Crash Into Me E-Book

Darci St. John

• Herausgeber: Bedford Square Publishers
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Sprache: Englisch

Seitenzahl: 506

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2024

Beschreibung

Readers love Crash Into Me ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐'I always love ❤️ a story of second chances with new beginnings.' ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐'Great characters... a perfect unfolding and a lot of cheeky one-liners that made me laugh' ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐'LOVED LOVED LOVED this book!!! It was such a fun engaging read…had a hard time putting it down!!' ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐'This second chance romance has it all -clever banter, memorable characters, and a unique setting in the global world of elite racing.' Fast isn't her thing anymore. No one's more surprised than Mia Rubie when she unexpectedly inherits her father's elite auto racing team. Mia hasn't been near a race car—or a certain Italian driver—since she walked away from a promising racing career fifteen years ago. But with the racing season about to begin and a letter from her father tugging at her heartstrings, she reluctantly puts her life on hold to travel the world with Rubie Racing … and Luca Toscano, the only man she ever loved. But she can't slow him down. Mia's father Rob had lured Luca back to Rubie Racing with the promise of making his dreams of being world champion finally come true. One of the oldest drivers on the track, Luca was already running out of time on his lifelong quest to be the best of the best. But now Rob's gone … and Mia—who once nearly took his career along with his heart—is back. Mia can't seem to avoid Luca, and he can't stop thinking about her. But can they move past what drove them apart?

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CRASH INTO ME

Darci St. John



Reader reviews for Crash into Me

‘If you’re looking for your next best rom-com, look no further’

‘The book works on so many levels and I thoroughly enjoyed!’

‘Such a fun rom-com that I really loved. Not sure how this is a debut!’

‘From the first chapter, I was hooked on the main characters, Mia and Luca, and couldn’t wait to see where their romance led’

‘You can feel the heat between these race-crossed lovers as surely as if you’re standing on a track with the motors revving’

‘I enjoyed every minute of this fantastic rom-com. I can’t wait to see what this author writes next!’

‘If you love a fun lighthearted romance novel this is for you. Buy the book! You won’t regret it!’

‘Nothing beats finding a new author who knows how to write. Crash into Me propels the reader into auto racing, tight-knit teams and minds of the principals’

‘Mia Rubie is the epitome of a woman rising to the occasion and realising she can be both a leader, a competitor, and a woman in love. I could not put this book down’

‘The attention to detail and the cadence of the story made this book a hard one to put down for me. Great characters… a perfect unfolding and a lot of cheeky one-liners that made me laugh and keep reading’

‘This second-chance romance has it all – clever banter, memorable characters, and a unique setting in the global world of elite racing’

For Michael

Contents

Cover

Title Page

Reader reviews for Crash into Me

Dedication

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Epilogue

A Note from the Author

Acknowledgements

About the Author

Copyright

About the Publisher

Chapter 1

Mia Rubie’s father once said that her smile could raise the dead. For the second time in her life, she wished it were true.

‘How’s my girl holding up?’ Her dad’s best friend opened his arms, and Mia collapsed into one of her godfather’s famous bear hugs. His tweed sport coat was like sandpaper against her cheek, but she buried her face in all the same. It was the most comfort she’d felt all day.

‘Hanging in there, I guess,’ she lied, then took a deep breath in hopes of holding back another cascade of tears and turning into a blubbering mess for the thousandth time in four days. ‘I still can’t believe he’s gone, Cliff. It doesn’t seem possible.’

Not even a hundred hours had passed since her father exited this world. As each one of those three-hundred-thousand-and-some-odd seconds had ticked by, Mia’s brain had been working overtime, trying somehow to process the inconceivable, how a man who’d always been larger than life could now be lying in the casket behind her.

‘When my phone rang, I thought he was calling to say good morning. Poor Barb, having to—’

As if she’d been summoned from a lamp, her dad’s longtime live-in house manager and unofficial wrangler of the Rubie family – a selfless job if there ever was one – appeared beside her. ‘Oh, no, don’t you feel sorry for me,’ Barb said, her voice far calmer and several octaves lower than when she’d literally screamed into Mia’s ear as her father was being loaded into an ambulance. ‘I only wish I’d forced the paramedics to let him talk to you. If I’d known – well, damn. Here I go.’

Cliff pulled the now weeping Barb into their hug.

Even though the Chicago skyline had been in Mia’s rearview mirror within a half an hour of hanging up the phone with Barb, her dad had died before she crossed the border into her home state of Michigan. When she’d rushed into the hospital lobby, ready to pounce on the first person she encountered with a stethoscope, she’d instead found herself looking into the eyes of a somber-faced Barb.

And she’d known.

‘I wish I’d been able to say goodbye.’ Mia sniffed. ‘I wish I’d been able to say a lot of things.’

Not that she hadn’t had ample opportunity to say all of the things when her dad was alive. They both had. But instead of sitting down and talking about why Mia had walked away from the sport she’d once loved like two rational adults, they’d chosen to dance around the central conflict in the drama they’d both played a part in creating, each of them waiting for the other to make the first move. Apparently, she’d won by default.

It was the hollowest of victories.

Now, it was too late. She couldn’t apologize to a dead man. And although her dad had always accomplished whatever he set his mind to, admitting to his own wrongdoings or granting forgiveness from the hereafter was out of reach, even for him.

‘Don’t I know it, kiddo. But trust me when I say, he knew. The man knew everything.’ Cliff gave them both a final squeeze before leading Barb away, leaving Mia to return to the task of greeting those gathered to say their final farewell to the great Robert Rubie, auto racing legend.

Five hours into the viewing, a line of people still wound through the funeral home, their feet shuffling along an invisible dotted line on the paisley carpeting. A line so long that she couldn’t see where it ended, only where it began – with her twin brother and her. It was hard to believe that she and Jordan were here again, standing in front of a casket holding another parent taken too soon.

I wish I were anywhere but here. Mia closed her eyes and lightly knocked the heels of her boots together three times, only to open them to find a portly middle-aged man approaching her with open arms. She’d lost count of how many hugs she’d accepted from strangers.

‘Mia, I’m so sorry to meet you under these circumstances, but… my gosh, do you look like your dad.’

Her teenage-self had always bristled at the comparison. Not that there was anything wrong with her dad’s looks or, for that matter, hers. Blue eyes. Sandy blonde hair tousled in perfect just-stepped-off-the-beach waves. A permagrin that could best be described as ‘resting happy face.’ But when your mother had been a supermodel with a pout so famous that it had landed her on the cover of every fashion magazine in existence, it was hard not to resent not getting that gene. By luck of the draw, and genetics, the pout had gone to Jordan – although he mostly wore it as a scowl.

Her looks would forever be filed in the perpetually cute category. Just like her father’s had been.

The man released her from his hug, only to grab her hands warmly in his. ‘I own an Italian deli on the west side. Your dad couldn’t resist my sub sandwiches. Was in a few times a week during the off-season.’

Between this guy, the Detroit-style pizza lady she’d met earlier, and Barb, a ‘feeder’ if there ever was one (even if it wasn’t part of her official job description), her dad’s heart attack was becoming less and less shocking.

‘Of course.’ Another fib.

Mr Sub beamed. ‘Rob was so proud of his little girl in Chicago. Tell me, how’s the job? That promotion working out? It sounded really great.’

They chatted for a few more minutes, during which Mia realized that there were few details her father hadn’t felt comfortable trading for a little salami, capicola, and provolone. Her last boyfriend. Their disastrous vacation to Greece. The subsequent breakup. Apparently, her dad had thought she could ‘do better.’ No secret there.

After promising to stop in and try the newly named ‘Rob Rubie,’ which she learned was the old number four but with her father’s favorite modifications, Mia managed to slide her hands from Mr Sub’s vise-like grip and send him on his way. She scanned the line once again and spotted relatives mixed in with employees from Rubie Racing – her dad’s second family – along with plenty of fans in team garb. At least twenty race car drivers were also waiting to pay their respects to one of their own. Ten she knew well from her childhood; men her father had raced against who were more like brothers than his own flesh and blood. The others were younger, from the current generation lapping the world’s tracks alongside her brother. Like Jordan, they possessed an air of subtle arrogance that set her teeth on edge, even though she knew it was key to them confidently maneuvering cars hurtling a couple hundred miles per hour.

Without a doubt, Jordan would deal with each of the drivers himself, as he had all day. And that was just fine by her.

The only race car driver she’d allowed herself to give a damn about in the last fifteen years was lying behind them. She turned toward the casket and straightened his favorite Rubie Racing jacket. The team uniform had been a spur-of-the-moment decision when the funeral home director called for clothes to dress him in, but she’d known instantly it was the perfect choice. Rob Rubie had lived and breathed auto racing. If the Angel of Death had owed him any favors, and he likely had, her dad was already driving the afterlife’s longest and most winding road course.

A strong whiff of ‘funeral home scent’ from the wall of floral arrangements surrounding the casket brought Mia back to reality with a sudden tickle in her nose. She sneezed again and again.

‘You OK, sis?’ Jordan asked, the concern in his voice a mismatch to the annoyed look in his eyes.

‘You bet, bro,’ she said, rubbing her nose with a tissue she’d tucked up her sleeve like a ninety-year-old woman, then gently dabbing her puffy eyes before searching the line again.

Jordan followed her gaze. ‘Looking for someone in particular? A certain Italian driver, perhaps?’

‘Luca?’ she bristled. ‘As if.’

Only to her chagrin, she sounded more like a sixteen-year-old girl denying a crush than the sensible thirty-three-year-old woman she’d become. Who, today of all days, was steeling herself for the moment when she came face-to-face with the man who once upon a time had broken her heart.

Like she needed one more piece of kindling to toss on the emotional bonfire blazing inside her. She gave the line another glance, knowing it was a matter of when, not if, her ex-boyfriend would appear to extend his condolences. Just like every other member of the Rubie Racing team.

Without another word, Jordan turned to greet the current world champion. A snippet of their talk about the upcoming season drifted into earshot, and it took all of the restraint she could muster to not shove her fingers in her ears to block it out. Racing was the last thing she wanted to think about right now, regardless of the fact that she and her brother were the sole heirs to the only American team in the world’s most prestigious auto racing series, and the life she’d long ago sped away from was now crashing back into her.

Just a few more days, and then you can go home and back to your regularly scheduled life.

Mia’s feet cramped in her new boots, and she curled and uncurled her toes in hope of finding some relief. Jordan passed an older couple off to her, and she accepted their hugs, listened to their memories, and prayed her feet would soon go numb along with the rest of her body.

Chapter 2

Luca Toscano placed his hands on the steering wheel, closed his eyes, and took a deep, centering breath. Just like he did before every race.

Only he wasn’t sitting at the start line on a racetrack. He was in the parking lot of a funeral home, attempting to tie his goddamn necktie for the fifteenth time.

Luca could hardly believe he was about to pay his respects to the man who’d promised to make his dream of being world champion come true – twice – only to up and die before he did. That was why he’d felt like a Mack Truck was sitting on his chest since Brian, the team manager, had called him with the news of Rob’s death. At least that’s what he told himself as he gave the tie one final go and, miracle of miracles, lined up the ends enough to save the silken noose from the nearest trash bin.

He slammed shut the door of his silver Range Rover and made his way through the rows of luxury cars and SUVs lining his path to the door. An impressive showing considering the Apex racing season was about to begin, and an ocean stood between most of the other teams’ home bases and Rubie Racing’s. But then Rob had also made plenty of friends in every type of auto racing, and a couple of those series only ran stateside. Still, there couldn’t be a single Ferrari, Mercedes, or Cadillac left at a rental car agency within a hundred and fifty miles of the Detroit airport.

As he suspected, the place was thick with fellow race car drivers and team owners from around the world. They hated to lose one of their own, especially an all-around good guy like Rob Rubie. Luca took his place in line and shared a nod with those he passed as he slowly snaked his way up to the casket, appreciating not having to engage any of his colleagues in conversation and address the question on everyone’s minds. But their murmurs confirmed that they were all thinking what he’d been for the last three days: What happens to Rubie Racing now?

He wasn’t a religious man by any means, but he sent up a prayer that the guy planted front and center of the casket wasn’t any part of the answer to the question at the forefront of everyone’s mind. While he was at it, he added a second prayer for when he came face to face with the woman he knew would also be there, even though he’d long ago given up hope of ever laying eyes on her again.

‘Jordan, I’m very sorry for your loss,’ Luca said to the man who was technically his teammate when he finally reached the end of the line. He accepted Jordan’s outstretched hand, then pulled him in for a brief hug and a couple of taps on the back. ‘Your father was a good man. He will be missed.’

Considering that Jordan had been doing his best to make him feel as if he didn’t exist during their time as Rubie Racing’s two required drivers, Luca shouldn’t have been surprised when Jordan made a point of looking past him to see who was next in line. ‘I’m sure you’ll miss him more than most, Luca. I mean, you were one of his biggest accomplishments, without a doubt.’

Gone was the tiny flicker of hope Luca had had about Jordan leaving any animosity behind, at least for one day.

‘Well, you and Mia.’ Jordan jerked his head to his right. ‘Surely, you remember my sister.’

‘Yes, you know I do.’ Luca allowed himself to follow Jordan’s lead and finally glimpse the first – and only – woman he’d ever loved.

Jordan raised an eyebrow, then turned his attention to the next mourner waiting to talk to him, leaving Luca with the same impression he had after almost all of their interactions.

What an asshole.

Mia appeared deep in conversation with a grandmotherly type, giving him the perfect opportunity to escape. Only he couldn’t stop himself from pausing to steal another look as he walked past her. One of her hands rested on the woman’s shoulder as they talked; the other clutched a tissue she brought up to her face. To dab her eyes, which were open wide and looking directly at him.

Busted.

Luca shoved his hands in his pockets and, while he waited for Mia to finish her conversation, fully took her in. The stereotypical girl-next-door he remembered was all grown up. Still cute, as opposed to the model-type he now preferred, but gorgeous all the same. Especially in the soft grey cashmere sweater dress covering her from neck to knee and a pair of tall black leather boots. Before he could stop his brain, it pictured how those boots would look if she lost the rest of the outfit.

Since when did they keep funeral homes so warm? He was reaching to loosen his tie when Mia released the older woman from a quick hug and turned his way.

‘My dad’s high school English teacher,’ she said, wiping away more tears as he walked up to her. ‘Apparently, he was big into haikus.’

His puzzled look was met with the famous Rubie grin.

‘C’mon, you know, the Japanese poem. Three lines? Five syllables, then seven, then five? Typically focus on nature, although Dad’s, unsurprisingly, were almost always about race cars.’

He shrugged a shoulder. ‘Nope. Can’t say I’ve heard of it. But then I didn’t exactly have a traditional education.’

She began tapping a single finger against her mouth and repeating, ‘Five, seven, five.’ Her eyes narrowed.

‘Mia?’ He swallowed, wishing she’d stop drawing his attention to her lips.

‘Got one.’ She paused. ‘My father just died. He tried to walk on by me.’ Another pause. ‘After fifteen years.’

Bullseye. A direct hit to the heart. ‘I’m not sure what to say, besides I’m sorry,’ he said.

‘I know, but it’s ironic, right? Dad once said that I’d see you again over his dead body.’

Chapter 3

The cathedral was the only church in the Detroit area grand enough to host the funeral Mass, and a ridiculously generous gift toward its restoration had ensured the Gothic Revival-style space would always be available to the Rubie family. Regardless of the fact that Rob Rubie was a ‘Chreaster’ Catholic – only showing up on Christmas and Easter in his Sunday best.

‘Trust me, I pray more than most people,’ Mia could hear her father telling her whenever she’d asked why they had to go to church and he didn’t. He’d always added with a wink, ‘Someday, daughter of mine, you’ll understand.’

That someday still hadn’t arrived, and it most certainly wasn’t today, as she sat sandwiched between Cliff and Jordan. Her brother had declined the car service Cliff arranged and instead made his way to the front pew just three steps ahead of the casket. She had half wondered if he’d show up with a date, but he was alone.

Not that he wasn’t dressed to impress. His slim charcoal suit was classic bordering on trendy, which was always a pricey combination. Mia assumed a stylist had paired it with the crisp white dress shirt and tie in the precise shade of navy as his car the previous season.

Not that she had room to talk. Since she left Chicago without a clue of what was in store for her, she’d driven straight to the mall after making the arrangements at the funeral home and handed her credit card over to the first consultant she saw. No doubt, the woman had taken one look at her frazzled state and the black American Express her father had insisted she carry in case of an emergency and thought, ‘Jackpot.’

But her actions were more necessity than luxury. She’d declined the Fendi bag the stylist had paired with the simple black woolen dress for the funeral – albeit reluctantly, and only after an emergency call to her best friend Star back in Chicago from the dressing room. And she’d certainly done penance for splurging on those black boots with four-inch heels during the twelve hours she’d spent on her feet yesterday. Today’s black patent leather Mary Janes were proving to be somewhat kinder to her arches, although the dull ache in her feet was a welcome distraction from the stabbing sensation piercing her heart in time to an invisible metronome.

Beside her, Jordan tapped his loafers on the marble floor to his own beat and glanced at this watch every few minutes. He’d never been the most patient or well-behaved person during Mass, and she’d be the one to know. The two of them had logged plenty of hours sitting side-by-side in wooden pews, with him always more focused on trying to get her in trouble than learning about kindness and compassion. As if she needed a second reason to be inexplicably sad, Mia realized that the days of them being siblings who teased yet still liked each other were now all but distant memories. They’d first faded when she and Jordan had started racing go-karts against each other. When Luca had joined Rubie Racing the first time, those days were almost completely behind them, and she and Luca being as thick as thieves had sealed the deal.

Near the end of the service, Cliff stood up and made his way to the altar, pausing briefly to rest his hand on the casket before ascending the stairs to the lectern.

No one was more qualified to eulogize her father. The two had grown up on the same street in northwest Detroit and had even raced karts against each other as boys. But by their teen years, it had become obvious that her dad possessed a one in a million gift. He’d raced his way up to the big leagues while Cliff went off to college and then law school. They’d lived the rest of their lives in different worlds but remained best friends, and Mia couldn’t recall her godfather ever not being there. Her dad had trusted him more than anyone.

Cliff cleared his throat before leaning toward the microphone. ‘Thank you for coming and, monsignor, thank you for your kind words about our friend. We can all agree that St Peter opened the pearly gates wide for Rob, and he happily raced through them to find his beloved Trish.’ His voice faltered, and he paused to take a deep breath before continuing. ‘Rob wasn’t one for guesswork, as most of you here know. Once he made a plan, he stuck to it, even if he didn’t let anyone else in on it, or it wasn’t clear to anyone, and I mean anyone, but himself.’

A crisp white envelope appeared from the inside pocket of Cliff’s sport jacket, along with a pair of reading glasses. ‘Rob gave this to me at our last review of his will. Each year, he wrote a new letter to be read at his funeral. Like I said, no guesswork. God knows we didn’t think his time would come this soon, but here we are.’

As Cliff unsealed the envelope and carefully unfolded the paper inside, Jordan increased the speed of his steady ‘tap, tap, tap’ on the marble. This letter was obviously a surprise to him, too. Mia considered moving her hand within his easy reach, in hopes that he might hold it. But the thought of being rejected by the only family member she had left kept it where it was.

‘Hello, my mourners. Thank you for being here. My only wish is that I was sitting among you instead of at that big pit stop in the sky.’ Cliff cleared his throat again. ‘I certainly cannot complain about my life, so I won’t bother to try.’ Laughter bounced off the cavernous stone walls. ‘But I am writing to let you know that my legacy is with all of you. And, so, it will never die. You and my children ensure that. My son, Jordan, who followed in my footsteps on the track, and my daughter, Mia, who will now lead Rubie Racing as its next owner and team principal.’

Jordan’s foot stopped mid-tap as he stiffened next to her. This wasn’t the plan.

He knew it.

She knew it.

And judging by the collective gasp that echoed from the marble floors to the stone ceiling, and the hushed murmurs that followed, all seven hundred people seated behind them knew it, too. A wide-eyed Barb grabbed Jordan’s hand while leaning over him to pat Mia’s.

Mia wanted to run up onto the altar, grab the paper out of Cliff’s hands, and read it herself, but her legs were frozen. Only those wheels in her brain were moving, this time trying to process the bomb her father had managed to drop on his funeral from the hereafter.

This was a mistake, or a practical joke. The man had loved a good joke. Maybe he wasn’t even dead but waiting for the right moment to pop out of the casket and yell, ‘Gotcha!’ Then, he’d laugh harder than anybody else, like he always had. She fixed her eyes on the casket’s closed lid and waited. Nothing.

Damn.

Clearly, her father had been delusional. The signs were there. First, he had brought Luca back to the team, and now this. People should be concerned. Someone should say something. She should say something. She couldn’t lead a racing team. Her path had been decided many years ago – by her. She’d created her own footsteps instead of following in his. And now he wanted her to sit in the driver’s seat and steer Rubie Racing’s future as team principal? She knew her dad had been a dreamer, but this was off the charts, even for him.

Her mind raced as her body remained paralyzed. Her hopes were raised when the priest stood up – then dashed when he only did some magical hand motion that quieted the crowd in about half a second before nodding to Cliff to continue.

‘I announce this here, today, because I have one final request of each and every one of you. Please show my daughter the friendship and support you’ve provided me all these years,’ Cliff read. ‘But now, I want you to go and celebrate my death just as you did so often during my life. I’ve planned an after-party, make that an afterlife party, at the Rubie Racing complex. I will be there with you in spirit, always.’

Cliff folded the letter and placed it back in the envelope before descending the steps of the altar and returning to sit beside Mia. He put his arm around her as soon as he sat down and tugged her close to him. ‘You OK, kid?’ he whispered.

Mia could only shake her head no. Sweat was beginning to bead on her forehead, and she eyed the cool marble between the pew and kneeler. Would anyone notice if she pressed her cheek against the floor, just for a moment? Deciding that it probably wasn’t ideal, she instead focused on matching Jordan’s breathing. In through the nose and out through the mouth, in through the mouth… come on, Jordan, out through the mouth. After what seemed like an eternity, she squeezed his hand and he exhaled. And so did she.

The priest wrapped things up and let everyone know where they could find maps to the Rubie Racing complex. Since her father was being cremated, there would be no graveside service. The casket, with her father’s body inside, was to be taken away once the cathedral emptied. This scenario – embalming, then cremation – wasn’t typical but, as she’d learned when his funeral plans were revealed, he had considered this to be a fitting end. Probably because so many drivers of his generation had expected to burn to death in a fiery crash on the racetrack. Because so many of them had.

Mia assumed that she, Jordan, Cliff, and Barb would take a few minutes together after everyone left to say their final goodbyes. But Jordan rose from his seat with the rest of the congregation, walked straight up to the casket, and rapped on it with his knuckles.

‘Hey, dad,’ he said, his voice breaking. ‘Go to hell.’

Mia spent the forty-five-minute drive from Detroit to the western suburbs pinballing from hysterical laughter to crying to seething anger and back again. It was a good thing her father was dead, because she would’ve seriously considered murdering him otherwise.

‘What the hell was he thinking? How am I supposed to waltz into some weird afterlife party and mix and mingle like my life hasn’t been totally upended?’

Cliff and Barb tried their best to console her, but they ultimately resorted to tough love when they pulled into the parking lot and Mia refused to exit the vehicle. Well, Cliff did, but then he was already on edge from rounds of defending himself for not telling her what he’d deemed ‘not his news to share.’ Barb was too busy performing an Olympic-level handwringing routine.

‘This is what’s going to happen,’ Cliff said. ‘You’re going to walk in there with your shoulders back and your head held high. Because you’re Mia Rubie, and it’s time you started acting like it. Of course, you could also tuck tail and run, but I think you’ve done enough of that in this lifetime, don’t you?’

Mia met her godfather’s glare with a more intense one of her own. ‘I would hardly call what I decided to do with my life fifteen years ago tucking tail and running, and I can’t believe you of all people would—’

‘But in all honesty,’ he cut in, his tone softening, ‘I don’t think that’s what you want. And I know it’s not what your father would’ve wanted either, Mia.’

‘If we’re being honest, it doesn’t matter what I want.’ Apparently, as far as her dad was concerned, it never had.

Barb grabbed Mia’s hand. ‘I know you’re upset, but sometimes, you have to push through and do what you don’t want to do. This is one of those times.’

Mia sucked in what felt like all of the air in the vehicle and contemplated holding that breath forever, or at least until she blacked out. Unsure of how long that would take, she finally exhaled. ‘Fine.’

The crowd parted as Cliff guided her straight to a fully stocked bar.

Within seconds, a shot appeared in front of her. ‘Seriously?’

‘Drink it,’ Cliff said.

Mia pursed her lips and shook her head. ‘Nope.’

‘Mia, this is going to be a very long night if you don’t settle down and relax. I don’t think you can manage it on your own. Take the shot.’

When Barb nodded her encouragement, Mia grabbed the glass and downed what turned out to be whiskey in a single gulp, enjoying the scorched path it left down her chest more than she expected. As soon as she set the shot glass on the bar, Cliff motioned for the bartender to fill it again. This time, instead of arguing, Mia welcomed the burning sensation. When her empty shot glass was replaced with a healthy pour of red wine the next round, she was almost disappointed.

‘We circle the room once, make polite small talk.’ Cliff handed her the wine. ‘Deal? No one expects more, I promise.’

Considering that the Rubie Racing complex was as large as three football fields, and the party was in full swing in the expansive space where her father’s private car collection was on permanent display, one round could easily take an hour.

To her relief, most of the guests were too busy stuffing themselves with smoked salmon canapés, bacon-wrapped scallops, caviar, and a perennial Rubie family favorite – miniature hot dogs wrapped in crescent dough – while sipping vintage champagne to commemorate her dad winning the Monaco Grand Prix in 1979, to offer Mia more than a quick hug or hello. It was hard to believe these same people were just at a funeral. The heavy, dark cloud of sorrow from the last few days had been lifted; the tears and long faces replaced with alcohol-fueled laughter and joy. But then Rob Rubie always could throw one hell of a party. The fact that his favorite catering company had pulled off his elaborate plan in a few short days was nothing short of a miracle. He’d somehow managed to go out one-upping everyone he’d ever known.

And then, of course, there were the cars. Even Mia couldn’t help but gawk at her dad’s collection, and she’d grown up climbing in and out of them – mostly when she thought no one was looking. Vintage and collector models and race cars made up the majority of the thirty on display, with a few random cars special to the Rubie family for one reason or another thrown in. Showcased together, they were awe-inspiring to even casual observers. And there weren’t many of those in this crowd.

She felt less like the elephant in the room than she anticipated, but then this was largely the aristocracy of racing, for whom discretion and subtlety were second nature. It also helped that they were well on their way to being more than slightly inebriated.

When Cliff finally released her from her duties, Mia strolled through the cars, a second glass of wine in hand.

And that’s when it hit her.

As owner of Rubie Racing, every single one of these cars belonged to her – from the 1926 Ford Model T Speedster to the DeLorean her dad had bought the summer she was more than slightly obsessed with Back to the Future. Although she suspected Jordan would fight her for the 1969 Chevy Corvette L88, his boyhood favorite, and the R25, his race car from his winningest year.

Also hers were the team’s current race cars, which were tucked away in garages elsewhere on the complex, far from curious eyes. The ones being readied to zoom around racetracks around the world in two short months and hopefully bring a long sought-after world championship home to the Motor City for the first time.

What in the hell could her dad have been thinking?

Of course, if he had told her flat out that he wanted her back in the Rubie Racing fold, she would’ve said no. Her career was important to her, and she was good at it. So what if marketing wasn’t as exciting as cars traveling at breakneck speed? A life lived far from the edge had almost the same view and, as a bonus, no one got hurt.

Except, apparently, her dad had been harboring a secret agenda that ended up cutting off his daughter’s nose and spiting his son’s face.

These realizations had her searching for a place to inconspicuously sit down and tuck her head between her knees or, at the very least, a paper bag to blow into for the next twelve hours.

Instead, Mia resorted to draining her glass in front of a cherry red 1967 Porsche 911 Coupe while thinking about the first time she’d sat behind its wheel with her dad riding shotgun. Within seconds, the empty glass was lifted from her hand and replaced with a full one. She turned to thank her donor, only to find herself breathing the same air as Luca. Feeling heat race to her cheeks, likely turning them nearly the same shade as the car, she whipped back around after a quick thank you. It was the wine and the whiskey, she reassured herself, and took a long, steadying sip before looking his way again.

‘I learned to drive in this car. I was twelve, and we were on vacation in northern Michigan during summer break. I wouldn’t stop pestering Dad, and he finally took me to the parking lot of a grocery store after hours and let me have a go.’

Luca looked from the car to her, then back to the car again before deadpanning, ‘You must mean one like it. Having an adolescent student driver behind the wheel would surely eliminate any automobile from future collecting.’

‘Ha, ha.’ Mia took another long sip of wine and allowed herself to take him in. Gone were the boyish looks she remembered so well, although his wavy brown hair still appeared finger combed. (‘I’ve never owned a brush’ took the prize for the oddest brag she’d ever heard.) Her own fingers flexed at the memory of running through his silky locks, and they fought an urge to do it again.

Overall, the past fifteen years had been more than kind to him because, of course they had. He’d always been slim, but like most drivers, it was all muscle from training strategically. The cut of his black suit was similar to Jordan’s, but Luca pulled it off in a way that only a European man could – even one who no longer lived on the Continent. She raised her glass to her lips as she contemplated how this could be, only to realize that her eyes were lingering along with her thoughts.

For Pete’s sake, stop ogling your ex at your father’s funeral party.

Her gaze jerked up at the sound of him lightly clearing his throat. ‘So, what you’re telling me is that your father was obviously out of his mind.’

Mia nodded. ‘That was most definitely confirmed today, wouldn’t you say?’

His eyes crinkled as he smiled. ‘I meant because he let a twelve-year-old behind the wheel of a classic Porsche.’

‘I’ll have you know I mastered the clutch in ten seconds, which has to be some sort of record for a tween.’ She paused to sip her wine. ‘I was referring to the bombshell he dropped at his funeral. We both know I have no business in this business.’

He lifted a single shoulder in a shrug – a classic Luca move. ‘Your father was no crazier than any other person in this room.’

‘Well, that’s not saying much.’

To prove her point, she glanced around the space, her hand following her eyes like a game show hostess, only to discover that the pair of them were attracting quite a bit of attention. Barb smiled and waved from where she stood next to Cliff.

Thankfully, a chair was ceremoniously plunked down in the middle of the room, and a former world champion climbed atop it and dinged his crystal champagne flute with a spoon. A hush fell over the room as he began sharing one of Mia’s favorite stories, about how her father had managed to convince every driver to drop his name to a certain supermodel who, as the face of an Apex sponsor, was following the circuit that season. But they talked him up so much that when he finally spoke to her himself after the third race of the season, which he lost by a hair, she said with a pout, ‘You’re the great Rob Rubie? Not sure I see it based on today’s performance, but buy me a bottle of champagne anyway.’

People laughed, and toasted, and laughed some more, and they didn’t even know about her father’s sweet tradition of treating his wife to the same pricey bottle every year on the anniversary of that night, even after she was no longer able to join him.

A line of sorts began forming for a turn at story time. They were in for a long evening; this was not a bashful group. Mia found herself looking for the nearest escape route.

As if he could read her mind, Luca swapped their empty wineglasses for champagne from a passing tray and whispered, ‘Come with me. There’s something I want you to see.’

Her desire to leave the spotlight trumped any hesitation about being alone with Luca. Add in the alcohol and he may as well have been the Pied Piper, given how readily she trailed after him. When they reached a door about fifty feet away, Luca handed her both champagne flutes before producing a security badge from his pocket and swiping it in front of a scan pad. After opening the door and allowing her to pass, he double checked that it had closed before heading on.

‘Paranoid much?’

‘I learned from the best.’ He laughed as he passed by her to lead the way. ‘Your dad was constantly updating security around here. Always seemed like overkill until the day we found a blogger sniffing around, taking photos of the new rear wing we were developing with his watch.’

‘Wait, what? How’d he get into the building? What did my dad do to him?’

Luca shrugged. ‘Never heard, but I assume he lived. Imagine he needed a new watch, though.’

The darkened corridors lit up as they walked deeper into the complex. The party noise faded away, leaving Mia with only her thoughts and the sound of their echoing footsteps. When was she last at the complex? Ten years ago? Definitely before she moved to Chicago and officially left Rubie Racing behind. Invitations to Christmas parties and end-of-season celebrations had arrived each year like clockwork and gone straight into the recycling bin. That hadn’t stopped her father from continuing to send them. He was as determined as she was stubborn, and vice versa. It was amazing that they’d managed to have any sort of father–daughter relationship at all.

Granted, that had taken some time, once she’d taken away the one thing they’d always had in common. But eventually, they’d found other things to talk about – for a good while, at least. Until that horrible season when her dad had been especially down, and Mia hadn’t been able to bring herself to change the subject when he’d called her to dissect what could be behind their losing streak. She had only started watching races again so she could hold up her end of those conversations. Now she couldn’t help but think that it had all been part of some master plan for her to take over Rubie Racing.

Mia emerged from her thoughts just as she crashed into Luca, who’d stopped at another scan pad. Although she managed to slow her momentum enough to cause only a minor accident, the champagne sloshed in the glasses she was carrying. Before their eyes, a single drop splashed to the floor.

‘Uh oh, you’re in for it now. If you’re looking for Rob to come back and haunt you, the best way is to dirty his floor.’ He turned and touched her wrist. ‘I’m sorry. That was incredibly insensitive.’

‘It’s all right.’ Her gaze dropped to his fingers, which slipped just beneath her sleeve and came to rest on her suddenly rapid pulse – the slight contact having apparently sent a ripple of awareness straight to her heart. She felt something besides numbness for the first time in days, along with a pang of guilt for enjoying it, considering she’d sobbed a final goodbye to the lid of a casket mere hours ago. ‘And I should be so lucky.’

Her focus didn’t leave Luca’s backside for the rest of their journey, which didn’t help slow her heartbeat, but did keep her from running into him when he stopped again.

‘To be honest, until the break-in, I couldn’t figure out if your father was extremely paranoid or protective,’ he said, swiping his badge then holding the door open with his hip.

She handed him his glass as she walked into the darkened room. ‘Knowing my dad, it was probably a little of both. But I guess he had a right to be.’

‘Yes, I’d say so,’ Luca murmured, and let the door close behind him.

Chapter 4

Luca wanted to see Mia’s face when the lights went on over the new cars for the season – to see if she would light up like she once did. His hope was that whatever he saw written across there would tell him if her passion for the sport still ran deep, how she would lead the team, and whether he needed to go elsewhere to finally win the grand prize of racing.

Those were among the myriad thoughts swirling around in his mind since he’d learned, alongside everyone else at the funeral, that Mia would be his new boss. He hadn’t allowed his mind to wander in her direction for years – the ability to compartmentalize inconvenient thoughts and feelings was a gift most race car drivers shared. Not that her absence on the circuit had gone unnoticed, especially those first few seasons after they’d broken up. But now she was back, and he had questions that needed answering. And soon.

At thirty-five, he was close to aging out of auto racing. Each passing season, there were fewer drivers from his generation and more younger drivers nipping at their heels. If the last few days had shown him anything, it was that life was precarious on and off the racetrack.

Luca certainly didn’t envy Mia – he wouldn’t have wanted to follow in Rob’s footsteps. The man had achieved legendary status even before he died. Rob had been more involved than any owner Luca had driven for during his career. His mind ticked off those names, four in the thirteen years since he’d landed his first ‘ride,’ one of the two coveted driver spots on any Apex team. Most of those owners had only been there for the highs and lows, leaving it up to their team principals to call the shots on a daily basis. But then teams were increasingly owned by conglomerates and shareholders. Rob had occupied both the owner and team principal roles and had been in the trenches every day, working alongside the team manager and listening to his drivers, mechanics, and engineers. He’d known the business of every person in his organization, yet respected their talents and abilities enough to stay out of their way and let them do their job. It was a rare gift.

Yes, Rob had been one of a kind, a smart driver who had become an even smarter team principal. Luca couldn’t think of a single person in the racing industry who hadn’t had the utmost respect for Rob. When word had gotten out that Luca was leaving his last team for Rubie Racing, his former team principal had shrugged and said, ‘I can’t say I blame you.’ That guy was among the throng of people from around the world eating, drinking, and toasting Rob’s memory on the other side of the building.

Luca flipped on the light, and, to his relief, Mia gasped when she saw Rubie Racing’s latest prototype – the R29 – come to life.

His and Jordan’s cars dominated the immense space, which was bright white from floor to ceiling and cleaner than most operating rooms. Each car was allotted its own area, and offices for the engineering teams and mechanics lined the perimeter.

‘Are we allowed to be in here?’ Mia asked.

He leveled her with a look of disbelief. ‘I don’t know. Maybe we should ask the owner of Rubie Racing.’

Luca took her following him over to his car as a sign of approval.

Like every Apex car, it was low and lean; a sleek body flanked by four wide, smooth tires. The cockpit was nestled mid-car, and the bucket seat fit him like a glove, literally, since his body cast had been used to design it. But the front of the car was the pièce de résistance. Their engineers had toiled for months to create a more aerodynamic nose that still played by the series’ governing body’s rules.

‘Oh, it’s beautiful. Not that how a car looks has anything to do with how fast it can go, but being easy on the eyes certainly doesn’t hurt, does it?’ She turned toward him and raised an eyebrow, followed with her champagne flute up toward the ceiling. ‘Dad, you did good.’

Luca raised his as well, then reached over and clinked his glass to hers. After they both took a long sip of champagne, he cleared his throat. ‘Every season’s car is a team effort, but your father was especially a driving force behind the R29. And he truly believed that we’d struck the right formula with this one, that this car would take us all the way.’

He took a deep breath and another sip of champagne to ease his nerves. Luca Toscano didn’t get nervous, he reminded himself before continuing, ‘But I’ve been thinking these past few days, and propose that we consider changing the name, starting a new tradition, a new era for Rubie Racing. What do you think about calling this year’s car the RR1, in honor of your dad?’

‘I think that would be very nice, Luca. Thank you.’ Mia beamed at him and blinked away the few tears pooling in her eyes before walking around the car slowly, dragging her fingers lightly along the bright orange paint that matched Rubie Racing’s largest sponsor. The color was a stark change from the silver, black, and blue cars he was accustomed to, but given that an Apex team needed many millions in sponsorship dollars a season to stay competitive, he’d warmed to driving an orange car.

‘Interesting color choice,’ she said.

‘Shh, not too loud. You don’t want to upset the turbo pumpkin.’

‘An even more interesting nickname. I’ll be sure to keep its location secret from a certain princess and her fairy godmother.’ She chuckled at her own joke, just like Rob would have, then continued her tour, the clicking of her heels on the concrete floor silencing every few steps as she paused to examine one thing or another. First, it was the front wing, integral to controlling the airflow around the car; then the open wheels, which along with the engine made Apex race cars the fastest of the fast; and then the halo, the latest requirement the sport’s governing body had added to protect drivers from flying crash debris. The decreased likelihood of having random car parts smash into his head far outweighed his personal dislike for how the halo looked.

As Mia studied his car, Luca couldn’t take his eyes off her. She still bit her lower lip when she was deep in thought, like now, as she leaned into the cockpit. And she still mindlessly tucked her hair behind her right ear, only to have it fall back in her face seconds later. A sudden need to tuck that hair behind her ear again cropped up like an itch he couldn’t scratch – or rather, shouldn’t even think about scratching.

When she completed a full circle around his car, she came to stand next to him again at the nose. ‘Thank you, Luca,’ she said softly, turning toward him.

‘You’re welcome. Like I said, your father poured his heart and soul into this car. It’s now yours, along with his hopes and dreams. And mine, of course.’

Especially mine.

‘Wow, that’s no pressure at all.’

Mia’s gaze dropped to the floor, and Luca followed it to find her once again brushing away tears. He couldn’t seem to stop himself from grabbing her hand and pulling her close. When she leaned into him, his arms wrapped around her as if they were on autopilot.

‘I’m so sorry, Mia. I’m sure the last thing you need today is… any of this, really.’

Himself included, surely. Not that a single cell in his body was willing to break the hug. When it came to Mia, he’d always felt powerless.

To his surprise, her arms went around his waist as she rested her head against his chest. ‘It’s all too much,’ she said. ‘Being at my dad’s house without him being there. The funeral, his letter, my brother, who is conspicuously absent from this damn afterlife party, in case you hadn’t noticed. Honestly, I don’t know whether to scream or cry.’

‘Try both and then go with what feels best. Isn’t that the Mia Rubie way?’

She laughed into his chest. ‘I hate to break it to you, but that Mia Rubie doesn’t exist anymore.’

Before he could ask what she meant by that, the door opened, and Cliff, security badge in hand, popped his head in. A petite woman with dark curly hair pushed past him into the garage.

‘Whoa, fancy car,’ she whistled. ‘Too bad it’s missing a roof.’

Mia shrieked and leapt out of his arms and toward her. ‘Star! What are you doing here?’

‘Well, my best friend’s dad died, and I thought she might need some emotional support. Long story short, I caught the first flight out after the very important meeting I couldn’t miss earlier because my co-presenter’s dad died.’ Although Star was talking to Mia, her eyes were fixed on Luca. ‘I’ve been racing around town since I landed, trying to find you. Pun intended. Obviously.’

Within seconds of hugging her friend, Mia was all out sobbing. The sight was almost too much for Luca to bear.

‘I see you’ve met Cliff,’ Mia said when she’d calmed herself down. ‘And this is Luca Toscano, one of the drivers for Rubie Racing. Luca, meet Estrella Martinez, my best friend in the whole world.’

That shouldn’t have stung, but it did. At one point, the best friend title had belonged to him – now, apparently, he was just ‘one of the drivers.’ Luca extended a hand, which she accepted. ‘It’s nice to meet you, Estrella.’

‘Oh, you can call me Star. Any friend of Mia’s is a friend of mine, and you appear to be a very good friend who, surprisingly, I wasn’t aware of.’ She winked, then turned to Mia, who shifted uncomfortably next to her when she lowered her voice and said, ‘This isn’t a guy you kick out of bed for eating crackers.’

Cliff cleared his throat. ‘Shall we rejoin the party, or are you done, Mia? I may have dragged you in here, but you can leave of your volition. Our driver is out front, at the ready, whenever you’d like to make your escape.’

Mia nodded at her godfather. ‘That would be right now, Cliff. I hope you can navigate this maze of a building and find the back door. I’m feeling a little drunk and a lot emotional, and I’d like to avoid any further niceties today.’

She wasn’t joking, Luca realized, as she walked out the door with Cliff and Star in tow, without even a backward glance at him or his turbo pumpkin.

Judging by the swaying of the man who now stood atop the chair, Luca guessed he’d missed more than a few toasts to the dearly departed while he was off touring Mia around the property. He was debating whether to attempt to catch up with his fellow ‘mourners’ or make his own hasty departure when a glass of champagne found its way into his hand.

‘I must admit, I would much rather be spraying you with this, but maybe in a couple of months, yes?’ The giver raised his glass. ‘Á votre santé.’

Only a cocky bastard like Henri Aveline would toast to health at a funeral. Luca raised his glass to match the Frenchman’s before him and instead said, ‘To Rob.’

Laughter erupted around them, and Luca was thankful for a reason to turn his attention to the speaker, whose own laughter was increasing his swaying.

‘But of course, to Rob. So shocking.’ Henri took another sip of his champagne, then made a point of studying the golden bubbly. ‘This is quite good. Such a nice surprise. But then the French vintages truly are the best.’

With a sigh, Luca returned his attention to the last person he felt like making small talk with, regardless of the situation. Why hadn’t he dashed out the back door with Mia and her entourage when he had the chance? Oh, that’s right. He hadn’t been invited to their exit party.

‘The timing couldn’t be worse, I’m afraid,’ Henri said.

That’s fairly obvious. Luca grinned. ‘I’m sure we’ll muddle through all the same.’

Henri returned Luca’s smile, as if the two of them shared an inside joke instead of a twenty-five-year rivalry. He could hardly remember a time when the two weren’t competing for something. The top spot on the podium. A ride. Once or twice, a girl.

‘Mia is looking well,’ Henri said in that nonchalant way he thought he’d mastered. ‘Do you know if she’s seeing anyone?’

Although Luca had wondered the same thing himself, he glared at Henri. ‘No idea, mon ami. Given that she just lost her father, I’m also not sure if this is the appropriate time for that question or whatever it is you’re insinuating.’

The hand that landed on his shoulder was a welcome weight even before he realized whose arm it belonged to.

‘Ah, Monsieur Thomas,’ Henri said, clinking glasses with the man most likely to be voted Mr Congeniality in Apex’s tidy boys club.

Although the Welshman shot Luca a knowing look, Wyn gave his standard, ‘What’s occurrin’?’

‘Oh, you know,’ Luca said, then took a slow sip from his glass.

Wyn nodded.

The three of them stood in an awkward silence until Henri excused himself and wandered away. It was a scene they had repeated hundreds of times since they were mere ten-year-olds racing souped up go-karts at the beginning of their careers.

‘Is it just me or has he somehow managed to become more arrogant since winning the world championship?’ Luca asked.

‘It’s just you, mate,’ Wyn said. ‘You’ve always let him get under your skin.’

Luca decided to change the subject rather than admit, once again, that Wyn was right. ‘Nice kilt. Rob would be honored.’

Wyn only broke out his Welsh kilt for special occasions, like his wedding. As a groomsman, Luca had even donned one that day. It had been a breezy afternoon in the Welsh countryside, to say the least.

‘Only the best for Mr Rubie.’ Wyn looked in the direction Henri had headed. ‘Seriously though, are you OK?’

‘The jury’s still out, to be perfectly honest. It’s a lot to digest.’ Luca wasn’t one to bare his soul to just anyone, but Wyn was more like a brother than a friend. ‘When did you arrive? You should’ve called. You could’ve stayed at my place.’

‘This morning, I did, and I am,’ he laughed. ‘I tried to flag you down earlier, but your attention was, shall we say, elsewhere. And then you seemed to be as well. Must’ve made for an interesting reunion.’

Luca knew Wyn’s curiosity about Mia, unlike Henri’s, was genuine. But he also couldn’t ignore what the two men did have in common: They drove for competing teams of Rubie Racing. Plus, Mia wasn’t just a woman he’d once loved, a fact known to only a small handful of people, including Wyn. She would now sign his paychecks.

He chose his words with care. ‘You could say that. Went fine though, all things considered. Apparently, she learned the news about her new role when we all did. Seems a bit shell-shocked. Can’t say I blame her.’

‘Do me a favor and tread carefully, mate.’ Wyn’s simple cock of an eyebrow said that he remembered that long ago day when twenty-year-old Luca had appeared on his doorstep, brokenhearted and without a ride or a team. ‘Besides, you have no reason to go around repeating past mistakes. Not when you have one of the most beautiful women in the world at your disposal. Where is Julia, anyway?’

Luca shrugged a shoulder at the mention of the woman he’d dated last season. Julia Sullivan was the last person he wanted to think about today, or any day, for that matter. He placed his now-empty champagne flute on a passing tray, then headed to the bar to grab something stronger. Much stronger.