“I’m happy to be here.” Santiago offers a half-assed smile.
I elbow him in the ribs and whisper, “Try a little harder.”
“And who is your date for tonight?” The reporter moves the microphone from Santiago’s face to mine.
“Oh.” I suck in a breath. “I’m Chloe.”
The reporter looks at me expectantly. “Chloe who?”
“Carter.”
“From?” he prompts, his right eye twitching as if he wants to hold back an eye roll.
“America?”
The reporter laughs while Santiago looks like he sucked on a lemon. Am I making myself look like an idiot on live television? If I had a mom who cared, I’d apologize to her later.
The man shifts his attention back toward my grumpy date. “Santiago, will we see you out on the track this Sunday cheering Noah on?”
“Of course. It’s Bandini’s home race and Noah’s last Italian Grand Prix. I wouldn’t miss it for the world.” Santiago’s smile looks more like a wince.
I pat his hand, and he wraps his muscular arm around me, tugging me into his side. My heart speeds up at his touch, and all the nerves in my body go haywire.
“And how long have you two been dating?”
“A month.”
“A year.” We both speak at the same time.
The reporter’s head snaps back and forth between us.
“A year and a month.” Santiago squashes the man’s confusion.
I turn my laugh into a cough. Somehow my fake relationship has been more successful than my last two relationships combined.
The reporter asks if I need water, but I wave him off. “Sorry. I have chronic allergies.”
“A pity indeed, always flaring up at the most inconvenient times.” Santiago cracks a smile in my direction.
The reporter carries on, expressing his enthusiasm at scoring an interview with the enigma beside me.
I learn a few things as we continue down the carpet, answering questions from fellow reporters. People genuinely care about what Santiago has been up to. Their gaze remains sincere as they ask him appropriate questions. But most of all, Santiago brightens as he gains more courage with them.
I don’t want to assume, but I think deep down that he misses this. The attention, the race car talk, the whole don’t mind me, I’m really fucking famous situation.
The curious part of me wonders what it would take to help Santiago realize he has what it takes to come back.
It seems like after this trip, I need to add something new yet essential to my European expedition. I refuse to leave Italy without helping Santiago return to his former glory. Whether it’s racing or living a life out of the shadows, I want to help him. And nothing can stop me from accomplishing what I put my mind to. Not even a grumpy, six-foot-something male who seeks to be invisible when he’s meant to shine.
28
Santiago
I survived the red carpet of torture. My head throbs and my palms remain permanently sweaty as Chloe and I make our way through the crowds of people inside the ballroom.
Rather than focus on their obvious stares, I remain laser-focused on Chloe. It’s not a hard task in the slightest. I’m enchanted by her. Absolutely, utterly captivated by the brunette beauty who emanates warmth and confidence despite her fear of attention. I’d pay for a hundred more gowns if it meant I could see her dressed like this again. The material flows across her curves like water, changing colors depending on the light.
My attraction isn’t even about the dress she wears or the makeup she put on. It’s more than that. It’s her. Before her, I wasn’t interested in love, but damn if I’m willing to try it now. Our fake relationship has been fun and all, but I wonder if she wants to trade up for the real deal.