Counterpoints: Book 2 Page 11

  “Christopher” she stood up as he passed by, scary as she had never seen him before, his hands closed into fists.

  He took off his helmet, then his white balaclava and looked at her before opening the door. His cheeks were red from the heat, Isabella could see the lines of the helmet on his skin.

  His eyes seemed to soften for a moment, but then he stepped in and saw Noah.

  “What the fuck do you think you are doing?” he slammed the door shut behind him.

  Noah stared at him, from where he was sitting, not daring to speak.

  “Christopher, please. We are dealing with this already. We’ll talk later” Mr. Johnson reassured him.

  “I want him” he pointed at Noah “to tell me what the hell goes inside that head of his, when he thinks he can close on me like that, at that speed”

  Christopher’s eyes dug into Noah’s. He threw his helmet to the floor and slammed his hands on the table.

  “We could have crashed, really crashed today”

  “Calm down” Noah began to say.

  “Don’t tell me to calm down” Christopher’s eyes were wide with rage “Fucking man up! You are not a rookie. You know very well that turning like that leads to a crash like, maybe eighty percent of the times”

  “Sorry. I didn’t see you coming” Noah blurted out.

  “The hell you did” he pointed to his team mate again.

  Christopher’s jaw tensed “I’m done with you. Really done with you. Keep away from me or next time I’ll push YOU out”

  “Guys, stop with this, right now” Mr. Johnson stood up and raised his hands, one towards Christopher, the other towards Noah. “We are a team”

  “Are you threatening me?” Noah said to Christopher, as if Mr. Johnson hadn’t just spoken at all.

  “Yes, I am” he nodded “Try to overtake me. Try. See if you can”

  Noah kept his head high but didn’t say a thing.

  He watched Christopher bend down to pick up his helmet, while Mr. Johnson advised him to wait outside and calm down, to rethink his words. They would deal with this situation, they would sort it out, as a team.

  Christopher stared at Mr. Johnson, his eyes empty, uncaring.

  He was done, he meant it. He was done with Noah and his mood swings and the shit he played on the track.

  The championship had to be his.

  “What are they saying on social networks? On the blog?” Hillary enquired, as she dropped her headphones and joined Isabella at the work station. She tied her shoulder length hair behind her head and looked at her assistant’s laptop screen.

  In just a little over an hour, Isabella’s blog entries and posts on social networks had reached around a thousand likes.

  Isabella couldn’t lie to her boss. The situation didn’t look good.

  Everyone had seen what had happened between Christopher and Noah. The people on the stands had witnessed the collision and now the press was impatiently waiting to hear from MB- from the drivers themselves- what was going on in the MB box.

  “We could turn this around, use it for a little publicity” Isabella suggested, as her boss quickly read a few comments online.

  There is no such thing as bad publicity, Isabella tried to see the bright side, using the same words she had heard over and over again, when she working for a press office in Rome.

  She watched Hillary nod, as she kept her eyes on the screen.

  Someone shouted and both Isabella and Hillary’s heads snapped in the direction of the racket. Noah stormed out of the debriefing room, his face the perfect portrait of irrational, unmotivated rage.

  His eyes went to Isabella and Hillary for the split of a second but he didn’t say a thing.

  He walked straight into his locker room, slamming the door behind him.

  Mr. Johnson followed him out of the debriefing room immediately, his face dark.

  “Fantastic” Hillary straighten on the stool.

  She closed her eyes and breathed in, like Hillary was reorganizing her ideas.

  “Christopher” Robert called out for him and Christopher turned his way.

  He was sitting on his side of the box, still drying his face and hair with a towel.

  Isabella looked at them every now and then, as Christopher and Robert discussed technicalities of the race.

  Robert had already had a chance to view the data from the car, how it had responded to the impact with Noah and what the mechanics needed to do to fix it for the next race weekend.

  It wasn’t too bad, he reassured Christopher. Robert would have a briefing with the mechanics in a few minutes to instruct them on how to carry out the work.

  Christopher nodded and drank sips of water, doing his best to listen, really listen to Robert’s words and try to push down all the anger he had built up inside during those ten, long laps that had taken him to finish the race- after Noah’s unforgivable gesture.

  The ten longest laps of my life, Christopher thought.

  How could Christopher put this incident past him? After being pushed out in Cannes and almost forced out again the race after that?

  Isabella knew she couldn’t even put it past herself.

  Noah had put his life, Christopher’s life in danger and for what? For pride? For a potential victory?

  It just made no sense to risk getting hurt, to risk ending the race early – like it had happened to Noah.

  “So, Noah doesn’t want to speak to the press today. He doesn’t want to speak to anyone really. He’s changing now as we speak and wants to leave as soon as possible” Hillary informed her.

  Fuck! Isabella’s eyes grew wide.

  “He can’t do that, he can’t just leave…”

  “I know that, you know that. He knows that too but he won’t hear any of it. He doesn’t want to explain his actions to anybody. He has obligations but doesn’t want to fulfill them. He’s going to leave in a few minutes, I think”

  Isabella looked down at her laptop screen, as two pictures she had taken in the box before the race uploaded from her camera.

  “What am I going to write about the race? About Noah and Christopher?” Isabella asked

  “Don’t write anything yet. Let me see what Mr. Johnson says first” Hillary put a hand on the counter and sighed, a small wrinkle on her forehead appeared.

  “Could you please walk with Christopher to the press? He promised me he won’t lash out on camera” Hillary reassured her.

  “Okay, no problem” Isabella nodded.

  “Good, I am going to see what Mr. Johnson wants us to do” and Hillary left the work station and walked outside the box, crossing the hungry, thick line of photographers that stood nearby.

  Isabella looked up, back to the opposite side of the stand and her chest tightened. Christopher was staring at her, bottle of water in hand, a soft smile on his lips.

  Focus on work, focus on work.

  “Hey” she said as she approached him and Robert. They had just finished talking.

  “Hey” Christopher said back.

  “It’s time to go outside” she said the words softly, like she wished he had not to, like she wished he could skip the interviews for once.

  “Okay. Let’s go through there” and they headed towards a white door on the left side of the box.

  They entered a long, corridor- a staff route that would take them directly to the courtyard where the interviews were being held - and walked in silence up two flights of stairs, while Christopher unzipped and pulled his tracksuit all the way down to his hips, showing a dark green t-shirt underneath, so tight Isabella could see the shape of the muscles on his chest.

  As they entered a wider corridor, she tried to look ahead and not make eye contact with the people walking through the staff route.

  Christopher adjusted the cap over his head and took another sip of his drink.

  “You did good, you kept the car on track and finished in the top ten despite all the damage” she told him, her eyes still on the corridor ahead.

&
nbsp; “Thank you” he said, looking her way as they walked. “But I still can’t see the bigger picture. I am too mad, to take in the positive aspects of the race”

  “It’s understandable” Isabella nodded.

  “He stepped over the line” Christopher told her, looking ahead.

  “He fears you” Isabella said and Christopher look at her puzzled “He’s afraid of you, he’s afraid he will be replaced. He doesn’t want you to win. If you win the championship, you’ll confirm his doubts, you’ll confirm everyone’s doubts”

  “He’s lost his mind” Christopher shook his head. “We have known each other since we started racing on go-karts. I grew up with the guy, with most of the people here. And what does he do? He deliberately tries to push me out. Twice. In a very fast and dangerous part of the track. Don’t get me wrong” he paused again “I am all about battles and fighting for the first position on track, a clean, entertaining fight. But this, this is just being stupid. I’m done with him”

  “What are you going to say to the press?” Isabella asked and Christopher stopped walking. He placed a hand on her shoulder and Isabella’s mouth opened slightly, a little stunned as they were in public.

  “I’ll say that it was an accident, that he made a mistake” Christopher paused and squinted “I am not going to lie about that. I am not going to take the blame or pretend he didn’t do it on purpose. And then I’ll say that it’s all settled”

  Isabella nodded approvingly.

  “Now, about last night” he smirked and his usual, sexy smile to the side was back.

  Two people in Chiellini uniforms went by then and Isabella’s cheeks turned red. She pursed her lips.

  “What about last night?” Isabella whispered, giving him a dark look beneath the lashes.

  “I want to say for argument’s sake that last night’s ‘workout’ made the difference today” he smiled wickedly.

  “Definitely” she said, their eyes locking.

  Someone bumped into her shoulder and turned to apologize rather quickly.

  Christopher stopped walking and touched Isabella’s right arm, his fingers tips slightly brushing against her skin.

  “We don’t have time for this” Isabella’s eyebrows arched into her bangs.

  Whatever Christopher wanted to do or say, it had to wait. He was needed elsewhere and there were quite a few members of staff walking through that route.

  “This what?” Christopher’s eyebrow went up too, as if he was trying to imitate Isabella’s expression.

  “This” she said, looking down at his hand on her arm.

  She looked back up and tilted her head to the side, smiling mischievously.

  “I was just looking at you because something is bothering me” he said as he moved his hand up her arm, all the way to her shoulder.

  Isabella gasped and stood there, motionless, waiting to feel his hand on her neck.

  “What is?” she whispered, the burning feeling in her stomach spreading all the way up her chest.

  “Your hair” he moved his hand up her neck and behind her head, where his fingers grasped the hairband that held her hair up in a small ponytail and gently pulled it off. Isabella’s short curls fell on her shoulders, the tips slightly touching her collar bone, her chest moving up and down more frequently now.

  “You look amazing” he said, running his hand behind her head and then down her neck. “I can’t wait to take that uniform off you”

  Isabella closed her eyes and embraced the feeling of their skins connecting.

  “We need to go” she mumbled but didn’t move an inch. The small corridor was now empty. “Someone might go by…”

  “I’ll tell them that you are trying to make me feel better after a terrible day” he moved closer and rubbed his thumb on her full lips. “Everyone is either at the podium or speaking to the journalists”

  “Yes and we are going to be super late…” Isabella tried to point out but Christopher didn’t let her finish the sentence.

  “Ask me to stop, just say the word” he said, his voice husky, his hand slowly moving down her body.

  I can’t, I don’t want to, Isabella thought, her eyes staring into his.

  When Christopher’s lips brushed against hers- one hand in her hair the other one on her back- Isabella closed her eyes, savoring the sweetness of his mouth.

  His grip on her back was so strong, Isabella gasped again.

  Maybe it was the thin shirt he was wearing or maybe she was just imagining it, but it was like she could feel his skin on hers. She ran her hands in his hair and tried to catch her breath in vain.

  “When is your flight?” he asked then, looking into her eyes.

  “Why? Planning on locking me inside a restroom again?” her eyebrow went up and he laughed, his head tilted back and Isabella watched the dimple on his cheek appear. It was so good to see him laugh, after looking so upset after the race.

  His laugh was contagious.

  And so sexy. Luring.

  “I could, if you want me to” he raised his eyebrow too, mimicking her expression again.

  “Maybe this time I’LL lock YOU inside with me” she smirked. “Aren’t we all flying out tomorrow morning?” Isabella wondered and took some distance from him, regaining some sense of discretion.

  “I am flying out in four hours” his face went back to serious, the dimple nowhere in sight.

  “Oh” Isabella shifted a little, almost like she wanted to reach for her schedule to double check.

  Didn’t Hillary say they were all going out that night?

  “I thought we were going out to celebrate as usual”

  Christopher slowly shook his head.

  “There are a couple of things I have to take care of in London first thing tomorrow. Alfred and I are flying out from Toronto together, tonight” his eyes still on hers, studying her reaction. “Can I see you when you get back?” he smiled to the side.

  Sexy smile again.

  “I’m not sure” no matter how she tried to keep her face straight, she couldn’t resist smirking at him.

  “Say yes” he insisted, his hand moving up and down her thigh. His fingers curled around her hip and then moved slowly behind, to her lower back.

  “We need to go” she reminded him and stepped back.

  Christopher let her escape his embrace but held on to her hand. Isabella’s palm felt so small, so tiny into his.

  “Come on, say it. Say yes” he repeated.

  This time he wasn’t going to let her go without an answer.

  “Okay, say yes” she teased and smiled.

  It was then that a familiar voice called out Christopher’s name, from somewhere behind them.

  Isabella’s blood went cold. She let go of Christopher’s hand just as Mr. Jenkins rounded the corner and appeared down at the far end of the corridor. He stumped straight towards them, his face serious as usual.

  His gloomy, tense stance ripped off even the last, faintest bit of smile left on Isabella’s face.

  Oh my god, he’s not here because I didn’t do what he asked me to do yesterday night, is he?

  And then, seeing his face so serious she wondered if he had ever smiled in his life.

  She tried to remember if he had ever smiled in her presence and the only thing that came to mind, was when Isabella had seen him walk with Hillary, hand in hand in that airport on their way to Australia. That had been the first hint she had had about their secret relationship.

  “Here you are” he said, walking towards them. “Isabella” he grunted.

  “Mr. Jenkins” she mumbled and looked down at her papers, her conscience guilty for not replying to his email- not to mention for not doing what he had instructed her to do.

  Isabella looked to the side and saw Christopher, calm and at ease. His usual confident self for the first time that weekend.

  The sloppy, nervous Christopher she had seen yesterday during the qualifying sessions was gone and so was the post-race anger.

  “Aren’
t you supposed to be outside, speaking to the journalists?” Mr. Jenkins asked.

  “I am going” Christopher reassured him. “Isabella and I are discussing the last details before the interviews”

  Isabella avoided his stare, scared he would read a lie in her eyes.

  “Oh really” he crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow “Can I speak to you for a moment, Christopher?

  It was the sort of situation where Isabella didn’t know if it was wiser to just stand still and pretend to be dead –like with bears- or run like hell.

  Run like hell. She had to call Hillary and reassure her that everything was taken care of with Christopher.

  “I’ll leave you two to talk. Christopher I’ll wait for you downstairs” she excused herself, not waiting for Christopher’s response, and opened the door.

  That was so close, Isabella thought, the butterflies in her stomach going wild.

  Had his lips left a mark on hers? Had Christopher’s touch left a stain on her clothes? Isabella felt so exposed, so vulnerable.

  Like I was just caught with my hands in the jam.

  She let out a breath. That had been really, really close with Mr. Jenkins.

  Walking in the stairwell, Isabella could hear people’s voices coming from the door down below and she imagined exactly what she would find behind it.

  Half a dozen- very hungry for news- journalists.

  Journalists waiting to speak to Christopher.

  It could have been worse, she thought. She could have had to deal with Noah and his tantrums.

  “You did a great job today, despite that asshole was trying to mess with you” Mr. Jenkins’ voice sounded in the small space, where Isabella was standing. It bounced along the small stairwell walls.

  Isabella hadn’t meant to overhear their conversation, but they weren’t exactly whispering.

  “Thank you Alfred” from the tone of his voice, Isabella could tell Christopher was smiling.

  “Your father would be proud” he said. “But I don’t want to see you mess up again like yesterday’s qualifying session. What the hell happened?”

  “Nothing. Everything is under control”

  “Just focus on the championship Christopher. And trust me on this” Mr. Jenkins said “I got it, really. Just stop messing around on track”