Dancing In The Dark

Chapter Four

"So, how are you enjoying the gala?" Max inquired, his colleagues had long abandoned them to dance with their significant others, leaving the two of them alone.

"Comme çi, comme ça," Vica said, gesturing with her hand. She felt her cheeks burning a little. She hoped he wouldn't see. It would be embarrassing.

"I'm glad you're enjoying yourself," Max chuckled.

"So, racing... isn't it boring?"

Max would have been offended, if he didn't know who she was. It took him some time to put two and two together, but he did. He knew why she would say something like this.

"Boring? Maybe you weren't watching F1," his chin tilted up, challenging her with his gaze.

Vica arched an eyebrow. "What's supposed to be fun about men just driving down a circuit 50 times?"

"It's not just driving around a track 50 times. It's about going as fast as you can, and pushing yourself and the car to the limit."

A small grin appeared on her face, mirroring the smile that graced his face as he talked about racing. As much as she'd like to ride the F1 hate train, she couldn't put him down. Not when Max was passionate about it. She learned early on that passion was a difficult enemy. "I heard you're very good at it," Vica said. "Driving in circles."

"Thanks," Max rolled his eyes. "As you said, I'm just driving in circles."

"Hmm... you're annoying," Vica said. "Do you really like it? F1, I mean."

"Yeah, I do like it."

"Even if you aren't winning?"

"It's not all about winning races."

"That's a lie."

"Well, I want to be the best," he said. "I'm getting there. I'll get there, one loss or win at a time A fast car is nice, having the fastest car would be a dream."

"You know what, you do that. Push the car flat out. Crash some cars. Give your team a few headaches," Vica grinned.

"What exactly are you asking?" he asked, a glint of amusement in his eyes. Only Vica would ask a race driver to crash deliberately. Confidently at that.

"I'd owe you a lot if you'd crash a few times and give your team a headache," Vica said.

"I'm not going to crash on purpose," he chuckled. "That would be dangerous and irresponsible."

"A girl can dream."

Max smiled. "Well, if that's the case," he said. "I'll see what I can do. Maybe I can lose a screw or two."

"I appreciate your consideration."

"I don't mean to pry but I'm curious," Max started. "You and your dad don't have the warmest of relationships, huh?"

"So you knew me already."

"It took me a while to recognize you. Your dad keeps a photo of you and your brother in his office."

Vica rolled her eyes. "He's not my dad and we don't have a relationship at all."

"I'm sorry I didn't think..."

"It's okay," Vica said. "Not everyone knows, and I'm not in the business of airing dirty laundry in public."

"I can understand," Max said, a sympathetic smile on his face. "I grew up with a tough dad but it must've been tough growing up without a dad."

"No, not really. I had everything I needed," Vica smiled reassuringly, tucking a loose strand of her hair behind her ear.

"I met your brother before. Once. It was in Imola, if I remember it correctly, back in 2017. Adrian introduced us, and he seemed passionate about cars like Adrian was."

"Ren was very much a Tifoso as every Italian man. He really loved it. Annoyingly."

"I take that you don't like it as much as him?" Max asked, taking a sip from his champagne flute.

"Oh no. I hate it," Vica answered with cutthroat directness. It shocked Max that she could say it with une telle indifférence. He had never heard of someone talk about their hatred for F1 as everyone he's met seemed to like the sport, despite knowing so little about how it worked.

"Why do you hate it?" he asked.

"It's just a bunch of boys driving around in circles, and my resentment against your head engineer is quite strong."

Max could see pain flashing in Vica's eyes as she spoke about her father and how she hid it as indifference. He understood now. He knew that it must've been difficult for her to have grown up without a dad, especially having to grow up with the knowledge that her father had another family. The legal and first one.

Not sure what else to say, Max stood in comfortable silence with Vica.

"You know the Salone dei Cinquecentro's frescoes on the walls were painted by Vasari and some other Renaissance painters, and this was where  Florence's Signoria used to meet," Vica broke the silence, sharing some historical insights on her family. "It's also where Michelangelo painted the Battle of Cascina, but that fresco was destroyed. Unfortunately."

Max looked around the grand hall in awe. "It's amazing," he said. "I can't believe you grew up here."

"It's part of the perks of being a Medici, I suppose," she said.

"It's amazing to think that your family ruled Florence for over 300 years," Max said, "and they were so powerful."

"That they were," Vica shrugged.

"I've read about some of the Medicis," Max said. "Like Lorenzo the Magnificent and Cosimo de' Medici."

"Lorenzo's one of the most famous Medicis," Vica said. "And he's also a crowd favourite, especially after the TV series. The actor was great in it."

Max and Vica continued to talk about the Medicis for awhile. He was fascinated by everything and he paid attention. There wasn't a single instance when he was distracted. Unbeknownst to them, his friends observed their interaction from across the room.

Max and Vica talked for a while longer, and then Vica said, "I've never really talked about my family history with anyone before. This was nice."

"Am I seeing a smile?" Max teased.

Vica rolled her eyes, and let the smile plaster on her face.

Hours passed, and when they finally bid each other farewell, Vica felt like she had known him for a lifetime. She felt as though she could truly be herself with him which was a surprise because he was supposed to be hands off. She didn't need another connection to her father. A complication. Yet she was drawn to him in a way she couldn't understand or explain herself.