Trackside Temptation

Chapter Six

MATTHIAS

I paced around my hotel room as my phone's dial tone corrupted my senses.

Beep beep.

Beep beep.

Beep beep.

I hadn't spoken to my mother in a few weeks, and she demanded I call her after the first Grand Prix. It wasn't that I didn't want to talk to her, I just had so much going on in my life. Ever since Kay packed up their bags to go and elope and live their perfect life, I'd been thrown into a storm that was worse than a rainy day at Suzuka.

Nico should have pre-warned me that he'd hired such a young woman to be my performance coach. But her age wasn't the issue. It was that she was a fucking goddess. Her long, jet-black hair and light ivory skin caught my eye the second I laid my eyes on her. Don't get me started on her rosy cheeks and gorgeous smile. God, I did not need distractions this year and she looked like she'd be the perfect one. No one had caught my eye like she had. I'd had numerous attempts in the past, but I could never give a woman my full attention because my mind was set on racing. On winning. On success.

Part of me was relieved that Francesca was rude from the get-go...with her bullshit mediation schemes and a workout plan that sounded like it'd severely pull a muscle. I had too much pride to admit that maybe her plan was a good idea. But I had to keep her at arm's length. She was lethal otherwise.

It didn't help that she could read me like a book. Each day it felt as if she was tearing a page out and storing it in her stupid pink folder that she followed me around with. When she pulled me away from my father after the race, I couldn't believe it was happening. I was expecting to receive a verbal slap on the face from John for losing out to Romain—just like he did at karting training when I was younger. But she pulled me aside before my dad could enter from the pitlane.

And don't get me started on the recovery session yesterday. We'd had numerous sessions in the gym together before that but fuck me, yesterday evening was intimate.

The way her soft hands brushed against my skin in all the right places. I was glad she hadn't noticed my cock's response to her movements. Or maybe she had and was being respectful with silence.

"Honey," my mother said, snapping me out of my trance.

"Hi, Mum." I continued pacing around the room. I didn't know why, but talking to my mum always made me nervous. She had been through so much, with my dad's behaviour and the divorce. She was now happily married to an English musician, but something in her tone always sounded broken, and that pained me.

"Congratulations on the race. You did awesome. Shame the De Rossi strategy threw you back. But it wasn't your fault. I told everyone at the bar that it wasn't your fault."

I laughed. Mum was always my protector—telling me everything was alright even when it wasn't. I think that's why I despised Francesca's plan so much. It had too much positivity, and I'd spent my whole life learning that positivity can't protect you.

"And how about that gorgeous lady that's always with you?" she chuckled. I knew she was testing the waters...trying to get a reaction out of me.

I gave her nothing. "That's my performance coach and the bane of my existence."

Mum let out another laugh. "Sure, sweetie. You keep telling yourself that."

We spoke for an hour, talking briefly about me and more about her. I didn't like talking about races when that's what I constantly thought about in my spare time. I learned she'd just joined a group at the council who were going around planting hundreds of trees. Her husband was away on a business trip in Canada, and so she was spending more time with the neighbour and their newborn twins. It sounded as if she was happy. And I really hoped she was.