Alaric

Five days later,

"Cut! Alaric, you are looking far too stiff. Please change positions with Nico!" the director shouted through his megaphone, his voice echoing across the private beach. He was the visionary assigned to direct this high-profile sportswear brand collaboration between me and Nico.

I furrowed my brows deeply, my jaw tightening because Nico was making it entirely impossible to keep my composure. We were originally supposed to pose separately for this campaign, but the creative directors had pushed us into the same frame.

Nico was standing entirely too close to me, even casually resting his hand on my shoulder as if we were the closest of friends.

Five days away from him should have given me some semblance of peace, but it had done the exact opposite. Instead, I had spent those five days locked in my hotel room, restlessly scrolling through social media, watching how F1 fans from every corner of the world were reacting to my recent victory.

The public reactions were a toxic mix. While a massive portion of the fanbase was thrilled that I had secured first place in the second Grand Prix of the season, a vocal majority pinned my win entirely on Nico’s sudden shoulder injury. They claimed I only took the podium because he had slowed down during the final lap.

My team principal had explicitly told me to ignore the noise and not let it get to me.

But it did get to me. It consumed me to the point where I couldn’t stop checking the headlines every hour of the day.

Now that I was finally in Japan, preparing for the upcoming race at Suzuka was the only thing that should have been occupying my mind. I shouldn’t have cared about this commercial shoot, and I certainly shouldn’t have cared about the reckless bet Nico and I had made.

All I wanted was to prove my own merit on the asphalt. Yet, here I was, entirely caught up in the midst of Nico Park and his utterly infuriating tactics.

When our flights had landed on the beautiful island of Okinawa for the tropical shoot, I had fully expected the entire marketing campaign to be postponed because Nico was still supposed to be recovering. To my absolute shock, he had posted an update to his millions of followers declaring he was perfectly fine. He had even attached a medical scan showing that his minor fractures had completely healed.

But the absolute worst part of everything was that he hadn’t traveled to Japan alone. He had brought Sophia with him.

Why? Just why the hell was Sophia here?

I couldn’t fathom why his ex-girlfriend was accompanying him on an international racing trip. Even though Nico had claimed behind closed doors that he was trying to convince his powerful family he was completely straight, there was absolutely no logical reason for Sophia to be in Japan when this trip was meant to be strictly professional.

The relentless flood of thoughts made my mind spiral into total chaos. I hated every single second of it.

And now, to make matters worse, Nico was intentionally provoking me during the photoshoot, standing so close I could feel the heat radiating from his body.

"Princess, you seriously need to relax and stop moving if you want us to wrap up this shooting on time," Nico murmured smoothly, leaning closer under the guise of a pose. His hand slid down from my waist, sliding lower to cup my butt, squeezing it gently.

I gritted my teeth, a fierce curse dying on my tongue. I wanted nothing more than to shove him into the sand, but there were far too many people surrounding us on the beach. The entire sportswear management team, the director, the photographers, and the wardrobe stylists had their eyes entirely fixed on us.

"Alaric, you are still standing like a statue. At this rate, we aren’t going to finish before losing the light," the director complained, letting out a heavy sigh into his headset. "This is a commercial ad. The print photography is done, and now we are rolling on the video portion. You two are supposed to be acting like lovers for this concept."

Lovers. We were nothing of the sort.

When Dorothy had originally briefed me on this project, she had explicitly stated the creative theme was fierce friendship and athletic rivalry. But ever since that post-race interview went viral—the one where I had accidentally called him mon chéri and he had publicly dubbed me his princess—the brand had abruptly shifted the entire campaign to a romantic angle. That was the sole reason we were currently being forced into each other’s personal space.

"Cut! Retake!" the director called out, rubbing his temples. "Alaric, you are supposed to let Nico hold you like a lover, or you hold him. Whatever dynamic works best to show the chemistry between you two." He sighed deeply, gesturing to the crew. "Let’s take a ten-minute break. Make sure you two settle whatever lingering tension is between you so we can make this work."

The moment the break was officially announced, I heaved a deep sigh of relief and aggressively pushed Nico’s hands off my body, instantly walking away from him. The absolute last thing I wanted was to have him anywhere near me.

I rushed across the sand toward Dorothy, my manager who was currently deep in conversation with one of the production staff.

I opened my mouth to call out to her, but before I could, a firm grip locked around my wrist.

Nico had followed me.

"What is going on with you today? Is everything alright?" he demanded, his eyes searching mine.

I came incredibly close to rolling my eyes, because absolutely nothing was alright. This entire shoot was turning into an absolute disaster simply because I couldn’t bear the weight of his proximity right now.

"Did you actually miss me during our five days apart, princess?" he asked, a flirty, confident smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

I sharply yanked my wrist out of his grasp, shaking my head coldly. "Get off your high horse, Nico. This entire advertisement concept is pathetic, and I am already completely hating it."

His smirk faltered, replaced by a slight frown. Before I could predict his movement, he reached out, the warm palm of his hand pressing gently against my forehead to check my temperature.

"What the hell do you think you’re doing?" I demanded, violently slapping his hand away from my face. "Have you gone completely insane? Do not dare touch me like that," I warned in a fierce whisper, frantically looking around the beach to see if any of the crew members were watching us.

The absolute last thing my career needed was hidden paparazzi or eagle-eyed fans snapping candid pictures to fuel the media rumors. I had already seen an alarming amount of fan-made edits across the internet, and some accounts had even gone to the terrifying length of creating AI-generated videos of us kissing.

I utterly loathed seeing those videos. The fans were willing to go to completely unhinged lengths just to see their fantasies fulfilled—even if, behind closed doors, their assumptions weren’t entirely wrong. Nico and I were sleeping together, but outside of those hidden walls, we were absolutely nothing to each other.

Nico stared at me, his playful demeanor completely vanishing. "Wait... why are you acting like this? Did I actually do something wrong, Alaric?"

Alaric. Hearing him drop the nicknames and use my actual name meant he was being entirely serious, but I didn’t have the words to explain the chaos inside my head. I didn’t know how to confess that I had spent the last five days obsessively analyzing every single headline about us, or how deeply the public’s doubt was affecting my confidence.

Yet, here he was, seemingly having the absolute time of his life enjoying the shoot and holding my hand without a single care in the world.

"We don’t necessarily need to be attached at the hip when we are on a break, Nico. And besides," I muttered, lifting my chin to point straight past his shoulder. Sophia was currently walking across the sand, heading directly toward us. "Your girlfriend is here."

The words tasted bitter in my mouth. The sharp, venomous edge in my tone made me sound entirely jealous, as if I were burning with internal rage—because, in reality, I absolutely was.

Who would have ever thought the day would come where I would find myself deeply jealous of my own ex-girlfriend?

I ran a hand through my hair, forcing a tight, artificial smile onto my face the exact moment Sophia reached our side.

"Hey, boys. How is the shoot going? Hey, Alaric," she greeted cheerfully, acting as though she hadn’t already spoken to me in the wardrobe trailer earlier this morning.

I offered a polite wave, managing to maintain the fake smile for her benefit. "Everything is fine," I told her smoothly.

I cast one final, lingering look at Nico before turning on my heel to leave. "I shall leave you two alone to speak."

The moment the words left my lips, I started walking rapidly away from them, my heart pounding wildly against my ribs.

As the distance grew, a small, desperate part of me wondered if Nico was going to call out my name or follow me.

He didn’t.

I let out a shaky, frustrated sigh, my hands clenching into tight fists at my sides as I walked toward an isolated stretch of the beach, hidden behind a cluster of large rocks. Once I was entirely alone, out of sight of the production crew, I turned toward the open ocean.

I muffled a sharp scream of pure frustration, my knuckles turning white.

What the hell was wrong with me? Why was I letting him affect me like this?

"It clearly shows that you are jealous, Alaric," a voice sounded right beside my ear.

It was a familiar, teasing, raspy voice—one that caused my eyes to widen in absolute shock.

My breath hitched in my throat because it was a voice I hadn’t heard in an incredibly long time.

I spun around blindly, my heart stopping. Standing right there in his immaculate red suit, a familiar smirk playing on his lips, was Harold.