“I have to leave in about an hour to go back to Mexico City.” I jump up at his response letting a smirk spread across my face.
“Did you charter your private plane?”
“Yes,” he responds. Just as I hoped.
“Can I go back with you? I’m dreading having to fly commercial. It’s double the time and so stuffy,” I say, with pleading eyes.
“Don’t you have more publicity to handle?”
“No, not really, I just finished the winners’ press conference before I came back over here. The season is over, so the post-race brief isn’t until we go back to headquarters in CDMX in a few days.”
I really want to go home. Not only to see my family, but to be in my space. In my apartment that I absolutely adore and to finally see my best friend, Violetta.
“If your publicist says it’s okay, then yes. You know you don’t even have to ask, princesa, what’s mine is yours.”
He’s, my brother. My hermano. He might be my half-brother but my brother, nonetheless. He took care of me when mamá died and he never involved me with business.
He knows that my career comes first, and I would never allow something of that magnitude to affect it.
This sport is my world and so is my family. I would do anything to never have to live a life without racing. The thrill of the overtakes, the rush from the speed and the adrenaline from the podiums. No one would give it up if they were in my position and if they did, they would be crazy.
As I make my way down to the publicity office, I’m interrupted by Lauren, my publicist, or as I like to call her ‘my savior.’ Having gotten me out of so much, I will be forever indebted to her.
I’m currently on an “alcohol cleanse” ever since the last time I drank myself away. It was the night of the Monaco Grand Prix and I had won, so I decided that one drink wouldn’t hurt. Just one.
I ended up having ten shots and my lightweight ass almost got alcohol poisoning. Somehow, I was able to sneak out, no idea how no one saw me. But my night didn't end there.
But by the end of the night, they ended up finding me completely naked on the sunroof of a private yacht doing the Scottish jig.
Don’t drink kids, it’s not worth the humiliation.
I shake in disgust from that memory. How did I end up in that state? I don’t even know. But no alcohol will be entering my system for a long time.
“Lauren, I was just coming to talk to you.”
“Good! I have something to tell you, let’s go to the conference room. It’s important,” she seems frantic in her response.
“Okay.”
Grabbing a hold of my arm, she drags me into the nearest conference room. As we walk up to the door, she opens it rather rapidly and pushes me inside. Shutting the blinds and locking the door behind her, turning on the noise canceling feature on the iPad that controls the rooms systems. I look at her in curiosity.
She’s acting weird.
“I have news that I think you’ll be excited about,” she says calmly.
“Oooookayyy,” I extend each syllable out as I speak.
Standing there for a minute she says rather quickly, “Lucia isn’t here right now as you know. But Elektra just sent an offer and she told me to tell you.” I freeze, registering her words.
Holy. Shit.
ChapterTwo
Maria Alejandra
“You’ve got to be shitting me right now.” A single tear escapes, rolling down my cheek.I never cry.I have been taught my whole life that it shows weakness. Since I already have a disadvantage in this sport, I don’t cry often. My only leverage is my talent, and damn have I worked hard for that.
One thing I’ve learned from my father and this sport: never show weakness. People feed off it, they use and abuse it for their own gain. Their ownsuccess.