They make their way to the front where Mr. Reiner is standing, a content expression on their young face. Andrea can’t be older than mid-thirties, their hair is cut into a bob, and the brown color compliments their tanned skin and brown eyes.
“You can leave now. I’m in good hands,” I say to Adrian, who keeps checking the time on his phone.
“Are you sure?” he asks, and I lean over to kiss his cheek.
“I love you. Please, be safe this weekend.” He assures me he will be before walking toward the exit.
I watch him shoot a deathly glare at Christian, who even leans away out of fear. Adrian looks over his shoulder to wink at me, and I mouth a ‘thank you’, although the biggest thank you should go to Andrea. I doubt Christian ever got put in his place as hard as he was just now.
“Training will include workouts, simulator time, mental preparation, and more I won’t bore you with right now. You will be assessed every single day for the ultimate end goal: getting you a spot in your desired field.” Andrea grabs a chair, settling down on it as they address us. “I will be brutally honest with those of you hoping it will happen like this,” they say and snap their fingers. “Currently, there is one open position in Formula Three. We will have to make the hard decision in a few weeks’ time to pick one of you. I know you don’t all want to race in Formula Three. As I understand, currently, we only have two candidates interested,” Andrea says, and I hold my breath.
Please, don’t let it be him, please, not him. Anyone but Christian.
“Ms. Romana and Mr. Crovetto.” I’m going to fucking lose it.
“Fuck,” I say, louder than I intended, but only the person in front of me hears it. They turn around, and I realize it’s Luciana Sanchez.
“Yeah, I get it. I wouldn’t want to be up against him either,” she says with a thick Spanish accent, and I let out a breathy laugh.
“I’ve been battling against that royal douchebag since I was a kid,” I explain, and she gives me a sympathetic smile.
“Don’t worry, his behavior has gotten him kicked out of three other academies. This one won’t be different.”
A strange feeling in my gut tells me it will be because I’m here. Christian Crovetto was put on this Earth to torture me, why else would all of this be happening?
“I’m Luciana, but I prefer Lucie,” she says and holds out her hand for me to shake.
“Valentina but call me Val, everyone except His Highness does.” Sensing that I was speaking about him, he waves his fingers at me. “I’ve never wanted to punch someone so much,” I say through gritted teeth, making Lucie laugh.
“I will help you keep your distance from him.” I thank her before our attention drifts back to Andrea.
“Okay, everyone, let’s go. I’d like to show you around the Ferrari headquarters.”
We follow behind them through hallways with photographs of famous former drivers. Andrea brings us to where the rows of old Ferrari F1 cars are. The last time I was here, my father had taken Adrian and me. I tried to touch one of them, earning me a furious lecture from my father. He even smacked my hand away in the moment, and I remember Adrian ‘blowing the pain into the stars’ before holding it the entire way back to our car. We were six and ten at the time.
I refocus on the cars, yet again fascinated by how much they have evolved. My feet bring me to the one my father drove during the year of his championship title, making a sad feeling spread through my chest.
“Your father’s?” Andrea interrupts my thoughts, and I force a smile at them.
“Yes, it was,” I reply and step back, away from the vehicle. My attention drifts further up the line toward Grandfather’s car. “That one was my grandpa’s,” I say, and they give my arm a comforting squeeze.
“When I was younger, I always cheered for your father. He made me realize I wanted to become a race car driver,” they explain, and I nod absentmindedly.
“That makes two of us.” And neither one of us had gotten any help from him when he was alive.
We stroll toward the cases of trophies next, past the row of helmets and portraits of Ferrari drivers. Gabriel’s catches my attention, and I smile at his handsome face, the dimples causing a warmth to spread through my chest.
Someone beside me makes a vomiting sound, but I don’t have to turn my head to know it’s Christian.
“The love in your eyes is revolting to me,” he says while my gaze stays on my boyfriend’s photo.
“Revolting is exactly what I think when I look at you,” I reply, and Andrea lets out a single laugh before catching themself and telling us to follow them again.
The tour continues past a room with desks, where Andrea tells us we will be learning how to analyze data and come up with strategies for races. It ends at the fitness and wellness floor. There are a dozen treadmills, bench presses, weight and neck training stations, and so on. I’m both terrified and excited when I think about this becoming my place of working out for the foreseeable future.
“Alright, everyone. That’s it for today. I will see you tomorrow, bright and early for training,” Andrea announces while handing out the schedule for the week, and all nine of us make our way back downstairs toward the exit.
My eyes study the paper to see we will be training for a little over a week straight, from Wednesday to Thursday, and then we have off until Tuesday the week after. It’s a strange schedule, but I have a feeling Gabriel is responsible for it. I have time to go with him to the car unveiling event next week, which makes this a little too convenient. The chances of Andrea making this schedule to perfectly fit my plans are slim to none. I shake my head when I realize it was definitely Gabriel who requested it to be this way.
I turn around as I walk out the door to study the red color of the building. The horse, Champion, stares right down at me like a guardian angel whenever I move through the doors of the headquarters. I’d like to think it’s a representation of my father and grandfather, a way for them to stay with me everywhere I go in this chapter of my life.
“Val, hold up!” Lucie calls out, and I turn around to look into her brown eyes.
“What’s up?” I ask as she hooks her arm through mine.
“Do you want to have dinner tonight by any chance? Haru and I want to go out,” she says, and I smile at the short man walking next to her. He has somewhat long, black hair and warm brown eyes.
“I’d love to. Meet you in the lobby at seven?”
They both nod as we walk toward the Maranello Suite Hotel where we’re all staying.
I have a great time at dinner. Haru is one of the most caring guys I’ve ever met, and Lucie is hilarious. She has me laughing through most of the meal while he finds new ways to ask me about my life. I return them, trying to get to know them better.
Haru shares that he was born in Japan but has moved all over the world for his father’s job. From Singapore to Australia and now Italy, he’s seen almost everything there is to see. Lucie, on the other hand, was born and raised in Spain to her Venezuelan parents, who have always supported her dream of becoming a NASCAR driver. Haru is training to be an IndyCar driver. They both hope the Ferrari Academy will prepare them for what’s to come.
By the time we’re done and have paid, it’s eleven o’clock. We’re all exhausted and ready to get enough sleep to do well tomorrow, especially me. I need to rest so I can beat the smug smile off Christian’s face. If he thinks I won’t do anything and everything to get that seat, he’s gravely mistaken.
I fall into bed, checking my phone one last time to see if anyone’s texted me. The biggest smile spreads across my face when I read Leonard’s name on my screen, asking if I had a second to talk.
“Hi, Valentina, how was your first day?” he asks as soon as he picks up my call. I smile from ear to ear at his behavior.
“Good, how are you?”
Leonard briefly tells me about his busy day before asking me all sorts of questions about how they welcomed me at the academy. He even lets me rant about stupid Christian Crovetto, listening patiently and giving me tips afterward on ways to avoid him. It’s sweet, but I also know my rival. He won’t stop bothering me until I do something stupid like letting it affect my performance.
We hang up just in time for Gabriel’s name to flash on my screen from an incoming text message.
Gabriel: Hi, chérie. I hope you had a great first day. Can’t wait to hear all about it. I’ll see you in my dreams. Bonne nuit, mon tournesol. I miss you.
It shouldn’t be possible for me to fall more in love with him because of one text message, yet, here I am, grinning at my damn phone screen.
Val: Bonne nuit, mon soleil. I miss you more.
I don’t expect him to respond, so when my phone lights up once more, my heart does a summersault.
Gabriel: Not possible.
Yeah, it is.
