Page 33 of Hot Lap
An enormous freestanding tub sits in its own recess. It’s pure white, sculpted like art, with a gold floor-mounted faucet that looks engineered for both function and flex. On the opposite side of the room, a rainfall shower looms behind a sheet of glass so clear I almost walk straight into it.
There’s a marble vanity with raised crystal sink basins, white flowers, and fluffy white towels stacked with precision. Plush robes hang on the wall with matching slippers below. The scent in the air is a mix of sandalwood and whatever it is rich people always seem to smell like — clean, expensive, just a little smug.
If this is where I’m supposed to wash off Vegas, I think I’ll need extra time.
I pad closer to the tub and run my fingers along the spotless rim.Christ.It looks like it’s never been used. Do they, like, throw out the tub after each guest?
I glance up at the room’s huge mirror and consider my reflection. I look tired and a little lost, a trespasser in someone else's amazing life.
“Well, okay then.”
I exhale, roll my shoulders back, and start the water. If they’re gonna let me borrow this world for a minute, I might as well soak in it.
I peel off yesterday's travel clothes, settle into the lap of luxury with a very appreciative groan, and lounge in the gloriously deep tub. I need to sort through my tangled emotions, and this feels like just the right place to do it.
Can I trust Reece? Is it okay to feel gratitude for what he’s done? I’m not gonna lie to myself and say there’s no attraction.The man’s gorgeous and thoughtful andgenerous. But all of that leaves me feeling more confused because Sober Maiken is questioning everything Drunk Maiken felt one-hundred-ten-percent certain about.
I went from being a burlesque dancer with a hangover to a wife of a Formula 1 driver in a luxury hotel in Qatar, staring at haircare products that I definitely can’t get at Vons in Henderson, Nevada.
“Gah!” I close my eyes and slip under the water. My brain is useless. I need food and I need time. I resurface, wipe my eyes, and grab the shampoo. The truth is, I’m not gonna make a decision about this marriage today. Sober Maiken just doesn’t have enough information to make a smart choice.
And I can’t dismiss Drunk Maiken’s instincts either.
THE SLIPSTREAM
@RacerWifey38:I saw photos of MLP arriving in Qatar. She looks elegant. Covered properly for the culture too. Maybe she's smarter than we're giving her credit for.
@F1FashionPolice:Her style is pretty good. Vintage-inspired but modern. I'm into it.
@MrsLS79:I'm meeting her today. I'll report back with first impressions.
? @RacingWifeLife:Please do! We're all dying to know what she's really like.
@FastLaneFinds:This is the most excitement we've had in the paddock since Wyn got busted hitting on three different team principals' daughters in the same weekend.
? @PaddockPrincess:Nothing will top that. #PritchardBadBoy
@MsVictoryLap:#TeamMaiken — I’m all in. Anyone who makes Graham Pritchard that mad has my vote.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Reece's hamstringsand glutes scream as he completes his final set of lunges, sweat dripping onto the rubber floor of the circuit's fitness center. Physically he’s locked in, but mentally he’s back in a Vegas hotel room, watching Maiken storm out, pain and betrayal in her blue eyes.
"Focus." Ona’s voice is filled with impatience. "Your heart rate is too elevated for this exercise." She taps her tablet, where his biometrics display in real-time from the sensors in his fitness tracker. "Are you sleeping properly?"
"Yeah." The lie comes automatically, a habit after a lifetime of hiding the truth from Graham.
Ona's dark eyes narrow. "Bullshit."
"What do you want me to say?" He straightens, snatching his towel from a nearby bench. "That I got married after knowing someone for one night, and my father called her a whore within five minutes of meeting her? Fine. I tossed and turned all fucking night because… Look, I'm the piece of shit who's screwing up her life here. No question about it." He wipes his face, each movement sharp.
Ona doesn't flinch at his outburst. "That's better. Honesty indicates awareness." She’s worked with him as his performancecoach since he was twenty-two. She’s heard far worse from Reece. "Now, let's finish with core work." She hands him his water bottle. “You haven’t ruined her life. Yet.”
He sighs and moves to the mat. One of the reasons he appreciates Ona is her steadiness. He can count on one hand the number of times she’s lost her cool, which is saying something because she’s seen, heard, and received some pretty nasty crap. Hiring her as his physio was his first rebellion against Graham, a decision he made without his father’s input or approval because he was well and truly sick of Graham’s shit and desperate for even the tiniest goddamn bit of self-determination.
Onalerona Kenyatta is one of the pillars of Reece Pritchard’s success.
As he settles into his first plank, the fitness center door opens, and Wyn walks in with his physio, Haran Tilke.
