“Well, I’ve completed interviews with F2 drivers Maks Mlakar and Fionn O’Riley as well. Would you like to ask me if there’s anything more with them, too? I also did a feature with Mason Clark on my channels, and we had fun. So if getting on well with them is chemistry, then apparently I have chemistry with a lot of people in motorsport,” I say brightly.
And mic drop.
“Thank you for your time,” Sasha says cheerfully, ignoring my comment. “Enjoy your evening!”
“Thank you, you too,” I say, flashing her a big smile.
I leave the photo area and make my way farther into the boutique, which is packed with chic people celebrating the E. Hay line and the Monaco Grand Prix. Servers walk around with silver trays, offering fancy-looking appetizers and flutes of champagne. The room is awash with beautiful people and lots of money, and I’m surrounded by high-end fashion pieces that are magnificently designed and meticulously made with luxuriousfabrics, like metallic, crocheted maxi dresses and summery silk skirts in glorious prints.
I shake my head. I still have a hard time grasping that I’m here. And that my face will adorn advertising promoting E. Hay clothing this winter.
“Would you like some champagne?” a female server asks me, interrupting my thoughts.
I pluck a flute off the tray. “Yes, thank you so much.”
She smiles and moves on to the next round of people. I take a sip, andwhoa. It’s the best sip of champagne I’ve ever had. It must be some pricey luxury bubbly.
“Isla!” a woman’s voice calls out.
I turn around and see the stylist who worked with me earlier today. “Hello, Mia.”
“You look breathtaking,” she says, giving me a hug and a kiss on each cheek.
“Thanks to you,” I say. “You put this together.”
“It’s all about the woman wearing it,” she insists. “Come on, let me introduce you to Emilia. She’s eager to meet you.”
I still can’t believe this is happening. I’m going to meet freaking Emilia Wentworth-Hay, global designer to the rich and famous. Celebrities. Royals.
And I’ll be wearing her clothing on TV. HOW IS THIS MY LIFE?
Emilia is standing in a crowd of people, looking utterly chic in a white cutout dress. When she sees me, she smiles.
“Emilia, Isla Foley,” Mia says.
She extends her hand to me. “It’s so good to finally meet you.”
“Likewise,” I say. “Thank you for the outfit today. It’s the most spectacular thing I’ve ever put on. I feel so incredibly lucky right now. Thank you for providing me a wardrobe, too. I can’t wait to wear your labels!”
“It looks perfect on you,” Emilia says. “As will many other things. I’m looking forward to seeing you represent E. Hay on the track, and my signature brand at events and galas.”
We chat a bit more about the Monaco Grand Prix, and then she is off, going to talk to more people. I look around the room, in awe of the crowd I’m in. A few people come up to me, and they all have questions about Caleb. How did I get him to talk to me? What is he really like? Was I surprised he said yes? Why didn’t I ask him tougher questions?
After the last person walks away, I begin to understand that the Caleb topic is something I’m going to face as I begin to build my career in covering motorsport. People already have their suspicions—which are partially correct. Caleb was interested in me straightaway. Did that influence him in giving me opportunities? Yes. But I made sure nothing happened until I was sure I was interested in him, as aman, not a driver.
Not that anyone would believe that.
I think further on this. If people are this way now, I can’t imagine how they will react once we hard launch.
As soon as I think it, however, something else fills me.
Stubbornness.
Because I have no regrets when it comes to Caleb.
More people walk into the boutique, and I see one of them is an F1 driver for Drago—Adrien Rosseau, a French driver known for his very aggressive “arms out” driving style. As Drago improves their cars, I fully expect to see him climbing up in the standings and making more appearances on the podium. But he definitely stirs passion in fans—you either seem to love him or love to hate him.
I make eye contact with Adrien as he steps away from Sasha. He makes his way across the room, and to my surprise, heads directly for me.