Page 134 of Hot Lap
“Of course you didn’t. See it or deserve it.”
He doesn’t look at me. “She was perfect on paper. Graham approved. She looked good in photos, said the right things in interviews, and played the part like a champion. That’s what he wanted.”
“And what did you want?”
His laugh is bitter. “Someone who wouldn’t rip me apart from the inside.”
I lean in, pressing my cheek to his. “Reece, I know what it’s like to be used. To think you’re loved, to think you’re safe, and find out you’re justconvenient. Or disposable.”
His hands find mine in the dark.
“Lear fucked me up, you know that. And I’m not comparing suffering. I’m just saying I get it, and you don’t have to hide your pain from me.”
He’s quiet for a long time, then tells me the story.
“I came home early from a press event. I was going to surprise her. I had flowers, and the ring in my pocket. I even brought takeout. Some shitty Thai restaurant she liked.”
I wait.
“She was in my bed with him.” His voice is flat. “And he looked right at me like I’d interrupted a business meeting.”
“Jesus.”
“I didn’t say anything. Just left. I went down to the water and slept on the beach.” He blows out a breath. “The next morning, I showed her the ring shealmostwore, then threw her out of my condo and flew to Spain for the GP like nothing happened.”
“You buried it.”
“Mm. So deep I forgot what it felt like to be angry. Or hurt. Until I saw her yesterday.”
I climb into his lap, straddling him, palms on his shoulders. “I’m sorry you went through that alone.”
“I didn’t think anyone would believe me. Graham spun the breakup like I got cold feet.”
“And she let him.”
“She wanted in, and he gave her a way. But she didn’t want me.”
I touch his jaw and wait for his gaze to meet mine. “Well, fuck them both. You didn’t deserve that. And you’re not alone now.”
His arms tighten around me. “I know. God, I know.”
We sit there, wrapped in shadows and shared pain, until his breathing evens, then we lay down again. He spoons me and finally sleeps.
But I keep watch.
And I plot revenge.
That's what rage does when it has nowhere to go. It calcifies into something hard and sharp. Graham thinks he broke his son. Peony thinks she made him her tool. They're both about to learn what happens when you hurt someone a woman like me loves.
The key to surviving today, I decide as I lie in the dark, is to give Reece no reason to worry about me or anything else. He's carried this pain alone for so long, thinking he couldn't trustanyone with the truth. Well, now he's trusted me, and I'll be damned if I let it break him. Today his focus needs to be the car and the track. Only.
So I rise early, kiss his shoulder, and pad to the bathroom before he can even groan into consciousness. I move around the room calm and careful, keep my voice light over breakfast, smile effortlessly. He needs normal this morning. No sharp edges, no distractions, no firestorms on his doorstep.
I’m saving all my fire and edges for later.
I dress while he’s in the shower. Green wiggle dress, cut close to the body and flaring just below the knees into a pleated split at the back hem that snaps with every step. It has little capped sleeves, and I add a pink bow just under the breast. Back-seamed stockings. Short black gloves. Dark green cloche. Lips the color of vengeance. Shoes and box purse the color of Peony’s funeral.
I study my reflection in the hotel mirror before we leave. I’m not the same woman who hid in the hospitality unit or apologized for existing in Reece's world. That’s not the kind of partner he needs, and it’s not the woman he met in Vegas. This is who I was before serendipity pulled me out of my world and thrust me into his. I knew my worth, I fought for my space, and I never let anyone make me smaller. Somehow, in all the chaos and rush and glamour of F1, I'd started to forget myself.
