At one of the sharper turns, my brother tries to overtake Noah again. He does it sloppily, brushing Noah’s front wing, causing Noah’s car to fall behind. My brother secures the first-place position. Noah must be pissed because he detests when cars have contact with one another. The whole race turns out to be a messy one with shrapnel flying and cars colliding.
The crowd grows silent as Liam crashes into one of the barriers. His front tire flies off, and the severe damage makes him retire from the race early. He splays his hands against his helmet as the cameras pan over him. Sophie’s eyes cloud and her teeth chew on her bottom lip.
During one of the final laps, my brother lets down his defensive position enough for Noah to sneak up next to him. Their front wings drive side by side, almost touching, as they race down a straight together. They approach a narrow corner. I hold my breath, unable to look away as Noah accelerates while turning. His side tires lift from the ground, losing important contact and traction to turn. A dangerous move that pays off as his car surges past Santi’s, securing first place again. The crowd goes wild at the move Noah pulled, and I’m finding it hard to hide my bounce of excitement.
Noah ends up passing the finish line first. A checkered flag waves in the air, rustling against the wind. The fans eagerly cheer when they announce Noah as the winner of the Monaco Grand Prix. Sophie and I bounce up and down when my brother zooms past the finish line as the runner-up.
Bandini had a great racing day. They prove time and time again to be one of the strongest teams with Noah and Santi at the wheel, another race closer to winning the Constructors’ Championship.
Sophie and I wait with the masses while the drivers complete their victory lap. We end up leaving the stadium area once the guys start their usual press circuit.
We meet up with the Bandini team at the winners’ podium. Noah stands in the middle, with Santi and Jax at his sides. It fills me with happiness to see both of the Bandini boys getting along with one another, laughing at something going on between the three racers.
Santi and Jax pour champagne all over Noah. The crowd screams as champagne sprays all over them, the sticky alcohol making the air smell like a classy frat party. The podium area is a mosh pit of alcohol and cheering fans.
Noah notices me from my spot behind the blockades, shooting me a panty-melting grin. He tips his big champagne bottle to me before he chugs. I smile back at him and give him a thumbs up, incredibly proud of him. The sight of his lips wrapped around the bottle brings naughty thoughts to the forefront of my mind.
Sophie joins her dad in the celebrations with the pit team while I head back toward the suites to chill while Santi does his other interviews.
I wait in the suite, surprised when the door opens earlier than I thought.
“Hey, you’re back earlier—” I stop mid-sentence when Noah smiles at me.
He recently took a shower. His hair is slicked back, no evidence of his hands raking through the strands yet. A new Bandini shirt presses against the tight muscles of his chest. I lick my lips as my eyes roam over the rest of him, taking in expensive looking jeans that cling to his legs.
“What are you doing here? Your suite is next door.” I don’t like the mischievous grin plastered on his face at the moment. Not one bit.
He closes the distance, shushing me by pressing his finger up against my lips.
“I came to collect my post-race winnings.” He drags a calloused finger from my lips to my throat.
“Uh, I’m pretty sure they already gave you the trophy,” I whisper huskily.
Noah’s grin widens as his blue eyes pierce mine. The air in the small room feels heavy, like all the oxygen was sucked out of it. He’s a hurricane catching me in the eye of the storm, giving me a false sense of security before the winds pick up again. A catastrophic and relentless disaster in the making.
He steps away from me. The click of the lock sounds loud, sending a shiver up my back.
“This isn’t funny, Noah. Go to your own suite.” I take a step back while he takes a few steps forward, eliminating the gap.
“I’m not trying to be funny. You’ve been avoiding me.”
Uh, yes, I have. After the fashion show I’ve made myself scarce around here. I don’t trust my urges around him, but I don’t say anything because his ego gets fed enough.
“Not sure what you’re talking about. I’ve been busy.” I’d probably sound ten times more convincing if my voice wasn’t rasping. My body betrays me, unable to keep up with Noah’s persistence.
“I follow you on Instagram. I’ve seen your stories.”