Chapter 86: You are Real
Nico
The absolute last thing I had expected when I woke up was Alaric staring down at me, looking not with his usual icy contempt, but with a gaze of genuine concern.
"Princess..." The word slipped past my cracked lips before I could think to stop myself. "What are you doing here?"
Was I dreaming?
I had been dreaming just a moment ago, but it hadn’t been about him. My mind had dragged me right back to the suffocating dark of the basement in my grandfather’s mansion, locked away in isolation by my uncle.
So, was the Alaric standing directly in front of me just another figment of my fractured imagination, conjured up to rid my mind of the lingering thoughts of my uncle, or was this actually real?
Out of pure curiosity, I reached out and pressed my fingers against Alaric’s cheek to make sure he was solid.
"Are you real?" I demanded, giving his cheek a sharp, testing pinch.
Alaric let out a sharp wince, flinching back as he cursed silently in rapid French.
Oh, he’s real, I thought, a slow smile blooming across my face.
"What the hell are you doing, you psycho?" he snapped, trying to pull his face free from my grip.
But I didn’t let go of his cheek. Instead, ignoring the throbbing protest in my upper body, I forced my right shoulder up and physically yanked him down onto my chest, effectively pinning him right there against me.
"Nicholas..." he groaned, struggling against the sudden trap, but I held him tight against my torso, unyielding as I took a deep, quiet breath, inhaling his scent.
Oh goodness, his distinct sandalwood scent never failed to completely rile me up.
"I am so fucking glad that you came to visit me, princess. I had a dream about you," I lied smoothly, the words coming out as a breathless murmur against his skin. "And when I first saw you just now, I honestly thought you weren’t real." I whispered the words directly into his ear before pressing a deliberate, teasing kiss against the warm skin of his neck.
Alaric cursed colorfully yet again, fiercely struggling against my one-armed hold until he finally managed to wriggle himself free, violently pushing himself up and away from my body.
"Have you completely gone crazy!" he yelled, his face flushed as he adjusted his hoodie.
I pouted, letting a dark, slow smirk stretch across my lips. "Only for you, baby. Only for you." I chuckled softly, highly amused by the deep, furious frown he leveled at me.
"I entirely regret coming here," he muttered, letting out a heavy groan as he turned on his heel and started walking toward the door.
I reached out instantly, my fingers locking around his wrist. "Let go of me, Nicholas," he threatened through gritted teeth.
"Stay," I muttered, the word tearing from my throat far softer than I had ever intended it to be. "Please, just stay for me," I begged quietly.
Alaric turned back toward me, his eyes rolling backward in exasperation, but noticeably, he didn’t pull his hand out of my grip. "I heard you badly hurt your shoulder," he said, his voice dripping with an incredibly sarcastic edge, as if he hadn’t been the one watching the medical car pull onto the track.
I decided to play along with his defense mechanism. "And I heard someone managed to win because I hurt my shoulder."
That got an immediate, volatile reaction out of him. "So you honestly think that I didn’t win on my own merit? That I needed your pathetic help to be able to take first place, is that it?"
I chuckled, shaking my head slowly against the pillow. "No, Alaric. You entirely deserved that win, and whatever toxic narrative you’ve got going on inside your head is the exact opposite of what I actually think."
"And what exactly do you think, Park? You are just a reckless, crazy driver who honestly believes the entire world revolves around him. Was that little stunt of yours during the final lap just about our mindless bet?"
My eyes widened—not in shock, but in absolute amusement then I burst into a loud laugh. "Oh, princess, you really do know me," I teased, pointing a teasing finger directly at him.
Alaric leaned down blindly, his temper completely snapping as his hand shot forward, gripping the edge of my injured left shoulder.
"Oh, you are becoming violent now. That’s crazy," I whispered, winking up at him.
His jaw clenched, and he intentionally pressed down harder on the joint, trying to force a submission out of me.
In reality, it didn’t hurt one bit. This wasn’t the first time I had dealt with a dislocated shoulder, but for the sake of his ego and the games we played, I forced an expression of pure agony onto my face.
"Ouch... that actually hurts, De Villier. Are you trying to make sure I can’t race anymore?"
"I don’t care," he responded, gritting his teeth even tighter now, his face inches from mine. "I don’t like how you play these mindless psychological games with me, and I am completely fed up with having to deal with your bullshit. If you are going crazy, then go to hell and leave me out of it. Don’t dare joke about my career just because you wanted to win a bet."
I squeezed my eyes shut, clenching my jaw tightly as I tried to speak, fully pretending that his touch was shattering me. Well, his hand pressing down on the displaced bone did bring a dull, throbbing heat, but nothing I couldn’t handle.
"Okay, okay... I am sorry. I am sorry, Alaric," I cried out, letting my voice crack as he kept the pressure entirely locked on my shoulder. "Please, just calm down."
Alaric scoffed, a look of profound irritation crossing his features before he finally let go of me, stepping back. "Why the hell did you do that? Finishing the race like that? Was it just to mock me? To make the entire paddock think I had to rely on your physical failure to get first place?"
I said nothing, the playful smirk dying on my lips as I just stared up at his face. Beneath his defensive anger, there was a genuine look of self-doubt and deep-seated sadness bleeding through his eyes. He looked entirely vulnerable, haunted by the idea that his victory wasn’t earned.
I hated seeing him look like that. As much as I found twisted pleasure in watching the rest of the world suffer, Alaric was the absolute last person I ever wanted to be in pain because of me. The only ones who deserved to suffer were the monsters in my family.
"I am sorry," I repeated, my voice dropping its sarcastic edge entirely. "But Alaric, you have got to stop constantly doubting your own talent. Yes, it’s true that I slowed down during the final lap, but you were already closing the gap. We were head-to-head, and you could have easily won either way. Why the hell are you doubting yourself when you are a legendary racer? Look at the Bahrain Grand Prix in 2022. You created an entirely new overtaking style that every single driver on the grid still tries to replicate today. That is the impact you left behind. If only you actually knew how many drivers you inspire."
Including me, I wanted to say the words out loud so badly, but my suffocating pride wouldn’t allow it. There was no way in hell I was letting Alaric de Villier think I viewed him as my role model.
What the hell would he think if he ever found out that I had a private room filled entirely with pictures of him from his debut racing season?
A total disaster.
I could already perfectly picture him mocking me with that sharp French accent of his.
