Chapter 7

Lucashook out his arms and legs and nodded at me. “Ready.”

I counted down silently with my fingers. When my hand was a fist, I clicked live stream.

“Hi, everyone,” he started, oozing an easy confidence in his hotel room. “Bet you weren’t expecting to see me on this live stream. Not on theCiclatiaccount, anyway. But, well, you’ve probably guessed it. Until my cousin is back up and running next year, I’ll be taking his bike for the season. I’m honoured to be riding in his saddle for the time being and cheering him on, as always, to get better. See you on the track on Saturday!”

And, with another nod, I ended it. Short and sweet.

Normally, we would continue with questions, but withAlv’scondition… it didn’t seem appropriate to putLucathrough that.

Immediately, I shared the live stream on our other social media, tellingLuca, “You did great. You were a complete natural and handledAlv’ssituation sensitively, which is better than I can say for a lot of sportsmen.”

Luca’sphone was dinging on the desk in his hotel room, just behind him. But he paid it no attention, his gaze locked on the carpet at his feet. I paused my posting .

“What is it?”

“I lied, didn’t I?” he said, eyes wide as he swallowed. “He’s not going to get back on the track next year.”

I bit my lip and put my phone down on his bed. “Luca,” I said softly and reached for him.

He hugged me so tightly it wasn’t as if we had met that day. He didn’t cry, but his head fell onto my shoulder. His voice was muffled in my hair. “He might not make it back in general.”

I stroked his back. “He might not.”

“This should be one of the happiest days of my life,” he said and cleared his throat. “I should have my family celebrating with me. They’re all grieving. I feel like a dick for not being more upset.”

“You are upset,” I said, finding comfort in the embrace. It had been months since I was hugged like this. I needed it as much as he did. “But you’re also in a whirlwind right now. Once everything slows down, it will hit you. Let’s postpone that for a little longer.”

He nodded and released me, turning his back on me to wipe his eyes.

“Celebrate with me,” I said and took his hand. “Let me post the last updates and then let’s have a phone-free, cocktail-full night. We can getSalihaand some of the group.”

He hesitated and I smiled awkwardly.

“Or you can stay here. No pressure.”

“Let me get changed,” he said. “I just need a minute. Or ten. There’s a bar down the road we often go to, usSprint3s.”

“Sounds great,” I said. “Invite anyone you want,Luca. I’ll just be across the hall.”

For drinks in London, I would dress up to the nines with my friends. Something told me atStormSprintthat would be more shocking than anything.

So I threw the top of my hair back into a clip, touched up my fringe and threw on an off-the-shoulder top. Casual enough, I guessed. Especially when I wore blue jeans and my trainers. My followers agreed.

My work phone rang and I picked it up immediately. “LivieQuinn,Ciclati.” I may have practised answering it a few times. It still sounded a little strained.

“HiLivie, we spoke earlier about NixonArmas’sinterview with Road Racing League?”

“Oh, yeah,” I said, my stomach already tightening. Everything was set. “Are there any issues with that?”

“Well,” the female voice started. “It’s a bit awkward, but you representLucaMendes as well, don’t you?”

Ah, shit. I knew where this was going.

“Yes…”

“Any chance we could interview him instead? Now that he’s part ofCiclati, too.”

“What kind of feature?” I asked. “I’ll need more information. I’m sure you realise he’s quite sought after today.”

“We want an exclusive first interview,” she said. “If it’s exclusive, it will be a cover with a double spread.”

“That’s already arranged. What I can give you is the first pick of the photos from today’s production shots for a front cover in your next issue. An interview withLucanext week and a joint interview with bothCiclatiriders in two months.”

She paused. “I’m listening.”

“If you still interview NixonArmasthis week. Smaller feature, I get it, but don’t forget he is the three-time reigning champion. You also have the emotional side of the crash.” I hated selling that… but I didn’t really have a choice.

“We have the emotional aspect ofLucataking his cousin’s place.”

“Sorry, I must have misheard you,” I countered. “You don’t currently have that. Unless you signed a contract with another publicist for him?”

Silence. Then, “Fine.”

“Send the revised questions, contract and proposed price to my email. I’ll let you know if there’s a problem.”

“Okay, thank you,” she said and I hung up.

Already, I was pitting rider against rider.Lucawould be ecstatic. Nix, not so much.

Lucaknocked on my door and passed me an already uncapped bottle of beer. “Felt like I needed one,” he said. “And I owe you limitless drinks for putting up with me crying on your shoulder.”

“Anytime,” I said and ‘cheers’edhim, tapping my bottle into his. I didn’t drink it.

I knew I could tell him right there and then about the interview and it would be something more to celebrate, but I should let Nixon know first. “Do you mind if we invite Nixon? Might be good for you two to get more acquainted.”

Lucanodded but didn’t look at me. He took a large gulp of his drink.

“We don’t have to,” I assured him.

He shook his head. “No, no. It’s fine. We’re teammates, after all.”

So we went and knocked on his door. “Nixon,” I called. “You in?”

His door opened, and withLucastanding beside me against the wall, Nix didn’t see him.

“Livid,” he greeted with a grin. “Look who is knocking on whose door for the booty call.”

Death was not merciful, refusing to take me on the spot.

My gaze flickered up toLuca, who was biting back a laugh, staring at the awful artwork on the wall. “Not the night I signed up for,” he chuckled.

Nixon wasn’t at all bothered. “Hello, Mendes.”

“Hello, Armas.”

Despite Nix’s friendly greeting,Luca’sdidn’t have the same warmth.

“Right,” I said, clasping my hands around the bottle. “Nix, no more jokes, or we’ll be having words, do you hear?”

He saluted. “Yes, ma’am.”

“I think we could all do with a drink. Shall we?”

Nix nodded, shutting his door behind him. He wasn’t as excited as I’d anticipated. This would be my first chance to see him socialise with alcohol. And see if there was any misbehaviour.

I led the way to the elevator, where we silently descended to the basement floor. Nixon walked out when it dinged, but I heldLucaback with an arm. “There’s nothing — Nix and I aren’t—”

Lucachuckled. “Livie, your secrets are safe with me.”

I shook my head, closing the elevator door with a press of the button. “No, really, nothing is happening. He’s my client.”

He glanced at me, a twinkle in his eyes for the second I saw them. “Come on,” he urged. “You’ve got plenty of people to meet.”

He wasn’t wrong. All night was a blur of names. I met riders fromSprint3,Sprint2andStormSprint. I tried to keep an eye on Nix, but I ended up having too much of a good time. A few months ago, I wouldn’t have been able to do all of it sober. But I didn’t quite trust myself to drink with these strangers just yet.

I was watching Nixon from the corner of my eye for any concerning behaviour — I hadn’t noticed any yet — whenSalihacried as someone walked over.

“Frank!” she squealed, reaching up to hug a man in gym gear walking through to his hotel room. He was one of the taller riders, she was one of the smallest people I had ever known.

Lucapatted his shoulder. “Frank, this here isLivie. New toCiclati.”

FrankFeldt. The rider who had come second in last year’s championship. The media loved to pit him and Nix against each other.

His eyes met mine and hovered there a little too long. I looked right back. He was handsome in a very pretty boy way, with a straight nose, bright eyes, and a strong chin. A man you would see on the front cover of a magazine.

“I can stay for a drink or two,” he said and smiled down at me.

I hated and loved this job.