Faster Longer (Take Me...#3) (New Adult Bad Boy Racer Novel) (2 page)

--
Though
the romance between these young star-crossed lovers has been blossoming since
the earliest days of the tournament, they’ve made it a point to be discreet. Or
at least, they’ve tried to be discreet. But a slew of photographic evidence
exists that paints a very clear, very scandalous picture of their heated
affair. But though the romance was meant to stay under wraps, Siena Lazio’s
older brother Lorenzo Lazio seems to have been made aware of their burgeoning
love. We cannot say definitively when it was that Enzo learned of this affair,
or whether he purposefully caused the wreck on the Moscow track out of spite
for Harrison Davies, but the timing is extremely suspicious. Both drivers were
suspended from the Luxembourg Grand Prix for reckless driving, but perhaps the
Moscow wreck was more malicious than reckless.

“Shit,” I mutter. If the F1 officials take that rumor
seriously, Enzo could get a lot more than a slap on the wrist. Attacking
another driver on the track is punishable by far more than a one race
suspension—he could be disqualified from the whole season. And if that were to
happen...I don’t know how he would ever forgive me.

--
But the
fact of this affair is only the tip of the ice berg where this scandal is
concerned. There are more questions here that need to be answered.

The first,
of course, is whether this little romance is legitimate or a ploy on either
McClain or Ferrelli’s side. It’s very possible that Siena and Harrison are
trying to gain traction for their respective teams by throwing off the
competing side. It doesn’t seem likely that Siena is trying to distract
Harrison from his training, as they met before he was even made head driver.
But then again, McClain’s former senior driver Maxwell Naughton’s early
tournament crash was very suspicious. How could a veteran driver have spun out
on a simple practice lap? Perhaps Naughton’s accident was not an accident after
all. This reporter doesn’t mean to suggest that there was any foul play per se,
but at this point we cannot rule out any possibilities.

Of course,
the far more likely scenario is just the opposite. No one would be surprised if
Harrison Davies turned out to be using Siena Lazio to mess with her brother’s
head. After all, a bad boy party animal like Davies doesn’t just change his
ways out of nowhere. Why would a man with a reputation for womanizing suddenly
go monogamous just as his star is rising? Perhaps he realized that Enzo Lazio
would come after him, should he start up a fling with Siena. It’s entirely
possible that Harrison Davies has been baiting Enzo Lazio into attacking him
from the start, employing Siena as a human trap. It would be a shrewd strategy,
if a devious one. The Lazio family has always been extremely tight knit, and an
offense against one Lazio is an offense against the entire line.

The latter
explanation seems tragically more likely. A reliable source has released a line
of text from a personal email that Harrison Davies sent the week he allegedly
started seeing Siena Lazio. “It’s in the bag,” the email reads, “Time to do
what I do best. She’s going to get me my first place title yet”.

I stare at the words on the page, unwilling to take them in.
Harrison can’t have said that about me. I know him. He wouldn’t use me against
my own brother. All these weeks, I’ve seen nothing in him but sincerity and
passion. He’s a driver, not an actor. I’d be able to tell if he was leading me
on. Wouldn’t I?

--
But
that’s not all. Not only does Harrison Davies appear to be setting Enzo Lazio
up by wooing his sister, she may not even be the only woman in his life. The
picture at right shows a very different side of Harrison Davies’ love life—a
much blonder side.

My hands begin to quake as I swing my eyes toward the
picture in question. I feel the air leave my lungs as I feast my eyes on the
most unwelcome sight I could imagine. There, in a small thumbnail photo, is
Harrison locking lips with a gorgeous, leggy blonde that I’d know the sight of
anywhere. Shelby has her arms thrown around Harrison’s shoulders—the very
shoulders that I’ve clawed in ecstasy and clung to in anguish. This can’t
possibly be true...How could he do something that
low
?

--
Sources
date this photo back hardly a few weeks. It seems that Siena might be less of a
lover and more of a pawn to Harrison Davies. If his heart actually belongs to
Shelby Vaughn, the woman pictured here, what does that mean for this story?
Details are still coming out, of course, but this reporter is committed to
unraveling this sordid tale. Our F1 drivers are more to us than just athletes,
they are examples and heroes to so many across the world. It’s always terribly
disappointing when a professional driver behaves so disgracefully, and the
public deserves to know if such behavior is occurring.

There is
one other aspect to this complicated web of deceit and lust that the public
should be made aware of. It’s very possible that all of this—the affair and
counter affair, the cheating and the lying—has been a cover up for an even
bigger omission. There is a hard truth about the Lazio family that might be
even more upsetting to some readers than the affair between Harrison Davies and
Siena Lazio.

A source
within the Ferrelli camp has leaked the news that Alfonso Lazio, father of
Siena and Enzo, once a world champion driver himself, may be keeping a secret
of his own.

“No,” I breathe, “No, no, no...”

--
The sad
truth is this: before this season commenced a few months ago, Alfonso Lazio
received a grave diagnosis. The famed driver, father, and husband is battling
terminal lung cancer. A proud man, Lazio has refused chemotherapy and
radiation, and operation is impossible at this stage. It is likely that he will
pass away before the season has even drawn to a close. As tragic and momentous
as this news is, could it be that Siena Lazio’s affair and Enzo Lazio’s
retaliation have been staged by Team Ferrelli? This whole thing could certainly
have functioned as an excellent tool of misdirection, had the truth not come
out.

So far,
neither Team Ferrelli nor Team McClain have made a statement on any of these,
or other, issues that have cropped up during this tournament. But this reporter
would like to call for transparency from these teams. Dramatics are all well
and good, but this tangle of lies has started to become dangerous. It is my
opinion that this scandal need be sorted out, or else Lazio and Davies should
both withdraw themselves from the championship at once.

I let the paper fall from my hands as the rest of the words
are obscured by my tears. My throat tightens into a hard knot as I grab up the
rag and hurl it across the room, a thousand emotions fighting to trump each
other within my heart. I feel as though the ground has just given out beneath
me. Every detail of my private life, my family’s private life, is out there for
the world to read. And hardly any of it is even true. At least, I hope to God
it’s not.

It’s bad enough that the world now knows about my father’s
cancer. He’s going to be furious when he sees this. Alfonso Lazio is the
proudest man I’ve ever met. The reason he turned down treatment in the first
place was to steer clear of anyone’s pity. But now, he’s a victim in the eyes
of the entire world. And that is going to kill him faster than any chemo could.
But to have Enzo called into question as a would-be murderer on top of that?
It’s too much. That’s my family, after all. They’re not fair game for the
gossip mills.

But worst of all by far is that one grainy little picture of
Harrison and Shelby. Part of me prays that it’s fake or doctored, but my heart
knows the truth. Harrison and Shelby are having an affair. Just as Harrison and
I are. I’m on the same level in his eyes as that horrible woman—who happens to
have my own brother’s heart in a vice. Can it really be possible that Harrison
has been using me all along? Stringing me along, trying to keep my brother from
taking his rightful first place title?

I feel a strange, catatonic calm come over me in the face of
such a devastating possibility. The potential for heartbreak is simply too big
for me to even comprehend. Thinking that Harrison may have been taking
advantage of me this whole time, using me to win the championship as that quote
in the paper suggests...I’m paralyzed in the face of that kind of hurt. My
entire body becomes very still, perched at the kitchen table. My mind grinds to
a halt. My heart suspends its beating.

Slowly, I stand and make my way upstairs. I gather my
things, pack up my suitcase, and patiently wait for Harrison to get home.

* * *

Six hours pass before I hear the front door open. I’m
sitting on Harrison’s massive king bed, staring at the crackling electric fire
that I’ve turned up to still my chattering teeth. I’m cold all over, as if the
blood has frozen in my veins. Or perhaps this is just what impending doom feels
like. I can’t even bear to look up as I hear Harrison climbing the stairs. His
heavy footsteps sound down the hallway, and I spot him out of the corner of my
eye at last.

“Siena?” he says, sounding worried, “Baby, what are you
doing up here? Where...Why are your bags packed?”

“Hi Harrison,” I say, my voice hollow, “Did you get a chance
to read the paper? There’s a really fascinating story that might be of interest
to you.”

I nod to where today’s paper sits on the white bed spread.
Cautiously, Harrison crosses the room and snatches it up.

“Don’t tell me this got to you?” he demands. “I don’t know
why you’d even bother reading it. You know it’s a bunch of rubbish. How could
this change anything for you?”

“I didn’t think it would,” I say, “But there were some very
interesting things I learned today. Really. It’s worth a read.”

Sighing, Harrison opens the paper and begins to scan the
story about us. At first, all he can do is scoff repeatedly. But soon, he falls
silent. I can practically feel his body vibrating with outrage as he reads on.
I keep my eyes trained on the flickering flames as his anger mounts.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me...” he growls.

“Keep going,” I whisper.

Harrison’s face turns bright red as he finishes the story
and stands stock still, paralyzed with ire. For a long moment, we’re suspended
there, silent and motionless as the world crashes down around us. But the spell
breaks as Harrison crumbles the newspaper into a ball and hurls it into the
fireplace. I watch as the newsprint shrivels into ash, but those damning words
will never truly be gone.

“Siena,” Harrison says, kneeling before me, “Tell me you
don’t believe a word of it. You have to know that it’s all bullshit.”

“I don’t know anything of the sort,” I tell him, finally
meeting his gaze, “I don’t know what I believe anymore.”

“That quote was taken completely out of context,” he
insists, taking my limp hands in his, “I was talking about my car, for fuck’s
sake. How could you think I’d use you to—”

“And what about Shelby? You’re not using her either, I
suppose?”

A look of guilt twists Harrison’s handsome features. “I know
it looks bad,” he begins.

“It looks like you are Shelby are lovers,” I tell him point
blank.

“No,” he says, “We’re—”

“What?” I demand, “What else could that picture possibly
mean?”

“It’s not from a couple of weeks ago,” he pleads, reaching
to smooth my hair out of my face. I bat him away before he can touch me. “It’s
got to be from a year ago,” he continues, “More, even.”

“But it’s not fake?” I ask, “You and Shelby
are—were—together?”

“Not together, exactly,” he sputters.

“Wrong answer,” I say softly, standing up from the bed and
grabbing my suitcase.

“Let me explain—” Harrison says, blocking me from the door.

“You don’t have to,” I tell him, “You lied to me about her.
There’s no coming back from that, Harrison.”

“I never lied,” he insists, “You never asked—”

“A lie of omission is just as bad,” I say, “I should know.
I’ve been living one for months now. But I’m done with that Harrison. And I’m
done with you. Now move the hell out of my way. I’m leaving.”

“I’m not going to let you walk out that door,” Harrison
tells me, “None of what you just read changes anything between us.”

“That’s where you’re wrong,” I tell him, “It changes
everything.”

Harrison grabs my arm as I move past him, but I wrench
myself out of his grasp.

“Don’t touch me,” I say, my voice icy, “Don’t you dare touch
me, Harrison.”

“You’re making a mistake,” he pleads, “If you’d just let me
explain—”

“Explain to the press if you’d like. I’m through listening
to your justifications. I’m just so tired of this all, Harrison. I’m sorry, but
I need to go. You do whatever you want. I’m out.”

He stares at me wordlessly as I turn on my heel and march
out of his bedroom, my heart as cold as stone. I can’t afford to feel anything
right now. Not until I’m somewhere far away from this place that could have
been my home, if only.

I spot Bex and Charlie waiting at the airport the moment I
set foot on Italian soil. I make my way toward them in the terminal, sure that
I’ve never been happier to see anyone. Without saying a word, my best
girlfriend and I rush into each other’s arms. I’m still too shocked by this
morning’s events to feel much of anything, but Bex’s embrace is the best
comfort I can imagine right now.

“I’m so sorry, Siena,” she whispers, squeezing me tight.

“Yeah. Me too,” I say, looking over her shoulder at Charlie.

My oldest friend stands away from us, his face stony. I know
that look—it’s the look he gets when he’s beyond angry, when he’s hurt and
confused and disappointed. To know that I’ve brought that look onto his
face...it’s just another reason for me to feel lower than dirt. I purposefully
kept Charlie in the dark about the whole Harrison thing. He’s probably feeling
just as betrayed as Enzo and Dad.

“We should get back to the house,” he says, shoving his
hands into his pockets, “Your dad will want to get a game plan together to deal
with the press.”

“How is he?” I ask, “And Enzo?”

“Let’s get going,” Charlie says again, grabbing my suitcase
and turning for the exit. “You’ll see them soon enough.”

Bex laces her fingers through mine and walks beside me. The
second the three of us step out of the terminal and into the airport proper, a
dozen reporters close in around us, yelling in Italian and English in turn. I
don’t even break my pace as we hurry through the herd of them, out to the
Ferrelli car that’s waiting to carry us home. The entirety of Team Ferrelli is
camped out at the Lazio home until it’s time to rejoin the season for the
London Grand Prix. The hour long ride is completely silent save for Bex’s
occasional remark. I know she’s trying to cheer me up, but I’m far beyond that
now. I just need a minute alone.

Of course, a private moment isn’t exactly easy to come by
when you’re drowning at the center of a media frenzy. The press has already set
up camp around the gates of the Lazio estate. At least someone shooed them off
our property, but the whole swarm is still lingering as close as they can. A
flurry of flashes lights up as we pass. I’m used to flash bulbs and shouting
reporters—I’ve been wrangling them for Enzo for a couple of years, now. But I’m
certainly not accustomed to being the target of their scrutiny. That will take
some getting used to.

 When the long, tree lined drive opens up, I feel my heart
twist painfully in my chest. The sight of my Italian home—it’s tall eggshell
facade and red tiled roof, the rolling hills beyond—bring back a thousand happy
memories. I spent some of the best days of my life here as a kid...but now I’ll
be living through some of the worst. Part of me wants to turn around, to save
this place from being tarnished by my current misery. But the fact of the
matter is, I need to be with my family during all of this. Whether we all like
it or not.

My body grows insanely weary the second I push open the
heavy wooden doors. I step tentatively over the threshold with Bex and Charlie behind
me. I brace myself for the team’s outrage, my family’s ire, but there’s no
firing squad waiting for me. In fact, there isn’t anyone at all. I glance
around the tall foyer, the grand staircase, all the way up to the copper tiled
ceilings. But there’s no one. Not a soul to be found.

“What the hell?” I mutter, my heels clicking against the
tiled floor. “Where is everyone?”

“They’re all in the guest house. Watching the Luxembourg
Grand Prix,” says a breathy voice I’d know anywhere.

I look up to the top of the staircase and see a tall figure
wrapped in a airy black dress. Her hair is pulled up into a polished bun, and
her makeup is immaculate and subtle. My mother, Camilla, has always been a
master of appearances. But right now, the most incredible thing about her is
what’s shining in her eyes—compassion. Understanding.

“Mom,” I whisper, running up the stairs to her.

She wraps her arms around me, pulling me to her chest. Since
I was sixteen, everyone’s said that my mother and I could pass for sisters. But
in this moment, she is every bit my mother. The second I’m safe in her embrace,
the floodgates collapse. All of the overwhelming emotions I’ve been
stonewalling cascade through me. It’s a marvel I can keep standing under the
force of them all. Hot, baffled tears streak down my face, but words are beyond
me.

“Come on, darling,” my mother says, leading me down the hall
to my bedroom, “I’ll take care of you. Don’t you worry about a thing.”

She leads me down the hallway to my room, a place that hasn’t
changed a bit in my twenty-five years on this planet. Camilla and Alfonso Lazio
were never sentimental parents, and the whole pink and fluffy nursery thing
never happened for me. Instead, my room was decorated in soft yellows and pine
wood. Not a thing has been altered since.

As we step inside, I see that the double doors to my little
balcony are standing open, letting in a breeze that glances across the hard
wood floor. My mother leads me over to my canopied bed, and I curl up on my
side there, resting my head in her lap. My shoulders are shaking
uncontrollably, my mind reeling beyond my control. The strange combination of
anguish and comfort is totally disorienting.

“Let it all out, Siena,” my mother says, running her fingers
through my tousled curls, “I know that this seems insurmountable now, but I
promise you that everything will be OK.”

“H-how?” I sob, looking up at her through my tears, “How
will this ever be OK, Mom?”

“It will be OK because it has to be,” she tells me.

Her pragmatism has always been strangely comforting to me.
My mother doesn’t coddle or sugar coat, so when she says that something will be
OK, I tend to believe her. I just wish I skip the hard work of cleaning up the
mess I’ve made.

“I just can’t believe this is happening,” I say, “I don’t know
how things got so incredibly messed up. When I met Harrison, we were just two
people at a bar. But now...”

“Listen to me, Siena,” my mother says, easing me up to sit
beside her, “I’m going to let you in on a little secret. It took me many, many
years to uncover this, but you deserve to hear it now. All your life, your
father has been grooming you to be a part of his world. We’re a Formula One
family, I understand that. It’s what I signed up for when I married your
father. And I’ve let you and your brother follow that path because it’s always
seemed to make you happy. But I need you to understand something, Siena. The
entire world of Formula One...it doesn’t have to be your cage. It doesn’t have
to be your fate.”

“What do you mean?” I ask.

“I mean that before you’re a member of Team Ferrelli, before
you’re even a Lazio, you’re a woman, Siena. An individual,” my mom says,
cupping my face in her hands, “You’re not defined by this way of life. All you
have to do is decide to be above it.”

“Is that why you stay away from the races? To stay above it
all?” I ask.

“It is,” Mom says, “I realized, after you two were born,
that I’d let myself become nothing more than an F1 wife and an F1 mother. I was
beholden, and I was miserable. I couldn’t be a good wife or mother or
person
until I
stopped thinking of this sport as my entire universe.”

“You were always a good mother,” I protest.

“Well, I’m glad you think so,” Mom laughs, “But do you
understand what I’m trying to tell you, Siena?”

“I do,” I say, clutching her smooth hands, “But I don’t
think I can do what you’re telling me to do. I don’t know who I am outside of
F1.”

“That’s only because you’ve never known anything else,” my
mother says, “You were born into this, Siena. But you don’t have to stay. You
can walk away from the team, from the entire sport. It doesn’t have to control
you. You are in control of your own destiny.”

“But I don’t want to walk away,” I tell her, “I love this
world, and this sport, and this team. It’s my life. My work is my life, and I
want to take on even more. I want to have influence, I want to shape the sport
for the better. And I don’t want to be chased away from what I love because of
some bullshit gossip campaign.”

“Then don’t,” my mother says, “Don’t let the narrative that
the world has written define you. Step up and be who you want to be. Love who
you want to love. Refuse to let someone else write your story for you. Hold
your own, Siena. I know that you can.”

“Do you think it’s possible?” I ask, “Do you think I can
come back from this?”

“Absolutely,” Mom tells me, “You’re a Lazio, aren’t you?
You’re tough, and you’re smart, and you’re stubborn as hell. You can do
anything you set your mind to. Including sort things out with that delicious
man you’ve taken up with.”

My chest tightens painfully as I think of Harrison. “I think
that ship has sailed, Mom.”

“Nonsense,” she says, “You don’t have to give him up just
because the press is hounding you about—”

“Did you see the paper?” I ask, “He was with that woman. He
said those awful things. He could be setting us all up and we wouldn’t even—”

“Please tell me I raised you not to believe everything you
read,” Mom laughs, “Did you talk to Harrison about it?”

“Sort of...” I say, “I mean, he didn’t deny...I left in a
hurry.”

“You can’t walk away from the man you love just because of
some tabloid article,” she tells me.

“How do you know I love him?” I ask.

“Because you’re my daughter,” she smiles, “I only had to see
those pictures for a second before it became abundantly clear. You’re in love
with Harrison Davies. And that doesn’t make you a damsel in distress, or a
traitor, or a fool. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise, either.”

“I have no idea how to fix any of this,” I say quietly, “I
don’t even know where to begin...”

“I think a good first step might be figuring out who,
exactly, has been trying to destroy your reputation,” she says, her voice icing
over. “I’m of a mind to find that special someone and throttle them within an
inch of their life...”

“I’m not sure about that,” I tell her. “But you’re right. We
need to figure out where all this supposed information is coming from. That
article was naming sources from just about everywhere. I’m sure most of them
are made up, but the intel is coming from somewhere.”

“Do you have any idea who took those pictures of you?” she
asks.

“Actually, yes,” I tell her, “Harrison and I caught some
punk kid stalking us at the hospital, after the crash. He owned up to taking
the pictures. But he also told us that he was working for someone. Someone who
was paying him a lot of money for those pictures.”

“Any idea who might have hired him?” she asks.

“I did have some notions,” I tell her, “But I think I’m way
off base. You won’t believe it, but I honestly thought—”

“That Charlie Spano wanted to keep Harrison Davies far away
from you?”

“How the hell did you guess that?” I ask.

“We think alike, my dear. If it wasn’t for the fact that
Charlie is currently courting that adorable American friend of yours, I’d still
be suspicious. But Charlie doesn’t stand to gain anything from an article like
that.”

“There’s one other person who I thought might be behind it
all,” I tell her, “That blonde woman from the article, Shelby Vaughn?”

“The one Enzo’s taken up with now?” Mom asks.

“Do you just know everything?” I ask.

“I’m your mother, it’s my job to know,” she says
matter-of-factly.

“Well, I think there’s a possibility that Shelby may have
something to do with this whole mess,” I go on, “I suspected her from the
beginning. From the first night we met, she was cold to me. She’s on McClain’s
media team, so she’d know exactly how to manipulate the story for the press. It
was even one of her photos that made it onto the front page. She and Harrison
clearly have...a past, which I can’t even begin to think about without wanting
to vomit. And now she’s got her hooks in Enzo, too.”

“Oh dear...” Mom sighs, “That’s quite a lot, to be fair. But
I don’t think it really adds up, Siena. What could she gain from bringing this
whole thing down around you and Harrison? Stoking that conflict would only mean
that she’d lose Harrison and Enzo both.”

“I...haven’t figured that out just yet,” I admit.

“I don’t think you will, because I don’t think that Shelby
girl is behind this either,” Mom says. “There’s got to be someone else pulling
the strings. Someone who’s going to benefit wildly from this whole mess. Does
anyone come to find who fits that bill?”

“Honestly? Not a soul,” I say, shaking my head, “I don’t see
how anyone at all wins in this situation.”

Off in the distance, an outraged howl rings out across the
estate. Mom and I look out over my balcony toward the guest house. It sounds
like the whole team is out there, cursing and swearing about something or another.