Page 41 of Hot Lap
“Lemme guess. Gold digger. Stripper. Oh, and directly to my face from Graham Pritchard, ‘opportunistic whore.’”
Gudrun closes her eyes and looks like she could stab someone. “That man.”
Maria and Lina shake their heads.
“Be careful around your father-in-law,” Lina adds.
Maria hisses, “Ssssnake.”
I nod. “I kinda figured that one out.”
We order drinks — white wine for Gudrun, sparkling water for Lina, and something fruity and neon pink for Maria. I decide to trykaraktea, which turns out to be a sweet chai and is amazing.
Then the questions start in earnest.
"So." Lina’s tone is gentle but unmistakably curious. "You met Reece... and got married... in the same night?"
"Yes." I swirl my tea. "It wasn't what I’d planned to do Sunday night."
Gudrun raises a perfectly arched brow. "You didn't even know who he was?"
"Nope. Had no idea he was famous." My smile feels brittle. "I knew there was an F1 race happening. That's about it."
Maria lets out a low whistle. “Chica, you are either the bravest or the craziest woman I have ever met."
"Maybe a little of both." I shrug, trying to play it cool. Inside, though, I'm bracing for judgment.
Gudrun leans forward, her voice low but not unkind. "Do you understand what you've walked into? This world... it doesn't forget. And it doesn't forgive easily."
"I'm starting to get the picture. Especially after yesterday."
Lina tilts her head. "What happened?"
I sip my tea. "When I got home to my apartment, there were already reporters and photographers camped outside. They ambushed me on the stairs. Followed me to my door. Started shouting questions about whether I was pregnant, whether I'd tricked Reece into marrying me."
Maria’s mouth drops open."Dios mio.Rude."
I let out a humorless laugh. "It was a circus, and that was before I even realized how bad it was online."
Gudrun shakes her head slowly. "Once they get their teeth into you, they don't let go."
Lina is the embodiment of Zen. "Hence, why we're here. To help you survive it."
Maria bounces a little in her seat. "You'll be fine. You're already tougher than half the girls who show up thinking they can handle this life."
"You did not back down from Graham Pritchard.” Gudrun’s blue eyes gleam. "That is quite something."
The conversation eases a little after that. We order salads, sandwiches, and small plates to share. They tell me about life on the road: the good (and bad) hotels, the endless flights, the brutal schedules. The unspoken alliances among the WAGs, long separations from their husbands, and whispered gossip that can destroy a reputation overnight.
They don't sugarcoat it, and I appreciate that. Better an ugly truth than a pretty lie.
"You don't have to be perfect." Lina selects a piece of melon from the plate we’re sharing. "But you do have to be smart. Pick your battles. Keep your private life private when you can. Remember, your relationship is yours. Not theirs."
"Got it." I nod, feeling a strange mix of dread and determination.
As we're finishing, the door to our private dining room swings open. The woman in the doorway pulls focus like she has her own gravity. She wears a pink jumpsuit that somehow looks both fashionable and ready for a fight, paired with scuffed combat boots. Designer sunglasses perch atop her head, and hot pink streaks weave through her long dark hair. Her whole vibe radiates zero-fucks energy and if I wasn't married, I might fall in love.
Maria leans close. "That's Petra Hayter. She's Nitro's other driver."
