Page 58 of Hot Lap
Her smile makes him think of a cartoon shark. Too sharp, too wide. "So, Reece, how does it feel to be married less than a week and already a media sensation?"
He goes for neutral. "I'm here to race. My personal life isn't up for public consumption."
She nods, like she expected that, then pounces.
"Do you think marrying someone from outside the F1 world — someone... less familiar with the pressures involved — could affect your performance this weekend? Especially with Nitro fighting for the Constructor's Championship?"
He leans back and folds his arms across his chest. "My marriage has no bearing on my driving. None whatsoever. I'm completely focused on delivering for the team this weekend."
Pippa’s responding smile is thinner this time. "Some would say it already has. Distractions off track often become mistakes on track."
"Some would say a lot of things. Doesn't make them true."
She shifts tactics, tilting her head sympathetically.
Yeah. Right.
"There’s a lot of conversation online about thesuitabilityof your wife for this life. That she's unprepared for the spotlight and doesn’t understand expectations. Do you worry that she might reflect poorly on Nitro’s brand image if things go badly?"
Every word is polite, measured, and designed to gut him without leaving fingerprints.
Reece doesn’t return her smile. "My wife’s profession places her in the spotlight every night, so I’m confident that she can handle it. Anyone questioning hersuitabilityshould look in the mirror before speaking. I don’t question it. Why are they?"
Pippa doesn’t even blink, and the satisfaction glittering behind her eyes is obvious. She’s getting what she came for: tension and drama surrounding his marriage, not on-track performance metrics.
And Graham?
He’ll make sure his team edits the footage to make it worse.
The weight of his own father’s greed presses down on Reece.
Pippa smiles sweetly, but he’s not fooled. "How do you respond to concerns that all of this — the marriage, the pressure — might cost Nitro a title?"
Reece returns her gaze. "I respond by winning, Pippa. Proper results speak for themselves." He stands, unclips his mic, and walks away. He has no time for her toxicity.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
I'm still fiddlingwith the card and staring at the impossibly perfect roses when my phone buzzes on the table. Then buzzes again. And again.
Shit.Three rapid notifications never equals good news.
Cold grips my ribs and crawls across my scalp as I grab the phone and unlock the screen.
It's a group chat lighting up like Christmas.
Delilah:
Girl, you seeing this??
It’s alwaysgirlwith her.
Yasmine:
Oh my god, MAI. You need to sit down.
Delilah:
GIRL. CALL US WHEN YOU CAN!
