Rush: Part One & Two (The Pitstop Series Book 3)

Adrian and I have been sitting in front of his phone for the past half an hour, waiting for the callback Lorenzo Mattia promised my brother. He’s bouncing his legs up and down, his head between his arms. I’ve never seen him this nervous.

Out of the two of us, Adrian is the calm and collected one most of the time, but, right now, the roles are reversed. I know this call won’t do anything, but he’s clinging onto hope as if it’s a drop of water in a desert.

“When will you let this go?” I ask after another long silence. My brother raises his head, anger on his features.

“The day you get an F1 seat,” he replies, flinching toward his phone when the screen lights up. A groan leaves him because it’s a message, not a call. “This man better call soon before I lose it.” I stand up and move over to the seat next to him.

“You’re going to break yourself trying to get it for me,” I say, my voice soft as I take his hand. “Trust me, I know,” I add, but he drops his face into his arms, resting them on the table next to the phone that won’t ring.

“If you’re going to be negative, please leave. I don’t want that energy here.” His words are muffled, but I hear them loud and clear, and they bother me.

“Pardon me for having lost my optimism,” I spit and walk away from him.

“I get it, Val, I really do, but you can’t—” I cut him off.

“You don’t have the right to tell me what I can and cannot do, Adrian. You’ve been handed everything in your life. You never experienced the same rejection I have, so I don’t expect you to understand how tiring it gets to live this part of my life,” I scream, and he shakes his head.

“You’re absolutely right. I have no idea. I’ve been by your side through it all, felt your pain as if it was my own, but I know I’ll never understand. That’s why I keep trying. You were taught to do your best by Dad and Grandpa, I was taught to do the same for you, okay? Now let me fucking do this because that’s what they would have wanted, and it’s what you need!”

Tears shoot into his eyes, making some sting mine as well.

“Please, Val, don’t fight me on this. You’ve had the pressure of Grandfather’s expectations on your shoulders your whole life, and the reason why getting rejected hurts you so much is because you see it as your failure. It’s not. It’s never been. The only failure you can put on yourself is giving up when I have the power to do something about what happened at the driver academy.”

Adrian sinks back onto his chair after he stood up to yell back at me. There are a lot of emotions surrounding us, but I’m hung up on his words.

“What if you can’t do anything about it?” I ask, wiping away my tears.

“Then it’s not you giving up anymore, Val. It’s having done your best in a society that hates women who succeed, but it hasn’t come to that yet, and I won’t let it,” he says, and I suck in an uneven, sharp breath.

“I don’t want to stop fighting, I’m not ready to,” I admit to him and myself. I’m not ready to stop fighting.

A smile tugs on the corners of my brother’s mouth.

“Good,” he replies at the same time as our doorbell rings.

“Yoohoo, anyone home?” Christian’s annoying voice comes from the gate area, and Adrian and I exchange a disgusted-confused look. “I can see you both,” he says, and I storm toward him with determination.

Two bodyguards stand beside him, making me hesitate for a moment.

“Coward,” I spit in French, and he whispers something to one of them. They step away as he brings his attention to my face. “What the hell do you want? You might be a royal, but I’m not obligated to let you inside my house,” I bark, amusement sparkling in his eyes as soon as the words leave me.

“I love it when you deny me something, Tina. It’s so hot,” he says, and my body revolts.

“You disgust me,” I respond, and he smiles.

“Yeah, yeah, you’ve said so before, but I just came here to talk. Please, may I come inside?” he asks, a genuine, serious expression neutralizing his usually smug features.

“Rot in hell,” I say and walk away, but his next words make me stop dead in my tracks.

“I’m sorry, Valentina, truly.” That means nothing to me, but I’m surprised at his humanity. “The seat should have been yours,” he goes on, and I turn around to see someone else get out of the limo.

It’s the crown prince of Monaco, Thomas Crovetto, wearing a suit that’s more expensive than anything I will ever own. He adjusts his tie as he steps out of the car, making his way toward the gate more gracefully than anyone else I’ve ever met. The light-blue color of his clothes complements his dark skin. He has piercing hazel eyes and full, round lips.

The princes are half-brothers, with Thomas being the son of the king’s first wife and Christian being the son of his second. The two could not be more opposite from appearance all the way to behavior.

“Good afternoon, Ms. Romana. How are you?”

I don’t know whether to curtesy or drop onto my knees, but no matter who society has deemed them to be, I don’t kneel for any man. Well, just one…

“I’d be much better if you removed your brother from my property, Your Highness, thank you,” I reply, and Thomas gives me a smile I’m sure has made people fall in love with him in the past.

“Forgive us, we’re simply here for my brother to take responsibility for what he’s done to you in the past. For one, he should have never endangered your life during that karting incident a few weeks ago. I hope your wrist has healed well,” he says, sincerity in his tone.This content provided by N(o)velDrama].[Org.

I look down at the faint bruise, which hasn’t disappeared yet before crossing my arms in front of my chest.

“I appreciate the sentiment, but I don’t want an apology. However, I’d love to never see His Royal Sliminess again,” I say and almost slap my mouth when I realize in whose presence I am.

Thomas assures me it’s fine with a laugh, making me grin.

“She was doing that the whole time we were at the academy together,” Christian complains, but there is something different about him with his big brother next to him. He seems… almost childish? He feels inferior to his brother, this much is obvious.

“Good, you deserve it. You’re not better than Valentina or anyone else because of your title, Christian, and I’m glad she reminded you of that,” Thomas says, and I give him a genuine smile.

“Would you like to have a cup of coffee or tea, Your Highness?” I ask, addressing Thomas and him alone.

He gives his brother a pat on the back before letting out a laugh.

“Go wait in the car, I’ll be right there. George, crack the window for him, please,” he yells the last sentence at one of the bodyguards, and I unlock the gate for him.

Thomas holds out his hand for me, and I slide mine into his, prepared to shake it. Instead, he lifts it to his mouth, pressing a kiss to the back of it.

“Pleasure to meet you in person. I’ve heard and seen a lot about you,” he says, and, for some reason, a blush settles on my cheeks.

“It’s an honor to meet you, Your Highness,” I reply because I think it’s the right thing to say. He drops my hand and waves my comment away.

“Call me Thomas. I don’t like those titles, I’m not my brother.”

“I know, that’s why I invited you to stay for coffee,” I explain, and he chuckles, his eyes staring into mine.

“I like you. You’re not afraid to speak your mind in my presence. It’s refreshing.”

He looks off into the distance with a thoughtful smile before turning his attention back to me a moment later.

“How would you like to become my advisor on social problems? I’ve been searching for one, and my gut is telling me you’d be perfect for it,” he says with an amused tone as we make our way to the terrace where Adrian is standing with a dropped jaw.

Panic settles in my chest, worry rising in my throat until a lump forms, preventing me from asking what has happened. Adrian lowers his phone from his ear, dropping it onto the ground.

“I’m afraid Valentina will be too busy racing for the Alfa Romeo F1 team next year to work for you,” my brother states, and I feel my heart drop into my stomach.

What?