By their fourth day in Italy, Luca and his team had fully settled into their routine, executing it smoothly and efficiently.
Clinica San Cataldo was even faster than expected, and Luca was already heading in for his final round of tests. Meanwhile, at the Federation sub-quarters, he was still in the second round.
The black Dallara was holding up fine.
Luca considered it "alright"—it performed exactly as a Dallara F2 04 should, but something about its interior felt different, weaker even. The lack of Trampos' emblems and sponsor insignias stripped away a part of his drive. Those logos weren't just decoration; they were a symbol of pride, fueling his passion every time he hit the track and every time he engaged with a rival.
Still, he made do and focused on drilling oversteer management next, corner entry, and exit techniques. Today, like every other day, he would simulate, drive, and drill even more.
But today was different. He was pushing himself harder than ever, driving as if there was a prize waiting for him at the end of each lap. And in a way, there was.
Mr. Schafer wasn't making things easy.
When Isabella told her father about Luca's plan to visit their hotel, Mr. Schafer flat-out refused. In fact, he shut down any suggestion that involved his daughter leaving his side to stay with Luca—or Luca coming anywhere near his private space.
Luca found Isabella's report on her father very hilarious. He'd almost forgotten that he and Mr. Schafer weren't exactly on good terms.
But Luca believed he knew the man well. And a quiet, empty track facility ? It was bound to intrigue someone like Mr. Schafer—especially given his bummed-out legal situation. If the city felt too suffocating, maybe a change of scenery would do him good.
So, Luca invited both Isabella and her father to the facility. And he had every right to—after all, the place was practically empty. Trampos had yet to fully occupy it.
Surprisingly, Mr. Schafer accepted.
Grudgingly, of course.
After all, he did want to see Luca. The very young 18-year-old he did some foul play in the past, now just one race away from being Formula 2 champion.
Evening arrived quickly, a soft, cool breeze gliding over the facility as the sky deepened into twilight.
When Isabella called to say they were approaching, Luca left his room and headed downstairs, where Mr. Ruben and Mr. Ammermann sat in home shirts and shorts, sipping soft drinks.
Their contrasting postures were almost amusing. Mr. Ruben lounged back with his legs propped up on the table, arms crossed as he laughed at one of Mr. Ammermann's jokes.
In contrast, Mr. Ammermann sat with his legs crossed neatly over one another, his feet still in slippers. The difference extended even to their appearance as Mr. Ruben's legs were thickly covered in hair, while Mr. Ammermann's were far less so.
Luca greeted them before making his way toward the facility's entrance, just as the gate swung open.
A gray Toyota, guided by the facility's functionaries, carefully rolled inside, navigating the curve with ease before merging onto the track. As it approached Luca, its headlights flashed playfully before slowing down.
Luca instinctively stepped back, watching as the car smoothly drove onto the curb before coming to a halt.
From the side, Mr. Ammermann and Mr. Ruben turned to see who the visitors were, curiosity evident in their expressions.
Naturally, Luca assumed Isabella was in the passenger seat, so with his best chivalrous intent, he stepped forward and opened the door for her.
The moment he saw who was actually in the seat, his heart nearly stopped.
Isabella, on the other hand, was in the driver's seat, and judging by the amused glint in her eyes, she found every second of it funny!
Luca immediately took a huge step back, his face burning with embarrassment.
"I'm sorry, sir," he blurted out, bowing his head.
Mr. Schafer's frown deepened. He had already looked displeased the moment he spotted Luca standing on the pavement. But after watching him reach for his door like some personal chauffeur? That only made it worse.
With a slow, deliberate motion, Mr. Schafer pushed the door open wider and stepped out.
"Try not to make such a mistake again," he said flatly, his sharp gaze lingering on Luca.
Luca swallowed hard. Goddamnit.
Who the hell lets their daughter drive them?!
Mr. Schafer adjusted his jean jacket—something that suited an old fellow like him. He scanned the surroundings, confirming what Luca had said over the phone.
This place was empty. A four-star Formula racing facility, nearly deserted.
"IT CANNOT BE TRUE!" Mr. Ruben shouted the moment he spotted Mr. Schafer. He hurriedly dropped his feet from the table, sprang up, and sprinted toward the car. "Gaffer!"
Mr. Schafer turned, instantly recognizing him. "Ruben? What in the world?"
Congratulations to Luca—he'd just reunited long-lost friends. Well, more like a long-lost mentor and student.
He watched the two men greet each other, all the gestures and expressions that came with old bonds rekindled.
Luca shifted his gaze to the lady still sitting in the car. Isabella was smiling, so he smiled back, leaning against the open door frame.
"Thank you," Isabella replied, unbuckling her seatbelt and exhaling deeply.
"You know how to drive?"
"Y—yes. My dad taught me."
"You're... not up to age," Luca pointed out.
Isabella rolled her eyes as she opened the door and stepped out. "Back in the UK. It's totally legal."
Luca sighed, shutting Mr. Schafer's door before glancing over at him and Mr. Ruben, who was already introducing him to Mr. Ammermann without wasting a second.
"How do they know each other?" Isabella asked.
Luca shrugged. No clue. But he liked it. Maybe, just maybe, it could soften Mr. Schafer's attitude toward him, making access to Isabella a little easier.
Luca and Isabella still hadn't figured out how to navigate whatever was brewing between them. So, there they stood with Luca, his brain fogged with the urge to touch even the slightest part of her skin, and Isabella, expecting the same embrace. But instead of acting on it, they just talked, letting the tension simmer beneath the surface.
"Isabella, come over here," Mr. Schafer called, ready to introduce his daughter to Mr. Ruben and Mr. Ammermann.
Luca lingered by the side, slipping his hands into his pockets after waving to the functionaries heading back to the security building. He echoed his thanks across the track.
Glancing back at Mr. Schafer, he noticed the old man had already taken a seat with the others, while Isabella was making her way back toward him.
If old Mr. Schafer got caught up in everything happening here, then Luca could have Isabella all to himself.