Chapter 183
CHARLOTTE-
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Someone shouted Vescari before the plane door was fully open. Luca put on the practiced smile he always used once the cameras were on him.
A helicopter took us the rest of the way.
I could see the harbor packed with yachts.
I could already see the circuit in my head-Casino, pool, Luca with dozens of women.
That image ruined the rest for me.
Luca watched the water and did not speak.
That was new. Landing week usually made him loud. Jokes about Nico. Bets about Marco. A girl already texting from a bar. Today he had headphones on and no music playing.
We dropped onto the pad above the port. Fans had found it anyway. Phones were up and so were the screams. I should have worn headphones as well.
A girl held a marker and an autograph card. He signed without looking at her before moving to the others. He always tried to sign as many as he could. Luca loved his fans. Especially the females. That was not shocking to anyone.
We saw a huge photo of last year’s podium that didn’t have Luca on the top step. He saw it. His jaw clenched. That probably meant he’d be in a bad mood the rest of the day.
The hotel lobby was already packed. Models. Celebrities. Other racers.
As we turned to the right, Marco was already waiting there, leaning casually against the wall with a relaxed smile on his face.
Taller than Luca by an inch he loved teasing him about.
He had the darker suit. Cleaner reputation. Similar face but fathers trusted Marco a lot more with their daughters.
A woman at the desk pretended not to stare. Two more did not bother. Who could blame them?
Luca and Marco sharing the same building? The brothers, both renowned Fl drivers, would definitely turn heads wherever they went.
“There they are,” Marco said, smiling, voice low, the older brother welcoming.
The usual reaction would have been an embrace. A shove. Luca calling him old. Marco calling him a headache.
Instead, Luca stiffened. That was strange.
If I didn’t know him so well, I would have missed it. Shoulders locked. He looked at Marco how he looked
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The Hockey Captain’s Unwanted Wife
at a rival on the grid.
Well, truly, Marco was a rival.
Marco noticed. Of course he did.
He kissed my cheek the way he always did, brief and polite. Luca’s eyes tracked it.
“What’s wrong with him?” Marco asked me, like Luca was having a bad day.
I shrugged, confused. “Long flight. Bad sleep. Take your pick.”
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Marco’s mouth tipped. “He looks like someone insulted his car. Or stole his-” He stopped, glanced at Luca, and let the joke die. “Noted. I’ll keep quiet.”
Luca took the room keys without making a joke like he usually did. “I’m going up.”
Marco watched the elevator close, the charm dimming.
“That was a warm welcome.”
“He’s fine.”
“Charlotte.” He said my name like he expected me to have the answer he was looking for. “What’s his problem?”
I almost told him about the wedding. Olivia. I don’t think Marco knew anything about it. The fact that his brother had finally seriously liked a girl, only for her to marry someone else.
“He’s probably just worked up about the race,” I said. “He wants first place.”
Marco did not buy it. Then he smiled for real and asked if I wanted lunch later with the team.
I said maybe. I meant no. I was already turning toward the elevators. Girls were staring at us, looking at me with jealousy. I didn’t want to give anyone the wrong impression.
In the lift I wondered if it was the thing I had said after the wedding.
‘Marco is kind of cute. I wouldn’t mind dating him.’
Luca had growled. I had told myself it would not bother him. Why would it? I was Charlotte Reid.
The best friend. One of the boys. He did not look at me like he did all those other women he fucked.
I shook my head.
That would not bother him.
The doors opened on our floor. Luca was already at the suite, key in the lock, back rigid.
“Your brother asked what was wrong with you,” I said.
“Nothing is wrong with me.”
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“You didn’t hug him. You haven’t seen him in days.”
don’t have to hug him every time we land.”
He pushed the door open and the view was a breath of fresh air.
I set my bag down.
Luca stood at the window with his phone in his hand and did not unlock it.
“Char.”
“What.”
“What did the two of you talk about while I was gone?”
Did he mean the three minutes he was ahead?
I stared at the back of his head. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me.”
I cleared my throat. “You. We talked about you.”
For some reason, the tension in his shoulders didn’t ease.
Seriously. What was wrong with him today?
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Dex Morgan
Dex works to elevate each story with clean writing, emotional balance, and thoughtful flow for readers.