Page 108 of Hot Lap
“Oh my God.” She gasps, stepping onto the jet. “There’s actual legroom. And a couch? Practicalandstylish? This is like a flying boutique hotel designed by billionaire lesbians.”
She twirls once in the aisle, then strikes a pose beside the espresso machine, toe pointed, hip popped, like she’s a PNW Nitro pinup. “This is the best thing ever!”
Coy laughs. “Wait until you see the bathroom.”
Her eyes go even wider. “Nooo. What if I never wanna pee anywhere else again?”
Petra drops into one of the leather recliners and stretches her legs. “That’s the trap. They get you addicted to the luxe life, then you have to be in economy purgatory whenever you travel on your own.”
Maiken gasps. “You mean I can’t take this to Target?”
The camera catches her deadpan. Reece bites back a grin. Every bit of her awe is genuine. It’s not an act or an angle, justMai being Mai, bright and unfiltered and somehow more real than anyone he’s ever flown with before.
She catches him watching her, twirls again, and settles into the seat beside him with inhuman grace. “What? Am I embarrassing you?”
“Quite the opposite.”
She lifts a brow. “What’s the opposite of embarrassment?”
He leans in and kisses her. “Pride.” The camera catches that, too, and Reece is glad.
Maiken smiles and buckles her seatbelt, then murmurs, “This plane smells like leather, power, and generational wealth. Are we the villains?”
Coy barks a startled laugh. Petra, Ona, and Cin lose their shit. Reece chuckles, settling his hand on his wife’s thigh. “No, honeybee. We’re just really well-funded protagonists.”
The jet touches down an hour and a half later, the Abu Dhabi skyline rising in the distance, opulent, gleaming, and surreal.
Reece stretches. The atmosphere inside the cabin had been light — Coy cracking jokes, Petra and Cin scrolling through memes, Maiken declaring the plane “an actual miracle” and gleefully documenting every inch.
“Best. Thing. Ever,” she proclaims as they descend the stairs, her fingers graze Reece’s.
Then he sees Branca waiting just beyond the stairs, phone in hand, expression like carved stone.
Something’s wrong.
They slide into the waiting Nitro transport. The door shuts. The moment clicks into silence.
His manager turns in her seat. “We’ve got a problem.”
He leans forward. “What?”
Her expression is grim. “Damian Betterton, Jr. Thatpendejowears a body camera. Probably thinks it makes him edgy. A clip from the AetherX party hit social media while you were flying. It’s gone viral.”
She taps her phone and turns the face for him and Mai to see.
The video plays. A low-angle shot, shaky and close, shows Maiken in that elegant black dress.
Junior says off screen, “You look incredible tonight, Mrs. Pritchard. Reece is a lucky man.”
He extends his hand, but she slaps it away.
Maiken’s voice comes off screen. “If you touch me, I’ll put a heel through your foot and smile while you bleed.”
It’s cropped, edited, and absolute horseshit.
Reece's vision goes white-hot. "That fucking piece of shit set her up.” His voice is deadly quiet, the kind of calm that precedes violence. "He's completely twisted what happened. Made her look like a—“ He can't finish the sentence because he’s choking on rage.
Mai shakes her head. “That’s not what he said to me, Branca. That’s not what happened.”
