Page 249 of My French Love Affair

God - I was so tense, so wound up watching those final laps.

But he did it. He won.

Andfuck, I’m soproudof him.

“I need a picture of youright now,” Jas announces, already pulling out her phone. “Stand over there - no,there, where we can get the screen in the background.”

I don’t even argue. I feel as though I’m floating on air, and I just go where she tells me, stepping out onto the VIP balcony.

The moment is still sinking in - the fact thathe won, the fact that I’mhere, that I just watched the man I’ve been falling into this whirlwind with take first place at the Monaco Grand Prix.

Jas snaps the photo as I beam at the camera, the giant screen behind me frozen on Frederic’s face, his triumphant smirk beneath his helmet, the wordWINNERin bold above his head.

“Oh, that’s fuckingperfect,” Jas grins, showing me the screen.

Itisperfect.

And it’s only going to get better.

* * *

The girls and I push back into the lounge, drinks in hand, giddy with excitement as we watch the screens showing Frederic being mobbed by his team.

They crowd around him, embracing him, clapping him on the back, helmets colliding in celebration. His race engineer practicallytackleshim, and for the first time ever, I see Frederic completely lose himself in emotion - laughing, exhilarated and totally unguarded.

He’s pulled away for press almost immediately. Someone turns up the volume on the screen in the lounge, and suddenly, his voice is filtering through the speakers.

He’s switched to English for one of the interviews, still breathless as he runs a hand through his sweaty, dark hair. His race suit clings to him, unzipped just enough to show a teasing glimpse of golden skin, his body still taut from the adrenaline.

Ihatehow effortlessly good he looks like this.

“I couldn’t have done it without my team,” he’s saying, his voice smooth but firm. “They put in everything this weekend. The car felt incredible - strategy was spot on, pit stops were perfect.”

The interviewer asks him about the pressure in those final laps, and Frederic just smirks.

“It was tough, but I thrive off pressure. That’s when the best moments happen.”

The girls are nodding along, all glued to the screen; and then, the next question comes.

"Andwhois this win for?"

Frederic’s lips curve into something knowing, something wicked.

His gaze flicks away from the reporter - just for a second.

Then -

"This is for my family; my team; and my girlfriend, Poppy."

The world stops.

Myheartstops.

I don’t even react for a solid three seconds.

But the girls?

Oh, they lose theirminds.

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