Until my Last Breath

18

As soon as I step inside the house, I see Pascale walking down the stairs, a stunning red dress hugging her figure. "Mon amour, you finally came! Go get ready, and I'll style your hair for you!" Her voice is laced with enthusiasm, a joyful melody that should lift my spirits. I open my mouth to tell her that I won't make it, that I'm not up for the evening, but the only words that come out are, "I'll be quick."

Her face brightens at my half-hearted promise. I can't disappoint her-not when she's so excited. I dart up the stairs, my heart racing for reasons I can't quite understand.

In the shower, the steam envelops me, but it does little to clear my mind. My forehead rests against the cool ceramic wall as the events of the day flood back-the hand on my waist, the cold breath against my skin, the nasty words that cut deeper than I want to admit. I take a shaky breath, letting the hot water wash away my tension, but the memories linger like shadows.

Once I'm out, I grab my phone from the nightstand and listen to my mom's voice message. It's a balm to my frayed nerves.

"My champion forever. I'm so proud of you, my love. The race was absolutely amazing, and you did so well. You better call me as soon as you're done."

Tears prick at the corners of my eyes. Even though she didn't see me officially seal my title, I'm so glad she knew I won. The weight of her pride in my chest loosens my tense muscles, if only for a moment.

I head to Pascale's room, where she opens the door immediately. "Entre, Ree," she greets, her eyes lighting up. "I absolutely love your outfit."

"And I absolutely love the dress on you," I reply, taking a seat in front of her vanity. She blushes as she begins to dry my wet hair. "I think with a strapless top, we best go with a slick hairstyle, huh, Ree?"

"Oui, oui, I think so too."

"Maman, Ree, we need to go!" Lorenzo yells from downstairs, breaking the bubble of our pre-dinner preparations.

We arrive at Le Grill, and I'm immediately taken aback by the number of people gathered. The Ferrari and Prema crews are mingling, along with drivers like Pierre, Daniel, and Carlos. "God, that's a lot of people," I whisper to Arthur, who stands beside me.

"I know, but it's your night, and you should celebrate it with people you love and who love you," he replies, nudging me forward. He's right, of course. Normally, I would revel in this kind of celebration, but tonight, surrounded by so many familiar faces, it feels overwhelming, like an unscalable wall blocking my joy.

I greet everyone, trying to muster a smile as I sit between Arthur and Pascale. I engage in conversations, forcing laughter and nodding at jokes, but my mind drifts back to the tension of the day. I wish I could push those thoughts away, but they linger, like a shadow over my shoulder.

After some small talk, I try to focus on the menu, my fingers tracing the options without really registering them. "You good, Ree?" Lorenzo asks, his brows knitted in concern from across the table.

"Yes, just really hungry," I respond, though my stomach twists at the thought of eating. "We better all order our food then." He calls for the waiter, and I scan the menu again, my mind racing.

"What do you want?" he asks after everyone has placed their orders. My eyes dart around the page, and I blurt out the first thing I see. "Fettuccini," I say, handing the menu back.

The conversation flows around me, the banter distracting but not enough. I feel the pressure in my chest rise as Daniel speaks up, "Oh Rita, what happened with you and Darwin on the track today? Looked pretty intense ." The question cuts through the air, heavy and loaded.

My fork slips from my hand, clattering onto the plate. "Sorry, my hand is still weak from the race," I chuckle, but it sounds hollow to my own ears. "Uhm, yeah, he was trying to push through, but it was nothing."

"Nothing?" Arthur interjects, his tone sharpening. "He almost killed the both of you."

I can't help but replay it in my mind-the hand on my waist, the cold breath against my skin, the nasty words. My stomach drops as my appetite evaporates, and I fight to keep my hand steady. The room feels smaller, the air growing thick. I glance at Arthur, desperation in my voice. "Well, nothing happened," I mumble before dropping my fork and excusing myself.

"Lucky you had the privilege to be a part of this. Because without the pity for your dead uncle, I gotta tell you, Rita, you wouldn't be here."

Breathe, Rita, breathe.

"Or maybe you're just hungry for some dick." His gaze roams to my lips as he grabs my waist and pulls me toward him with a force that sends my heart racing.

I bolt into the restroom, gasping for air as I grip the sink, my reflection showing a pale face, blood drained from my cheeks. I can't go back to dinner-not like this. I need to escape, to find my footing before facing the crowd again.

But just as I turn to call it a night, my plans change when I see Gavi walk in from across the room, dressed in a crisp white shirt and black pants. Our eyes lock, and for a moment, the noise fades, leaving only us in this chaotic world.

"Aye, Gavi, you came!" Arthur's voice snaps me out of my thoughts, dragging me back to the chaos around us.

Fucking hell.