Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 80321 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 402(@200wpm)___ 321(@250wpm)___ 268(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80321 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 402(@200wpm)___ 321(@250wpm)___ 268(@300wpm)
“Yes, everything’s fine,” I say, settling back into the driver’s seat and closing my eyes for a moment. “How’s your evening?”
“Oh, quiet enough. Your father is insisting on making dinner, which means I’m supervising so he doesn’t burn the soffritto. Your brother just left, he came by to borrow tools and stayed for two glasses of wine. And you? How was your day?”
I smile, picturing the scene exactly as she describes it. “Busy. Long. We had pit stop practice, an engineering meeting, strategy talk for Silvercrest. The usual pre-race chaos.”
“Mmm,” she hums in approval. “It sounds good, though. Focused. I can tell you’re in a good rhythm.”
“Yeah,” I say, hesitating. My fingers drum lightly against the steering wheel. “I am. But… there’s something I wanted to ask you about.”
There’s a pause, enough for me to picture her tilting her head in curiosity.
“All right,” she says, her tone patient. “Ask.”
I let out a little breath, half laughing at myself. “It’s… maybe about a man.”
“Maybe,” she repeats, with all the skepticism of someone who can see straight through me without being in the same country. “Is he nice?”
“He’s…” I search for the right word, staring out at the long shadow of the HQ building across the car park. “Complicated. Guarded. And I like him more than I probably should.”
She makes a little tsking sound, but it’s not disapproval. “Then take your time, my love. Ask yourself how he makes you feel about yourself when you are with him. That is the truth you need to listen to.”
Her words settle deep, warm but grounding. It quiets the doubt I’m hearing… Francesca, you’re overthinking it. Let yourself be happy for once.
“You always have the best advice, Mamma,” I tell her.
“Good. When will you bring him home for your father to ‘evaluate’ him?”
“I have to go,” I drawl.
“Francesca Maria Accardi… you tell me who this man is!” she insists.
I laugh. “Maybe one day. Goodbye, Mamma. I love you.”
She huffs out with exaggeration. “Okay… but you keep me in the loop.”
When the call ends, I’m still smiling, but there’s a new twist in my stomach—a wave of nerves at the thought that I’m developing an attachment deep enough that I’m seeking advice, maybe affirmation, from others.
CHAPTER 17
Ronan
Steam still curls in the air from the shower when I step into my bedroom, toweling my hair dry. The clock on the dresser says I’ve got just enough time to make it across town to Francesca’s without pushing the speed limit—not that I’d ever admit to worrying about being late for a woman.
And not that I’d ever obey a speed limit.
I tug on a clean T-shirt and jeans, shove my phone and wallet into my back pocket, and head for the door. Habit makes me detour toward the east wing to do my duty. Vivienne’s where I expect her to be, sprawled on her chaise in a silk robe hanging off one shoulder, a magazine open in her lap but clearly unread.
“Where are you going?” she asks, eyes flicking up with a mixture of curiosity and suspicion.
“Out,” I say, hand on the doorframe. “How are you feeling today?”
“Out where?” she asks.
I should lie to her as it would make things easier, but the excitement of seeing Francesca has me blurting, “I’ve got a date.”
Her laugh is sharp and humorless. “You? On a date? Poor girl. Does she know what she’s in for?”
I should walk away. Instead, I give her the look I reserve for reporters who cross the line. “Don’t wait up.”
“You don’t think you’d actually be capable of a relationship—” she starts, but I’m already pulling the door shut. Her words are muffled to a dull rant behind it, the poison within them not as contained.
You’d think I’d be used to it by now, or that I’d come to some sort of peace in that this is the result of an addiction and not her true nature. But I guess when it’s your mother—the one person who should have your back no matter what—it’s a pain that can’t be eased.
I can’t let that linger over me though. I don’t want to spoil whatever this might be with Francesca.
On the drive, the sting fades a little, replaced by flashes of the afternoon at Crown Velocity. Lex and I managed to work side by side without snapping at each other—running data checks in the sim room, trading quiet observations over sector splits, then a light training session in the gym that ended with him trying to best my plank time. He lost by twenty seconds, muttered a line about “core freak,” and I caught myself almost laughing for real.
Almost.
The easy rhythm between us felt strange at first, like sliding into a well-worn seat you’d forgotten was comfortable. I didn’t realize how much I missed having him as a friend until I’d burned it all down and was left with the silence. Now, having even a piece of that back has me feeling lighter.