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After being dumped, Isla Morris makes a pact with her ex's biggest competition, F1 driver Matthew Carr, to get inside Lucas's head.
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Isla Morris is dating the world's best F1 racer - at least, she w...
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Isla wished that there weren't carnivorous ducks around.
It was, Isla reflected, going to be a difficult conversation already; a gaggle of bacon-eating waterfowl were the last thing she needed. She watched as a yellow-billed duck batted a larger duck aside, diving for the scraps. Two children giggled, tossing more bacon into the shallow pond. The girl did a little dance in her red wellies.
Sweet.
Slightly demonic, Isla reflected, but sweet.
She leaned back. Hyde Park was busy today; couples bundled in scarves braved the crisp October weather, their heads bowed against the wind. Yellow leaves crunched underfoot. The smell of damp earth and city soot filled the air. A man stopped at a food truck, ordering a peppermint tea, and Isla felt a pang of longing.
She missed Matthew.
Ridiculously so.
Not, Isla reflected, that he'd been gone long; Matthew had only left for Brazil a week ago. She'd fly over tomorrow to join him for the final race.
She just had one thing to do first.
"Hi," a voice said.
She looked up.
A man in a navy bowler hat was striding towards Isla, his hands swinging loosely by his side. Greying hair peeked out beneath it, and his watch — a knock-off Rolex — flashed in the weak autumn sunshine. Her chest tightened.
Emilio Gonzalez.
Sebastián's brother.
Isla rose from the bench. Emilio was shorter than she'd expected — about her height — and he was carrying a briefcase. Isla blinked. She wasn't sure why this threw her, except that Sebastián had struck her as the type to buy a briefcase for the sole purpose of stuffing it with candy, hanging it, and using it as a pinata.
But here Emilio was.
Briefcase in tow.
"Hi," Isla said. "Thanks for coming."
Emilio paused by the bench. "It's okay. I was in London for a conference anyway."
There was an awkward pause. Isla swallowed.
"Shall we walk?" she suggested.
They fell into step. Isla was wracking her brain for how to begin when Emilio stopped dead, staring at the duck pond in disbelief.
"Dios Mío! Is that bacon?"
"It could be bread," Isla suggested half-heartedly.
