Full Throttle (The Revved Series) (18 page)

“I love you, Siena,” Enzo whispers, rocking me like a child,
“I know I’m hell to get along with, and Dad’s even worse, but we only want the
best for you. You’re our angel. Our little girl. No matter how grown up you
get.”

“But what if you hate what’s best for me?” I ask, unable to
meet his gaze.

“That would be absolute shit,” Enzo says, “But we’d work it
out, Siena. I’m sure of it.”

If only you knew...I think, looking out across the city.
Enzo plants a kiss on the top of my head and holds me until my tears subside.
How can he make feel so much better and so much worse at the same time? That’s
just family, I guess.

Chapter Sixteen

Consequences

The day of the Budapest qualifier gets off to a shaky start
for me. My frayed nerves keep me up most of the night before, and by morning
I’m an absolute mess. Harrison and I trade a few short texts, but it turns out
we’re both on thin ice with our respective teams. Harrison may be a
rule-breaker, but he still has to answer to Team McClain. They were just as
upset with him for showing up late to the preliminary as Team Ferrelli was with
me. McClain had arranged for Harrison to take his turn early in the morning,
and we slept straight through it. He’s heading into this qualifier without having
tried out the course—bad news for a new driver.

My team, of course, is ecstatic to have an advantage over
Harrison. I ride over to the course with my dad and Enzo, and neither of them
can shut up about how wonderful this turn of events is. Dad has yet to say a
direct word to me, but my head is full of his arrogant carrying on all the
same. I sit beside them, watching the city fly by. I hope that Harrison doesn’t
think I sabotaged him on purpose, keeping him in bed all morning. He has to
know by now that I’d never do anything to hurt his chances on the track.
Well...I’d never do anything on purpose. But I’ve given up hoping that our
relationship can continue on without a few casualties.

I shudder, imagining the possibility of really causing
Harrison harm. Enzo lays a comforting hand on my shoulder.

“Don’t be nervous,” he says, “Today is cut and dry. And the
way things are going, I bet that tomorrow’s going to be even better.”

It’s breaking my heart, the extra effort Enzo’s putting in
to make me feel better. He means well, but he’s so in the dark about what’s
actually going on in my life that his attempts are downright laughable. But at
least he’s trying to make up for his inconsiderate behavior. My dad, for his
part, simply can’t be bothered to even notice my discomfort.

Just as Enzo’s predicted, the qualifier goes off without a
hitch for him. But I barely notice a thing about his performance. Today, I only
have eyes for another driver entirely. From the moment we arrive at the course,
my gaze is glued to McClain’s fire-red race car. Harrison has yet to test this
track out, which means that the chances of something going wrong are at an
all-time high. My fingers are clenched around the barrier railing as the cars
take off, and Harrison quickly drops into last place. I’m at once relieved that
he’s taking it slow and anxious for him, knowing that the disadvantage must be
killing him.

Harrison doesn’t even manage to make it into the top ten by
the end of the qualifier, while Enzo sails across the finish line just behind
Landers. I halfway suspect that he let his friend go past him, just for the
sake of his narrative. If a driver places first each and every time, people
become less interested in him. The drama that goes along with F1 is a big
component of every tournament, a fact of which my brother is sharply aware.

As soon as the qualifier has wrapped up, I make my way to
the Ferrelli camp. Bex joins up with me en route, but remains mercifully
silent. She doesn’t even need to ask about what happened yesterday morning. She
knows full well where I was, and I have a pretty good idea of what she might
have to say about it. I’m undyingly grateful to her for not dredging the
subject up once more. I don’t know how much more emotional acrobatics I can
take just now.

The closer we get to the Ferrelli corner of the course, the
more my sense of dread begins to mount. There are media types swarming around
Enzo’s car, trying to get a word out of him. Bex and I exchange wary glances
and dive into the fry, trying to wrest some order from the rowdy group of
reporters. I elbow my way through the crowd and finally make it to Enzo’s side.
He’s grinning into a microphone, reflecting on today’s qualifier and his
chances for tomorrow. I feel my dad step up beside me as we look on.

“I’m feeling very confident about tomorrow,” my brother is
saying, “Especially since some drivers who may have posed a threat are starting
to show their true colors.”

“Are you talking about Harrison Davies?” the reporter asks.

“I don’t want to toss any names around,” Enzo says with a
wink, “But I think we all know who I’m talking about.”

“Do you have any idea why Davies may have skipped
yesterday’s preliminary?” the reporter presses.

“Look,” Enzo says, “My Dad’s been training me to be a
professional since the day I was born. Davies didn’t have that same kind
of...presence in his life. Perhaps we can conclude that the apple doesn’t fall
far from the tree?”

I can hear the blood pounding in my ears as Enzo shoots the
cameras a wide grin. I whip around to face my father, who’s smiling smugly at
his son.

“You wouldn’t do what I asked,” Dad says, “So, I passed the
buck along to your brother. He’s always looked out for this team.”

“And who’s going to look out for him, if you’re too worried
about winning to care about whether he’s a good person or not?” I shoot back.

“I don’t give a shit whether or not he’s a good person,” Dad
scoffs, “I just want him to be a good driver. A champion.”

I stare at him, dumbfounded, as the media presses in around
Enzo, swarming in to swallow him whole.

***

Just as I arrive back at the hotel, I receive a text from
Harrison with the name of a restaurant on the far side of the city and a time
for us to meet. I stare down at the message, biting my lip. It’s getting harder
and harder to sneak off away from my team. After yesterday morning, I feel like
I’m on lockdown. Between Charlie, Enzo, and my dad, there are too many watchful
eyes trained on my every move to make a clean escape. It’s time to draft some
reinforcements.

Bex knocks on my door mere minutes after I shoot her a text.
She’s all dolled up for the evening, looking flawless. Her primped appearance
takes me by surprise.

“Where are you off to, looking so incredible?” I ask.

“I, uh, may have a date tonight,” she grins, stepping around
me into the room.

“No way,” I breathe, catching her hands in mine, “I didn’t
even know...”

“You’ve been a little preoccupied with your star-crossed
lover thing,” she shrugs.

“I’m sorry, Bex,” I tell her, “You must think I’m such a
shitty friend.”

“No, just a really shitty sneak,” she laughs, pulling me
into a tight hug, “How the hell did you manage to sleep through the
preliminary?”

“If you only knew the night we had, you wouldn’t be
surprised,” I grin.

“Ooh, I love naughty Siena,” she giggles, “But that can’t
have gone over well with your dad and Enzo. Are you and Harrison still OK?”

“I don’t know,” I tell her, “After all that shit Enzo
spouted to the press...”

“Harrison won’t hold that against you,” she says, “That
would be crazy.”

“There’s not much about this situation that isn’t crazy, is
there?” I sigh.

“Nope. Not much.”

“Listen Bex,” I say, skirting past her to lock the door, “He
wants to see me tonight, at this restaurant across town.”

“Well, that’s great!” Bex exclaims, “Look at you two, acting
like a normal couple and all. This is more than sex, isn’t it?”

“I think it might be,” I tell her, “Something’s changed
between us. He...he told me that he has feelings for me.”

“Shut. Up,” Bex says, her eyes wide. “What did you tell
him?”

“That I’m falling for him,” I say softly, “In so many words
of course.”

With a shriek of joy, Bex launches herself at me. For a
moment, I’m totally swept up in her excitement. It feels so good to be able to
share this with someone, after so many nights of feeling guilty and anxious.
I’m falling in love, for god’s sake. It should be wonderful!

“Someday, when you two are happily married, this is going to
be an awesome story,” Bex tells me.

“Whoa, put on the brakes,” I say, “I have a feeling that
things are bound to get much darker before the dawn.”

“What do you mean?”

“The whole letting the world know thing? How the hell is
that supposed to work?”

“Witness protection?” she suggests.

“Great,” I mutter.

“Well, look at it this way,” Bex offers, “Harrison fell
behind in the qualifier today, which means that Enzo won’t feel so jumpy about
him. Maybe they’ll forget about how much they hate each other now?”

“Not if Enzo keeps dragging Harrison through the mud just to
make sure he never gets back up,” I say miserably.

“Well, you’re going to see him tonight. I’m sure you guys
will figure something out.”

“About that...” I begin, smiling hopefully.

“Uh-oh,” Bex sighs, “I sense a favor coming down the
track...”

“Just a little one,” I tell her, “There’s no way I’m going
to make it out of this hotel without someone trying to get in my way. Could
you...maybe escort me?”

“Are you serious?” Bex asks.

“Please,” I beg her, “You don’t have to come all the way
across town with me. I just need to get out of here without anyone stopping
me.”

“But...What about my date?” Bex pouts.

“Can you push it back a little?” I plead.

“I...It’s just...” she stammers, “I might not be the best
alibi, Siena.”

“What? Why not?”

“Because...Oh Jesus, this is kinda awkward,” she giggles
nervously, “My date...might be with someone...who has a keen interest in your
whereabouts.”

“What the...what?” I splutter, “Bex who are you...?”

“Charlie,” she says.

I stare at her, uncomprehending. “Charlie Spano?” I say, “As
in, my built-in chaperone who’s been harboring a crush for our entire lives?”

“That’s the one,” she sighs.

“But Bex...why the hell would you want to go out with
Charlie? He’s—”

“A Siena Lazio fan boy. I know,” Bex says, “But what can I
say? We’ve gotten to spend a little time together, since the tournament began.
He’s a really nice guy, Siena.”

“He’s a controlling, Ivy League stool pigeon,” I say.

“Eh. He’s cute anyway,” she shrugs.

“Bex, what can you possibly see in him?” I demand.

“Company,” she says, “Some of us aren’t lucky enough to have
a shot at true love and hot sex right off the bat, Siena. But that doesn’t mean
we stop looking.”

“I’m sorry, I don’t mean to sound like a tool,” I tell her,
“I’m just...surprised, is all.”

“I was too, when he asked me out tonight,” she admits.

“You don’t think...” I begin, “Never mind. Sorry.”

“Say it,” Bex drawls, “We might as well get it out in the
open.”

“What if...He’s trying to make me jealous by going out with
you?” I suggest.

“Then I get complimentary drinks for the rest of the tour
and a shot at getting the marrying-for-money thing out of the way,” she laughs.
“Who knows? Maybe I’ll be able to sway his interest away from the incomparable
Siena Lazio. Maybe I’ll go brunette?”

“You’re a piece of work,” I tell her.

“Tell me something I don’t know,” she grins. “Get your
things. We’ll head out together to ‘grab a drink’ before my date, and if
Charlie asks I’ll say that you struck up a conversation with an interesting
gentleman at the bar. It won’t be an utter lie, after all.”

“What would I do without you, Bex?” I ask.

“I have no earthly idea,” she shoots back, “Now come on.
Let’s pick out something pretty for you to wear on your illicit little
rendezvous.”

Under Bex’s supervision, I choose a backless burgundy
minidress and pile my curls into a loose up do. No one questions us as we
stroll out of the hotel, and in no time we’re off toward the restaurant that
Harrison’s picked out for tonight. I step out onto the sidewalk as we reach the
agreed-upon address and look back anxiously toward Bex.

“I’ll do some laps around the city before I head back. Have
a good night, my darling,” she says, blowing me a kiss as the car pulls away.

I turn toward the cozy hole-in-the-way restaurant and take a
deep, steadying breath. Gathering my courage, I push open the front door. The
dining room is minuscule, with perhaps six tables scattered about. And Harrison
is nowhere to be seen. I’m about to turn and wait for him outside when the
hostess hurries toward me.

“Are you Mr. Davies’ companion?” she asks, in heavily
accented English.

“Y-yes,” I stammer.

“Follow me,” she says, and leads the way into the back of
the restaurant.

I follow her through a turning maze of corridors and
doorways until a light begins to glimmer ahead. We step out into a secluded
terrace, lit from above by strings of white lights. A single table is set at
the center of the patio, and Harrison stands to greet me. It’s hardly been 48
hours since I saw him last, but the surge of relief I feel setting my eyes upon
him again propels me across the space, into his arms.

“I missed you too,” he laughs.