The sunlight illuminates the Fiorano track, making everything look vibrant. I enjoy how peaceful it is with almost no one here. It’s nothing compared to race weekends where thousands of people are running around, but I enjoy both ways.
Gabriel takes my hand, leading me toward where his team is waiting for us along with a beautiful red and black Ferrari. For a few moments, he talks to his team, and when he comes back, he is holding up two helmets that both have his Formula One helmet design. The number seven is placed on either side, and black, white, and red stripes make up the rest of it. It’s quite simple, but not everybody can come up with a unique design as I did.
He hands me one of the headgears. Gabriel puts on his, and I notice he is biting the inside of his cheek. There’s something he wants to tell me, but I’m convinced he doesn’t know how to.
“Spit it out,” I say, and he stares at me, shock on his face.
“How did you know?” I look at him with an ‘are-you-seriously-asking-me-that’ expression.
“Because when something bothers you, you look away, most often at the ground, your eyebrows furrow, and you bite the inside of your cheek. You always do that, every single time,” I say, and he shakes his head as if he can’t believe how well I know him.
“My publicist says we have to film us driving so they can post it online. It has to do with the fact that we need to generate more popularity and get more followers. It will benefit the sport and the team,” he explains, and I nod.
It makes sense, the sport isn’t that popular amongst young people, and, even though the drivers are doing their best to create more buzz, there’s still a lot of work to be done. A young Ferrari driver doing hot laps with a young female racer who is his girlfriend and the sister of his teammate would invite a more diverse group to watch.
“Are you alright with that? If not, we could—”
“I’m very okay with it. Now, let’s do this. We’ll entertain the world when I’m behind the wheel by showing them a Ferrari driver peeing his pants,” I joke, and he smiles at me.
“Thank you.” I don’t know what he’s thanking me for, but I don’t press. “We have to ask each other a couple of questions while we drive. They are going to be about Formula One and racing, naturally, and it’s supposed to help our followers get to know us.” He’s being very technical with me right now, which makes me grin.
We get into the car, and I buckle up. I’m getting a little nervous, but excitement has mostly taken over now. I’ve never driven in a car like this with Gabriel, but I trust him.
A tall, dark-haired man hands me a paper full of questions, and I read over them, preparing to ask Gabriel. He sits down in the driver’s seat and puts his seatbelt on as well. I smile at him, and he returns it, showing me his dimples.
My eyes drift to the cameras and to the team working on the car while we wait for them to give us the green light. My heart starts beating faster in my chest, and I’m convinced Gabriel feels the same way.
“Are you nervous?” I ask him after his team leaves and tells us we can go.
“More than,” he admits, and I watch him as he takes a deep breath in and then lets it out. It’s strained and shaky.
“Are you okay to drive?” He tilts his head to look at me and lifts the corners of his mouth to form a smile.
“Yes, I’m fine. I’ve just never had so much to lose when I drive.”
My head falls back against the headrest, the helmet hitting the patting. I run my thumb over his bottom lip, and Gabriel purses his lips against my finger. We stay like this for a moment, simply staring into each other’s eyes.
“Okay, ready?” he asks, breaking the silence.
I nod, and he steps on the gas, making me scream out in joy. He’s going fast, and my heart stops and goes with each corner, each straight. The adrenalin that shoots through my veins is heaven.
“Have you always known you wanted to be a Formula One driver?” I ask, reading the first question aloud. I have to cover my eyes with my hands when he drifts in the corner.
“Yes, ever since my dad took me karting for the first time, I knew this is what I wanted to do. Luckily, I had great opportunities, and my family fought with me every step of the way,” he replies, and I smile. I’m proud of his courage to speak about his family.
“How many Grand Prixes have you started in?” The second question is pretty straightforward.
“Sixty-two.”
He takes another corner in the same aggressive way as before, and I search for something to hold onto, careful not to swear on camera.
“Okay, you’re doing that on purpose now,” I say and he chuckles, which is the only response I get. He drives over one of the curbs, and my head bobs from side to side. “Gabriel!” I complain and laugh at the same time.
“I’m sorry, baby, I will be more careful, I promise.” He is true to his word when he avoids the next curb by far.
“How do you feel about driving for Ferrari?” I continue asking him the questions.
“It’s a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, and I’m thankful I’ve been given it. I hope to race with them for many more seasons.”
We get back to the start and finish line, but he drives past it to go for another round so I can ask him the remaining questions. We laugh and talk about his career until we arrive at the box again, and I take a deep breath to calm my heart rate.
“Your turn,” he says before we switch seats.
Gabriel gives me time to familiarize myself with the car before I slam my foot on the gas.
“Alright, get used to the track first before speeding around it,” he says and chuckles. I do as I’m told, although I know it well from the walks we took at the academy. “First question,” he yells over the roaring of the engine as we speed down the straight of the start and finish line. “Are you trying to kill me?” he asks when I take the curb a little too hard in the first corner. I should really break earlier.
“Is that the question?” I reply with a laugh.
“It’s my question!” he says and holds onto the door when I drift in the next corner.
“Fine, I’ll go easy on you, you big baby,” I say and go as slow as he did for me before. “Ask me the real question, would you?” Gabriel shoots me an amused grin.
“When did you first realize that Gabriel Biancheri is the hottest guy you’ll ever meet?” I shake my head, taking the curb on purpose this time to make him bounce in his seat.
“When I saw your di—” He cuts me off.
“Hey, woah, chérie!” he warns, but I’m confused now. “Cameras are rolling,” Gabriel says, and I burst into laughter.
“Dimples, Gabriel, when I first saw your dimples,” I clarify, and his face turns a bright red shade.
“Oh, shit. Well, whoever looks through this footage later is going to have a laugh.” I have to do my best to stay focused on the road ahead of us, but it’s difficult to keep my amusement at bay. “First question,” Gabriel repeats, and I smile. “How long have you been interested in racing?” I hit the breaks in the corner only to press down on the gas again as we rush down the straight.
“Almost fourteen years now,” I reply, and Gabriel moves on to ask me about my journey and experiences.
By the time I’ve completed about three laps, we’re done with the questions, and I drive the car back into the pitlane. Gabriel turns to me after we take off our helmets and brings his lips to mine, but, for the sake of not being inappropriate in front of the cameras, he leans back sooner than either of us wants.
“That was fun,” he says, and I agree.
We get out of the car, and Gabriel starts talking to his team in Italian. My body reacts in all sorts of ways because he sounds too sexy to keep it in check. I can barely feel my legs anymore, which is why I walk over to Gabriel and grab his arm for support. He squeezes my hand, smiles at me, and goes back to talking to the members of his team.
I’m impatiently waiting for him to finish so I can kiss him or even pull him to an empty room. My thoughts drift to what we would do, and I forget all about him speaking Italian, or where I am for that matter.
“Chérie?” he asks to bring me back to reality.
“I love it when you speak Italian,” I swoon, and he laughs a little. His dimples are enough to make my mind go back to that small room with the panting…
“Ti amo,” he says. He kisses me again before he wraps his arms around me.
“I might actually vomit.” Christian’s voice fills my ears, and Gabriel tenses instantly. “Valentina Romana, always complaining about the unfair treatment she’s received in this sport when she gets everything handed to her on a silver platter.” Gabriel is about to step past me and, most likely, punch Christian in the face for his comment, but I hold him in place.
“You call being kicked out of Formula Three for no reason getting things handed to me? What about getting turned down by every other driver academy? And everyone else who had the power to help me succeed in this sport? I’ve been turned away, shut down, and pushed out of racing my entire life. What did you have to do, Your Royal Highness? Beg daddy to make it happen and then get kicked out of every academy because of your own actions?” Christian takes a step toward me then, but Gabriel moves me behind him.
“Oh, look, how sweet. Your boyfriend’s protecting you,” the brat says, and I see Gabriel smile.
“I’m protecting you from her, not the other way around.” He moves closer to the prince. “When I’m not here, Val will deal with you, but as long as I’m in your presence, it’d be wise for you to fear me. She might hold back from punching you, but I won’t.” I’ve never seen him this angry, but I can tell he’s as sick of Christian as I am.
“Are you threatening me?” the prince asks, but Gabriel continues to smile.
“No, I’m warning you, Your Royal Highness, simply giving some free advice.” He moves away from my rival, taking my hand and leading me inside to get some breakfast. “I can’t wait for the day when he hears that you got the seat instead of him,” Gabriel says and kisses my temple.
Neither can I.
