the race night

The roar of engines filled the Roman night as I adjusted my leather jacket, the cool air nipping at my exposed collarbone. Tonight wasn't my race, but the familiar surge of adrenaline coursed through my veins anyway. Louis, my dear troublemaker of a brother, was about to show these amateurs how a Lombardo handles the streets.

"Luca!" A familiar voice called out as I stepped out of my black Mustang. My sister Leona appeared, her signature red leather pants and cropped black top making her stand out even in this crowd of flashy racers. As always, she managed to look effortlessly royal even in street wear. "You're late. Louis has been insufferable, asking where you were every two minutes."

I rolled my eyes, falling into step beside her as we made our way through the gathered crowd. "Some of us actually had to make excuses to get out of that charity gala. Not everyone can claim a 'sudden migraine' like you did."

"Please," Leona smirked, linking her arm through mine. "Father's so used to my migraines conveniently appearing during boring social events that he doesn't even question it anymore. You should have just said you had an art exhibition to prepare for."

The exclusive gathering place was hidden away from the prying eyes of Rome's elite, tucked between ancient buildings that had seen centuries of secrets. If our father, the esteemed Arc Duke, knew his three children were regular fixtures at these illegal races, he'd probably have another one of his legendary meltdowns. But then again, being born into Italian royalty didn't mean we had to play by all the rules.

The lunar phase tattoo on my back tingled slightly as I stretched, my white tank top riding up just enough to give a glimpse of ink to anyone watching. My dragon tattoo, sprawling across my left arm, caught the gleam of the street lights. Beside me, Leona was already scanning the crowd with her sharp eyes - she always said she could spot trouble before it happened.

"New faces tonight," she murmured, nodding subtly toward a group near the starting line. "That black Lamborghini wasn't here last week."

Before I could respond, someone's broad shoulder collided with mine. "Watch it!" I snapped, looking up - and up some more - to find myself staring into the coldest pair of eyes I'd ever seen. The man towered over me, his long hair tied back revealing a sharp jawline decorated with subtle stubble. But what caught my attention was the intricate sigil tattoo visible through his partially unbuttoned shirt, etched onto the left side of his chest.

For a moment, our eyes locked. There was something predatory in his gaze, something that made my artist's fingers itch to capture on canvas. The stranger's presence seemed to command attention without trying, and I noticed even Leona had gone unusually quiet beside me.

Without a word, I stepped around him, pulling Leona along with me. I could feel his gaze burning into my back as we walked away.

"Well," Leona whispered, a knowing smile playing on her lips. "That was interesting."

"Don't start," I warned her, but she just laughed.

We found Louis by his custom Aston Martin, his pre-race ritual of checking every detail of his car already in progress. Our brother looked up as we approached, his face breaking into a grin. "Finally! I thought you two were going to leave me to destroy these amateurs without an audience."

"As if we'd miss your moment of glory," Leona teased, reaching out to fix his collar. "Though you might have some real competition tonight."

Louis raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"

"Black Lamborghini," I said, trying to sound casual. "Guy's new around here."

"That's Sin," a voice piped up beside us. Marco, one of the regular race organizers, had appeared with his clipboard. "Been making waves in Milan's circuit. Nobody knows much about him except that he never loses."

Louis's eyes lit up with that familiar competitive spark. "Never loses, huh? Well, there's a first time for everything."

The crowd's energy was building as the racers lined up. Through the sea of people, I caught another glimpse of the mysterious Sin as he slid into his matte black Lamborghini. The engine's purr was distinctive, almost challenging.

"Fifty euros says he gives Louis a run for his money," Leona whispered to me.

"Make it a hundred," I replied, watching as the cars aligned at the starting line. "And throw in your Gucci sunglasses if Louis wins."

"Deal. But if Sin wins, you're doing my portrait for Father's birthday gift instead of your own piece."

I watched as Sin revved his engine, the sound cutting through the night like a blade. Louis caught our eyes from his car and gave us his signature troublemaker grin. My brother was good, one of the best street racers in Rome, but something told me tonight would be interesting.

The flag dropped, and the cars shot forward like bullets from a gun. Leona gripped my arm, her nails digging in slightly as we watched. Louis took the lead early, as he always did, but that black Lamborghini stayed right on his tail, matching every move, every drift, every acceleration.

Through the turns of Rome's ancient streets, they danced a dangerous duet. It was like watching two master painters at work - except their canvas was asphalt, and their brushes were powered by hundreds of horses under sleek hoods.

"He's good," Leona breathed, eyes fixed on the race. "Really good."

The feed from the cameras positioned along the route showed us every moment on the massive screens set up for spectators. Sin's driving style was unlike anything I'd seen before - precise yet aggressive, calculated yet seemingly fearless. There was something familiar about it, something that tugged at my memory, but I couldn't place it.

The final turn approached, and that's when it happened. The black Lamborghini moved with impossible precision, finding a gap that shouldn't have existed. Sin slipped past Louis's defense like a shadow, crossing the finish line mere seconds before our brother.

"Holy shit," Leona whispered, then louder, "Holy shit!"

The crowd erupted, but I stood silent, watching as Sin stepped out of his car. His movements were graceful despite his imposing frame, and that damned sigil tattoo seemed to mock me in the streetlight. He didn't celebrate like other winners usually did. Instead, his eyes found mine in the crowd, and the corner of his mouth lifted in what might have been a smirk.

"I don't like this," Leona muttered, already moving toward Louis's car. "Nobody beats our brother. Nobody we don't know anything about, anyway."

I followed her, but I could feel those eyes still on me. Leona was right - there was something off about this mysterious racer. The way he carried himself, the precision of his driving, the quality of his car... it all screamed old money, not street racer.

Louis was already out of his car when we reached him, his expression a mix of frustration and intrigue. "Did you see that move at the end?" he demanded. "Where did he even come from?"

"Milan, apparently," I said, watching as Sin disappeared into the crowd, a few admirers already trailing after him. "But something tells me there's more to the story."

"Much more," Leona agreed, her eyes narrowing. "The way he drives... it's too polished. Too professional. Street racing isn't his only game."

"You two and your conspiracy theories," Louis scoffed, but I could tell he was thinking the same thing. "Maybe he's just good."

"Nobody's just good," Leona countered. "Not like that. Not in our world."

I half-listened to their debate, my mind already working on a different track. The sigil tattoo I'd glimpsed - there was something about its design that nagged at me. As an artist, I noticed details others might miss, and that symbol... I'd seen something similar before, but I couldn't place where.

"Earth to Luca," Leona waved her hand in front of my face. "Stop plotting and help me convince Louis to dig into this Sin character's background."

"I'm not plotting," I protested, though I was. "I'm just thinking."

"Same thing with you," she smirked. "That's your 'I'm about to start trouble' face."

"Please," I rolled my eyes, "that's rich coming from the girl who once crashed a royal garden party with a pet snake."

"It was a cultural statement," Leona defended, making Louis snort.

The night was winding down around us, the crowd beginning to disperse. But the energy had shifted - everyone was talking about the mysterious newcomer who'd defeated Rome's undefeated street king. Questions buzzed through the air like electricity: Who was he really? Where did he come from? Would he race again?

I had a feeling we'd be seeing more of Sin, and soon. Something about the way he'd looked at me, that knowing smirk... he wasn't done with whatever game he was playing. And despite my better judgment, I wanted to know more.

"Come on," Leona linked arms with both her brothers. "Let's get out of here before Father sends the guard dogs to look for us. We can plot our investigation over breakfast tomorrow."

"No plotting," Louis grumbled, but he was already checking his phone for information about Milan's racing scene.

As we walked to our cars, I caught one last glimpse of that black Lamborghini disappearing into the night. Whoever Sin really was, he'd just made the game a lot more interesting. And if there's one thing the Lombardo triplets never could resist, it was an interesting game.

The Roman night swallowed us up as we drove home, three royal siblings with too many secrets and not enough sense to stay away from trouble. But then again, trouble had always been our favorite playmate, and this mysterious racer was trouble wearing a very intriguing disguise.

(Author's note hello everyone I'm pleased to say that after a half a year I had procrastinated to weather I should write or not but I decided to give it a shot anyways Im a big fan of car racing and art so I decided to blend these two liking into a story and this is how driven by you was created.)

I have uploaded this story in Wattpad too

***Download NovelToon to enjoy a better reading experience!***