SAVANNAH

"I don't think I've ever seen you so excited." Dante stared at me, an amused smile dancing on his lush mouth. He leaned in for a kiss and I pecked him while keeping my eye on the door.

"She's my best friend. I haven't seen her in months. I wish I could've picked her up from the airport."

"I'm sure Jack would've let you out of the team meeting to do so."

I fidgeted with a paper napkin. We were ensconced in a back room at our hotel's bar, waiting for Kayla to arrive. "I didn't want to ask for special treatment. And it was an important meeting with the tire company after qualifying. Besides, Kayla said she had a surprise for me and didn't mind taking a private car from the airport. She also wanted to freshen up after the flight."

"At least you'll be able to spend some days after the race with her."

As I was about to tell him that I wished he could join us—he was going ahead to Mexico with the rest of the team—I spotted Kayla. She poked her head through the door and screamed when she saw me. I jumped up and ran to her, wrapping my arms around her willowy frame.

We both squealed and laughed while we hugged each other for a solid minute. She smelled exactly like I remembered—like Coco Chanel—and I pulled back to stare at her. She wore a deep-blue jumpsuit with a plunging neckline and strappy gold sandals. Her hair, which used to be straight and long during her pageant days, was in a stylish, cropped Afro.

"You look amazing," I gushed.

"Yeah, two people in the lobby stopped her and asked if she was a model."

I peered over Kayla's shoulder at the deep male voice. It came from a generically good-looking guy with sandy blond hair and a boyish smile. He resembled one of those many actors named Chris that I could never tell apart.

Kayla put her hand on my arm. "Savvy, this is my surprise. I decided to bring Travis with me. Travis, this is my bestie, Savannah."

For a second, an irrational feeling of jealousy bubbled up inside me. I'd hoped to have Kayla all to myself. But then I saw how he wrapped his arm around her waist, and how she smiled with radiant glee. I clapped my hands together and laughed.

"And I want you to meet someone," I said, taking a few steps toward Dante, who was standing a few feet away, smiling tightly with his hands in pockets. He seemed nervous for some reason. "This is my, ah, friend. Boyfriend. Fiancé, or whatever. Dante."

"I think he's more than a friend," purred Kayla. "Come here and give me a hug."

While the two of them chatted, I steered Travis over to a table and motioned for him to sit.

"So I hear you know my brother," I said.

"Alex has become a close friend. Between you and me"—Travis scooted his chair in as he spoke, and his accent was pure Atlanta, which made me yearn for home—"he wanted me to do a little spying on you while I was here. You and your new beau."

"Great." I laughed. "Tell him I have everything under control. Better yet, don't tell him anything at all." The idea of annoying my older brother gave me more joy than it should.

Dante rested his hand on my shoulder. "She's in control, all right."

Travis stood, and he and Dante stepped to the side to shake hands and talk. Kayla slid into the seat where Travis had been.

"I couldn't wait for you to meet him, and he didn't want me coming here alone." She leaned in and grabbed my hands. "We're taking the entire week to explore. He's so wonderful to travel with. You automatically know you're in love when you can travel without fighting. He was so attentive on the plane, making sure I had magazines and sodas, and even telling me to walk around so I wouldn't get blood clots."

"Well, that's romantic," I said, and we both laughed.

It sure sounded like Kayla was head over heels for him by the way she couldn't stop giggling. But a little, nagging twinge of doubt sprang up. Dante never asked me what I wanted or needed on a plane. But why would he? Kayla's relationship was real.

Mine wasn't.

Dante eased himself into the chair next to me, and Travis sat next to Kayla. A waiter came in and took our drink order—a bottle of champagne—and we settled in.

"What's it like working together?" Kayla asked Dante, her eyes shifting to me. Before her trip, I'd pleaded with her not to reveal that she knew about our fake relationship. Now, it seemed, she was intent on grilling him. I could tell by that inquisitive lawyer's gleam in her eye.

"I'll be honest. I don't like it much because I worry about her safety." He shrugged. "But what can I do? Like I said, Savannah's in control of this situation. She's her own woman, and that's what I love about her."

"Not this again," I said. "Let's change the subject."

"Savannah's always in control," Kayla shot back in a playful yet edgy tone. "Haven't you noticed that she always speaks her mind and doesn't shy away from saying her true feelings? Heck, if a barista gives her three sugars instead of two in her coffee, she demands a redo."

Dante turned to me, frowning. "You take sugar in your coffee? I thought you drank it black."

His question, while probably innocent, struck at the heart of my insecurity. The man I was fake-dating didn't even know the small details about me.

And why would he?

***

"Hey. What should I wear tonight? Where are we going? I want to be able to tell Kayla what's happening." I stretched, trying to summon some energy.

Although I hadn't worked in the pits changing tires today, I'd spent the entire race in the sweltering garage with the rep from the tire company. We'd taken a chance and gone with the soft compound tires on my recommendation—a move that led to Dante's win, in my opinion.

I'd never seen such a crazy crowd as when he'd passed the checkered flag. And it was as if the city exploded when Dante and Max took their places on the podium. Dante had come in first, Max second, and even better, Dante was still leading in overall points.

Now we were assembled in Bronson's suite for a post-race plan with Tanya. I was used to this by now, this carefully scripted public-relations dance. It didn't much matter to me anymore where we went, which reporters we talked with, how many red carpets we walked. Still, I couldn't wait to explore the vibrant and chaotic Brazilian capital with Kayla, even for a short while. That was often the downside of all these races, all this travel. We never really got to know any one place—when we were in a city, the only important thing was winning.

Maybe someday Dante and I would return, with Kayla and Travis.

No chance of that.

All that mattered was that the team was about to win the championship. I was trying to focus on that instead of on Dante, who had become quiet and serious since Singapore. Oh, sure, he was his gregarious, confident self when we were out in public. He was charming with Kayla and Travis, and complimented me during every interview.

But in private, he'd been formal and less talkative. I assumed it had something to do with the season winding down, and his needing to decide what to do with his post-race career. I'd gently tried to probe him about his future, but my questions were met with one-word grunts, so I'd dropped the topic.

I had no place in his life now, or in the future. Our relationship served two purposes at this point: to help the team, and to sate our desires. As far as the months to come, I had my own plans to think about. My contract was up at the end of the season, and I hoped to renew it. It was essential to focus on my career and not get lost in Dante's orbit.

I sipped from a can of Coke. "Or is tonight a free evening?"

Tanya's brown bob swished against her chin as she shook her head. "There's no plan for tonight. We've gotten word from one of the top sporting newspapers in Italy that they're going to break a story tonight that says the French team is behind the technical theft scandal. They might even lose points."

Dante threw back his head and laughed. "Ah! Thank God. I would've killed Max had he been behind this. But it makes sense that the French team actually stole the specs. They've been doing shockingly well this year."

I smiled too, because there was nothing lovelier to look at than Dante in full-on competition mode. And it was a relief that Max was finally cleared once and for all. While he was arrogant and a more risk-taking racer than Dante, he had a bright future in the sport.

"So," said Tanya, pointing a pen at me, then at Dante, "this means you two don't have to continue the farce of being engaged. Dante will be going out without you tonight to raise questions from the press, and I'll leak the news to a gossip site later this evening. On Tuesday, once we're on our way to Mexico City, we'll put out a news release saying you've broken up."

My eyes widened and my stomach felt like Tanya had kicked it with those stilettos of hers. Rationally, I'd known this was a possibility. My engagement to Dante could dissolve as quickly as it had materialized.

But I hadn't anticipated this here, or now—I'd thought we'd have had to keep up appearances until the final race of the season. Especially with my best friend and her new boyfriend staying in the same hotel, this came as a huge blow; I'd have to somehow explain the situation . . .

"Okay." I tried to make my tone firm and businesslike.

"Savvy, we'll need the ring back. It was a rental, you know."

"Right." I paused before taking it off my finger, because I'd gotten used to the heavy, sparkling rock. I glanced up at Dante and he was looking out the window, not at me. Figured. He didn't give a crap. I wrenched the ring off and dropped it in front of Tanya, on her clipboard.

"There."

"Where am I going tonight?" Dante asked, a hint of curiosity in his voice. My stomach roiled with a mix of anger and shame. I really had meant nothing to him these past several months. He was ready to drop me like a hot rock.

As Tanya explained that Dante would be attending a VIP bash at a Rio club with Jack, I sat ramrod-straight. Bronson noticed my discomfort.

"Savvy, we don't really need you here for this discussion. Feel free to order room service tonight, watch a movie, and relax. I know you and Dante are still sharing a room, but it will be the last night you have to go through that. C'mon." He beckoned me to join him near the exit.

My cheeks flared hot because I was literally being shown the door. I'd served my purpose.

"Hey, I have an idea," he said, snapping his fingers. "You and your friend should go to the spa. Whatever you want, it's on me. A nice massage, maybe a pedicure. Facial. I'll get it set up for the two of you. There's a great place in this hotel, and you can even have dinner there too. They have a gorgeous terrace. How's that?"

I shrugged, feeling like I wanted to vomit. Without looking at Dante, I left the room and went to the suite. I wanted to get away as quickly as possible, preferably before he returned to our room. The last thing I wanted was an awkward conversation.

I texted Kayla on the way, trying to focus on our evening together.

Hey, we have a spa night paid for by the team! I'm going to book now for tonight—let me know what services you'd like.

Instantly, I got a reply.

Aww that sounds amazing. But Travis and I have reservations at a five-star Michelin restaurant down the street. Why don't you and Dante join us, and we can go to the spa tomorrow morning?

Dante and I wouldn't be joining anyone together ever again. It took me a few minutes to respond, and by the time I did, I was in the suite, tears pricking at my eyes.

I think he has team obligations. No worries! We'll catch up later. Have fun!

***

Hours later, when I was as limp as an overcooked noodle from the spa massage and facial, there was a knock at the door.

My heart leapt. Dante. But why would he be knocking? He still had a key, since we were sharing the suite for tonight despite the soon-to-be official "breakup."

Maybe he'd lost it. I made a beeline for the door and peered into the peephole. It was Kayla, wearing a fabulous little black dress and sparkly black heels. I swung the door open.

"Hey," I said, standing aside so she could come in. "You look gorgeous."

"I'm so sorry." She sighed.

"For what?" I shut and locked the door, and we made our way into the suite. She sat down on a sofa.

"I didn't realize that you and Dante had, ah, broken up. I saw the speculation on a racing website as Travis and I were leaving the restaurant. I should've gone to the spa with you."

I sank next to her and pulled my knees to my chest. "Yeah, that was decided by the team. It's going to be official in a couple of days. We no longer need to pretend. And no, don't worry about it. You didn't need to babysit me."

She aimed her giant brown eyes in my direction. "What does this mean? Will he be sleeping here tonight? Do you two sleep in the same bed? Have the two of you actually had sex?"

"I assume he'll be sleeping here tonight, unless he chooses somewhere else," I said pointedly. "And the other answers are usually and yes, a lot."

Kayla sucked in a breath. "Wow. This is way complicated."

"More than you know," I said miserably.

"You have real feelings for him, don't you?" My silence spoke for itself. "Oh, no. You're in love," she whispered.

"Maybe." When I started to cry, she came to sit next to me and slipped her arm around me.

"Oh, sweetie. Of course you'd fall for him. He's captivating. Even I can see that, and he's so not my type."

A little laugh erupted between my tears. "I didn't plan to fall for him. Hell, I didn't like him when we first met. But underneath that arrogant exterior is a good man. Kind of a goofball, even. We stayed up all night in Singapore playing video games and eating pizza. It was sweet and normal. And I guess I thought we had something real."

"How do you know you don't?"

I wriggled out of her embrace to look at her. "This was all orchestrated by the team, and all he cares about is winning. Why would he want me?"

She snorted. "Why wouldn't he want you? Good Lord, Savvy."

"We're so different, from different cultures, different ages, different views on life. He's eight years older and retiring, and I'm only starting a career in motorsports. He's, he's . . ." I sputtered. "He's used to hooking up with models. Ugh, where did that even come from? Normally I'm not jealous. It's like all my flaws are coming to light because I'm into him way more than I expected. That's pathetic."

"Not pathetic at all. And you're no slouch. Had you wanted, you could've been Miss America."

I made a little gagging noise.

"Don't let his age and his fame intimidate you. The way he stared at you at dinner the other night led me to believe he has feelings for you too. He looked like he wanted to dip you in the tiramisu and eat you up. The two of you need to talk and get past this stupid fake-relationship situation. Maybe after the season ends, you can sort out if what you have is real."

A shudder went through me at the thought of telling Dante my true feelings. My mother had drummed it into me never to tell a man how you felt before he revealed his intentions. I'd tried to reject that tired advice, but here I was, afraid.

"You're right," I said, hauling in a breath. "Now tell me all about dinner, and Travis. He seems like such a good person. I'll open a bottle of wine."

For the next hour, we drank and talked, and for those sixty minutes, life felt almost normal again.