Trackside Temptation

Chapter Seven

FRANCESCA

After a month of vigorous and competitive racing, Matthias was leading the competition, with Andy Lambert in second and Romain in third.

We were now in Miami for the first US Grand Prix, where thousands of supporters and famous faces were roaming the paddock.

I met the team for our standard post-race meeting before Matthias and I headed to the De Rossi gym for a warm-up.

The team were in a much better mood today. Qualifying saw Romain take a penalty for causing a crash with another team's driver. He initially managed to finish on pole, but the penalty pushed him back five places, so Matthias was starting at the front of the grid.

"Did you do your stretches already?" I asked as Matthias hopped on the treadmill for a light jog.

He nodded. "Yeah. Since you were late again."

I cringed. It was no secret that I had poor time management, and I'd tried my best to improve this year—especially with the new job. But with new cities, new routines and a bunch of new directions to follow, I was more late than on time.

"I'm sorry about that. I've brought you an energy drink for after the race though." I threw it to him, and he caught it with ease. "We'll do more of those reaction time tests after."

Matthias lowered the drink into the cup holder and wiped his face with a sweat towel. I suddenly felt hot as I analysed his state. His cheeks were flushed, and tiny beads of sweat were forming on his forehead.

"Why don't you train with me today?" he asked, snapping me out of my daydream.

I laughed, nervously. "What do you mean?"

He shrugged. "Well, you're always just standing there while I do all this hard work."

I folded my arms. "Trust me, it's hard work dealing with you."

Matt looked pleased with my comeback. "Just do the warmup with me today. It'll help you loosen up."

"I don't need to loosen up," I said as I folded my arms. "I'm not stressed."

"Francesca."

I didn't know why, but hearing my name come out of his mouth didn't sound right. It was as if it didn't belong there, like it had snuck in when he was least expecting it and forced him to say it aloud. But... it was also the nicest thing I'd heard him say.

I rolled my eyes. "Fine," I said as I lifted off my De Rossi shirt and threw it on the bench beside me. Matthias widened his eyes; he probably didn't expect me to strip down to my activewear, but I couldn't warm up in my uniform. That would just be odd.

I was wearing a tight sports bra that matched my black leggings. I may have forgotten to add the padding to it today, so I hoped my nipples were not peering through like headlights.

Matthias held his eye contact as I walked over to the second treadmill. I could tell he wanted to look at other places, but he was trying to stay respectful. I couldn't help but laugh in my head.

I did a few stretches on the ground next to him, deciding to end with a downward dog just to make him sweat. I'd never felt so threatened by a pair of eyes before. Matthias didn't need to say a word for me to gather how he was feeling.

"Okay, Maestro. What's first on the plan?" I asked as I hopped on the belt.

I watched as his throat bobbed, then he swallowed and looked at the machine. "Small incline, six kilometres for the first ten minutes."

I was impressed that he'd memorised the plan. I always thought he'd be too stubborn to retain something that was created by me.

We spent an hour doing cardio before I left Matthias to do his neck exercises. I'd promised to handle the warmup, but neck training was one part I had to opt out of.