Page 138 of Hot Lap
She leans back, unfazed. “Then walk away so I can.”
He laughs, then nods to the rest of us. “Enjoy your evening.”
As he strolls off, I clock the lingering glance he throws Petra’s way, and how she doesn’t seem to notice.
Later, back in our room, I drop onto our bed, nail polish out for some last-minute repairs to my claws. “So what’s the story with Nico and Petra?”
Reece snorts, pulling his shirt over his head. “We all first met as kids, and Nico’s had a thing for her since they were… thirteen? The guy’s fearless and smooth as butter on the track, but he’s hopeless off it.”
“Seriously?”
He shrugs. “Maybe someday he’ll find the nerve to do something about his crush.”
I raise a brow. “Not that I blame him. Tenacious P is kind of a goddess.”
Reece grins. “Almost as ferocious as you.”
“Hmm. Almost.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
ABU DHABI GRAND PRIX | SUNDAY | RACE DAY
It’s beeneight months since Reece had pole position. The last time was in Monaco, and he won the race. Then his father and girlfriend congratulated him with a knife in the back.
Now, he’s back on pole today, ready to reclaim his position as one of F1’s top drivers. All thanks to the avenging angel he married in a drunken civil ceremony.
What a difference one night and a few too many drinks can make.
The heat is brutal in the car, despite the late-afternoon start. It radiates off the tarmac in waves, and he’s already sweating under his fireproofs when he pulls into the grid box. The engine rumbles low and impatient, and Reece flexes his hands on the wheel.
“Car feels good,” he says into the radio. “I’m ready.”
Misho’s voice crackles back. “Copy that. Wind’s shifted slightly in sector 2. We’ll adjust pressures on the fly if needed. Watch your mirrors. Belmonte’s always hunting for opportunities.”
Reece breathes deep behind the visor. “Let him hunt. I’m not giving him a bloody inch.”
The red lights come on above the starting grid:
One.
Two.
Three.
Four.
Five.
Then…
Lights out.
Reece gets a clean launch. Not perfect, but good enough to let him hold the line into turn 1, and keep Nico behind. He glides through 2 and 3 with minimal correction. Nico’s climbing up his arse, and Petra’s behind him, keeping Aigar and Wyn boxed in. Reece builds a gap slowly, lap after lap, the delta ticking upward.
“Purple sectors. You’re opening it up.” Misho’s voice is a comfort in his helmet. “Stay clean. Remember the deg window.” He means tire degradation and worsening grip.
Reece manages his tires like they’re made of glass. “Copy. These fronts feel sticky. Might lose them by lap 12.”
