CHAPTER TWO.    ❦︎

"If it were anyone else, Franco would've been
thrown out of the team already."

Valeria wasn't sure what was worse: the mess Franco had left behind in the conference room or the mounting emails in her inbox, half of them marked urgent and all of them about him.

Sponsors irritated by his lack of professionalism.
And another article about his "brutal honesty" making waves online.

"How are they so fucking fast." She muttered to herself, cursing the online news outlets that would spew any nonsense as soon as they got the word.

She pressed her palm against her forehead, staring at her laptop screen in a secluded office space. Outside, the paddock hummed with the noise of practice sessions ending, radios crackling with strategy chatter. It was a sound she normally found energizing. But, right now it just felt like static.

She let out a short breath, shaking her head at the amount of berating and dissatisfaction Franco received from Williams partners in the emails she read through.

As she closed her eyes to brainstorm on how to control this, her phone buzzed, a familiar contact bothering her once again.

iMessage
Today at 7:53 PM

Franco Colapinto
Where r u?

Valeria Felix
working

you should try
it out sometimes

Franco Colapinto
Can't

Too busy being
loved by the public

But seriously

Was instructed to find u

So where r u
Read 12:55 PM

Valeria didn't even want to respond, but as soon as she began to type, the door swung open behind her.

And she didn't need to look to know exactly who it was.

"Valeria!" Franco's voice carried that infuriating cheerfulness he seemed to reserve just for her. "I knew I'd find you hiding in here."

Valeria spun her chair around slowly, arms crossed. He was leaning against the doorframe, a grin on his face and his race suit dangling at his waist. He looked far too relaxed for someone who'd nearly tanked his first major sponsor meeting a few hours ago.

"Not hiding. Just working," She said flatly. "Something you should be doing right now. Did you go to the garage like I asked?"

He pushed off the doorframe, strolling further into the office. "Yes. Just came from there. Talked strategy with the engineers. Who love me, by the way."

She narrowed her eyes, suspicion prickling at the back of her mind. "Crazy how they told me you should try less talking and more listening."

Franco shrugged, coming around her desk to drop into one of the chairs across from her and stretching out his legs like he owned the place.

"Franco," She nearly laughed, closing her laptop. "Are you in any way.. aware of how close you came to ruining it this morning? The sponsors aren't here for your jokes..." She sighed.

"They want someone who can represent this team without making them look like a circus, take Alex for example."

He tilted his head, mock-thoughtful. "I mean, technically, Formula One is a circus—"

"Don't," She warned, holding up a hand. "Do not finish that sentence."

His grin widened, but then, to her surprise, he sat up a little straighter, a flicker of something more serious crossing his face. "Okay, alright. I get it. I messed up. But c'mon. It wasn't all bad."

She blinked. "You insulted the car, Franco. In front of the sponsors. And then you compared it to a go-kart."

"It was funny!"

"It was stupid!—James is also furious!"

Their voices overlapped, hers sharp and exasperated, his light and teasing. He leaned back again, tossing her a look that was infuriatingly close to charming.

"Okay," He said casually, "I get that you think I'm a mess.."

"Yeah, which is not far from the truth."

"... but I've got this under control. I want sponsors to see I'm human. Relatable, you know?" He gestured vaguely, as if this explanation solved everything. "It's my tactic."

"This isn't F2." She replied. "Shape up. You've been here barely a month and I know the fans love and eat the shit you do and say up, but when it comes to business, it's the complete opposite."

Franco's grin only widened, as though he took her exasperation as a compliment. "Okay, I think you're being a bit dramatic. Everyone seemed fine to me."

Valeria stared at him, dumbfounded. "I?—One of the sponsors literally asked me if you were drunk, Franco."

He shrugged, unbothered by it all. "Just keeping them on their toes."

She pinched the bridge of her nose, feeling the edges of a headache creeping in. "Do you ever take anything seriously? Like, anything?"

For a moment, Franco's expression shifted—just slightly. The grin softened, and his shoulders dropped as though he was about to say something honest, something real. But then it was gone, replaced by his usual easy smirk.

"I'd like to take you seriously." He grinned, looking her up and down, which caused her to face palm.

"Get out." She was close to losing it, turning her attention back to her laptop screen as she opened it back up.

Franco didn't budge. Instead, he leaned forward, resting his elbows on the edge of her desk like he had all the time in the world. "Come on. Don't be like that! You know I'm your favorite."

She didn't look up, her fingers tapping irritably against her keyboard. "You're not even in my top twenty drivers om the grid. Leave before I throw something at you."

"You're so aggressive." He said, clutching his chest dramatically. "But I get it. Tough love. That's your thing, no?"

Her typing stopped mid-sentence, and she let out an audible sigh. "Franco—"

"Ohhh, Vale. What would you ever do without me, hm?" He interrupted, his grin widening. "Your life would be so boring."

Finally, she looked at him, her expression flat, propping her elbow on the table as she rested her chin on her hand. "You are the reason I have stress-induced migraines."

"And I'll take all the credit for that," Franco said, completely unfazed. He pushed himself off the desk and started backing toward the door. "But, you know, I think you secretly like it. You know I keep things interesting."

Valeria dropped her hand and glared at him, her patience hanging by a thread. "Out." She pointed at the door.

"And freshen up. You absolutely stink."

He gave her a lazy salute. "As you wish, boss."

Her eyes tracked him until he was out of sight, and the second the door clicked shut, she let out a long, exasperated groan. It had barely been a month, and he was already exhausting every ounce of her patience.

Grabbing her phone, she checked her schedule. She had twenty minutes before their next obligation: a strategy briefing for the weekend. A briefing she was certain Franco would show up late to—or worse, not at all.

She stared at the door for a moment longer, as if his lingering presence alone might spark a wildfire. The headache pounding behind her eyes only grew, but she didn't have the luxury of breaking down now.

Fingers poised over her laptop, Valeria tried drafting one more response to another scathing email from a key sponsor, carefully crafting sentences that both smoothed over the incident and implied they should cut him some slack.

"He's new."

"He's adapting."

"He's passionate about the team."

Lies, lies, and more lies.

Her fingers froze. Passionate?

He's passionate about driving me insane, she thought bitterly.

Another knock sounded at the door. This one was softer, more hesitant. For a brief moment, she wondered if Franco had forgotten something, or worse, decided to come back to be a pain in the ass.

"Come in," She called, already bracing herself.

To her relief, Alex stepped inside, his race suit also dangling, with an expression somewhere between amused and concerned.

"Hey." He said softly. "Lily and the girls mentioned you'd be in here and I was passing by. Just wanted to check in. You alright?" He asked, leaning against the doorframe with the ease of someone who knew her well enough to skip formalities.

Valeria let out a short, humorless laugh. "Do I look okay?" Alex raised an eyebrow. "Franco?"

"Who else?"

He smirked, biting down a laugh. "What'd he do this time?"

"Where do I even start?" She gestured helplessly at her laptop. "First, he insulted the car in front of the sponsors...again. Even flirted with some of them.... And now I'm here writing back to displeased emails before our next meeting. I swear, if he weren't so good at driving, I would actually—"

"Kill him?" Alex snickered, crossing his arms.

She exhaled sharply, her frustration momentarily replaced by guilt. "It's crossed my mind." She shrugged. "But I seriously just need to tie him down and force him to watch a ten-hour media training course on repeat."

Alex chuckled. "You know, you're the only one who can handle him. If it were anyone else, Franco would've been thrown off of the team already."

"Don't remind me." Valeria rubbed her temples. "It's like he has no concept of consequences. He just... exists in this bubble where everything he does is either funny or excusable."

"Well," Alex said, stepping fully into the room, "That's Franco. He's chaos wrapped in charm. It's why the fans love him."

"And why sponsors and business partners hate him," Valeria muttered.

Alex leaned forward, lowering his voice. "For what it's worth, I think he respects you."

Valeria snorted. "Respect? He doesn't even listen to me."

"He listens!" Alex corrected. "He just doesn't show it the way you want him to. Give him time. He'll figure it out."

She eyed Alex skeptically, but his calm demeanor had a way of grounding her, even in moments like this.

"Time," She repeated, almost to herself. "That's one thing we don't have."

"You'll manage," Alex said with a grin. "You always do." He complimented. "For someone so young in this field, you do an awesome job, Valeria."

Before she could respond, her phone buzzed again. A new message popped up on the screen:

iMessage
Today at 8:09 PM

Franco Colapinto
Do I have time for a quick nap
before the briefing?

Asking for a friend. ☺️

She groaned audibly, prompting a laugh from Alex.

"Good luck," He said, deciding to just leave her be and headed for the door. "You'll need it." He offered a kind smile before exiting.

As soon as he left, she felt herself growing annoyed again. She didn't even want to respond, hoping he'd take the hint and not be an idiot for once.

And somewhere beneath all her frustration, hidden so deeply even she barely acknowledged it, there was a small light of determination. She wasn't going to let him ruin his own potential.

For crying out loud, he was seatless for next year.

She loathes working for him and being the damage control of his life, but parts of her also wanted him to succeed.

She knows he can.

He just needs, a lot... of help.

vera's voice! 💌  ( 1.8k words )
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