Alaric
"Stop laughing!" I yelled at Harold as I drove through the secure gates of the private training center in Monaco.
My sleek black Ferrari purred smoothly along the winding driveway lined with perfectly manicured palm trees and high-security fencing.
The facility was exclusive — a state-of-the-art complex built specifically for Formula 1 drivers to train, simulate races, and prepare physically and mentally away from prying eyes.
I had agreed to meet with Dami and our trainer for a short but intense practice session this morning.
It had been over a week — maybe more, because I had stopped counting the exact days — since I last saw Nico. Since we had shot that campaign video together for Apex Sportswear in the Maldives. Since that stormy night when we had almost made love.
No matter how hard I tried to push the memory out of my head, it kept forcing its way back in at the worst possible moments.
