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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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The red convertible was the giveaway.
If it was up to her, Isla thought, she would have chosen a less conspicuous car, but it had been Matthew's decision, and he didn't see the point in purchasing anything that wasn't expensive, luxurious and liable to blind you. So red it was. All four occupants in the car wore dark baseball caps and sunglasses despite the blistering heat.
Isla tipped her head back. Wind tickled her face, carrying the scent of Italian lemons and olive groves. Matthew took a sharp turn, and Cedro yelped.
"Cazzo, Matt!"
"Sorry," Matthew said, not looking particularly sorry at all. "I'm only going a hundred."
Cedro frowned. "The speed limit here is eighty."
"Exactly."
"Oh, buck-up, Ced," Noah said cheerfully, patting him on the shoulder. "You drive race cars professionally." He kicked his legs up on the dashboard. "Live a little."
"Actually," Cedro said, exasperated, "I plan to live for more than a little. And I will if Carr slows the hell down."
Matthew met Isla's gaze in the rear-view mirror. His eyebrow arched, as if to say, can you believe the abuse I'm taking? She hid a smile behind her hand.
"We must be almost there," Isla said.
Cedro's face changed. "Almost."
Isla patted his hand. His face was tense, but Cedro offered her a tight smile. His knuckles were white on the doorhandle, although it was difficult to say if it was because of their destination, or because Matthew had just taken a hairpin turn.
Noah let out a whoop. "She really is a beauty, isn't she?" He patted the side of the car fondly. "For a Ferrari, that is."
Matthew cut him a look. "Try that again. I dare you."
"What?" Noah asked innocently.
"You know what."
"I can't help it." Noah shrugged. "My loyalties lie with Mercedes. The superior brand."
"Oh, shove it, Wood." Matthew took another scream-inducing turn. "You should be so lucky as to drive a Ferrari."
"I might have to, one day."
"Really?" Cedro leaned forward. "Are you thinking of leaving Mercedes?"
"In a sense," Noah said lightly. "Or rather, the team is thinking of leaving me." He cushioned his arms behind his head. "Turns out I have to win next season, or my contract won't be renewed. Hamish told me last week."
Silence.
Isla's heart raced in time with the car, and she was suddenly aware of every small sound. The purr of the engine. The gravel kicking up from the road. And the absence of sound, too; Cedro hadn't chewed his gum in a full thirty seconds.
