CHAPTER EIGHT.    ❦︎

"Oh, so you're the reason he looks like
he just stepped off a runway. Interesting."

Valeria sat cross-legged on her hotel bed, her hair twisted into a haphazard bun, and a sheet mask clinging snugly to her face. The room was dimly lit, with only the glow from the bedside lamp illuminating the controlled chaos around her: an empty iced tea cup balanced precariously on her nightstand, her laptop open on a stack of pillows, and her phone clutched in one hand.

On the other end of the call, Catia's voice crackled with her trademark exasperation.

"And then that idiot says, 'Mi reina, if you're already ironing my shirts, why not do the socks too? It's only logical.'" She ranted. "PFFT, as if that stupid fuck knows anything about being logical."

Valeria let out a sharp laugh. "He's really trying to put you to work." She said, shaking her head. "Testing out your house wife abilities."

"Like shit," Catia groaned. "Maybe instead of ironing his socks, I somehow wrap them around his face and suffocate him to death. How about that." She spat.

"Sounds like something you'd already try."

"And did," Catia muttered. "But at least he took it as a sign to shut the hell up and never request something so stupid again." She sighed. "Like he already had me ironing? Ridiculous."

"Got a real prince charming on your hands," Valeria teased.

"Oh, shut up," Catia snapped, though there was humor in her tone. "Anyway, enough about Pedri and his sock fetish. How's your day been? Or should I say, how's Franco?"

Valeria groaned audibly, collapsing onto her back. The sheet mask made a squelching noise as it shifted on her face.

"Not good? I assume." Catia said with a giggle, her curiosity piqued.

Before Valeria could reply, the door to her hotel room swung open. Marisol strolled in, looking like she'd just conquered a battlefield, her camera bag slung over her shoulder and many fallen strands from her pinned up hair.

She paused mid-step, taking in Valeria's spa-night setup and the phone pressed to her ear.

"Am I interrupting?" Marisol said with a grin and quirked brow.

Valeria laughed and held out the phone toward her. "Say hi to Catia before she kills herself."

Marisol took the phone, sitting cross-legged on the bed. "Hi my beautiful, how's that toad boyfriend of yours today?"

"He thinks socks need ironing," Catia replied flatly.

Marisol blinked before bursting into laughter. "What else? Does he need his thong steamed?"

"Don't give him ideas," Catia muttered darkly.

Marisol, still chuckling, handed the phone back to Valeria which caused her to put Catia on speaker completely.

"And what's up with you, my gorgeous? Another awesome day with Franco, I assume?"

Valeria peeled off her sheet mask with a dramatic sigh, tossing it into the hotel room trash can. "So awesome." She rolled her eyes.

"But, to be fair, he actually didn't really screw up today. No public humiliation, no outrageous requests. He even stayed on schedule for once... Kinda." She took a moment to think.

"But..."

"Always, always, a but," Marisol said knowingly as she reached into her bag and grabbed a bag of sour gummies.

"But," Valeria continued, reaching forward to eat some of her own, "The flirting is getting ridiculous." She groaned.

"Right..." Marisol chewed on her snack as Catia listened intently over the phone.

"All day, it was nonstop. He called me hermosa again when I handed him his water bottle and quite literally any moment possible."

"Really?" Catia asked through the speaker. "I mean, points for the dedication."

"And for having no shame," Valeria shot back. "But that's not even the worst part. The worst part was him telling the entire engineering staff I'm his 'lucky charm.'"

"Are you though?" Marisol teased.

"What the hell does it look like." Valeria cringed.

"Don't blame him, blame the car." She defended him with a mischievous laugh.

"I blame both." Valeria threw a pillow at her. "And do not encourage him."

Marisol dodged it effortlessly, giggling. "Relax, Vale. It's just harmless flirting. Besides, don't his fans eat it up?"

"Oh, please, don't even start with that," Valeria groaned, pressing her palms to her face. "It's literally a PR nightmare." She said with annoyance.

"Half of them think we're secretly dating, and the other half think I'm sabotaging his career. There's no middle ground."

"Well..." Marisol said, scrolling through her camera, "Speaking of fans..."

Valeria froze. "What did you do?"

Marisol didn't answer. Instead, she held up her camera with a triumphant grin. "I may or may not hold something very valuable to them." She said sneakily.

"What the hell does that mean."

"I happened to accidentally take a photo of you and Franco earlier."

Valeria's stomach dropped. "Marisol."

"Don't worry! It hasn't seen the light of day." Marisol flipped her camera around, displaying the image on the screen.

Valeria and Franco were standing in the paddock, Franco leaning casually against a wall with his trademark smirk, while Valeria stood beside him, laughing. It was a genuine, full-bodied laugh, her eyes crinkled in amusement.

"What the hell?" Valeria demanded, snatching the camera out of her hands. "Accident my ass! We are literally the only thing in frame??" Her eyebrows furrowed.

"What is that!" She pointed with a glint of annoyance in her eyes.

"It's called a photo," Marisol said, her grin widening. "And yeah, it wasn't an accident obviously, but I caught it during one of your little chats. You're welcome." She smiled.

"Look at you two laughing together!!!!"

"Okay, I was not laughing with him!" Valeria snapped. "I was laughing at him!"

"Sure you were," Marisol said, easily reclaiming the camera.

"HEY, I WANNA SEE!" Catia yelled from her side of the phone call. "Please! PLEASE. PLEASE."

"Sending it to you when I have it downloaded to my laptop, don't worry beautiful." Marisol replied.

"Marí." Valeria groaned. "I'm so serious! Delete that. Right now."

"Are you insane? This is gorgeous. You guys look so good together—Ive genuinely never noticed."

"Oh my god, Truthfully, I noticed that back in Singapore but never brought it up. The face cards are insane, and the chemistry.... it's there." Catia agreed.

"What is happening." Valeria mumbled to herself before lunging for the camera, but Marisol held it out of reach.

"Calm yourself, hermosa." She bit down a grin, teasing the nickname Valeria had been sick of hearing.

"It's just a photo. And you look cute. You could frame it for your desk back in Williams HQ."

"I'm going to frame your brutally graphic murder scene," Valeria shot back, grabbing another pillow and launching it at Marisol.

Marisol was laughing too hard to dodge this time, the pillow hitting her squarely in the face. "Okay, okay! I'll delete it... eventually."

"Marí!"

"Fine, fine," She said, still laughing. She held up the camera as if to prove her innocence. "Consider it gone."

"I want proof." Valeria narrowed her eyes, crossing her arms.

Catia's voice came through the speaker, filled with amusement. "You're so dramatic, Vale. It's just a photo."

"Oh, what about that time I took a picture of you and posted it back in Rome during our vacation?" Valeria picked up her phone to argue.

"I looked bloated. And furthermore, I looked pregnant. I didn't like that. And I didn't want to scare Pedri away." Catia quickly defended, making Valeria roll her eyes.

"Well this is not just a photo to me!" Valeria shot back. "It's fuel. And the last thing Franco needs is more reasons to fire up his ego."

"True," Marisol said with a nod. "But admit it first and I'll delete it!"

Valeria narrowed her eyes. "Admit what?!"

"That you perhaps enjoy his attention?" She smirked. " His company even?"

Valeria gave her a deadpan look, her eye twitching. "I enjoy the attention and 'company' about as much as you enjoy getting pestered by fans asking for free prints."

Marisol rolled her eyes. "Fair point."

Catia, still laughing, chimed in. "For what it's worth, I personally think you and Franco have this... energy. Like, you hate him, but not really."

"Ugh, I don't hate him," Valeria said, sighing. "He's annoying, yes and I just... strongly dislike 99% of his personality."

"And the other 1%?" Marisol asked, her grin wicked.

Valeria hesitated for a moment too long.

"Oh," Marisol said, her eyes widening. "So you like him!"

"I DIDNT EVEN SAY ANYTHING?"

"Silence speaks louder than words!! Or whatever they say...?," Catia agreed, causing Valeria to glance at her phone with a quirked brow.

She buried her face in her hands. "God, I hate both of you."

"No, you don't," Marisol said, snapping another candid photo of Valeria mid-meltdown. "You love us. Admit it."

"You're a dick." Valeria flipped her off, posing this time as Marisol whipped her camera out once again.

"And you know what? I'm regretting every life choice that brought me to this moment," She muttered.

Marisol laughed, tossing the camera onto the bed. "Come on! It's all in good fun."

Catia's laugh rang out from the phone, the sound warm and familiar. "Loosen up, we're only teasing you, amor. But just know, we'll always be here to remind you of how much you actually don't hate Franco."

"Oh, piss off." Valeria rolled her eyes. "I'm hanging up on you." She threatened.

"That's not stopping anyone, I'll just call Marí!"

"Then I'm leaving the room." Valeria stood up and argued.

"And sleep where? Franco's room?" Marisol smirked.

"You guys are impossible." The Williams assistant groaned into her hands again, dragging her palms down her face.

Marisol smirked again, leaning forward with a glint in her eyes. "Vale, I just have one question."

"What." Valeria glared at her.

"I want you to answer truthfully. But, do you think Franco is attractive?" She asked as Catia's strands of "OOOOO's" instigated the conversation further.

"He's objectively good-looking," Valeria replied hesitantly. "But so is half the paddock. Doesn't mean I'm interested." She scoffed.

Marisol raised her hands dramatically. "Objectively good-looking? You make him sound like some mediocre man straight off a magazine cover."

Valeria scoffed. "How about a mediocre man straight off a billboard—flashy, in your face, and impossible to avoid."

Catia's laugh rang through the phone. "Are we talking about the same guy? I know I'm taken but he is gorgeous. The man practically glows. Don't even try to deny it."

"He doesn't glow," Valeria shot back.

"Oh, yeah? Really?" Marisol crossed her arms and raised her brows. "How would you know?"

"Who do you think is the one making sure he doesn't leave the garage with his shirt untucked or his hair all over the place. It's literally part of my job."

Marisol smirked, leaning forward with that signature mischievous glint. "Oh, so you're saying you're the reason he looks like he just stepped off a runway. Interesting."

"Aww, the girlfriend glow!" Catia teased. "Pedri had that when he first got with me." You could practically hear her smile.

Valeria opened her mouth, then closed it, realizing she'd walked into a trap. "That's not—ugh. Forget it."

"No, no, no, don't backpedal now," Marisol teased. "But, it's okay to say it. Franco Colapinto is a walking Greek statue, and you—"

"Don't you dare finish that sentence," Valeria cut in, pointing a warning finger at her.

Marisol leaned back with a satisfied grin, but Catia wasn't done yet. "You know, Franco has a lot of fangirls, Vale. If you don't stake your claim soon, someone else might."

Valeria stared at the phone, incredulous. "Stake my claim? He's not a house for sale, Catia."

"No, but he is prime real estate," Catia said with her signature giggle. "And from what I've seen, he only lets you boss him around. That has to count for something."

Valeria groaned, dragging a hand down her face. "You two are unbearable. I don't even know why I put up with this."

"Because you love us," Marisol said, mimicking Valeria's earlier deadpan tone. "And because deep down, you know we're right."

"About what? That I want to strangle Franco on a daily basis?" Valeria countered.

"Strangle him, kiss him—same energy," Catia interjected, her voice lilting with amusement.

Marisol nodded solemnly. "There's a fine line between love and hate, Vale. And you, my friend, are walking it in stilettos."

Valeria let out a sharp laugh, finally cracking under the weight of their relentless teasing. "You two seriously need new hobbies."

"And you need to admit you like Franco," Marisol retorted. "It's okay, Vale. Denial is the first step."

Valeria reached for a pillow to throw but realized she had ran out, groaning.

"Denial is the only step because there's nothing to admit!"

Marisol grinned triumphantly. "Whatever you say, amor. But just know, the day you two finally kiss, I'm going to be the one laughing the loudest."

"Over my dead body," Valeria muttered, flopping back onto the bed.

Catia's voice came through, warm and teasing. "Or over his. If Franco heard all of this, he'd probably be grinning like an idiot right now."

Valeria buried her face in her hands again and sighed. "I'm never speaking to either of you again."

"Oh, you will," Marisol said, still laughing. "Probably to rant about Franco and how annoying he is. Just like always."

Catia chimed in with a giggle. "We love you, hermosa."

"Kill yourselves." Valeria mumbled into the mattress. "Both of you."

vera's voice 💌 ( 2.2k words )
shut the fuck up idk what i wrote either k.
So like yeah. uh. Yeah. guus idk what i'm doing

put my all into those text messages and now i'm lost
but it's ok. i'll Lock in eventually 🤦‍♀️🤦‍♀️🤦‍♀️

anywho. Barcelona & Edinburgh.
Love Venice 🤦‍♀️🤦‍♀️🤦‍♀️🤦‍♀️🤦‍♀️