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Chapter Text

Lando Norris x Nina Hart

Nina Hart - The Hole

"Can you stop being a dickhead and try being romantic for once?"

Professional Golfer

28/12/2000

Caught between two worlds—one steady and heartfelt, offering quiet warmth; the other wild and untamed, igniting a blaze she can't control.

Lando Norris - The Dickhead

"Every hole is meant to be filled"

F1 Driver - McLaren

13/11/1999

No strings tie them down—except for Golf and McLaren, the only bonds crossing paths in a world where passion sparks but never lingers.

Arthur Leclerc - The Romantic

"It's in my whole DNA"

F1 Development Driver - Ferrari

14/10/2000

Like a princess, he sees her—graceful and untouchable, a delicate force he doesn't dare to break, even as she struggles to escape the pedestal he's placed her on.

Nina Hart is a creation of my imagination—her story, her world, her essence. All other names, roles, and details belong to the real world of motorsport and golf, intertwining fiction with reality. Images are sourced from Pinterest, with some artistic montages crafted for inspiration and storytelling.

Chapter Text

Nina's phone buzzed on the counter, rattling the spoon in her coffee mug. She glanced at the screen and sighed.

Zak Brown.

She picked it up, leaning against the counter. "Morning, Zak."

"Nina, finally! I've been trying to reach you for days," came his warm, familiar voice.

"I've been busy," she said lightly, though they both knew that wasn't entirely true.

"You've been hiding," Zak said, no judgment in his tone. "You alright?"

"I'm fine," she replied, brushing off the question. "What's this about?"

"Can't I call just to check in on you?" he said, his voice carrying that unmistakable mix of concern and teasing.

She smiled despite herself. "You're not exactly one for casual chats, Zak. So, spill."

He laughed softly. "Alright, you got me. There's a charity golf tournament next week at Royal Mougins Golf Club. McLaren's sponsoring it, and I thought it might be good for you to get out there."

She groaned. "Zak..."

"Before you say no, hear me out," he said quickly. "It's low-key. No cameras, no one asking questions. Just golf. For a good cause."

"And?" she asked, sensing there was more.

"And," he admitted, "you'd be paired with Lando Norris. He's—"

"I don't know who that is," she cut in.

Zak chuckled. "He's one of our drivers. A good kid, Nina. Bit cheeky, but harmless. And absolutely dreadful at golf."

She sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Zak, I'm not really in the mood to play tour guide for someone I've never met."

"I know," he said, his tone softening. "That's why I thought this might be good for you. Something fun, no strings attached. You can make him look ridiculous on the course—it's practically a win-win."

She couldn't help the faint smile tugging at her lips. Zak always had a way of making his suggestions sound better than they were.

"Fine," she said finally. "But if he's irritating, you owe me dinner. And not one of those takeaway pizzas you pretend is fancy."

"Done," Zak said, clearly grinning. "I'll send you the details. You're going to smash it, Nina. Just like always."

As the call ended, she set her phone down and sighed. Zak meant well, but she couldn't shake the feeling he was nudging her toward something bigger than just a golf tournament.

Chapter Text

The sun cast a warm glow over the course as Nina adjusted her cap, her bag slung over her shoulder. She hadn't been here long, but already she was questioning her decision to show up. The crowd around the clubhouse buzzed with energy, but she felt out of place, eager to stay in the background and avoid unnecessary conversations.

After signing in and pinning her Nina Hart name tag to her shirt, she headed straight to the driving range. The steady rhythm of her swings helped settle her nerves. She was lining up her next shot when a voice spoke behind her, low and teasing.

"You always warm up like you're about to win a major?"

Nina turned, her grip tightening slightly on her club. The man standing there wasn't what she expected—messy hair, an easy grin, and a stance that screamed confidence. His eyes lingered a moment too long, traveling down her frame in a way that wasn't overt but was impossible to miss. Her pulse quickened despite herself, a flicker of awareness sparking low in her stomach.

"Who's asking?" she said coolly.

"Lando Norris," he said, stepping closer, his gaze never leaving hers. "And you must be Nina Hart. Zak's talked about you. Though I have to say, he undersold it."

"Did he?" she replied, raising an eyebrow. "And what exactly did he say?"

"That you're competitive," he said with a smirk. "And intense. But he left out that you're also a distraction."

Her stomach tightened at his boldness, heat prickling at the back of her neck. She didn't flinch, but the way he said distraction sent an unwelcome jolt of awareness through her.

"If you're looking for excuses before we even start, you're not as good as I thought."

He chuckled, leaning on his golf bag, and the movement pulled her eyes to the subtle flex of muscle under his shirt. It was maddening.

"Fair enough," he said. "Let's see if you live up to the hype."

She stepped aside, motioning toward the range. "By all means. Show me what you've got."

His swing was smooth and practiced, the ball soaring cleanly down the range. She watched, her annoyance warring with something deeper. He wasn't just good—he was graceful, powerful. And he clearly knew it. When he turned back to her, his grin infuriatingly smug, her stomach fluttered in a way she immediately ignored.

"Well?" he asked, his voice laced with challenge.

"Not bad," she admitted, though her tone was far from impressed. "For someone who clearly spends more time behind a wheel."

"Careful, Hart," he said, taking a step closer, his voice dropping. "You're starting to sound impressed."

She smirked, grabbing her bag, trying to dismiss the way the proximity of his body made her skin prickle. "Keep dreaming."

As they started on the first hole, the tension between them only grew. Lando was confident, too confident, and his casual teasing sent sparks of irritation—and something else—through her. She hated how aware she was of him, of the way he seemed to hover just a bit too close, of the low warmth that stirred in her whenever his gaze lingered.

"So, how do you know Zak?" he asked as they walked to their balls.

"Family friend," she said simply.

He raised an eyebrow. "That's vague. What's the story? He your uncle or something?"

"Not exactly," she replied, glancing at him. His eyes caught hers, holding her in place a beat longer than was comfortable. She turned back to the green, focusing on her next shot. "And what about you? How does a racing driver end up here?"

"Zak likes to throw me into things," he said. "Says it's good for PR. Plus, I like golf. It's a good way to blow off steam."

She smirked. "So this is just a day off for you?"

"Something like that," he said, his voice dipping slightly. "Though I wasn't expecting it to be this interesting."

"Interesting?" she repeated, her tone challenging.

He leaned closer, his voice dropping. "Let's just say you're not what I expected."

Her breath hitched before she could stop it, her awareness of him suddenly sharper. She stepped onto the green to line up her next shot, her movements deliberate, anything to ground herself. "You'll get over it."

"Not sure I want to," he replied smoothly, watching her every move with a focus that made her heart pound.

By the time they reached the back nine, his flirtation was relentless, and to her surprise, she wasn't entirely immune. His confidence should have been annoying—was annoying—but there was something magnetic about him. Something in the way he carried himself, the way his words skirted the edge of propriety, the way he didn't hide the fact that he was looking at her.

"So, no boyfriend?" he asked casually as they walked to the 12th hole.

She glanced at him sharply, a spark of irritation—and something else—flaring. "Why do you care?"

"Just curious," he said, his grin widening. "Trying to figure out if I have any competition."

She laughed softly, despite herself, the sound surprising her. "And what makes you think you'd be in the running?"

"Because I'm persistent," he said, his tone light but pointed. "And you're starting to warm up to me. Admit it."

"Keep dreaming, Norris," she replied, but the faint smile tugging at her lips betrayed her.

"So, where are you based? London?" he asked after a beat, still grinning.

"Monaco," she said, lining up her next shot.

He raised his eyebrows. "No way. I live in Monaco too."

"How convenient," she replied dryly.

"Very convenient," he said. "We should hang out sometime. You know, work on my golf swing."

She rolled her eyes but couldn't quite hide her amusement.

At the 18th hole, the sun hung low in the sky, casting golden light over the course. Nina lined up her final shot, aware of Lando standing just a bit too close. His presence was distracting, his gaze heavy, and for a moment, she hated how much it affected her.

"Careful," he said softly, his voice almost a whisper. "You don't want to mess this up."

She swung, sending the ball straight into the hole. Straightening, she turned to him with a smirk. "I don't mess up."

His grin widened as he stepped closer, the space between them narrowing just enough for her breath to hitch again. "I'll keep that in mind."

Their eyes locked for a beat too long before she grabbed her bag and walked toward the clubhouse. Zak was waiting, his expression unreadable as he watched them approach. Lando flopped into a chair near the bar, looking entirely too pleased with himself, while Nina grabbed her water bottle and leaned against the counter.

"How'd it go?" Zak asked.

"She's better than I expected," Lando said, his gaze sliding to her. "But I'm not sure she likes me yet."

"Keep guessing," Nina said flatly, but the corners of her mouth twitched upward.

"Give it time," Lando said, his grin never faltering. "I'm good at getting under people's skin."

Nina slung her bag over her shoulder, her tone breezy. "It's been enlightening, Norris."

As she walked off, she could feel his eyes on her, a weight that sent a shiver down her spine despite her best efforts to ignore it. She didn't look back, didn't give him the satisfaction, but the warmth crawling up her neck told her he was still watching.

Lando stood where she left him, his hands loosely gripping the edge of his golf bag. His grin softened into something quieter, something thoughtful. For the first time all day, he didn't have a quip ready, just the faintest flicker of intrigue that lingered in his chest long after she disappeared from view.

Chapter Text

Nina leaned back on her couch in her Monaco apartment, her hair still damp from a quick shower. The day had been long, but not in the exhausting way she expected. It was the kind of long that lingered in her chest, like her body couldn't quite shake the energy of being around him.

Her phone buzzed on the coffee table. She picked it up, assuming it was her coach or Zak checking in. Instead, a message popped up from an unknown number.

Unknown Number: Hey, Hart. What are you wearing?

Her breath hitched, her eyes narrowing at the audacity. There was only one person it could be. She typed back quickly, her fingers tapping harder than necessary.

Nina: I'm assuming this is Lando. You've got about five seconds to explain before I block you.

The reply came almost instantly.

Lando: Relax. It's just a joke.

Nina: Not a funny one.

Lando: Fair enough. Zak gave me your number, by the way. Don't be mad.

Nina: Too late.

She set the phone down, shaking her head. But her fingers hovered over it, unwilling to leave the conversation hanging. A second buzz lit up the screen.

Lando: Okay, real talk. Did you have as much fun as I did today?

Nina: Define "fun."

Lando: Spending hours with someone who makes it impossible to focus but in the best way.

She bit her lip, the words sending a rush of heat through her. She typed back before she could think better of it.

Nina: You mean someone who tolerates your constant talking?

Lando: Someone who challenges me.

Her pulse quickened at the simplicity of his response. She hesitated, then decided to push back, testing the waters.

Nina: You don't strike me as the type who likes to be challenged.

Lando: That's because you don't know me yet.

The insinuation in his words was unmistakable, and it sent a spark through her she couldn't deny.

Nina: And you think I want to?

Lando: I know you do.

Her breath caught at his confidence, and she set the phone down, her heartbeat too loud in the quiet room. She stared at the screen as his typing bubble appeared again.

Lando: If I'm wrong, just tell me to back off. But if I'm not, maybe you'll let me take you to dinner.

Her fingers hovered over the keyboard, torn between shutting this down and leaning into the pull that had been there from the moment they'd met. Finally, she gave in, just a little.

Nina: I'll think about it.

Lando: Good. I like it when you think about me.

She let out a soft laugh, shaking her head, and typed her last message for the night.

Nina: You're ridiculous.

Lando: And you like it.

She didn't reply, but the smile on her face stayed as she set the phone aside. The warmth in her chest wasn't fading, and for the first time in a long time, she didn't feel the need to fight it.

Her thoughts drifted, unbidden, back to the way Lando had moved on the course. His swing was fluid, effortless, his muscles shifting under his polo shirt in a way that was hard to ignore. He was fit, undeniably so, with a confidence that seemed to radiate from him like heat off the summer pavement. She wasn't going to lie to herself—he was sexy. More than she was willing to admit out loud, but the thought lingered, settling in the back of her mind like a stubborn shadow.

The tension between them had been impossible to miss, crackling like static electricity with every shared glance and teasing remark. She'd felt it when he leaned a little too close, when his eyes held hers just a second longer than necessary, and especially when his grin turned wicked, like he knew exactly what he was doing to her.

She sighed, sinking further into the couch, her fingers brushing against the edge of her phone. The rational part of her told her to keep her distance, to let it fade. But the other part—the part that had felt alive in his presence—wasn't so sure.

Chapter Text

Nina stared at the message on her phone. It had been a few days since she'd last seen Lando, but he still lingered in her thoughts more than she wanted to admit. His confidence was infuriating, but it was also maddeningly attractive. She hesitated, her thumb hovering over his contact name before finally typing.

Nina: Still up for dinner? But only because I'm hungry, not because I like you.

His reply came almost instantly.

Lando: I'm always up for dinner. Pick you up at 7. And sure, keep telling yourself that.

She rolled her eyes but couldn't help the small smile that tugged at her lips. Before she could stop herself, she typed back.

Nina: Are you even in Monaco? Or is this just an excuse to mess with me?

There was a pause, and then her phone buzzed again.

Lando: Of course I'm in Monaco. I wouldn't miss the chance to see you, would I?

She scoffed, already feeling the heat rising in her cheeks.

Nina: You're such a prat, you know that?

Lando: And yet, you're still texting me.

Her lips twitched despite her annoyance. He wasn't wrong.

Nina: Just be here at 7, Norris.

Lando: Can't wait. Dress nice—I've got a reputation to uphold.

Nina: I'm not dressing for you.

Lando: Whatever helps you sleep at night, Hart.

She set her phone down, her heart pounding faster than she cared to admit. She glanced at the clock. She had a little over an hour. Time enough to figure out why this man had such an effect on her—and, perhaps more importantly, why she was letting him.

By the time 7 p.m. rolled around, Nina was pacing her small flat, fighting the mix of nerves and excitement she refused to name. She'd kept her outfit casual—dark jeans, a loose blouse, and just enough makeup to look like she hadn't tried. A knock at the door broke her thoughts. She opened it to find Lando leaning casually against the frame, his smile doing that annoyingly confident thing that set her stomach fluttering.

"You clean up well," he said, his eyes sweeping over her.

"So do you," she replied, noticing the fitted black shirt that hinted at his lean, athletic frame.

"You ready?" he asked, stepping back to let her lock the door.

"As I'll ever be," she muttered, following him to his car.

They arrived at Le Grill, a restaurant perched high above the marina, its terrace offering an uninterrupted view of the Mediterranean. The entrance, discreet and understated, hinted at the exclusivity within. Lando exchanged a few words with the host before they were led to a private alcove, shielded by elegant drapes and surrounded by lush greenery. From their secluded table, the lights of the marina twinkled below, and the distant sound of waves provided the perfect backdrop.

A single candle lit the table, casting a soft glow. The smell of salt air mingled with faint floral notes drifting in from the nearby gardens, creating a serene atmosphere that felt worlds away from the bustling city below.

"I didn't take you for the type to choose a place like this," Nina said, glancing at him over her menu.

"I thought it might impress you," he said, his grin playful. "And I figured you'd appreciate the privacy."

She smirked, her gaze drifting out toward the horizon. "I do. Though it's a bit excessive for a meal."

"Not for you," he replied smoothly. "I had to match your standards."

Her eyes narrowed as she set down her menu. "Flattery won't get you very far, Norris."

"Won't it?" he asked, leaning back in his chair, that infuriating grin still in place. "Because you're here."

Nina shook her head, fighting the amusement threatening to surface. "Let's just see if you can make it through the evening without putting your foot in your mouth."

"Challenge accepted," he said, picking up his glass and raising it slightly in a mock toast. "To an evening you'll never forget."

She rolled her eyes but couldn't entirely suppress her smile as the waiter approached, breaking the moment.

The conversation flowed easily, the flirtation from earlier giving way to something deeper. Lando asked questions about her career, her goals, her thoughts on life outside of golf. Somewhere between the main course and dessert, she realized how close he'd leaned across the table, his fingers brushing hers as he passed the wine bottle. The touch sent a jolt through her, and she looked up to find his eyes locked on hers, dark and intent.

"Can I ask you something?" he said, his voice low.

"Depends," she replied, her breath catching at the way his thumb grazed the edge of her hand.

"Why do you fight it?" he asked, leaning closer. "This thing between us. You feel it too. Don't pretend you don't."

She hesitated, the tension between them tightening like a coiled spring. Her voice was quieter when she finally spoke. "Maybe I'm just not sure it's a good idea."

Lando's grin softened into something more serious, his eyes searching hers. "Sometimes the worst ideas are the ones worth chasing."

The space between them disappeared before she could respond, his lips brushing hers in a kiss that was both tentative and electric. The heat of it hit her immediately, her hand instinctively reaching for his, gripping it as she kissed him back.

They barely made it through the door of her apartment before Lando pressed Nina against the wall, his hands gripping her waist with commanding urgency. His lips claimed hers, hot and insistent, and she gave in without resistance, her fingers threading through his hair as her body arched toward his. There was no second-guessing, only raw, electric attraction pulling them together.

His mouth moved to her neck, the scrape of his stubble brushing against her skin, making her gasp. Her hands roamed over his chest, her fingertips tracing the hard lines beneath his shirt. She tugged at the fabric, her frustration evident when it didn't come off fast enough. He smirked against her neck, his voice low and teasing.

"Impatient?" he murmured, but he didn't wait for an answer, pulling the shirt over his head in one swift motion.

Her breath caught as her eyes took him in. His chest was sculpted, his muscles defined without being overbearing, his body lean and powerful in a way that made her pulse race. His skin was warm to the touch, the faint heat of his body only adding to the magnetic pull between them. He looked at her with dark, hooded eyes, his smirk softening into something more primal.

"Like what you see?" he asked, his voice rough.

She didn't answer, her hands sliding over the smooth planes of his chest, reveling in the heat radiating from him. Every part of him felt solid, like he was built for control and precision, but right now, there was nothing restrained about him. He lifted her effortlessly, her legs wrapping around his waist as he carried her toward the bedroom. His movements were fluid, confident, and every shift of his body sent a spark of desire racing through her.

When they hit the bed, he hovered over her, his weight pressing her into the mattress in a way that made her feel both grounded and untethered. Her nails skimmed his back, dragging lightly over his skin as his lips moved to her collarbone, trailing heat wherever he touched.

His hands roamed her body, exploring every curve with deliberate intensity. He shifted against her, their bodies aligning as he moved with purpose, his every touch igniting something deeper. The sharp definition of his muscles, the heat of his breath against her skin, the way his body moved against hers—it was impossible to think about anything else.

He was mesmerizing, every detail of him—from the strength in his shoulders to the way his jaw clenched with each movement—pushing her further into the moment. There was no hesitation, no thought of tomorrow. Just him, and her, and the undeniable pull between them.

Chapter Text

Nina stirred, the faint rays of morning sunlight streaming through her curtains warming her skin. She stretched lazily, her body still humming from the intensity of the night before. For a moment, she let herself stay in that hazy state, eyes closed, the memories of Lando's touch still vivid.

But as she reached across the bed, her hand met cool sheets. Her eyes snapped open, and she turned her head. The other side of the bed was empty, the faint indentation of where Lando had been was the only proof he'd even been there at all. Her heart sank slightly, though she quickly dismissed the feeling, sitting up and running a hand through her hair.

"Figures," she muttered to herself, slipping out of bed.

Her apartment was quiet, the kind of stillness that came with being alone. Wrapping herself in a robe, she wandered into the kitchen. A note on the counter caught her eye, and she frowned, picking it up. The handwriting was neat but casual.

Early training. See you soon.
—Lando

Nina read the note twice before tossing it back onto the counter with a flick of her wrist. "Of course," she muttered, opening the cupboard to grab a mug. She wasn't sure what she had expected—him lounging on the couch, waiting for her to wake up? Hardly. Lando Norris didn't seem like the type to stick around, and honestly, she wasn't sure she wanted him to.

The smell of freshly brewed coffee filled the kitchen as she leaned against the counter, staring out the window at the Monaco skyline. Her thoughts drifted to the night before, unbidden. It had been... intense. She'd expected him to be cocky, a little self-assured, but not like that. Not so unapologetically confident in a way that made her stomach flutter and her head spin.

She sipped her coffee, shaking her head. "Get a grip, Nina," she muttered to herself.

Her phone buzzed on the counter, breaking the silence. She glanced at the screen, half-expecting it to be Lando. But it wasn't—it was her coach.

Coach: Morning, Hart. Don't forget, we've got a session at 10. Don't be late.

She groaned, placing the mug down. She'd almost forgotten she'd agreed to squeeze in a practice round before her next tournament. It was the exact kind of focus she needed right now—something to drown out the memory of Lando's smirk, his hands, the way his voice had dipped low when he said her name.

Days passed, and there was no word from Lando. No text, no call, nothing. Nina told herself she didn't care, that it didn't matter, but the annoyance lingered like a splinter she couldn't quite pull out. She wasn't the type for one-night stands—had never been. In fact, last night had been her first time ever letting herself go like that, and it gnawed at her. She hated feeling so out of control, so tethered to the memory of him.

Every time she tried to brush him from her thoughts, something would pull him back—a random scent, a fleeting memory of his hands on her skin, the way his smirk made her stomach flip in the most infuriating way. She needed to shake this, to put it behind her.

It was late one evening, the sky outside her apartment turning a soft orange as the sun dipped toward the horizon, when she gave in. Curiosity—or maybe frustration—got the better of her. Sitting on her couch with her laptop, she typed his name into the search bar: Lando Norris.

The results were overwhelming. Articles, photos, videos—he was everywhere. Headlines screamed his name alongside words like F1 star, McLaren prodigy, and rising talent. She clicked on the first link, a profile detailing his meteoric rise in Formula 1. He'd been racing since he was a kid, winning championships, breaking records. He was young, successful, adored by fans.

Scrolling further, she found endless photos—Lando at glamorous events, grinning with other drivers, surrounded by crowds of adoring fans. There were shots of him laughing, arms slung casually around people Nina didn't recognize, his confidence radiating in every image. She stumbled upon a video, an interview from a recent race, and clicked play.

His voice filled the room, warm and self-assured. "It's been a great season so far," he said, his grin as infectious on screen as it had been in person. "But there's always more to learn, more to improve."

Her chest tightened as she watched him speak, his charm practically leaping off the screen. He looked completely at ease, the Lando she'd met and the Lando she was seeing now aligning in ways that made her pulse quicken. She hated it.

"Stop it, Nina," she muttered to herself, closing the laptop with more force than necessary.

But as she leaned back into the couch, staring at the ceiling, the knot in her stomach refused to fade. She didn't know what she'd expected, but what she found only made things worse. She was just another moment in his world, another face he'd charm and simply forget.

And yet, his name, his face, his touch lingered.

She leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees, her hands curling into fists. "Get over it," she muttered, though she wasn't sure she believed it herself.

Chapter Text

Nina paced her living room, phone pressed to her ear as her father's familiar voice crackled on the other end.

"Everything's fine, love," Harry said with a chuckle. "Your mum's got me on gardening duty again, and your sister's still pestering me about taking the old car out for a spin. Business as usual."

"Sounds about right," Nina replied, smiling faintly as she sank into the couch. "I just wanted to check in, make sure you're all good."

"We're good," Harry assured her. There was a pause, and Nina could almost hear the shift in his tone before he spoke again. "But I've got something to ask you."

Nina sighed, leaning her head back. "Go on."

"I need you to come with me to Woking next week. Zak wants to meet, and I think it's time you had a look around the McLaren headquarters."

Her stomach dropped, and she straightened. "Why would Zak want to meet me? I'm not involved in any of that, Dad."

"You will be, eventually," Harry said, his voice calm but firm. "You're my daughter, Nina. One day, this will all be yours—whether you like it or not."

"Dad, I'm a golfer, not a businesswoman. I don't know the first thing about racing or running a team," she protested, her fingers gripping the edge of her phone.

"That's exactly why you need to start learning," he countered. "It's just a visit. Nothing formal, no pressure. But you need to understand the legacy you're part of. It's not just about me or Zak. It's about family."

Nina rubbed her temple, frustration bubbling beneath the surface. "I don't want to do this, Dad."

"I know you don't," Harry said gently. "But I'm asking you to. And if it sweetens the deal, I'll come to your next tournament. Front row, no excuses."

She hesitated, chewing on her bottom lip. Her father rarely made requests like this, and his promise to attend her tournament tugged at her.

"You'll really come?" she asked quietly.

"Wouldn't miss it," Harry replied. "I'll even wear one of those ridiculous golf hats you love so much."

A reluctant laugh escaped her. "Fine. But only because of the hat."

"That's my girl," he said warmly. "It'll be good for you, Nina. You'll see."

She hung up a few minutes later, tossing the phone onto the cushion beside her. The weight of the conversation settled over her, heavier than she wanted to admit. The idea of stepping into that world—her family's world—felt foreign, overwhelming. She wasn't ready, and she didn't think she ever would be.

But a promise was a promise, and if it meant having her father in her corner at her next tournament, she'd grit her teeth and get through it.

For now, though, she'd focus on what she knew: her game. Because that was one thing no one could take from her.

Chapter Text

Nina stared out the car window as the countryside blurred past, her father chatting casually in the driver's seat. Her mind, however, was far from the pleasant scenery. The weight of the day ahead sat heavily on her shoulders, and the closer they got to McLaren's Woking headquarters, the more she wanted to turn around.

"Relax, love," Harry said, glancing at her with a reassuring smile. "It's just a tour. No one's asking you to run the place today."

She folded her arms, slouching slightly in her seat. "You say that now, but I know how Zak operates. He'll have me signing contracts before I leave."

Harry chuckled. "You'll be fine. Zak's looking forward to seeing you. He doesn't bite."

"I'm not worried about Zak," she muttered under her breath, though she wasn't entirely sure what she was worried about.

The sleek glass-and-steel structure of McLaren's headquarters loomed ahead, its futuristic design both intimidating and impressive. As they pulled into the car park, Nina took a deep breath, trying to steady her nerves. This was her family's legacy—her legacy, apparently—and she was about to walk straight into the heart of it.

Harry led her through the pristine lobby, greeting staff with the kind of warmth that only came from familiarity. Nina stayed a step behind, her gaze flickering around the space. The place practically screamed precision and excellence, every detail carefully curated. It was overwhelming.

"Nina!" Zak Brown's booming voice broke through her thoughts as he strode toward them, arms outstretched. "It's about time you came to visit."

She managed a polite smile, shaking his hand. "Hi, Zak. My dad didn't exactly give me a choice."

Zak laughed, clapping Harry on the shoulder. "Well, I'm glad he twisted your arm. Let's give you the grand tour."

The tour was exactly what she expected—state-of-the-art facilities, sleek design, and a sense of history woven into every corner. Zak spoke animatedly, explaining everything from the wind tunnel to the design studio. Nina nodded along, doing her best to seem interested, but the technical details blurred together in her mind.

"Impressive, isn't it?" Zak asked as they paused in a bright, open meeting area.

"Very," she replied, her voice neutral. "Though I think I'll stick to golf. This is... a lot."

Zak grinned. "Fair enough. But who knows? You might get the bug one day."

As they moved toward a glass-walled lounge area, voices carried down the hallway—familiar voices. Nina's steps faltered, her heart skipping a beat as she recognized the unmistakable laughter of Lando Norris. Her grip on her bag tightened instinctively, and she shot a sharp look at her father.

"Please tell me that isn't who I think it is," she muttered under her breath.

Harry glanced at her, confused. "What's wrong? You know someone here?"

Before she could respond, Zak's voice boomed ahead. "Lando, come meet someone!"

Her stomach twisted as Lando appeared around the corner, a relaxed grin on his face. He was wearing a McLaren polo, his hair slightly tousled, and he carried himself with the same infuriating confidence she remembered all too well. His eyes landed on her, and for a split second, surprise flashed across his face before he quickly masked it with a smirk.

"Well, if it isn't Nina Hart," he drawled, his tone light but teasing. "Fancy seeing you here."

Nina's jaw tightened as she straightened, crossing her arms. "What are you doing here?"

Zak, oblivious to the tension crackling between them, chuckled. "Lando works here, Nina. He's one of our drivers."

Nina arched an eyebrow, her tone dry. "Drivers are supposed to drive cars, aren't they? Why is he here then? Did you run out of people to boss around?"

Lando laughed, leaning casually against the wall. "Charming as ever, Hart. But I do more than just drive. I'm versatile."

"You're a right pain," she muttered, folding her arms with a scowl, her irritation clear.

Zak cleared his throat, his amused expression lingering as he looked at Nina. "Well, if you're going to throw shade, I guess it's time for full disclosure. Lando, you're standing in the presence of McLaren royalty."

Nina's head snapped toward Zak, her eyes narrowing. "Zak—don't."

But Zak grinned, clearly unbothered by her protests. "Lando, meet Nina McLaren—Harry's daughter and Bruce McLaren's granddaughter."

Lando straightened slightly, his eyes flicking back to Nina with renewed interest. "Wait—McLaren? As in the McLaren?"

"It's not that deep," Nina said quickly, glaring at Zak. "And it's not something I go around advertising."

Zak shrugged, his grin unapologetic. "It's part of who you are, Nina. No sense in hiding it from people who should know."

Lando let out a low whistle, clearly enjoying the revelation. "So that's why Zak's been talking about you. You're more than just a golfer."

Nina's jaw clenched, her frustration bubbling. "I'm only a golfer. Whatever legacy my family has, it's not mine."

"Interesting," Lando said, his grin softening into something thoughtful. "You don't strike me as the type to run from a challenge."

She shot him a sharp look, her voice clipped. "You don't know me."

"Not yet," he replied smoothly, his eyes glinting with amusement.

"Not ever," she said, her tone colder than before.

Zak clapped his hands together, cutting through the moment with a practiced ease. "Alright, enough drama. Lando, why don't you take Nina for a tour while Harry and I talk logistics? Show her what her family built—it might do you both some good."

Nina's eyes widened. "I don't need a tour—"

"Come on, Hart," Lando interrupted, the smirk returning. "Or should i say McLaren? How often do you get the chance to see your own name on a building?"

She groaned inwardly, glaring at both men. "This is ridiculous."

But Zak was already leading Harry toward another room, leaving her alone with Lando. He motioned toward the hallway with an exaggerated flourish. "Shall we, your highness?"

She sighed, brushing past him. "Just show me whatever you're supposed to, and don't talk."

"No promises," he quipped, falling into step beside her.

Chapter Text

Nina walked briskly down the pristine halls of McLaren's headquarters, arms crossed, irritation bubbling just beneath the surface. Lando strolled beside her, hands in his pockets, as if he didn't have a care in the world. The silence between them was heavy, punctuated only by his occasional comments about the facility.

"This is the design studio," he said, motioning toward a wall of glass where engineers were engrossed in blueprints and models. "Pretty impressive, right?"

"It's fine," Nina said curtly, her tone sharp. "Are we almost done?"

"Wow," he drawled, glancing at her with a smirk. "This is the gratitude I get? Most people would kill for a personal tour."

"I didn't ask for this tour, Norris," she snapped. "If I'd known it came with your commentary, I'd have declined."

His grin only widened. "Always such a delight, McLaren."

Her steps faltered, and she shot him a glare. "Don't call me that."

"Why not? It's your name," he said, the smirk never leaving his face.

"It's Hart. You don't know me well enough to use anything else."

Lando stopped walking and turned to face her, his expression a mix of curiosity and amusement. "Touchy, are we?"

She folded her arms, her eyes narrowing. "I'm serious, Lando. You know nothing about me, so stop pretending like you do."

"Alright, Hart," he said with mock seriousness, holding up his hands in surrender. "Message received."

She rolled her eyes and continued walking, her irritation simmering.

As they turned the corner into the garage, the hum of activity surrounded them—mechanics bustling around sleek, half-assembled cars, the faint sound of tools clinking against metal. Lando opened his mouth to say something, but a voice beat him to it.

"Lando, there you are. Thought you'd disappeared."

A young man in a McLaren polo and jeans approached, his easy smile immediately softening the atmosphere. His blond hair was slightly messy, and his demeanor was calm and approachable, a stark contrast to Lando's cocky swagger.

"Speak of the devil," Lando said, motioning toward him with a grin. "Nina, meet Oscar Piastri—my teammate. Oscar, this is Nina Hart. She's a special guest at McLaren today, and I've been tasked with showing her around."

Oscar extended a hand, his smile warm. "Nice to meet you, Nina."

She shook his hand, immediately struck by how genuine he seemed. "You too. Finally, someone here who doesn't seem insufferable."

Oscar chuckled, glancing at Lando. "Didn't take long for you to wear her out, did it?"

"She was a lost cause before we started," Lando said, leaning against a nearby car and crossing his arms.

Nina ignored him, focusing on Oscar. "You're much nicer than he is. Maybe you should give me the tour."

Oscar raised an eyebrow, clearly enjoying the moment. "I don't mind. But I'm sure Lando's got his charm... somewhere."

"Don't encourage him," Nina said flatly, shooting Lando a glare. "He doesn't need it."

Oscar laughed. "Fair enough. Well, if you need a break from him, I'm happy to step in."

"Actually," she said, seizing the moment, "why don't you take over? It'd be nice to get through this without another one of his jokes."

"Oi!" Lando protested, standing up straight. "I'm standing right here, you know."

"We know," Nina said sweetly. "That's the problem."

Oscar laughed again, clearly enjoying the banter. "Alright, I'm game. Lando, consider yourself benched."

Lando rolled his eyes, but his grin didn't falter. "Fine. But don't come crying to me when she starts grilling you."

"I'll take my chances," Oscar replied easily, motioning for Nina to follow him. "Come on, I'll show you the simulator. It's the coolest part of the building."

As Nina fell into step beside Oscar, she couldn't resist glancing back at Lando, whose expression was unreadable for once. Good, she thought. Let him stew.

Oscar led her into a sleek room where a state-of-the-art racing simulator took center stage. Screens lined the walls, and the setup looked more like something out of a futuristic video game than a training tool.

"This is where we spend hours pretending to drive," Oscar explained, gesturing toward the rig. "Pretty high-tech, huh?"

"It's impressive," Nina admitted, running her fingers along the edge of the simulator. "So you actually use this to prepare for races?"

"All the time," he said. "It's surprisingly close to the real thing. Though it's not quite as fun without the adrenaline of being on track."

She smiled slightly, relaxing in his presence. "You seem... normal. How do you put up with him?"

"Ouch," Oscar said with a laugh. "Lando's alright, once you get used to him. Though I'll admit, he can be a bit much."

"Understatement of the year," she muttered, earning another laugh from Oscar.

"Sounds like you've got some history," he said, his tone light but curious.

Her smile faltered for a fraction of a second, but she recovered quickly. "Nothing worth mentioning."

Oscar nodded, not pressing further. "Well, if you're ever back here and need a break from him, just let me know. I'm happy to step in."

"Thanks," she said, genuinely appreciating his offer.

As they exited the simulator room, she spotted Lando leaning against a wall, waiting for them. His arms were crossed, and there was a flicker of something in his expression that she couldn't quite place.

"Enjoy your little detour?" he asked, his tone teasing but edged with something else.

"Actually, I did," she said breezily, brushing past him. "Oscar's a much better guide."

Oscar grinned as he followed her, leaving Lando to trail behind, for once without a snarky comeback.

As the tour wrapped up, Nina felt a sense of relief wash over her. The facility was impressive, yes, but the lingering tension with Lando had been exhausting. Oscar's easygoing nature had been a welcome distraction, but now that the tour was winding down, she couldn't avoid him any longer.

They found themselves back in the garage, where Harry and Zak were still deep in conversation. Oscar excused himself to check on some simulator data, leaving Nina alone with Lando once again.

"Well?" Lando asked, leaning casually against a workbench. "Did you have fun with your new favorite driver?"

Nina rolled her eyes. "He's nicer than you, that's for sure."

"Nicer," Lando repeated, smirking. "But not as fun, I bet."

"Fun isn't the word I'd use," she retorted, crossing her arms.

"Come on, Hart," he said, stepping closer, his voice teasing. "What's with the attitude? Are you upset or something?"

She shot him a cold look, her arms folding tightly across her chest. "Upset? Why would I be upset, Norris? After all, you're very good at disappearing. Seems like it's your thing."

His smirk faltered for a moment, his confidence wavering. "You're not seriously holding a grudge over that, are you?"

Her jaw tightened as she held his gaze. "What do you think, Lando? You disappeared without a word. I'm not exactly impressed."

"Is that what this is about?" he asked, his tone quieter but edged with curiosity.

She glared at him, her tone sharp. "Seriously? You didn't bother to call, text, or even leave a proper goodbye. So no, I'm not holding a grudge—I just know better than to expect anything from you."

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Look, I wasn't trying to—"

"Don't," she interrupted, her voice firm. "Don't give me some half-hearted excuse. We both know what that night was, and I'm not going to sit here and act like it meant anything."

Something flickered in his eyes—surprise, maybe, or annoyance. "You're good at putting up walls, aren't you?"

"I have to be," she shot back. "Especially around people like you."

"People like me?" he repeated, his voice sharpening. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means you're the type who breezes through life without thinking about anyone else," she said, her words cutting. "And I'm not going to let myself get caught up in that."

For a moment, the space between them was filled with nothing but the low hum of activity in the garage. Lando's usual cocky demeanor was gone, replaced by something quieter, something she couldn't quite read.

"Well," he said finally, his voice light but forced. "Glad we've cleared that up."

"Good," she replied, turning on her heel. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have better things to do."

She walked away without looking back, her steps brisk and purposeful. Her heart was pounding, but she refused to let him see how much he'd gotten under her skin.

Chapter Text

Nina spent the entire day with her father, exploring McLaren's headquarters as he shared the story of their family's legacy. From archives filled with photographs of Bruce McLaren's early days to the intricate blueprints of groundbreaking cars, she found herself drawn in despite her initial reluctance.

"This," Harry said proudly, holding up a framed black-and-white photograph, "was your grandfather with the first car he built under the McLaren name. Can you imagine the determination it took to create this with so little?"

She studied the photo, her eyes lingering on the sleek lines of the car and the quiet determination in her grandfather's expression. It stirred something in her—admiration she hadn't expected to feel.

"It's impressive," she said softly, her voice carrying a note of reluctant curiosity.

Harry smiled warmly. "It wasn't just about the cars, Nina. It was about breaking boundaries, daring to dream bigger. That's what your grandfather believed in—and what this team continues to strive for."

As they moved through the facility, Zak joined them, weaving in stories about the current team and the dedication required to thrive in the fast-paced world of Formula 1. His anecdotes were lighthearted yet filled with a passion that mirrored Harry's.

To her surprise, Nina found herself asking questions, tentative at first but growing more engaged as the hours passed. The weight of her family's history, combined with the vibrant energy of the present-day team, was undeniable.

Later, in a quiet meeting room, Harry leaned back in his chair, looking content. "Not so bad, is it?" he teased.

"It's... a lot," Nina admitted, her gaze drifting to the photos and notes scattered across the table. "But I can see why it matters to you. Why it mattered to him."

Harry's expression softened, and Zak chimed in with a smile. "You've built a remarkable career in golf, Nina. No one's asking you to change that. But seeing this world up close—it's part of your story. I think you'd gain a lot from experiencing it firsthand."

She arched an eyebrow. "And what exactly are you suggesting?"

Zak leaned forward, his grin widening knowingly. "Come to Silverstone. It's the home race for McLaren, and it's one of the most electric atmospheres on the calendar. Watch how the team operates, how everything comes together. No pressure—it's just a chance to see it all in action."

Harry nodded. "He's right, love. Silverstone is special. You don't have to commit to anything, but it's worth seeing for yourself."

Nina hesitated, her fingers tracing the edge of a photograph. She wasn't one to be easily swayed, but something about their words struck a chord. The energy and drive she'd seen today intrigued her more than she wanted to admit.

"Fine," she said finally, her tone reluctant but decisive. "One race. That's it."

Zak's grin broadened. "That's all I need."

Harry patted her shoulder with a mix of pride and affection. "You'll see, Nina. It'll be worth it."

As they wrapped up the day, Nina couldn't help but reflect on everything she'd seen. Silverstone—the thought of being there, of seeing it all unfold in person—was daunting, but she couldn't deny the faint flicker of curiosity it sparked within her.

For the first time, the world her family had built didn't feel entirely foreign. A small spark of interest flickered within her, one she wasn't ready to acknowledge fully—but it was there.

Chapter Text

A week before the British Grand Prix, Silverstone was already alive with energy. The paddock buzzed with crew members, equipment, and meticulous preparations for one of the most anticipated races of the season. Nina was staying at the Hilton near the track, surrounded by the McLaren team as they worked tirelessly to prepare for their home race.

Her room overlooked the paddock, the glow of lights illuminating the activity below. She watched the ebb and flow of people, the hum of engines faintly reaching her through the double-paned windows. The efficiency and precision fascinated her, though she wouldn't admit it aloud.

The day had been relentless, packed with meetings and shadowing Zak as he explained the finer details of how the team functioned. It was a world so different from her own—faster, louder, more relentless. Yet something about the sheer intensity of it intrigued her, even if she wouldn't let herself dwell on the thought for too long. No one on the team, apart from the executive members and the drivers, knew about her connection to McLaren, and she intended to keep it that way. She wasn't after special treatment—just the opportunity to find her footing in this world on her own.

Later that evening, the hotel bar was alive with chatter, the hum of conversation and occasional bursts of laughter creating a comforting backdrop. Team members and familiar faces from other crews mingled, unwinding after a long day. Nina sat at a quiet corner table, nursing a glass of wine. Her thoughts wandered as she scanned the room, content to observe rather than engage.

"Looks like you've found the quietest spot in the place," came a voice from behind her, smooth and unmistakable.

She turned to see Lando, casually dressed in a McLaren polo and jeans, holding a bottle of sparkling water. His grin wasn't as cocky as usual—softer, less deliberate. It disarmed her, though she quickly buried the feeling.

"What do you want, Norris?" she asked, her tone even but guarded.

He pulled out the chair opposite her and sat down as if he belonged there. "Just a chat. Is that a crime?"

She rolled her eyes but didn't tell him to leave. "Don't you have better things to do?"

"Probably," he said with a shrug, setting the bottle on the counter of the bar. "But I couldn't resist the chance to see how our special guest is handling all this."

"I'm fine," she replied curtly, swirling her wine. "Though I don't know how you all live like this. It's nonstop."

He smirked. "That's the fun part. You get hooked on the chaos."

"Hooked," she repeated with a raised eyebrow. "Sounds more like a problem than a lifestyle."

"Coming from someone who spends hours chasing a little white ball," he teased, his grin widening.

She gave him a flat look but couldn't suppress the small smile tugging at her lips. "Touché."

The banter felt easy, disarmingly so, but beneath the lighthearted words, the tension lingered. It wasn't the combative energy that usually sparked between them—it was quieter, simmering just beneath the surface. Nina hated how effortlessly he drew her in, how his presence unsettled her in ways she didn't entirely understand.

The tension thickened when they stepped into the elevator together. The hum of the bar faded as the doors slid shut, leaving only the charged silence between them. Nina stared straight ahead, refusing to meet his gaze, but she could feel it—heavy and unrelenting.

"Still mad at me?" he asked, his voice low and teasing, breaking the quiet.

She didn't look at him. "Should I be?"

"You seem to enjoy it," he said, stepping closer. "Keeps things interesting."

Her breath hitched, her control slipping for a moment, and she turned to face him, her back pressing against the elevator wall. "You think this is a joke, don't you?"

He leaned in slightly, his voice dipping, quieter now. "Does it feel like a joke to you?"

The elevator doors opened with a quiet chime, cutting through the tension like a blade. Nina stepped out quickly, her heart pounding, her pace brisk as she made her way toward her room. She didn't look back, but the sound of his footsteps trailing behind her made her stop just outside her door.

"Lando," she said sharply, spinning to face him. "What are you doing?"

He stopped, his expression unreadable, his hands resting loosely at his sides. "I don't know," he admitted softly, his voice barely above a whisper.

She stared at him, her hand hovering over the keycard. The air between them crackled with something unspoken, something heavy. He stepped closer, his presence overwhelming in the dimly lit hallway.

She didn't move, her pulse quickening as he reached her, his gaze never wavering. Without thinking, she closed the remaining distance between them. His lips were on hers in an instant, urgent and unrelenting.

The keycard slipped from her hand as he leaned in, his lips brushing her ear. "Let me," Lando murmured, his voice low and deliberate. His fingers closed around hers, guiding the card into the slot with practiced ease.

The lock clicked, but before she could move, he pressed her gently against the door, his hands finding her waist in a way that made her pulse race. The world outside vanished, leaving only the sound of their shallow breaths and the erratic thud of her heart.

This wasn't logical. It wasn't planned. But it was inevitable.

With a firm push, the door swung open, and they stumbled inside. Before it even had the chance to close, he turned her to face it, his body pressing against her back as he guided her hands forward, bracing them against the smooth surface.

His lips found her neck, biting and sucking without hesitation. The scrape of his stubble against her skin sent a jolt through her, and she gasped as his hands slid down her sides, rough and deliberate.

"Fuck," he muttered, his voice low and rough against her ear. "You've been driving me insane."

She smirked, breathless. "Good."

The sound he made—a guttural growl deep in his throat—set her pulse racing. His hands moved quickly, yanking her jeans down in one sharp motion. The cold air hit her skin, sharp and bracing, but the heat of his body against hers overwhelmed everything else. His grip tightened on her hips, pulling her back into him with a force that made her gasp.

There was no hesitation, no preamble—just the raw, urgent clash of their bodies. Her palms pressed hard against the door as he thrust into her, sharp and relentless, his every movement deliberate and demanding.

"Fuck, Nina," he growled, his voice ragged and guttural, his grip bruising as he held her in place. His breath came in hot bursts against her shoulder, every thrust sharper than the last, his pace unyielding. The sound of skin meeting skin echoed in the room, her gasps and his low, throaty moans filling the air.

"Don't hold back," he snarled, his voice breaking with the intensity of it.

Her nails scraped against the door as her restraint slipped, her cries spilling freely now, each one spurring him on. His hands tightened on her hips, his control absolute, every movement drawing her closer to the edge until there was nothing left but heat and chaos.

When the climax came, it hit like a breaking wave, leaving her trembling and breathless. He stilled against her, his chest heaving as he pressed his forehead lightly against the back of her shoulder. For a moment, they stayed there, the air between them heavy and charged.

For a moment, the room was silent, the air thick with the scent of sweat and sex. He pulled back, his hands trailing down her sides before stepping away. Neither of them spoke, and she didn't look back as she adjusted her clothes.

It wasn't tender, it wasn't romantic—but it was exactly what they both wanted. Pure desire.

Chapter Text

Nina stood by the door, her hand gripping the edge of the handle as Lando pulled his shirt back on, his movements casual and unhurried. He glanced at her, his expression unreadable, though the faintest hint of a smirk played at his lips.

"So, are we done with the attitude now?" he asked, his tone light, almost dismissive.

She rolled her eyes, her grip tightening on the door handle. "Just leave, Lando."

He took a step closer, tilting his head slightly as if studying her. "You're not going to get all sentimental about this, are you?"

Her jaw clenched, the words stinging even though she refused to show it. "Don't flatter yourself," she said coolly. "This meant nothing."

"Good," he replied, his voice easy. "We're on the same page, then."

Her heart twisted, but she kept her face calm, her tone steady. "Alright. You should go."

Lando shrugged, his smirk softening into something less certain as he stepped closer to the door. "Take care, Hart."

She nodded faintly, not trusting herself to say anything else. He opened the door and glanced back briefly, his expression unreadable before he disappeared into the hallway. The door shut behind him with a soft click, leaving her standing there in the silence. She leaned against it for a moment, exhaling sharply, her mind racing.

For him, it had been nothing—a fleeting moment, easily dismissed. But as much as she wanted to believe it was the same for her, the ache in her chest told her otherwise. She cursed under her breath, pushing herself off the door and pacing the room. She needed to get him out of her head.

It was just sex, she reminded herself. Just another mistake. And mistakes could be forgotten.

Silverstone hummed with energy as the Grand Prix weekend kicked into full swing. The McLaren garages were a hive of activity, engineers and crew bustling around the cars, their focus unwavering. Nina stayed on the periphery, trying to blend into the organized chaos without drawing too much attention. Her presence here already felt strange enough—being part of a world she'd kept at arm's length her entire life.

Avoiding Lando was easier than she expected, thanks to the sheer size of the paddock and the distraction of the team's preparations. She spent most of her time in Oscar's garage, grateful for his easygoing demeanor and the lack of tension that seemed to follow Lando everywhere.

Oscar greeted her with a friendly smile as she leaned against a workbench, watching the team make last-minute adjustments to his car. "Back again, huh? Starting to like it here?"

She smirked. "Don't push your luck, Piastri. I'm here for the view, not the company."

He chuckled. "Careful, or I'll think you're starting to enjoy yourself."

"Only because you're less irritating than your teammate," she shot back, her tone light but pointed.

Oscar's smile didn't waver, though he glanced toward the other side of the garage where Lando was deep in conversation with his engineer. "You and Lando have... an interesting dynamic."

Nina's smirk faltered, but she recovered quickly. "There's no dynamic. He just enjoys being a pain."

"If you say so," Oscar said with a shrug, though his expression suggested he wasn't entirely convinced.

She shifted her attention back to the car, eager to steer the conversation away from Lando. "So, how do you feel about the race? Nervous?"

"Not really," he said, leaning against the bench beside her. "Silverstone's special, but it's just another race when you strip it down. Focus on the strategy, drive the car, and hope everything goes to plan."

"Just another race," she echoed, her tone skeptical. "Doesn't feel like that from where I'm standing."

Oscar grinned. "That's because you're new to this circus. Stick around long enough, and you'll see—it's controlled chaos, but it's still just chaos."

"Comforting," she said dryly, though her lips twitched in a faint smile.

The first practice session began soon after, and Nina stayed in Oscar's garage, watching as he headed out onto the track. The screens in the garage displayed telemetry and lap times, the sound of engines roaring past almost deafening even through the noise-canceling headphones Zak had handed her earlier.

She glanced toward Lando's garage once, catching a glimpse of him talking animatedly with his team. Their eyes didn't meet, and she quickly looked away, focusing instead on the data scrolling across the monitors.

By the end of the session, she felt more at ease, her curiosity about the sport slowly overtaking her initial discomfort. She found herself asking questions, her interest growing as Zak and Harry explained the intricacies of the car setups and race strategies.

But no matter how much she tried to immerse herself in the technical side of things, she couldn't fully shake the awareness of Lando's presence. He was always just on the edge of her vision—walking past, laughing with a crew member, or leaning casually against a wall, exuding the effortless confidence that grated on her nerves.

By the time the day wound down, she was exhausted, both from the intensity of the environment and the effort of pretending he didn't affect her. She caught up with Oscar one last time before heading out, grateful for his calm energy.

"Good luck tomorrow," she said, giving him a small smile. "You've got this."

"Thanks, Nina," he replied, his grin genuine. "I'll do my best."

As she made her way back to her car, the cool evening air provided a brief reprieve from the noise and tension of the day. But even as she drove back to the hotel, her mind couldn't quite settle.

It was just sex, she reminded herself again. Just a mistake. And yet, no matter how hard she tried, the memory of Lando—his voice, his touch, the way he looked at her—refused to fade.

Chapter Text

Race day at Silverstone was electric. The grandstands were packed, a sea of fans waving flags and cheering as the cars lined up on the grid. The energy was palpable, the kind of buzz that made even Nina, who'd never cared for motorsport, feel a rush of adrenaline.

She stayed close to Oscar's side throughout the pre-race preparations. His calm, steady demeanor had become a grounding presence over the past few days, and she was grateful for it. She could hear Lando's voice occasionally from the other side of the garage, barking instructions to his engineer or cracking a joke with a crew member. She ignored it as best she could.

"Excited?" Oscar asked as he adjusted his gloves, his race suit already zipped up.

"Excited might be a stretch," she replied, a faint smile tugging at her lips. "But I'm curious to see if you're as good as everyone keeps saying."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence," he said, laughing softly. "Stick around, Hart. I might surprise you."

She gave him a small wave as he headed toward his car, the team gathering around him for last-minute adjustments. She stayed in the back, out of the way, her heart pounding slightly as the countdown to the race began.

The roar of the engines as the lights went out was deafening, a visceral sound that sent vibrations through the ground. She watched intently as the cars darted forward, weaving for position. The sheer speed and precision of it all were mesmerizing in a way she hadn't anticipated.

"Impressive, isn't it?" Zak's voice came from beside her, startling her slightly.

She nodded, not taking her eyes off the screens showing different angles of the track. "It's... intense. I didn't realize how much goes into it."

"Now you're starting to understand," he said, a note of pride in his voice. "This is what your grandfather built—this drive to push limits, to innovate. It's in your blood, Nina."

She didn't respond, her attention flickering between Oscar's lap times and the live footage of the cars battling on track. But his words lingered, unsettling in their weight.

As the race progressed, the tension in the garage grew. Pit stops, overtakes, and strategy calls kept everyone on edge. Nina found herself gripping the back of a chair as Oscar defended his position against a rival car, the two machines mere inches apart at over 200 miles per hour.

"Come on, Oscar," she muttered under her breath, her fingers tightening as he successfully held the line.

The race ended with both McLaren cars in the points, Lando finishing ahead of Oscar. The team erupted into cheers, the garage buzzing with celebration. Nina stayed back, letting the crew bask in their victory. She watched as Lando climbed out of his car, pulling off his helmet and ruffling his sweat-dampened hair. He was immediately surrounded by cameras and microphones, his grin wide and his energy infectious.

She didn't linger, slipping out of the garage and heading toward the paddock hospitality area. The noise and excitement were overwhelming, and she needed a moment to herself. As she stepped onto the terrace overlooking the track, the cool breeze brushed against her skin, carrying with it the faint scent of rubber and fuel.

"Escaping already?" a familiar voice drawled from behind her.

She turned to find Lando leaning against the railing, a water bottle in hand and a mischievous glint in his eye. His race suit was unzipped to the waist, revealing the black fireproof layer beneath, and his hair was still damp with sweat.

"I needed air," she said simply, turning back to the view.

He stepped closer, his tone lighter than it had been in days. "So, what did you think?"

"About what?"

"The race," he said, gesturing toward the track. "My driving. Oscar's driving. The whole spectacle."

She glanced at him, her expression unreadable. "You were fast."

He laughed. "That's the idea, Hart."

She rolled her eyes but couldn't entirely hide her amusement. "Oscar was impressive, too."

"Careful," he teased, leaning slightly closer. "You're going to hurt my ego."

She looked at him then, really looked at him, and for a moment, the tension between them resurfaced, sharp and undeniable, like static in the air.

Nina turned her gaze back to the emptying track, but she couldn't ignore the weight of his presence beside her. Everything about him seemed designed to get under her skin—his damp hair, still tousled from the race; the faint sheen of sweat on his skin catching the light; the way his fireproof shirt clung to his chest and arms, outlining every lean, toned muscle. He leaned casually against the railing, as if completely unaware of the effect he had—or worse, completely aware.

What is wrong with me? she thought, her jaw tightening. Why am I so attracted to this man?

She stole a quick glance at him, only to find him watching her, a knowing smirk tugging at his lips. Damn him. He probably knew exactly what effect he had on people, and he enjoyed every second of it.

"You're awfully quiet," he said, his voice low and smooth. "Not like you."

She exhaled sharply, forcing herself to focus on the track. "Maybe I just don't have anything to say."

"That's a first," he teased, shifting closer so that their arms almost brushed. The heat radiating from him was maddening, his scent—a mix of sweat and something sharper, something distinctly Lando—only adding to her frustration.

She turned to him abruptly, her voice sharp. "Do you always make everything into a game?"

He raised an eyebrow, his smirk widening. "Only when I'm winning."

Her eyes narrowed, but the corner of her mouth twitched despite herself. This man was infuriating. He made her want to scream, to storm off, and yet there was something magnetic about him, something she couldn't shake no matter how hard she tried.

"I don't know why I even bother talking to you," she muttered, more to herself than to him.

"Because you can't resist me," he said, his voice dipping, his gaze steady.

Her breath hitched, and she cursed inwardly. He wasn't wrong, and that infuriated her even more.

"Get over yourself, Norris," she said, her tone defensive. But her heart was pounding, and she hated the way her body reacted to him, the way his confidence only seemed to stoke the fire he'd ignited in her.

Lando leaned back against the railing, his grin softening into something more sincere. "You're thinking too hard, Hart. Just enjoy it."

"Enjoy what?" she snapped, though her voice wavered slightly.

"This," he said simply, gesturing between them. "The banter. The tension. The fact that you're standing here trying to convince yourself you're not attracted to me."

She stared at him, her pulse racing, but she didn't deny it. She couldn't. No matter how much she wanted to hate him, no matter how infuriating he was, the pull she felt every time he was near was impossible to ignore.

Her chest tightened, her thoughts scrambling to regain control. This ends tonight, she told herself firmly. The race is over, and once I leave, I won't have to see him again.

But the certainty she tried to cling to didn't stop the flicker of heat between them, nor the way his words lingered, refusing to be dismissed.

Chapter Text

Nina sat cross-legged on the couch in her Monaco apartment, her best friend Mila sprawled beside her, legs dangling lazily over the armrest. The faint scent of saltwater drifted through the open balcony door, carried by the gentle Mediterranean breeze.

Mila had arrived the night before, fresh from her whirlwind university life in London. She was eager to soak up the sun—and even more eager to pry into all the details Nina had conveniently left out of their recent texts. Reclining comfortably on the lounger, sunglasses balanced on her nose, Mila's expression was a mix of disbelief and barely contained amusement.

"So let me get this straight," Mila began, pulling her sunglasses down to look Nina in the eye. "Not only did you sleep with him in Monaco, but you went back for round two at Silverstone? In your hotel room?"

Nina groaned, slumping back in her chair. "It wasn't like that."

Mila's smirk widened. "Oh, it wasn't? Enlighten me, please."

"It wasn't romantic or anything," Nina said sharply, waving a hand as if brushing the thought away. "It was just sex, Mila. Pure sex. That's all. Mutual attraction, a bit of tension, and... well, you know."

Mila arched an eyebrow, clearly not buying the dismissal. "Just sex?"

"Yes," Nina said firmly, her tone leaving no room for argument. "It wasn't some starry-eyed moment. It was raw, messy, and completely devoid of feelings. And that's exactly why it ends there."

Mila snorted, clearly unconvinced. "Raw, messy, and devoid of feelings, huh? Sounds like denial to me. Or maybe just really good chemistry."

"It's not chemistry," Nina shot back, her voice defensive. "It's biology. Attraction. Nothing more."

"Biology, sure," Mila said, leaning forward with a wicked grin. "But twice? With the same guy? That's not biology—that's compatibility."

Nina groaned again, rubbing her temples. "You're impossible."

Mila chuckled, her teasing softening into something gentler. "Alright, let's say it was just sex. Pure, detached, no-strings-attached sex. Why do you seem so worked up about it now?"

"I'm not worked up," Nina protested, though the edge in her voice betrayed her. "It's just... complicated. He's complicated. And he's not what I want or need in my life right now."

Mila tilted her head, her gaze sharp. "Are you sure about that? Because the way you keep talking about him says otherwise."

Nina shook her head, setting her coffee down with a clatter. "He's not boyfriend material, Mila. He's chaos, and I'm not throwing myself into that. I need stability. Predictability. Someone who actually fits into my life."

Mila studied her for a moment, her teasing replaced with a more thoughtful expression. "So what's the plan, then? Find Mr. Stable-and-Boring to help you forget all about him?"

"Yes," Nina said, her jaw set. "I'll find someone who actually makes sense for me. And Lando... he'll be a distant memory."

Mila sighed, leaning back in her chair. "You're running from something, Nina. And trust me, running never works."

"I'm not running," Nina snapped. "I'm moving on. There's a difference."

"Keep telling yourself that," Mila said with a shrug, lifting her sunglasses back into place. "But don't come crying to me when he's still stuck in your head."

Nina kept her gaze fixed on the sparkling sea, trying to quiet the nagging voice in her mind that insisted Mila wasn't entirely wrong. She wanted to believe she was in control, that she could push Lando out of her head—but the doubt lingered.

Her thoughts were still spinning when her phone buzzed on the table beside her. She glanced at it, expecting a message from her coach or a tournament update. But the name flashing on the screen made her stomach twist.

Lando.

Her heart gave a betraying thud, and Mila immediately noticed her sudden stillness.

"Who is it?" Mila asked, leaning over with a curious grin. Then she spotted the name. "Oh, no way. Speak of the devil. What does he want?"

Nina didn't answer right away, her thumb hovering over the screen. Part of her wanted to ignore it, to toss the phone off the balcony and pretend he didn't exist. She'd told herself it was over, that she couldn't do this again. But another part—a part she hated—was curious.

She unlocked the phone and read the message.

Lando:  So, Monaco. You free for a round three, Hart?

Her jaw clenched, and Mila leaned closer, reading the text over her shoulder. "Oh my God," Mila said, bursting into laughter. "This man has no shame."

Nina set the phone down as if it had burned her, crossing her arms over her chest. "What a dick."

Mila raised an eyebrow, her smirk devilish. "And yet, you still want to jump his bones, don't you?"

Nina shot her a sharp look, heat rising to her cheeks. "I absolutely do not."

Nina's phone buzzed again, the second message flashing across the screen.

Lando: Come on, I know you want it too... can't stop thinking about the way you sounded...🥵

"Oh ho ho," Mila said, her voice high-pitched with disbelief. "Why am I blushing?!" She turned to Nina, her grin pure mischief. "Seriously, are you this good at sex, or is he just easily impressed?"

Nina groaned, snatching the phone back with a glare. "Mila, shut up!"

She slammed the phone down on the table, face down, crossing her arms as she tried to ignore the heat rising to her cheeks.

Mila leaned back, laughing so hard she was nearly in tears. "I mean, come on, Nina. The audacity! The confidence! You've got to give him credit."

"I don't have to give him anything," Nina muttered, glaring at the table like it had personally offended her.

Mila grinned, clearly enjoying herself. "So... are you going to reply?"

Before Nina could respond, her phone buzzed again. She froze, already dreading the third message. Mila snatched it up before Nina could stop her, her grin widening as she read it aloud.

Lando:  I want you.

Mila gasped dramatically, holding the phone just out of Nina's reach. "Oh, he's not messing about now!"

"Mila," Nina warned, snatching the phone back and glaring at the screen. Her heart was pounding, but she refused to let Mila see just how much the message had rattled her.

Mila crossed her arms, her smirk turning devilish. "So, what's it going to be? A cold, icy response? Or are you going to finally admit you're into him?"

Nina stared at the glowing screen, her mind racing. Her fingers hovered over the keyboard as she typed out her response, determined to maintain control.

Nina:  You're disgusting, you know that?

The reply came almost instantly, as if he'd been waiting for her.

Lando:  Only for you, Hart.

Her breath caught, her cheeks flushing, but she forced herself to stay composed. Mila, not one to miss anything, leaned over her shoulder and let out a loud laugh.

"Wow," Mila said, shaking her head. "He really knows how to keep the upper hand. How are you not chucking your phone straight into the sea?"

"I'm close," Nina muttered, glaring at the screen as if it were the source of all her frustrations.

Mila grinned, leaning back into the couch. "So what's next? You tell him off, or...?"

"I tell him off," Nina said firmly, typing furiously.

Nina:  Go find someone else to bother, Lando. I'm not interested.

The dots appeared almost immediately.

Lando:  Liar.

Mila laughed so hard she nearly spilled her drink. "Oh my God, Nina, he's impossible. You should block him."

"I should," Nina said, her fingers hovering over the block button. But she didn't press it. Instead, she stared at the screen, her pulse racing. Mila's teasing words rang in her ears.

Nina:  You're such a knob. What exactly do you want, Norris?

The reply came quicker than she expected.

Lando:  You.

Mila gasped, snatching the phone to read the exchange. Her eyes widened, and she clutched her chest dramatically. "God, my heart is beating so fast! This is better than any rom-com I've ever watched." She handed the phone back with a wicked grin. "Your move, Hart."

Nina stared at the screen, her heart pounding. She knew better than to play into this game, but her fingers betrayed her.

Nina:  Prove it.

The dots appeared again, and Mila practically squealed with delight. "Nina, I love this for you."

"Shut up," Nina muttered, but she couldn't help the thrill that zipped through her as she waited for his reply.

Lando:  Your place. Tonight.

Nina set the phone down, ignoring Mila's triumphant look. "I'm not saying yes."

"You didn't say no either," Mila said, her grin devilish.

"I hate you," Nina mumbled, though her lips twitched with the hint of a smile.

Because the worst part? Mila was right.

Chapter Text

The door clicked shut behind Mila, her laughter still ringing in Nina's ears as she left for a night out with friends. "Don't do anything I wouldn't do!" Mila had teased, winking before disappearing down the hallway.

Nina exhaled slowly, staring at the door for a moment before turning to her apartment. The cozy living space suddenly felt much larger, the silence pressing in on her like an unspoken question. She glanced at her phone on the coffee table, Lando's last message still glowing on the screen.

Your place. Tonight.

Her heart thudded uncomfortably, and she pressed a hand to her chest as if she could physically calm it. She shouldn't have replied. She shouldn't have let this spiral. But now, with Mila gone and the sun sinking below the horizon, there was no escaping it.

A knock on the door broke her reverie. Her pulse jumped, and she stood frozen for a moment, staring at the handle as if it might move on its own.

Another knock. This one firmer.

"Nina, it's me," came his familiar voice, muffled but unmistakably smug.

Her fingers itched to reach for the door, to open it and confront him—or maybe to slam it in his face. She hadn't decided which yet. Taking a deep breath, she straightened her shoulders and strode toward the door, her bare feet silent on the hardwood floor.

When she opened it, Lando stood there, his hands shoved casually into the pockets of his jeans, a mischievous smirk tugging at his lips. His eyes sparkled with that infuriating mix of confidence and charm that made it impossible to look away.

"Hey," he said, leaning slightly against the doorframe. "You gonna let me in, or are we doing this in the hallway?"

Nina stepped aside, saying nothing, and gestured for Lando to enter. He slipped past her with that same air of casual arrogance, his smirk unwavering as he surveyed the space. It wasn't his first time here, but tonight there was a tension in the air that hadn't been there before.

Nina closed the door quietly, pressing her palm against the cool wood for a moment as if it could steady her racing heart. When she turned around, Lando was standing in the center of the room, hands still in his pockets, his eyes fixed on her.

"You're quiet tonight," he said, tilting his head. "Not like you."

She crossed her arms over her chest, leaning against the door. "What do you want, Lando?"

He chuckled, his smirk softening into something more playful. "We both know the answer to that."

"Lando, we shouldn't be doing this," Nina said, her voice firm but tinged with hesitation. "It's not right."

His smirk faltered slightly, softening into something more tender. He stepped closer, his eyes locked on hers, and reached out, his fingers brushing lightly against her arm. The touch sent a shiver through her, her resolve wavering as his hand traveled down to rest gently on her waist.

"Why not?" he murmured, his voice quieter now, almost serious. His thumb moved in slow, deliberate circles against her hip, his gaze never leaving hers. "What's so wrong about two people who clearly want each other... being honest about it?"

Her breath caught as his other hand came up, the back of his fingers grazing her cheek before tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. His touch was featherlight, yet it sent a cascade of warmth through her. She wanted to argue, to push him away and say all the things she knew she was supposed to. But her body betrayed her, leaning into his hand as it slid down her neck, his fingertips tracing an almost agonizingly soft line to her collarbone.

"Lando..." she whispered, her voice trembling, barely audible over the pounding of her heart. She should stop this. She knew she should stop this.

But then he tilted her chin up, his thumb brushing against her jaw, and her resolve shattered.

Without thinking, without questioning, she closed the distance between them, her lips crashing into his in a kiss that was equal parts desperate and hungry. He responded instantly, his hands tightening on her waist as he pulled her closer, deepening the kiss. It was messy, intense, and all-consuming, every ounce of tension between them spilling out in that moment.

She knew it was reckless. She knew it would only complicate things further. But with his hands on her and his lips claiming hers, all her reasons melted away, leaving only the undeniable truth of how much she wanted him.

Lando's hands gripped Nina's hips firmly, his breath hot against her neck as he leaned closer. His voice was rough, laced with heat and dominance as he spoke. "Don't move, Nina," he growled, his tone sending a shiver through her. "Stay just like that."

Her hands clutched the back of the couch for balance, her breath catching as he thrust into her again, harder this time, his hips snapping against hers with a relentless rhythm. She bit her lip to stifle the moan threatening to escape, but Lando wasn't having it.

"Let me hear you," he demanded, his fingers digging into her skin as he pulled her back against him. "You sound so fucking good when you're loud, Nina. Don't you dare hold back."

A whimper escaped her lips, and his grip tightened. "That's it," he muttered, his voice dripping with raw need. "That's my girl. Taking me so fucking well."

Her body trembled under his touch, and she felt his lips on her shoulder, his teeth grazing her skin before he bit down lightly. "You're so fucking perfect," he murmured, his pace quickening. "Every inch of you, Nina. You drive me mad."

"Lando," she gasped, her voice breaking as pleasure surged through her. His name was barely a whisper on her lips, but it was enough to spur him on.

"Say it louder," he commanded, one hand snaking around to grip her jaw, tilting her head back so he could whisper into her ear. "I want to hear you screaming my name when you come. You're mine tonight, Nina. All fucking mine."

She couldn't hold back anymore. Her moans filled the room, mingling with the sound of their bodies colliding, the raw, unfiltered heat of the moment taking over completely. Lando's grip was unrelenting, his movements precise and punishing as he pushed her closer and closer to the edge.

"You feel that?" he growled, his hand sliding down her stomach to press between her thighs, amplifying the pressure. "You're so fucking wet for me. God, I can't get enough of you."

Her legs nearly gave out, but he held her firmly in place, his control absolute. "Don't you dare collapse on me," he warned, his voice low and dangerous. "You're not done yet."

"Lando," she moaned again, her voice trembling as the tension coiled tighter inside her.

"That's it," he encouraged, his tone softer now but no less commanding. "Come for me, Nina. Let me feel you fall apart."

The words pushed her over the edge, her body shattering under the force of her release. Her cries filled the room, and Lando groaned in response, his grip on her tightening as he followed moments later, his body tensing against hers.

For a long moment, neither of them moved, the only sound in the room their ragged breathing. Finally, Lando leaned forward, pressing a soft kiss to her shoulder before resting his forehead against her back.

"You're fucking incredible," he muttered, his voice hoarse but filled with satisfaction.

Nina's legs felt like jelly, but his arms stayed around her, holding her upright. She turned her head slightly, catching a glimpse of his smirk. "You're impossible," she muttered, her voice weak but tinged with a hint of amusement.

"And yet you're not kicking me out," he teased, nipping at her ear. "Guess that means you're stuck with me a little longer."

She rolled her eyes but couldn't stop the small smile that tugged at her lips. Despite everything, despite the chaos, she wasn't entirely sure she minded.

Lando's smirk softened as he shifted slightly, his arms still loose around her waist. "Can I stay a little longer?" he asked, his voice quieter, almost uncertain.

Nina blinked, surprised by the question. She turned her head to look at him, her brow furrowing. "What?" she asked, caught off guard.

"I mean it," he said, his gaze searching hers. "Just for a bit. No expectations. I just... I don't really feel like leaving yet."

His vulnerability took her by surprise, the usual cocky bravado replaced by something softer, more genuine. She hesitated, unsure of how to respond.

"Alright," she said finally, her voice quiet. "You can stay."

The small, grateful smile that crossed his face made her heart twist in a way she wasn't ready to examine. She leaned back against him, letting the moment settle as the chaos between them gave way to an unexpected calm.

Chapter Text

Nina leaned back against the couch, the soft glow of the television lighting up her face as she adjusted the blanket over her lap. Lando sat next to her, his body relaxed but close enough that their shoulders brushed. She still wasn't sure how they'd gotten here—him staying, sharing a meal, and now watching something silly on Netflix. But the easy rhythm between them felt surprisingly natural.

"So, your best friend Mila is out?" Lando asked, taking a bite of the pizza slice he'd commandeered from the box between them.

"Yeah," Nina said, rolling her eyes. "She's probably terrorizing some club by now, but she said she'd be back by midnight."

Lando smirked, leaning back further into the cushions. "Guess that means I've got a bit more time to charm you."

"Charm me?" Nina shot him a look, unable to suppress a small laugh. "That's bold considering you've already overstayed your welcome."

"Overstayed?" Lando raised an eyebrow, feigning offense. "I'd say I'm providing excellent company. And, if I might add, great sex."

Nina shot him a sidelong glance, her lips curving into a faint smirk. "Not gonna comment on the last one."

He grinned, leaning back with a self-assured shrug. "No comment is still a compliment, Hart."

They turned their attention back to the screen, the comedy special pulling laughter from both of them. The tension from earlier in the night had eased, replaced by a lightness that felt almost domestic. They bantered over the jokes, and at some point, Nina's head found its way onto Lando's shoulder.

By the time the credits rolled, her laughter had faded into soft breaths. Lando glanced down, realizing she had fallen asleep, her face peaceful against his arm. A small smile tugged at his lips as he adjusted the blanket over her and leaned back, letting himself relax.

The sound of the front door opening startled him slightly, and Mila's voice broke the quiet. "Nina? You better not have eaten all the pizza!"

Lando looked over his shoulder just as Mila appeared in the doorway, her expression shifting from surprise to amusement as she took in the scene. "Oh. Hi," she said, her tone laced with curiosity. "Didn't realize we had company."

Lando gave her a casual wave, careful not to disturb Nina. "Hi. I'm Lando."

Mila's eyebrows shot up. "Oh, I know who you are," she said, her smirk growing. "And I'm guessing you're the reason she's passed out like that?"

"Couldn't say," Lando replied with a playful shrug.

Mila snickered, crossing her arms. "Right. Well, carry on. Don't let me ruin the moment."

Lando carefully shifted, scooping Nina into his arms. She stirred slightly but didn't wake, her head resting against his chest as he stood. "I'll get her to bed," he said simply, nodding toward the bedroom.

Mila stepped aside, watching him with a mixture of amusement and mild suspicion. "Uh-huh. Just don't make a habit of this, Romeo."

Lando chuckled as he carried Nina down the hall, pushing open the door to her room with his foot. He laid her down gently, pulling the blanket over her before brushing a stray strand of hair from her face. For a moment, he lingered, watching her sleep, a softness in his expression that he didn't fully understand.

He straightened and turned to find Mila leaning against the doorframe, her arms crossed and a knowing look on her face. "Well, aren't you full of surprises?" she remarked.

"Goodnight, Mila," Lando said, sidestepping her with a grin.

"Bye, Lando," she called after him, her tone teasing as he grabbed his jacket from the couch and slipped out the door.

Mila glanced back at Nina, still fast asleep, and shook her head with a chuckle. "What the hell did I miss?" she muttered before turning off the TV and heading to her own room.

Sunlight filtered through the curtains, casting a soft glow across Nina's room. She stirred, the warmth of the morning pulling her from sleep. As her eyes fluttered open, memories of the night before trickled back, and she groaned softly, burying her face in the pillow.

The faint sound of clinking dishes caught her attention. Frowning, she sat up, brushing her hair from her face and padding toward the kitchen. To her surprise, she found Mila leaning against the counter, a steaming mug in hand, clearly alone.

"Morning, sleepyhead," Mila greeted, her grin wicked. "Looks like you had quite the night."

Nina blinked, glancing around for any sign of Lando. "He's gone?" she asked, her voice still groggy.

Mila nodded, taking a sip from her mug. "Left right after he tucked you in. Didn't even linger to finish the pizza. Classy exit, if you ask me."

Nina sighed in relief, rubbing her temple. "Good. That's... good."

Mila smirked, clearly enjoying herself. "Uh-huh. So, what's the deal with you two? He looked pretty comfortable carrying you around like that."

"There's no deal," Nina said quickly, grabbing a mug for herself. "It's nothing."

"Sure didn't look like nothing," Mila teased, her eyes sparkling. "But hey, who am I to judge? You do you, Hart."

Nina groaned, pouring herself some coffee. "Please let this go."

Mila chuckled, raising her mug in mock surrender. "Fine, fine. But don't think I won't bring it up later."

Nina rolled her eyes but couldn't suppress the small smile tugging at her lips. Despite Mila's teasing, she couldn't stop thinking about Lando—and the way he'd made her feel before he left.

Chapter Text

The days stretched into weeks, and there was no sign of Lando. No messages, no calls—nothing to suggest she'd even crossed his mind since that night. It wasn't a surprise; he'd done it before. Nina told herself it was better this way, that she didn't need the distraction. Yet, as the silence stretched on, an uneasy weight pressed against her chest.

One evening, after a long day of practice and an even longer stretch of overthinking, Nina finally caved. She picked up her phone, scrolling through her messages until she found his name. Her fingers hesitated over the keyboard before she typed out a simple message.

Nina: Hey, how've you been?

She stared at the screen, her heart pounding as she hit send. Minutes passed, then hours, but there was no response. The message sat there, unread, a stark reminder of the distance between them.

By the time she went to bed that night, Nina told herself she wouldn't try again. If he didn't want to reply, that was his choice. But deep down, the lack of response stung more than she wanted to admit.

The following afternoon, just as Nina was settling into her post-practice routine, her phone buzzed on the counter. She glanced at it, and Zak Brown's name lit up the screen. This time, it wasn't a text or a casual message—it was a call.

Nina hesitated for a moment, then picked up. "Zak," she greeted, trying to sound more composed than she felt. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"Nina! Thought I'd give you a call," Zak said, his tone warm and upbeat. "With the next Grand Prix coming up, I think it's the perfect time for you to join us again. The team's pushing hard for the championship, and we're so close. It'd be great to have you there to see it all unfold."

Nina blinked. "Another GP? Zak, I—"

"Hold on," he interrupted smoothly, "before you decide against it, you know I respect your decision to stay incognito with the team, the media, and everyone else. This isn't about promotion or meeting sponsors. Think of it as an experience—a chance to really see what makes this team tick. Plus, I've got a few things lined up that I think you'd find fascinating."

She chewed her lip, her mind flickering to Lando. Zak had no idea about the strange, unresolved tension between them, and she wasn't about to explain it now. But the thought of possibly seeing Lando again made her stomach flip.

Nina shifted the phone to her other ear, her mind already racing. "Zak, I appreciate the invite, really, but I can't. I've got the Dubai tournament coming up in early December. It's a major one for me, and I can't afford to split my focus right now."

Zak let out a low whistle. "Ah, Dubai. Of course. That's a big one, isn't it?"

"It is," she confirmed, her tone firm but not unkind. "I need every minute I can get to prepare. Traveling right now just isn't an option."

There was a brief pause, then Zak's voice perked up again. "Alright, I hear you. But how about this—after the tournament, you come to Abu Dhabi for the last race of the season? It's not far from Dubai, and it's the grand finale. A perfect way to wrap up your year and, who knows, maybe pick up a bit of inspiration."

Nina hesitated. The idea was tempting—less disruptive to her schedule, and Abu Dhabi was practically next door to Dubai. But the potential for running into Lando still lingered in her mind like a shadow. She couldn't pretend the idea didn't give her pause.

"I don't know, Zak," she said cautiously. "That's cutting it pretty close. I might be too drained after the tournament."

"You don't have to decide now," Zak said lightly. "Think about it. I'll save you a spot in the paddock, just in case. And your father might make an appearance—he'd be disappointed if you weren't there."

A small smile touched her lips. "Alright, Zak. I'll think about it. Papa did promise to come see me in Dubai, so I imagine he'll head to the race after the tournament. It's the perfect setup for him."

Zak chuckled. "Sounds about right. And let me tell you, it's shaping up to be one of the most important races of the season. The Constructors' Championship is incredibly tight—probably down to the wire in Abu Dhabi. It could be McLaren's moment to shine, but the pressure will be immense. Having an additional McLaren—or should I say, Hart—around wouldn't hurt."

Nina's smile widened slightly at the subtle slip in his words, but she said nothing. Instead, she nodded, letting the weight of his words settle. "I'll think about it, Zak. Promise."

"Good," Zak said, his tone warm but purposeful. "Focus on your tournament for now. But if you decide to come, I know you won't regret it. And I'm sure your father would love it too."

When the call ended, Nina leaned back against the counter, the quiet of the room settling around her. Abu Dhabi. The thought of being at the final race was both thrilling and unnerving. For now, though, she pushed it aside. Her tournament came first. Whatever happened after that would just have to wait.

Chapter Text

The sun had barely risen over the sprawling Dubai golf course when Nina stepped onto the practice range. The crisp morning air carried the faint hum of city life in the distance, but here, surrounded by dew-kissed grass and the sharp scent of freshly cut fairways, everything felt quieter. Grounded.

Her driver sliced cleanly through the air as she warmed up, each swing a deliberate effort to push distractions out of her mind. The tournament was all that mattered now. She couldn't afford to let her focus slip—not with everything riding on this.

"Nina, your tempo looks solid," Emma said, her tone both encouraging and precise. Clipboard in hand, the caddie watched intently from nearby. "Keep it steady like that, and you'll own the fairways today."

Nina nodded, her lips curving into a faint smile. Emma always had a way of keeping her centered.

As the morning stretched on, Nina's routine fell into place like clockwork: practice swings, putting drills, and a few moments to visualize the course in her mind. She avoided her phone entirely, determined not to let anything pull her out of the zone.

But when she returned to the clubhouse to grab a quick snack before heading to the first tee, her phone buzzed on the counter. Out of habit, she glanced at the screen—and froze.

The name flashing across the notification made her stomach flip: Lando.

Her thumb hovered over the message, hesitation prickling at the edges of her thoughts. Finally, she tapped it open.

Lando: Good luck today. I know you'll crush it.

It was simple, almost casual, but the sight of it unsettled her. Why now? Why today, after all the silence?

For a moment, she just stared at the words, a mix of emotions flickering through her. She didn't respond. There wasn't time, and honestly, she didn't know what she would say.

Instead, she locked the screen, slipped the phone back into her bag, and squared her shoulders. She had a tournament to win, and whatever Lando Norris was doing or thinking could wait.

By the time she stepped onto the first tee, the message was pushed to the back of her mind, buried beneath layers of concentration and determination.

The roar of the crowd faded into white noise as Nina lined up her shot, the weight of the club grounding her. With a deep breath, she swung, the ball soaring through the air in a perfect arc. The applause that followed felt distant, secondary to the rush of satisfaction that came from nailing her opening drive.

The round progressed with a steady rhythm, each hole a chance to build momentum. By the time she reached the back nine, Nina was fully locked in, her focus sharper than it had been in weeks.

It wasn't until she was walking off the 18th green, her scorecard solid and her position on the leaderboard promising, that her thoughts flickered back to her phone. Lando's message was still there, waiting in the background of her mind.

As Emma walked up beside her, grinning wide, Nina let out a small breath.

"Top five going into tomorrow," Emma said, clapping her on the shoulder. "Not bad for a day's work, huh?"

Nina smiled, genuine this time. "Not bad at all."

Tomorrow would be another battle, and the thought of her father attending added a mix of anticipation and pressure. But as Nina left the course, she spotted Lily He, her competitor, practicing on the putting green.

Lily's movements were sharp and precise, her focus unshakable. They exchanged a nod—an acknowledgment of the competition ahead, no words necessary. Their rivalry was a quiet but intense one, driven by mutual respect and the shared understanding of what it took to succeed at this level.

For now, Nina was exactly where she needed to be—focused, in control, and ready to give it everything she had.

The tournament day had arrived, bringing with it the heavy, electric air of competition. Nina kept her focus razor-sharp, but the knowledge that Lily He was right behind her on the leaderboard added an edge to every swing. They weren't just competitors—they were equals in skill, drive, and ambition.

Nina had always respected Lily's game. Her precision was unmatched, and her calm demeanor on the course gave little away. But today, that respect felt like a weight pressing on Nina's shoulders. Every time she glanced at the scoreboard, Lily's name was there, just one stroke behind or ahead, a constant reminder that this wasn't going to be easy.

By the 18th hole, the tension had reached its peak. The crowd was alive with murmurs and applause as both women finished their rounds, their performances nearly identical in brilliance. Nina's heart raced as she sank her final putt, not daring to look at the leaderboard until the last possible moment.

When it was over, the relief and exhaustion hit her all at once. She'd finished strong, but whether it was enough to take the win was still uncertain. As she walked off the green, wiping the sweat from her brow, she spotted Lily by the clubhouse.

Lily was surrounded by a small group of fans and reporters, but when their eyes met, she excused herself and walked over.

"Hell of a game today," Lily said, her voice steady but warm.

"You too," Nina replied, offering a tired smile. "I knew you'd push me to my limit."

Lily laughed lightly, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear. "Same here. You never let me have an easy day out there."

They stood in silence for a moment, the mutual respect between them tangible. It wasn't friendship—not exactly—but it was something close, built on shared experiences and the relentless drive to be the best.

"So, what's next for you?" Lily asked, leaning casually against the railing.

Nina shrugged. "More practice. More tournaments. The usual grind."

Lily nodded but hesitated for a beat before speaking again. "I'm heading to Abu Dhabi after this. Thought I'd take a break from golf for a bit."

"Abu Dhabi?" Nina asked, curiosity piqued.

"Yeah. My boyfriend's in F1," Lily said, almost casually, though there was a hint of pride in her tone. "He's racing in the season finale."

Nina blinked, caught off guard by the revelation. "Your boyfriend's in Formula 1?"

Lily smiled. "Yep. Keeps things interesting. You should come sometime—it's a whole other world."

Nina nodded slowly, the mention of Abu Dhabi stirring a mix of thoughts. She hadn't decided yet whether to accept Zak's offer to attend the Grand Prix, and now this added an unexpected layer of intrigue.

"Well, enjoy the race," Nina said, keeping her tone neutral.

"Thanks," Lily added with a grin before stepping away. "And congrats on today—whatever the final scores say, you earned it."

As Nina watched her leave, she felt a strange unease settle in her chest. The thought of Lily's connection to F1 lingered in her mind, tangling with her own unresolved feelings about that world and the people in it.

For now, though, there was nothing to do but wait for the final results. And as much as she tried to push it aside, Abu Dhabi loomed larger in her thoughts with every passing moment.

Chapter Text

The air was heavy with anticipation as the final scores were announced. Nina stood by the clubhouse, her heart pounding in her chest. The tournament had been grueling, each hole a battle of skill and willpower, but she'd felt something shift as she walked off the 18th green. She knew she'd played one of the best rounds of her career.

"And the winner of the Dubai Invitational, with a final score of nine under par... Nina Hart!"

The crowd erupted into cheers, and Nina's breath caught. For a moment, she stood frozen, the reality of her victory washing over her. Then Emma was by her side, grinning ear to ear as she pulled Nina into a quick hug.

"You did it!" Emma exclaimed, her voice barely audible over the noise.

Nina smiled, fighting to hold back the surge of emotion threatening to overwhelm her. She stepped forward, hands trembling slightly as she accepted the trophy. Its reassuring weight grounded her, the moment finally feeling real. Cameras flashed wildly as she raised it high above her head, her name now etched into the tournament's history.

Lily appeared moments later, her expression warm as she extended her hand. "Congratulations," she said with a grin.

"It was tight," Nina admitted, her voice carrying a mix of relief and exhilaration.

Lily laughed, a competitive glint in her eye. "Yeah, but I'll get you next time."

Nina chuckled, the camaraderie between them only adding to the sweetness of her victory. Later, after the celebrations had quieted and the crowds began to disperse, Nina found a quiet corner to herself. The adrenaline was still coursing through her, but her thoughts were already shifting to what lay ahead.

She pulled out her phone, scrolling through the flood of congratulatory messages. One in particular caught her eye—a simple text from Zak.

Zak: Congrats, champ! Told you we'd be cheering you on. Now, how about you bring that winning energy to Abu Dhabi?

Nina stared at the message, the weight of the decision settling on her once again. She'd just won one of the biggest tournaments of her career, but the pull of the Grand Prix—and everything it represented—lingered in her mind.

As Nina tucked her phone away, her gaze wandered toward the commotion near the media area. Her breath hitched when she spotted her father being interviewed, his calm demeanor and familiar smile unmistakable. Standing just a few steps away were her mother and her little sister Sofia, their presence both unexpected and heartwarming.

Her chest tightened with emotion, a wave of happiness washing over her at the sight of them all together. But reality struck as her eyes darted to the cameras surrounding her father. She couldn't just walk over to them, not here, not now. Too many questions would arise, and no one—not the media, not the crowd—could know the truth about her connection to the McLaren family.

Their eyes met, and a flicker of understanding passed between them. Her father gave her a small, almost imperceptible nod, his smile soft and proud. Her mother caught her gaze next, her eyes warm with affection. Sofia was the last to notice her, and her grin was a mix of excitement and mischief, as if she were holding back a cheer.

Nina smiled back at them, the silent exchange filled with more meaning than words could ever convey. They didn't need to say anything. They understood her boundaries, just as she understood their support. She lingered for a moment longer, then turned away, blending back into the crowd.

Later, after the frenzy of the day had died down, they found a quiet corner near the hotel terrace, away from prying eyes and curious ears. The city lights of Dubai sparkled in the distance, casting a soft glow over the scene.

Her father was the first to speak, his voice low and steady. "You were incredible out there today, Nina. Truly remarkable."

Her mother nodded, stepping closer to hug her. "We couldn't miss this, darling. Watching you out there—seeing your strength—it was everything."

Sofia grinned, leaning casually against the railing. "I was ready to yell and wave, but, you know, discretion," she teased.

Nina laughed softly, shaking her head. "I'm glad you didn't. Thank you for being here—it means a lot."

Her father's gaze turned serious for a moment. "We didn't want to intrude. We know how important it is for you to keep this separate. But we wanted you to know how proud we are, even if it's from a distance."

"I know," Nina said quietly. "And I appreciate it more than I can say. It's not that I'm ashamed or anything—it's just... I need to do this as me. Nina Hart. Not as..."

Her mother placed a hand on her arm, her expression understanding. "We know, sweetheart. And we wouldn't have it any other way. You're carving your own path, and we admire that."

Her father's expression softened as he looked at her, a trace of humor in his tone as he asked, "So... Abu Dhabi?"

Nina hesitated, her brow furrowing slightly as she met his gaze. The weight of the question hung between them, the unspoken expectations clear. She glanced away, unsure of how to respond.

Her mother noticed the shift in her daughter's demeanor and reached out, her voice gentle but persuasive. "Come with us, darling. You know how much it means to your father. To all of us."

Sofia immediately chimed in, her tone playfully pleading. "Yes, pleaaase, Niinaaa! It's the last race of the season—it wouldn't be the same without you."

Nina sighed, her resolve crumbling under their combined insistence. A small smile tugged at her lips as she held up her hands in mock surrender. "Okay, okay, I'll come. But on one condition—we stay in different garages. Deal?"

Her father chuckled, his pride evident as he nodded. "That's my little girl."

Nina shot him a playful glare, crossing her arms. "I'm not little anymore, Papa."

His grin widened, his tone teasing but affectionate. "You'll always be my little girl, no matter how many trophies you win."

She rolled her eyes but couldn't help smiling, the warmth of her family's love and support filling the quiet night air. For all the complexity of her secret, moments like this reminded her why she worked so hard to maintain it. Abu Dhabi was going to be another balancing act, but with her family by her side—even from separate garages—she knew she could handle it.

Chapter Text

The Abu Dhabi Grand Prix weekend was in full swing, the paddock buzzing with its signature mix of tension, excitement, and the electric anticipation of the season finale. Nina navigated the bustling crowd with practiced care, keeping her head down and her presence low-key. Zak Brown had been firm about where he wanted her stationed for the weekend: Lando's garage. She hadn't argued, though the arrangement left her unsettled—not just because of her precarious dual identity, but because of her complicated dynamic with Lando.

The banter, the flirtation, the unspoken tension—it had been there since the day they'd met, simmering just beneath the surface. Spending the entire weekend so close to him, in the high-pressure environment of the paddock, felt like a precarious balancing act. She couldn't tell if she wanted to lean into the pull between them or distance herself entirely.

At least her family had been directed to Oscar's garage. The separation was a relief, keeping the boundaries of her double life intact. Nina had become a master at compartmentalizing, and this weekend was no exception—it was just another challenge to navigate.

As she neared the media area, she felt the unmistakable weight of someone's gaze. Before she could slip away, a familiar voice stopped her in her tracks. A journalist, all smiles, approached her with a microphone in hand.

"Nina Hart! Congratulations on your incredible win at the Dubai Invitational just a few days ago. What brings you to Abu Dhabi this weekend? Supporting a specific driver, perhaps?"

Nina forced a polite smile, keeping her tone light. "Thank you! I'm just here as a fan of motorsport. It's the season finale—how could I miss it?"

The journalist nodded, clearly fishing for more but gracious enough not to press further. After a few more pleasantries, Nina excused herself, exhaling softly as she slipped away.

She didn't get far before she heard another familiar voice—this one far more playful.

"Oh, you came? McLaren, huh?"

Nina turned to see Lily standing nearby, her grin as mischievous as ever. "Next time, come with me to Williams, okay? Alex would be delighted to have more people cheering him on."

Nina chuckled, shaking her head. "I'll keep that in mind, but no promises. You know how these things work."

Lily raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. "Oh, I know. But seriously, you're always welcome in our garage. Williams knows how to have fun." She winked before walking off, leaving Nina with a smile tugging at her lips.

As Lily disappeared into the paddock crowd, Nina's smile lingered before a thought flashed across her mind. If she ever dared to actually wander into Williams' garage, her dad and Zak would kill her. Not figuratively—she was pretty sure Zak would drag her straight back to McLaren by the collar, while her dad would give her one of those long, disappointed looks that could make her feel about two inches tall.

Shaking her head at the absurdity of the idea, she muttered under her breath, "Not a chance," and headed toward her designated spot in Lando's garage. Still, the thought of Alex Albon and the ever-friendly Williams crew made her chuckle softly to herself. It wasn't a bad idea—just a completely impossible one.

The energy in Lando's garage was electric. Engineers and mechanics worked with quiet intensity, each move precise and calculated. Lando himself was a picture of focus, completely absorbed in his preparations. Nina stayed on the fringes, blending in as best she could, careful not to disrupt the finely tuned atmosphere.

Lando barely acknowledged her presence, his energy entirely directed toward the weekend. She understood his need to focus, but it didn't stop a certain unease from simmering beneath the surface. Their history, whatever it was, lingered like an unspoken truth between them.

It wasn't until late on Saturday, after qualifying, that they found themselves in the same space with no one else around. Lando had stepped out of a strategy meeting, his helmet still under his arm, and found Nina leaning against a counter at the edge of the garage.

He paused, his expression unreadable. "You've been quiet."

"Didn't want to get in your way," Nina replied, her tone clipped.

"You wouldn't," Lando said, stepping closer. "You never do."

There was something in his voice—soft yet weighted—that made her pulse quicken. His gaze lingered, dipping just enough to unsettle her, and for a moment, the air between them felt charged, heavy with things left unsaid.

Nina straightened, folding her arms in a bid to steady herself. The tension between them simmered, undeniable yet unspoken. He had a way of making her feel special, even when it was clear she wasn't—because, in the end, this was just a game to him.

She raised an eyebrow, leaning back just slightly, as though creating distance might ease the sudden heat between them. It didn't.

"So, what's the plan?" she asked sharply, breaking the moment. "Pretend I don't exist all weekend, then leave without a word? Or is this just your usual routine?"

Lando's expression tightened briefly, a flicker of something unreadable crossing his face. But just as quickly, the smirk returned—infuriatingly effortless. "Why make it complicated?" he said, his tone light, though it carried an edge. "What we have—it's easier when it's simple, isn't it?"

Nina's eyes narrowed, frustration flaring to the surface. The words escaped her before she could stop them.

"What we have? So it's just sex? That's the plan—fuck me and fly off?"

Her voice was sharp, cutting through the tension like a blade, leaving Lando momentarily stunned. His smirk faltered, and for a fleeting moment, something raw flashed in his eyes. But he didn't respond immediately, and the silence that followed felt heavier than anything he could have said.

His shrug was maddeningly casual, as if her words hadn't landed like a blow. "The plan," he said, his tone smooth but laced with finality, "is to keep it fun. And only fun."

A dry laugh escaped her as she shook her head, anger and disbelief twisting together. "Didn't think you'd treat me like one of your pit stops."

Lando's smirk widened as he leaned in just slightly, his voice dropping lower. "Pit stops are important. You fill the holes, patch things up, and then you're good to go again—quick, efficient, done in seconds."

"Asshole," Nina snapped, her disgust cutting through the charged air like a blade.

For a moment, his smirk faltered, his expression shifting—something softer flickering beneath the surface. But just as quickly, he straightened, his tone cooling. "I need to get some rest. Big day tomorrow."

"Yeah," Nina said, her voice icy. "Good luck with that."

He lingered for half a second longer, as if considering whether to say something more, then turned and walked away, his footsteps fading into the shadows of the garage.

Nina stood rooted to the spot, her arms crossed tightly against her chest, the silence around her feeling heavier than before. As she watched him disappear, a bitter thought surfaced, unbidden.

Fun, right? Just fun.

She exhaled sharply, trying to shake the sting of his words. But no matter how hard she tried, the ache settled deep in her chest, refusing to be ignored.

Chapter Text

Finally, race day. The stakes couldn't be higher, with the Constructors' Championship on the line and the entire paddock buzzing with a nervous, electric energy. The final race of the season was more than just a test of skill; it was a culmination of months of effort, strategy, and relentless ambition. For the drivers, the teams, and even the fans, everything came down to this.

Nina arrived early, slipping into Lando's garage and settling into her usual spot. The atmosphere was tense, every movement purposeful, every sound magnified by the weight of the day. Engineers worked with meticulous precision, fine-tuning the car as though each adjustment could determine the outcome of the race.

Lando, already suited up, sat with an intensity that made him seem untouchable, his focus locked on the data in front of him. His team hovered nearby, discussing strategy in low, urgent tones. Even from her corner, Nina could feel the pressure radiating off everyone in the room, the shared determination to make this race count.

He hadn't spoken to her since their exchange the night before. She told herself it didn't matter, that it was better this way. Whatever lingering connection they had wasn't worth the distraction, not for him, not for her.

As the minutes ticked closer to the race start, the garage buzzed with last-minute checks and adjustments. The team huddled around Lando, their voices low but urgent. He nodded along, his face a mask of calm determination. When he finally stepped into the car, the room seemed to hold its collective breath.

The race itself unfolded in a blur of high stakes and nail-biting tension. Nina stood in the corner of Lando's garage, her eyes glued to the monitors, tracking every move he made on the track. Each lap felt like an all-out battle, every pit stop a high-stakes gamble. The atmosphere in the garage was electric, charged with the weight of what was at stake.

Oscar's race had taken a difficult turn right from the start. An incident with one of the Red Bulls in Turn 1 sent him off the track for a few seconds, allowing the entire field to overtake him. From there, it was an uphill climb as he fought to work his way back into contention, aiming to secure at least a few points for the team.

Meanwhile, the Ferraris were mounting an impressive challenge. One had started at the back of the grid but, through a mix of sharp strategy and blistering pace, had climbed into 3rd place, turning heads with an extraordinary recovery drive. The other, already running in 2nd, was relentlessly closing the gap to Lando, applying constant pressure. Together, the Ferraris loomed as a formidable threat to McLaren's championship hopes.

Nina's pulse quickened as she watched the action unfold on the monitors. Lando was holding his lead, but the margin was razor-thin, and the stakes couldn't be higher. Every lap, every corner, every move carried weight, with the outcome of the season hanging in the balance.

The atmosphere in the garage was electric, the tension palpable in every glance and movement. Engineers worked with precise focus, their energy buzzing with urgency. One leaned toward Nina, his voice low but grim.

"If Lando loses first and gets caught between the Ferraris, we're done for," he said, the gravity of his words hitting her like a jolt.

Nina's gaze flicked back to the screen, her chest tightening. Lando was pushing the car to its absolute limits, fending off the threat with remarkable skill, but she could sense the strain. The Ferraris weren't letting up, their relentless pursuit a stark reminder of how fine the margins were.

In the chaos, Nina couldn't help but think of Zak. How did he manage this kind of stress? Sitting just a few feet away, he seemed composed as ever, eyes glued to the monitors, speaking into the comms with the calm authority of someone used to these high-pressure situations. She had always admired his ability to maintain control when the stakes were at their peak, but seeing it firsthand, she gained a whole new level of respect.

This was the pinnacle of competition—the kind of moment that shaped champions and defined legacies. The air around her was charged, every second stretching unbearably as she silently willed Lando to hold on, her own nerves frayed despite having no direct stake in the outcome. If Zak could keep his cool under this kind of pressure, surely she could too—or at least pretend to.

As the final laps approached, the garage grew eerily quiet, the tension so thick it was almost suffocating. Lando was in the lead, but the gap was razor-thin. Every turn, every straight, every decision mattered.

When the checkered flag waved, the garage erupted in an explosion of cheers and celebration. Lando had done it. He crossed the finish line first, clinching the victory for himself and securing the Constructors' Championship for McLaren.

The paddock buzzed with energy as McLaren celebrated their triumph. The atmosphere in Lando's garage was electric—cheers, champagne flying, and pure elation filling the air. Standing on the sidelines, Nina clapped quietly, a small smile on her lips as she watched the team revel in their hard-earned victory.

As the celebration roared around her, Nina's small smile faded. The energy in Lando's garage was overwhelming—cheers, laughter, the sharp pop of champagne bottles—but she felt like an outsider, a shadow in the background of their triumph.

It wasn't that she wasn't proud of them—she was. Lando's victory had been extraordinary, and McLaren's Constructors' Championship win was monumental. But as she stood there, clapping quietly, a familiar weight settled in her chest.

You don't belong here.

The thought whispered louder than the shouts around her. This was McLaren's moment, and she couldn't shake the feeling that she was intruding—even though, by blood, she was as much a McLaren as anyone here. But Nina Hart? She was an outsider.

She scanned the room, her gaze falling on her parents and sister. Her father's laugh boomed above the noise, his pride evident as he clinked glasses with Zak. Her mother stood beside him, radiant and animated, while Sofia buzzed with excitement, gesturing wildly as she spoke to one of the engineers. Zak, usually so composed, was laughing, his face flushed with the glow of victory. They were so happy, so at home in this world.

Nina swallowed hard, the knot in her chest tightening. She should have felt proud, connected. Instead, she felt like a spectator at someone else's celebration. The weight of it became too much. Quietly, she slipped out of the garage, weaving through the bustling paddock.

She found a quiet spot by the edge of the paddock, leaning against a wall and exhaling a shaky breath. She didn't know why, but her eyes stung, and before she could stop herself, tears began to spill. Closing her eyes, she pressed the back of her head against the wall and focused on the steady rhythm of her heartbeat, grounding herself in the silence she so desperately needed.

The sound of approaching footsteps pulled her from the fragile bubble she'd created. She opened her eyes, quickly wiping at her cheeks, only to find Lando standing a few feet away, his head tilted, a faint smirk on his lips.

"Crying?" he teased, his tone light but careful. "Didn't think you'd get that emotional about a race."

Nina didn't bother wiping her face again or trying to hide the tears. Instead, she met his gaze, a mischievous glint breaking through her sadness. "You're the one who made me cry, you know."

Lando blinked, clearly caught off guard. "Me? What did I do?"

She shrugged, her smirk widening. "Oh, I was just reflecting on your performance."

He frowned slightly, tilting his head. "Performance? You mean the race?"

"No," she said, her tone light but perfectly sharp. "I meant the other kind. You know, the pit stops. You're definitely very... quick."

For a moment, he just stared at her, his brain catching up to her words. Then his jaw dropped, and a laugh burst out of him. "Oh, come on! That's a compliment in racing, you know!"

"Not so much in other areas," she quipped, her grin now fully formed.

Lando held a hand to his chest, feigning offense. "You're brutal. You know that?"

"Brutally honest," she corrected, crossing her arms with a satisfied smirk.

"Well, I'm not just good at speed," he said, his grin returning as he casually leaned against the wall. "Precision and knowing when to push—that's the real key."

Nina chuckled, stepping closer. "Is that what you're sticking with?"

"Absolutely," Lando replied, his smirk unwavering.

Without warning, she leaned in and kissed him—a quick, soft brush of her lips against his. It was so sudden that he froze, his grin faltering as his eyes widened slightly. When she pulled back, her smile was faint but genuine, though there was a wistfulness lingering in her eyes, like a shadow she couldn't quite shake.

"Thanks for the distraction," she said lightly, her tone carrying a hint of sincerity. "I think I needed that."

Lando opened his mouth to say something, but before he could, she added, "And congrats—you really were great today."

Her words were sincere, but the quiet sadness in her eyes remained, giving her an air of vulnerability that made him hesitate.

As she turned to walk away, heading toward the noise of the celebration, he reacted instinctively. His hand reached out, catching her wrist with a gentle but firm grip, stopping her after only a few steps.

Nina blinked, looking up at him. His expression had softened, the playful confidence giving way to something more earnest—concern. His brow furrowed slightly, and he held her gaze, the silence between them heavy with unspoken tension.

"Are you okay?" he asked quietly, his voice steady but laced with sincerity.

She hesitated before replying, "I'm fine."

Lando's eyes narrowed, his concern unyielding. "You know you're a bad liar," he said, his tone calm but pointed.

A faint smirk played at her lips as she tilted her head. "Well, at least I'm not bad in bed."

His eyebrows lifted in mock surprise, amusement flickering across his face. "And who said that?"

Leaning in slightly, her voice dropped to a teasing whisper. "The way you moan tells me everything."

For a moment, his expression froze, caught between surprise and something much deeper, before a slow grin curved his lips. "Fair point," he murmured, his voice tinged with playful challenge.

It was then she saw it clearly in his eyes—desire, raw and unguarded. There was no pretense, no teasing facade. The intensity of it sent a shiver through her, catching her off guard as the moment lingered between them.

Her breath hitched, her pulse quickening as his hand lingered on her wrist, his thumb brushing lightly against her skin. "Lando..." she started, her voice barely above a whisper, but she wasn't sure what she was going to say.

"I want you," he said softly, his tone low and steady, carrying just enough weight to make it clear he wasn't entirely asking.

For a moment, the world around them—the distant hum of celebrations, the faint echoes of laughter—faded away. It was just them, suspended in a moment that felt inevitable, impossible to ignore.

Before he could speak, Nina stepped closer, her hand lifting to his face, gently squeezing his cheek. Playful yet firm, the gesture grounded him as her eyes met his with warmth and quiet resolve.

"It's not the time or the place for what you're thinking right now," she said softly, a teasing edge to her voice that didn't completely mask her sincerity.

His lips parted slightly in protest, but she shook her head, her thumbs brushing against his skin. "Go celebrate with your team. They must be looking for you."

Lando exhaled, his expression torn between frustration and amusement. "You're unbelievable, you know that?" he muttered, his voice muffled slightly by her hold on his face.

"Yeah," she said with a faint smile, dropping her hands and stepping back. "And you'll thank me later."

He stared at her for a moment longer before letting out a resigned laugh, running a hand through his hair. "You're right. But you're coming with me."

Nina raised an eyebrow, crossing her arms. "Oh, am I?"

"Absolutely," Lando replied, his tone smug. "I can't leave you out here crying all over the paddock. People might think I broke your heart or something."

"Please," she said, rolling her eyes but unable to suppress a small laugh. "You're not that important."

"Sure I am," he teased, walking backward a few steps to face her, his smirk widening. "I'm the guy who just won McLaren the Constructors' Championship. That's important enough to get you back inside, isn't it?"

Nina shook her head, biting back a smile. "Fine. Lead the way, Norris. But only because I don't want Zak sending out a search party."

"Good choice," he said with a wink, turning on his heel.

As they walked back toward the lights and noise of the celebration, the tension from earlier melted into an easy rhythm between them. Nina stayed a step behind, watching the way Lando seemed to radiate energy even after everything he'd been through.

When they reached the garage, the sound of laughter and clinking glasses hit them like a wave. Lando glanced back at her, his grin playful. "Now, let's celebrate. But don't forget—we've got unfinished business later."

Nina smirked, stepping past him into the crowd. "Not sure I want to, Norris. You might need to work on your performance first."

His laughter followed her, low and easy, as he watched her disappear into the sea of orange and cheering faces. For a moment, he stood there, hands in his pockets, a grin still tugging at his lips.

"Guess I'll need some practice, then, Hart," he muttered to himself before diving back into the celebration.

Chapter Text

Nina woke to the soft glow of sunlight filtering through the curtains, her mind already piecing together the events of the night before. There was no haze, no confusion—she knew exactly what she'd done.

Another pit stop. Another mistake.

She sighed, staring up at the ceiling as the weight of it settled over her. But this time, there was no self-recrimination, no denial. She was tired of pretending she didn't know the truth. Lando Norris was exactly her type—at least physically. That much, she could no longer deny. The way he looked at her, as if she were the only person in the world, the way his touch sent shivers through her, the way his murmurs lingered in her ears—it all unraveled her defenses. She wanted him just as much as he wanted her. But she wanted more, too. Something deeper, something real—something she feared he wasn't ready, or willing, to give.

For him, it was excitement, a distraction, something thrilling but fleeting. For her, it was quickly becoming something she couldn't ignore. She had to stop this before her feelings for him started to take over, before this went too far, before he ended up breaking her heart.

Turning her head slightly, her eyes fell on the figure next to her. Lando was sprawled across the bed, one arm thrown over his head, his chest rising and falling in the quiet rhythm of sleep.

For once, he was still here when she woke up.

He hadn't left, hadn't disappeared into the early hours as she half-expected. A small, foolish part of her wondered if that meant something, but she quickly pushed the thought aside. Of course he hadn't left—this was his room. Where else was he supposed to go? The realization made her feel ridiculous, and yet, the faint tug of hope lingered, harder to ignore than she wanted to admit. But it didn't change the reality of what this was.

This time, she'd be the one disappearing.

Quietly, she slipped out from under the covers, careful not to disturb him. Her clothes were scattered across the room, remnants of the night before. She gathered them quickly, her movements efficient but silent.

She paused for a moment by the edge of the bed, her eyes lingering on him. There was something about the way he looked—so unguarded, so relaxed—that made her hesitate.

But she shook the thought away, her resolve firming. This wasn't about him. This was about her and the lines she needed to draw before they blurred into something more complicated than she could handle.

With one last glance, she turned and slipped out of the room, the door clicking softly behind her. The hallway was quiet, the hotel still steeped in early morning calm. As she walked toward the elevator, a strange mix of relief and regret twisted in her chest.

She knew, with an unsettling certainty, that if she continued this game with Lando, she'd be falling from very high—and the landing would be anything but soft.

Back in her own room, she moved on autopilot, pulling her suitcase from the closet and methodically folding her clothes. The room around her was a reflection of her thoughts—tidy on the surface, but scattered underneath.

Once everything was packed, she sat on the edge of the bed for a moment, staring at her phone before finally dialing her family.

"Mama?" she said when her mother picked up. "I'm heading out soon. Can we meet in the lobby before my flight?"

"Of course, darling," her mother replied warmly. "We'll be down shortly."

"Thanks," Nina said softly, ending the call.

She took a deep breath, brushing a hand through her hair as she stood. The sooner she was out of Abu Dhabi, the better. Monaco awaited, and with it, the clarity and distance she desperately needed.

Grabbing her suitcase, she stepped out of her room and made her way to the lobby, ready to leave the whirlwind of the Grand Prix—and Lando Norris—behind.

Or at least, that's what she hoped.

Chapter Text

Back in Monaco, Nina quickly fell back into her rhythm. The sunlit mornings, the familiar streets, the quiet hum of her routines—it all worked to steady her, to remind her of who she was outside the whirlwind of Abu Dhabi.

Her days passed uneventfully, split between practice sessions at the golf course and quiet evenings at home. As usual, there was no sign of Lando. And this time, she told herself, it was fine.

This time, it was really over. She was moving on.

On a crisp morning, Nina decided to walk home from the driving range, her golf bag slung over her shoulder, the clubs clicking softly with each step. Monaco was alive with its usual buzz—the harbor glittered under the sun, tourists strolled through the streets, and café terraces bustled with chatter.

As she turned a corner, distracted by her thoughts, she nearly collided with someone coming from the opposite direction.

"Oh, sorry!" the young man said, stepping back quickly. His tone was warm, the hint of an accent unmistakably Monegasque.

Nina steadied herself and offered a polite smile. "No worries. My fault."

The man paused, looking at the golf bag on her shoulder with a curious smile. "Golf, huh? You don't see that every day on these streets."

"Not exactly a Monaco staple, is it?" she replied, adjusting the strap on her shoulder.

He laughed, his tone easy and genuine. "Not unless you count mini-golf on a yacht. I'm Arthur, by the way." He extended a hand.

"Nina," she said, shaking it. His grip was firm, his expression open and friendly.

"Nice to meet you, Nina. So, do you play, or is the bag just for show?" he teased.

"I play," she replied with a small smirk. "And let me guess—you're more of a motorsport guy?"

Arthur laughed, running a hand through his hair. "What gave it away?"

She tilted her head, her eyes narrowing playfully. "The vibe," she said with a knowing grin. "You've got that Monaco look—fast cars, faster lifestyle."

He chuckled, clearly amused. "Is it that obvious?"

"Let's just say you're not the first person I've bumped into with a need for speed," she replied, adjusting the strap of her golf bag.

Arthur's smile lingered, his gaze studying her for a beat longer than necessary. "You're good at reading people," he said, his tone light but with a hint of admiration.

"It's a talent," Nina replied, a playful glint in her eyes. She shifted her bag again, the weight of it a subtle reminder of the walk ahead.

Arthur glanced at the bag and then back at her. "You're walking far with that?" he asked, his voice casual, almost offhand.

"Not too far. I like the walk. Clears my head."

He nodded, as though considering her words. "Clearing your head is important," he said, his tone easy but deliberate. "Though sometimes it helps to sit down, take a moment." He gestured subtly toward the nearby row of bustling cafés. "You know, if you're not in a rush or anything."

Nina caught the understated invitation in his words. She hesitated, glancing toward the cafés and then back at him. "Are you saying I look like I need a break?"

Arthur's grin widened, his charm disarming. "Not at all. But even golfers deserve a little time off now and then."

She let out a soft laugh, the corners of her lips curving into a faint smile. "I guess a quick stop wouldn't hurt," she said, shifting the bag on her shoulder. "But only if you can keep the conversation interesting."

He laughed, motioning toward a café with a sweeping gesture. "Guess you'll have to find out."

With a small chuckle, Nina followed him, wondering just what she was getting herself into.

They settled at a table near the edge of the café terrace, the harbor glinting in the distance. Arthur flagged down a server and ordered two coffees, his movements unhurried and confident.

"So," Nina began, leaning back in her chair, "do you always make a habit of stopping random strangers with golf bags?"

Arthur laughed, the sound light and unselfconscious. "Not exactly," he admitted. "But you caught my eye. It's not every day you see someone lugging a full set of clubs through Monaco."

"Well," she said, tilting her head, "you did say mini-golf on yachts is more the vibe here."

"True." He smiled, running a hand through his hair. "Full disclosure, though—I'm terrible at golf. Like, embarrassingly bad."

Nina raised an eyebrow, her lips curling into a teasing grin. "Oh, really? And yet, you're brave enough to sit here and talk to someone who actually plays?"

"Hey, bravery is my strong suit," he shot back, his tone mock-defensive. "Besides, I figure if I hang around enough golfers, maybe I'll learn something through osmosis."

She shook her head, laughing softly. "I hate to break it to you, but that's not how it works."

The server returned with their coffees, and Arthur waited until the cups were set down before leaning slightly closer, his expression amused. "So you're telling me there's no hope for someone like me?"

"I didn't say that," Nina replied, stirring her coffee. "But if you're that bad, you might need more than osmosis. You might need a coach."

Arthur leaned back in his chair, his coffee cup cradled in his hands, and tilted his head slightly. "A coach, huh?" he said, his tone thoughtful but laced with mischief. His eyes locked onto hers, a teasing glint in them. "You know, I think I might've just found one."

Nina paused mid-stir, raising an eyebrow at him. "Oh, really?" she asked, her tone playfully skeptical.

Arthur leaned forward slightly, his grin widening. "Yes... and she's sitting right in front of me." His words were smooth but carried a genuine warmth that softened their boldness.

Nina let out a soft laugh, setting her spoon down as she shook her head. "Bold," she said, a smirk playing on her lips. "But I like it."

Arthur laughed, the sound warm and effortless, his grin lighting up his face. "Okay, set. So, when do we start?" he said, leaning back in his chair, his confidence as natural as the sunlight spilling over the terrace.

Nina shook her head with a soft laugh, her fingers tracing the rim of her coffee cup. "I didn't say yes."

Arthur sat up straighter, placing a hand over his heart in mock distress. "Please?" he said, his tone playful yet tinged with sincerity that caught her off guard. "Honestly, it's just an excuse to see you again."

Her laugh came unbidden, light and genuine, as her cheeks warmed slightly despite herself. "You're not even trying to be subtle, are you?"

He leaned forward slightly, his grin deepening as the corners of his eyes crinkled in that irresistibly charming way. "Why bother? The truth works better."

Nina tilted her head, studying him for a moment. His laugh was disarming, his demeanor so effortlessly warm, it was hard not to be drawn in. There was a magnetic ease about him, a prince-like charm that seemed entirely unforced. She couldn't help but smile back, shaking her head with a soft chuckle.

"Okay," she said finally, feigning reluctance but unable to hide the amusement in her tone. "But only because I'm curious to see just how bad you really are."

Arthur's grin widened, his expression triumphant. "Deal," he said, leaning forward slightly, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "But you have to promise not to laugh at me too much. Fair?"

Nina smirked, setting her cup down and crossing her arms. "No guarantees. If it's as bad as you say, I might not be able to help myself."

He feigned a wounded look, placing a hand over his chest. "You're supposed to be supportive, Coach."

"I'm supportive," she said, her tone teasing. "I just also happen to find bad golf swings entertaining."

Arthur chuckled, leaning back in his chair with a playful shrug. "Happy to be an entertainment, then," he said, his tone light but tinged with charm. "As long as it keeps you smiling, I'll take it."

Nina laughed, the sound bright and genuine, as she shook her head. For a moment, the conversation settled into easy banter about Monaco's quirks and his self-declared hopelessness at sports other than motorsport. Their laughter mingled with the hum of the café, the lightness between them making the time slip away unnoticed.

Eventually, as the coffee cups sat empty on the table, Arthur reached for his phone with a small smile. "So, Coach," he said, glancing at her, "how do I make sure you don't forget about your hopeless student?"

Nina smirked, leaning back in her chair. "Well, considering your charm is memorable enough, I'd say you're safe. But just in case..." She tilted her head, a teasing glint in her eye. "You could always ask me for my number."

Arthur chuckled, his grin widening as he slid his phone across the table toward her. "I thought you'd never suggest it."

She rolled her eyes but picked up his phone, typing in her number before handing it back. "There. Now you've got no excuses."

Arthur glanced at the screen, his grin softening into something warmer as he saved her number. "Perfect. And don't worry—I'm a man of my word. You'll hear from me."

Nina stood, slinging her golf bag over her shoulder, her expression amused. "We'll see. Just don't ghost me when you realize how much work this is going to take."

"Ghost you?" he said, feigning offense as he stood as well. "I wouldn't dare. Besides, who else could handle a student like me?"

She laughed, shaking her head as she started to walk away. "Good luck, Arthur. You're going to need it."

"See you soon, Nina," he called after her, his tone light but his gaze lingering warmly.

As she disappeared into the bustling streets of Monaco, Nina found herself smiling, his laugh still echoing in her mind. Interesting guy, she thought, maybe more interesting than she'd expected.

Chapter Text

The next morning, Nina was sipping her coffee on the balcony of her Monaco apartment, enjoying the quiet buzz of the city below. The sun was warm on her skin, and for the first time in a while, she felt like herself again—balanced, focused, and content in her solitude.

Her phone buzzed on the table beside her, pulling her attention. She picked it up and smirked at the message that had just come through.

Arthur: Morning, Coach. Ready to turn a complete disaster into a golf prodigy? Or should I bring a helmet?

Nina chuckled, shaking her head as she typed back.

Nina: A helmet? Optimistic. I was thinking a life jacket for when all your balls end up in the water hazards.

It didn't take long for his reply to come through.

Arthur: Ouch. Already crushing my dreams. This is going to be fun, isn't it?

Nina: For me? Absolutely.

The banter was light, easy, and refreshing—a pleasant distraction from the heavier thoughts she'd been trying to shake.

Her phone buzzed again.

Arthur: Be at the course at 2? I'll bring my embarrassing swing and a sense of humor. You bring the miracles.

Nina smiled, setting her coffee down. She hesitated for a moment before replying, wondering when the last time was she'd actually looked forward to spending time with someone new.

Nina: 2 it is. Just don't forget the humor. You're going to need it.

The clock ticked closer to 2, and Nina found herself at the golf course, casually leaning on her bag as she waited. The familiar smell of freshly cut grass and the distant hum of conversation from other players steadied her nerves. Not that she was nervous about Arthur, of course—but there was something about teaching someone new, especially someone as amusingly self-deprecating as him, that added an unpredictable spark to her day.

A few minutes later, Arthur arrived, walking toward her with a sheepish grin and a golf bag that looked suspiciously untouched.

"Sorry, I'm late," he said, holding up a small cooler. "I got distracted—figured I'd bring snacks in case I ruin both of our moods."

"Smart move," Nina said with a laugh, gesturing for him to join her at the driving range. "Though I doubt snacks are going to help your swing."

Arthur dropped the cooler with an exaggerated sigh and slung his bag onto the grass. "You don't know that. Snacks are morale boosters."

"Morale isn't going to help if you're physically incapable of getting the ball off the tee," she teased, crossing her arms.

Arthur grinned, pulling out a club and stepping up to the tee with exaggerated confidence. "Alright, Coach. Show me what you've got."

Nina raised an eyebrow, smirking. "This isn't about me, prodigy. Let's see what you've got first."

Arthur hesitated, glancing down at the ball. "Okay, but no laughing. I mean it."

"No promises," she said, her grin widening.

He squared up, awkwardly gripping the club, and after a dramatic pause, swung with all his might. The club made contact with a loud thud, sending the ball rolling a few feet before coming to an unceremonious stop.

Nina burst out laughing, doubling over as Arthur turned to her with mock indignation.

"Hey! I said no laughing!" he protested, though he couldn't keep a straight face.

"I can't help it!" she said between laughs, wiping at her eyes. "That wasn't even close to a swing. It was like you were trying to swat a fly."

Arthur sighed, shaking his head but laughing along. "Well, this is going to be a long day, isn't it?"

"Very," Nina said, straightening up and walking over to him. "Alright, let's start with the basics. First, grip. You're holding the club like it's a baguette."

He snorted, readjusting his hands as she guided him, her own hands briefly adjusting his grip. "Better?"

"Marginally," she quipped. "Now, let's talk about your stance..."

The lesson continued with more teasing and plenty of laughs as Arthur tried—unsuccessfully—to nail even one clean shot. Nina's patience held firm, though she couldn't resist throwing in the occasional jab at his expense.

By the time they finished, Arthur was lying on the grass in mock defeat, the sun casting long shadows over the course.

"Well," he said, staring up at the sky. "At least I didn't throw the club. That's progress, right?"

"Progress is generous," Nina said, smirking as she sat beside him. "But you didn't quit, so I'll give you that."

He turned his head to look at her, his grin softening. "You're not bad at this whole coaching thing, you know. I might even stick around for a second lesson."

"Only if you bring snacks again," she teased, leaning back on her hands.

"Deal," he said, laughing.

As they packed up and headed off the course, the easy camaraderie between them lingered, the kind that made everything feel a little less heavy. Nina realized she hadn't smiled this much in weeks, and for the first time in a while, she felt lighter—like maybe things didn't have to be so complicated after all.

Before parting ways, he turned to her with a grin. "So, after Christmas Eve? We'll make it happen."

She nodded, the corner of her lips lifting. "It's a promise."

And as she watched him walk away, something unfamiliar fluttered in her chest. Maybe, just maybe, this wasn't a bad idea.

Chapter Text

The McLaren mansion in Surrey stood majestic against the crisp winter backdrop, its stone walls adorned with subtle strings of golden Christmas lights. Once Bruce McLaren's sanctuary, it now carried the quiet elegance of Patricia McLaren, his wife, whose touch was woven into every carefully preserved family tradition—especially during the holiday season.

Nina stepped out of the car with her parents and Sofia, taking a deep breath of the cold air that carried the faint scent of pine and freshly baked bread. The house looked the same as always—imposing yet inviting, its charm rooted in years of stories, memories, and traditions. The gravel crunched beneath her boots as she followed her family toward the grand oak doors, which were already ajar, spilling warm light into the snowy driveway.

Inside, the house buzzed with life. Laughter and chatter echoed through the high-ceilinged halls, mingling with the rich scent of cinnamon and mulled wine. In the expansive living room, a towering Christmas tree stood adorned with heirloom ornaments, each one a relic of McLaren family history. Nina's grandmother, an elegant woman with an air of quiet authority, greeted them first, pulling Nina into a warm hug.

"Nina, darling, it's so good to have you home," her grandmother said, her sharp eyes softening with affection.

Nearby, her aunt was setting out trays of canapés while her cousins debated over which board game to play. It was chaos—but the kind of chaos that only came with family.

And then there was Zak Brown, standing comfortably by the fireplace, a glass of whiskey in hand. He wasn't alone. His wife, Tracy, was beside him, holding a flute of champagne and wearing a sparkling smile that lit up the room. Their two sons were playing a game of cards with Nina's younger cousins, their laughter filling the air.

Zak turned when he saw Nina, his grin widening. "Well, if it isn't our golf prodigy," he teased, lifting his glass in a mock toast. "How's the swing, Nina?"

Nina smiled, brushing snowflakes from her coat. "Still better than your putting, Zak."

Tracy laughed softly. "He hasn't improved much, has he? You'll have to give him some lessons next year."

"Next year, huh?" Zak said, swirling the whiskey in his glass, his tone light but carrying a trace of thoughtfulness. "It's shaping up to be a big one. Tough for all of us, no doubt."

Nina raised an eyebrow, sensing there was more behind his words. "Tough how? The team's been doing well, hasn't it?"

Zak nodded, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Yeah, this year's been solid. Lando's performance, in particular, has been exceptional. He's really hit his stride—consistent, sharp, and hungry. There are a few mistakes he needs to work on, but if he can smooth those out and keep the momentum, he might be a serious contender for the driver's championship next year."

Nina's heart ached for a brief moment at the mention of Lando's name, a sudden wave of unspoken thoughts and feelings catching her off guard. But she masked it quickly, her expression remaining calm as she tried to steer the conversation elsewhere.

"Well," she said with a small smile, cradling her cup of tea in both hands, "sounds like you've got a lot on your plate next year. But let's not get ahead of ourselves—it's Christmas. Shouldn't we be talking about something more festive? Like who's going to win the family board game tournament tonight?"

Zak took another sip of his whiskey, his grin widening as the festive atmosphere drew him back in. "Alright, no more racing talk tonight," he said, leaning casually against the mantel. "But while we're on the subject of personal victories... how's your love life these days, Nina? Any lucky guy out there we should know about?"

Nina blinked, momentarily caught off guard by the question, but she quickly recovered, taking a deliberate sip of her tea to buy herself a second. "My love life?" she repeated, her tone light but clearly deflective. "You've been spending way too much time with my grandmother—she's the only one who asks me that."

Zak chuckled, clearly enjoying her attempt to dodge the question. "Hey, just looking out for you. You're too smart, too talented, and, let's face it, too stubborn to settle for just anyone."

She hesitated for a moment, then raised an eyebrow and replied with a playful grin, "Let's just say I've met someone... interesting. Someone who might be just as bad at golf as you." She stuck her tongue out teasingly, taking another sip of her tea as she tried to keep the mood light.

Zak arched an eyebrow, leaning forward with mock intrigue. "Interesting? Alright, now you've got my attention. Who is he? Don't tell me it's Lando."

Nina nearly choked on her tea, her eyes widening for a split second as she sputtered, "What? No! Why would you even think that?" Her confusion was palpable as she scrambled to compose herself. "It's not Lando! Why would it be Lando? Not Lando," she repeated, shaking her head emphatically, her voice rising slightly in her attempt to sound convincing.

Zak's grin widened, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "Whoa, whoa, calm down," he said, leaning forward slightly, his tone teasing. "That's a pretty strong reaction for a simple joke. What's going on with Lando, huh?"

"Nothing!" Nina said quickly, clutching her teacup like it was a lifeline. "There's nothing going on with Lando. Nothing at all."

Zak's grin widened, his eyes sparkling with amusement. He leaned back in his chair, a knowing smile tugging at his lips as his expression softened into one of quiet curiosity. He didn't push further, but there was something in the way his gaze lingered—an unspoken sense that he wasn't entirely convinced. Still, he let it slide, shifting the conversation effortlessly.

"Alright, then," he said, his tone lighter but still teasing. "So, who's this 'interesting' guy you mentioned? And don't tell me he's a racing driver—you know I'm going to have opinions."

Nina smirked, a flicker of amusement dancing in her eyes. "Well, you guessed right."

Zak groaned, throwing his head back dramatically. "Oh no, Nina, why a racing driver? Couldn't it be someone with a simpler life? Like an artist, a baker, or even a librarian? Racing drivers are... complicated."

Nina rolled her eyes, unable to hold back a laugh. "Relax, Zak. It's not like I'm walking down the aisle tomorrow."

Zak narrowed his eyes at her, his grin playful yet curious. "If it's not Lando—and obviously not Oscar, since he has a girlfriend—then who is it? Don't leave me in suspense."

"His name's Arthur," Nina admitted, her tone lighter now.

"Arthur what?" Zak pressed.

Nina blinked, realizing she didn't know his last name. "Uh... I don't actually know."

Zak sat up straight, pointing a finger at her in mock outrage. "Nina! You meet a guy, think he's interesting, and don't even ask his full name? Rookie mistake."

She laughed, shaking her head. "We met on the road, in Monaco. I wasn't exactly grilling him for his résumé."

Zak's eyebrows knitted together as he thought for a moment. "Monaco, huh? Wait a second..." He grabbed his phone and started typing. "Is this him?" He turned the screen toward her, showing a picture of Arthur Leclerc.

Nina's cheeks flushed as she nodded slowly. "Yeah, that's him."

Zak let out a laugh, leaning back. "Arthur Leclerc. Charles Leclerc's brother. Nina, you've managed to stumble right into the Ferrari camp. What's next, you're switching teams?"

"I didn't know!" Nina protested, laughing despite herself.

Zak arched an eyebrow, his grin turning sly. "Does he know you're a McLaren?"

"Of course not," Nina replied quickly, shaking her head. "And he's not going to find out, either."

Zak shook his head, grinning. "Well, this is going to get interesting. Just promise me you'll bring him by for dinner if it gets serious. I need to vet this Ferrari spy properly."

Nina rolled her eyes, but her smile lingered. "Noted."

As the conversation shifted back to Christmas stories and teasing, Nina felt lighter. Zak's playful humor was grounding, reminding her that life didn't always have to feel so heavy. The evening carried on, filled with warmth and laughter, but as Nina lay in bed later that night, she found herself replaying Zak's words about Lando—and about Arthur.

For the first time in a while, she felt like she could let the future unfold as it may, one step at a time.

Chapter Text

The soft glow of the TV cast flickering shadows across Nina's bedroom as she lay half-asleep, her head resting against the pillows. The sound of Mila's laughter broke through the quiet, pulling her from the edge of a nap.

"Mila," Nina murmured, her voice thick with sleep. "What are you doing?"

"Instagram," Mila replied without looking away from her phone, her legs stretched out on the bed next to Nina's. "And let me tell you, the deep dive I'm on? Very rewarding."

Nina cracked one eye open, her brow furrowing. "Rewarding how?"

"Rewarding as in Arthur. Very cute. Very fine. Have you even seen his Instagram? Because I have, and wow," Mila said with exaggerated emphasis, turning her phone toward Nina.

Nina groaned, rolling onto her side to face Mila. "You're ridiculous. And no, I haven't. I don't stalk people I just met."

"First of all, it's not stalking—it's research," Mila corrected, her tone mock-serious. "Second, you're missing out. Here, take a look."

Before Nina could protest, Mila had shoved her phone into her hands. Arthur's Instagram was already open, and Nina couldn't help but chuckle at the mix of goofy selfies, sunlit shots by the harbor, and candid racetrack moments.

"Alright, fine. He's photogenic," Nina admitted, her lips curving into a small smile.

Mila smirked. "Photogenic? That's all you've got? Come on, he's adorable. Admit it."

"He's nice," Nina said, handing the phone back. "But it's not like that. We're just getting to know each other. I'm teaching him golf, remember?"

"Oh, I remember," Mila said, raising an eyebrow. "And I distinctly recall you saying you wanted a proper relationship, not just some fling. Well, here he is—go on, love, crack on!"

"Mila," Nina said with a laugh, swatting at her with a pillow. "Let it go."

Mila grinned but didn't push further. Instead, she tapped away on her phone for a moment before her expression shifted to one of curiosity. "Alright, speaking of racing drivers... have you ever looked at Lando's Instagram?"

Nina's half-sleepy daze vanished instantly, replaced by a twinge of anxiety. "No. Why would I?"

"Why wouldn't you?" Mila countered, her grin widening. "He's, like, an Instagram king. Here, let me show you."

Nina sighed but didn't stop Mila as she navigated to Lando's profile. The screen filled with images—shots of him celebrating on the podium, candid moments on the golf course, and glimpses of his jet-setting lifestyle.

"You two don't follow each other, right?" Mila asked casually.

"No," Nina said, her tone clipped. "We barely talk. We don't know anything about each other."

Mila raised an eyebrow, leaning back slightly. "Barely talk as in what? The occasional text? A random call here and there?"

"Mila, please," Nina said, her voice calm but firm. "That chapter with Lando Norris is closed. Just Move on, like I'm trying to."

Mila studied her for a moment before nodding, a small smile tugging at her lips. "Alright, alright. I won't bring him up again. But seriously, what a bloody waste. That man doesn't know what he's losing."

Nina sighed, her lips curving into a faint, knowing smile. "Exactly."

"Good. Glad we agree," Mila said with a wink, settling back against the pillows. "Now, about Arthur—at least he seems to know what he's doing."

Nina laughed softly, the tension easing from her shoulders. "You're impossible."

"And you're welcome," Mila quipped, diving back into her phone.

The evening had shifted to a lighter mood, with Nina inviting a few friends over to her apartment for a small get-together. The drinks flowed freely, laughter filled the air, and the night passed in a blur of good company and music. As the party wound down, her friends gradually left, leaving only Mila, who was staying over.

Mila had stumbled into Nina's bed, completely wasted, and was now fast asleep, her snores faint but rhythmic. Nina chuckled to herself, shaking her head at how silly Mila had been throughout the night. Still smiling, she grabbed her phone, intending to check it quickly before heading to bed.

That's when she noticed it—a notification on Instagram glowing at the top of her screen.

Nina stared at it for a moment, a small smile tugging at her lips. She tapped on it, opening his profile again. There it was, the familiar mix of goofy selfies, stunning shots by the harbor, and glimpses of his life on the racetrack. Something about seeing it all felt... lighter now, less hesitant.

Without overthinking it, she tapped the blue Follow button.

Setting her phone down on the bedside table, Nina lay back against the pillows, her smile lingering. It was a small gesture, but it felt like the start of something. Maybe Mila was right. Some chapters were better left behind—but new ones, like this one, had the potential to be unexpectedly refreshing.

For the first time in a while, she drifted off to sleep with a sense of quiet contentment.

Chapter Text

Nina checked her reflection in the mirror for the final time, her fingers lightly brushing the smooth fabric of her dress. The long, black gown was a masterpiece of understated elegance, its off-the-shoulder design highlighting her collarbones and the graceful curve of her neck. The sleek silhouette hugged her figure perfectly, with the fabric pooling gently at her feet, giving her an effortlessly regal air. She paired it with simple gold earrings that caught the light and a sleek chignon that framed her face beautifully.

This wasn't the golf course, where polos and sneakers set the tone. Tonight was something else entirely—sophisticated, intimate, and filled with potential. As she slipped on her heels and draped a soft shawl over her shoulders to guard against the crisp January air, she took one last steadying breath. The nerves fluttering in her chest were a mix of excitement and something unspoken—anticipation.

When she stepped outside, the sight of Arthur waiting for her took her breath away. Leaning casually against his red Ferrari, he was the picture of effortless elegance in a deep blue suit, perfectly tailored to accentuate his lean frame. The crisp white shirt beneath was left open at the collar, giving him an easy charm that softened the formal look. His hair was slightly tousled, and in his hands was a bouquet of white roses and baby's breath, the soft blooms adding to the romantic air of the evening.

As she approached, his gaze locked on her, and for a moment, he looked utterly mesmerized. "You look exquisite, Madame," he murmured in that rich, lilting Monegasque accent, his voice low and warm, each word rolling off his tongue like a caress, as though he were speaking only for her to hear.

Nina felt a warmth rise to her cheeks, her hand brushing her dress instinctively. "Thank you," she replied, her voice just as soft. "You're not looking too bad yourself."

Arthur grinned, stepping forward to offer her the bouquet. "For you," he said, his tone sincere. "Though they hardly do you justice."

Nina raised an eyebrow, a playful smile tugging at her lips as she accepted the flowers. "Is this how you always do first dates? Bouquets and Ferraris?"

Arthur chuckled, the sound warm and effortless. "I come from a very romantic family," he said with a wink. "It's practically in my DNA to go all out."

"Ah, so it's a family tradition to sweep women off their feet?" she teased, inhaling the delicate scent of the bouquet.

"Only when it's someone special," he replied smoothly, his gaze steady and earnest.

Her smile softened at his words, and she felt a flicker of warmth that reached beyond the cool January air. "Well, you're certainly setting a high bar," she said, her tone light but genuine.

"That's the idea," he said with a grin, offering her his arm. "Shall we?"

Nina slipped her arm through his, the bouquet cradled carefully in her other hand. As he opened the car door for her and she slid into the plush leather interior, she couldn't help but laugh softly. "You're quite the charmer, Arthur."

"I'm just getting started," he said, his grin widening as he closed the door gently behind her.

As he rounded the car and settled into the driver's seat, the evening already felt special, and Nina couldn't shake the feeling that Arthur had a way of making every moment feel extraordinary.

As they arrived at the restaurant, Arthur parked the Ferrari with ease and stepped out to open her door, offering his hand as she stepped out gracefully with the bouquet still in her arms. The soft glow of the harbor lights and the faint hum of live piano music from inside set the perfect mood as they entered.

The restaurant was elegant but not overwhelming, with candlelit tables and a breathtaking view of the water through floor-to-ceiling windows. They were seated at a cozy corner table, tucked away but with a perfect view of the glittering harbor.

As Arthur pulled out her chair for her, Nina smiled, shaking her head slightly. "Do you ever turn off the charm?"

"Not when I'm on a date with someone as stunning as you," he replied with a playful grin as he took his seat.

The conversation began effortlessly as they ordered, but after a moment, Arthur leaned back slightly and let out a small laugh, his hand brushing through his hair. "You know, I don't usually get nervous, but tonight... I am. A little."

Nina arched an eyebrow, her lips curving into a teasing smile. "You? Nervous? I don't believe it."

"It's true," he said, chuckling softly. "I guess I just didn't want to mess this up."

Her teasing expression softened as her heart gave a little flutter. "Well, you're doing just fine," she said gently, her voice warm.

He smiled at her, his confidence returning. "Good to know. Because I'd hate to ruin my chances of getting to know you better."

As the evening unfolded, Nina found herself captivated by Arthur's stories. Over a shared dessert, he spoke about racing in Formula 2 and his role as a Ferrari development driver.

"I did my first practice session at the Abu Dhabi Grand Prix last year, alongside my brother," he said, his face glowing with pride. "It was surreal—driving for Ferrari, and with Charles right there in the same garage. He's been my idol since I was a kid, so sharing that moment with him felt incredible. Hopefully, there's more to come next season."

Nina bit her lip. She'd been there—watched every moment from Lando's garage—yet she hadn't even noticed Arthur. A strange pang settled in her chest, but she pushed it aside, focusing on his infectious excitement.

"You must have been thrilled," she said, her voice softening. "That's huge."

"It is," he admitted, his eyes lighting up. "I've worked so hard to get here, and the idea of sitting in a Ferrari F1 car? It's everything I've dreamed of since I was a kid. But," he added, his tone turning light again, "it doesn't compare to tonight."

Nina chuckled softly, shaking her head. "You're laying it on pretty thick, aren't you?"

"I'm just being honest," he said with a playful grin. "Tonight feels... special."

As he spoke about his ambitions and the intensity of the racing world, Nina listened intently, her mind briefly wandering to her own connection to motorsport—a connection Arthur had no clue about. She'd always kept her identity as a McLaren a closely guarded secret, and tonight was no different. She wasn't Nina McLaren, the granddaughter of Bruce McLaren, or someone tied to one of the most legendary teams in Formula 1 history. She was just Nina Hart, a golfer, sharing a lovely evening with someone who was quickly becoming more intriguing by the minute.

"So, what about you?" Arthur asked, leaning back slightly. "Golf is your world, but have you ever been interested in motorsport? Monaco's basically the racing capital, after all."

She smiled, taking a sip of her wine to steady herself. "I've been to a few races," she said vaguely, her voice even. "But honestly, I don't know much about it. I've always been more focused on my sport."

Arthur nodded, his grin warm. "Fair enough. Golf's not exactly my strong suit, as you know. But I have to admit, the idea of you teaching me has been one of the best parts of my week."

Nina laughed, her chest fluttering slightly at his words. "Well, you're a decent student," she teased. "But don't think I'm going easy on you next time."

"I wouldn't expect anything less," he replied with a wink.

By the time they finished their meal, Nina's heart felt lighter than it had in weeks. Arthur was charming, yes, but he was also genuine, passionate, and so easy to talk to. She couldn't remember the last time she'd laughed this much on a date—or felt this comfortable.

As they drove back to her apartment, the city lights of Monaco flashing past, the conversation shifted to lighter topics, filled with teasing and shared laughs. When they finally pulled up outside her building, Arthur turned to her, his expression softening.

"I had an incredible time tonight," he said, his voice low and warm. "Thank you for saying yes."

Nina smiled, her heart fluttering as their eyes met. "I had a very pleasant night too," she replied softly. "You're full of surprises."

He leaned in slightly, his gaze flickering to her lips before returning to her eyes. "Would it be too forward if I said I want to see you again? Soon?"

Before she could reply, he closed the small distance between them, his lips brushing hers in a kiss that was both gentle and electrifying. For a moment, the world outside the car disappeared, leaving only the two of them.

When they finally pulled back, Nina's cheeks were warm, and her heart was sparkling with a feeling she hadn't expected. "I'd like that," she said softly, her voice barely above a whisper.

Arthur's grin widened, his hand brushing hers lightly. "Good. Because I'm not letting this be the last time."

With one last shared smile, Nina stepped out of the car, the bouquet in her hand and her heart full. As she closed the door and walked into her building, a warmth spread through her chest, her cheeks still flushed from laughter and stolen glances. She couldn't help but smile to herself, replaying every perfect moment. Tonight had been everything she didn't know she needed—the best night she'd had in a long time. And as she stepped into her apartment, the soft scent of roses lingering in the air, she knew this was just the beginning.

Chapter Text

The sunlight filtered softly through the curtains, casting a warm glow across Nina's apartment. She stretched lazily in bed, her thoughts immediately drifting back to the night before. The memory of Arthur's smile, his warm laughter, and the spark of their kiss lingered, making her cheeks flush. It had been a long time since she'd felt this light, this... content.

Her phone buzzed on the bedside table, pulling her out of her reverie. Expecting it to be a message from Arthur, her heart gave a little flutter as she reached for it. But the name on the screen made her pause.

Lando: I'm in Monaco. You come over?

Nina blinked at the message, her chest tightening slightly. She stared at the words, her mind buzzing with questions. It had been weeks since they'd really spoken. And now, out of nowhere, this?

Her lips curled into a sardonic smile as a thought crossed her mind. "He's probably just... craving sex," she mused to herself. It wasn't hard to connect the dots. The casual, abrupt tone of his message, the lack of any genuine sentiment—it reeked of convenience, not care.

She shook her head, feeling a mix of annoyance and clarity. No, not again. She wasn't going to fall back into the same pattern of ambiguity and emotional tug-of-war. Lando had his chances—plenty of them—and she was done being an afterthought for him.

Her fingers flew across the screen with calm determination.

Nina: I lost interest. Bye, Lando.

She hit send and exhaled deeply, her chest feeling lighter. This time, there was no hesitation, no wondering if she was making the right choice. She knew she was.

Her phone buzzed again almost immediately, but she didn't even glance at it. Instead, she got up, letting the message sit unanswered. Her gaze landed on the bouquet of white roses Arthur had given her, and a genuine smile crept onto her face.

The difference was clear—Lando might have been her past, but Arthur? He could be something real, something meaningful. And that was where her heart deserved to be.

Without hesitation, she picked up her phone again, this time searching for Arthur's name in her contacts. Her thumb hovered for a moment before she tapped the call button. It rang twice before his warm, slightly surprised voice came through.

"Nina! Good morning."

"Good morning," she replied, a smile already forming. "I hope I'm not disturbing you."

"Not at all," Arthur said quickly. "Hearing from you is the best way to start the day."

Her cheeks warmed slightly at his easy charm. "I was just thinking... How do you feel about a golf session today? You know, for your continued education."

Arthur laughed, the sound rich and infectious. "I had a feeling you'd bring that up. Are you saying I need more practice, or is this your way of saying you want to see me again?"

She grinned, her tone playful yet effortless. "Maybe both?"

He chuckled, his gaze warm and sincere. "I was secretly waiting for your call," he admitted, his voice softening. There was a brief pause before he added, "I really want to see you too."

Nina's heart melted, a warm smile spreading across her face. "Let's meet then," she said softly. "And I promise I'll try not to laugh too much today."

He laughed, the sound light and teasing. "I'll show you how much I've improved since last time."

"Oh, you were practicing?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Mmm, a little," he replied with a playful grin. "Just to impress you."

She chuckled, her voice tinged with affection. "Not gonna lie, i'm already impressed."

His grin widened. "I'll see you at the club in an hour?"

"Sounds perfect," she said, her voice bright with anticipation. "See you in an hour."

An hour later, Nina arrived at the golf club, her bag slung over one shoulder. The morning was crisp and bright, the sunlight filtering softly through the clouds. Arthur was already waiting near the driving range, leaning casually against a cart. He spotted her and waved, his smile as warm as the sunlight.

"You're early," she said as she approached, setting her bag down beside him.

"I didn't want to keep my coach waiting," he replied with a grin. "Plus, I need all the extra time I can get if I'm going to survive your drills."

She laughed, pulling out a club and handing it to him. "Well, you've got no excuses—you already told me you've been practicing. I'm expecting big things, Arthur."

"Oh, now I'm feeling the pressure," he said, his grin playful.

"No need," she replied, her tone light and teasing. "Whatever it is, I'll take it."

Arthur chuckled, then leaned in and kissed her cheek, his touch light and warm. The gesture caught her slightly off guard, and she blinked, her lips parting in surprise before his warm, rich laugh broke the moment, filling the air between them.

She cleared her throat, trying to steady herself. "Alright," she said with a playful grin, stepping back to refocus. "Don't distract me now. You've still got to show me how much you've improved."

Arthur chuckled, grabbing his club with an easy confidence. "No distractions, Coach. But you might want to brace yourself—I've been practicing."

Nina smirked, crossing her arms. "Then show me what you've got."

She watched as Arthur stepped up to the ball, his movements steady and deliberate. He positioned himself with surprising confidence, took a deep breath, and swung smoothly. The ball soared cleanly across the range, landing with a solid thud in the distance. Nina raised her eyebrows, clearly impressed, as he lined up another shot and repeated the motion. Each swing was better than the last, his improvement evident.

"You really have improved," she said, folding her arms as she watched him line up another shot. Then, with a playful smirk, she added, "Now I'm intrigued—did you have a coach other than me?"

Arthur turned to her with a sheepish grin, resting his club against his shoulder. "Guilty as charged," he admitted, chuckling. "My brother gave me a few lessons. He's actually pretty good at golf."

Nina nodded, her expression thoughtful. "Well, it shows. You still have some areas to improve, though," she said, her tone teasing but constructive. "But overall, it's quite good. Next time, we can start playing some holes."

Arthur perked up at her words. "Really?"

She laughed, holding up a hand. "Hold on, don't get ahead of yourself. First, let's work a little on your follow-through and stance. We need to tighten up the basics before we hit the course."

He grinned, grabbing his club again. "Alright, Coach. Let's do it."

And with that, the lesson began in earnest. Nina guided him through the finer points of his swing, adjusting his grip and stance while peppering her instructions with playful remarks. Arthur met her critiques with good-natured humor, and the range filled with laughter as he worked to prove himself under her watchful eye.

Arthur grinned mischievously as he lined up his next shot, glancing at Nina with a playful glint in his eyes. "Alright, Coach, how about we make this interesting?"

Nina raised an eyebrow, folding her arms. "Oh? And how exactly do you plan to do that?"

He straightened up, his grin widening. "If I can land this shot perfectly—smooth swing, good form, and decent distance—you owe me a kiss."

Nina blinked, caught off guard for a moment before a smirk tugged at her lips. "Confident, are we?"

"Always," he replied, adjusting his grip on the club. "What do you say? Afraid I might actually pull it off?"

She laughed, stepping closer and placing her hands on her hips. "Fine. But if you mess this up, you're doing beginner drills for the rest of the lesson."

"Deal," Arthur said, his grin never faltering. He shifted his stance, taking a deep breath as he focused on the ball. Nina watched, a mixture of amusement and curiosity flickering in her eyes.

He swung, his form surprisingly smooth, and the ball soared cleanly across the range, landing farther and straighter than any of his earlier shots.

Arthur turned to her with a triumphant look, resting the club on his shoulder. "So... does that count?"

Nina couldn't help the laugh that bubbled out of her. "Alright, I'll admit it—that was good. But was it good enough?" she teased, tilting her head.

Arthur stepped closer, his gaze locking onto hers. "I think it was," he said softly, his confidence unwavering.

With a small laugh, Nina leaned in and kissed him lightly on the cheek. "Fine, you earned it. But don't get used to it," she added, stepping back with a playful grin.

Arthur smirked, his eyes twinkling. "Too late. But now, how about double or nothing?"

Nina tilted her head, intrigued. "Oh, yeah? What's the wager this time?"

"This time, I want it on the lips," he said, his voice low and teasing.

Her cheeks flushed, but she held his gaze with a grin. "Alright, but if you mess this one up, it's a hundred percent beginner drills for the rest of the day. No complaints."

"Deal," Arthur said, laughing as he lined up his next shot. "Now, prepare to be amazed."

Nina smiled, her focus entirely on him, ready to see if he could back up his confidence. But just as she was about to step back, Arthur suddenly straightened, lowering his club as his attention shifted beyond her.

His face brightened with recognition, and he raised a hand in greeting. "Hey, mate! How are you doing?"

Her stomach twisted at the interruption, and she frowned slightly, still facing Arthur. The faint crunch of footsteps approached from behind, accompanied by the metallic sound of a golf club brushing the ground. And then came the voice—smooth, confident, and infuriatingly familiar.

"Never thought I'd see you at a golf course," it remarked, tinged with amusement. "Thought you hated golf."

Nina froze, gripping the handle of her club tightly. Her pulse quickened, the words settling over her like a weight. She didn't need to turn around. That voice was etched in her memory.

Lando.

Chapter Text

Nina turned slowly, her pulse quickening as she finally faced him. Her grip tightened instinctively on the club she held, the smooth metal grounding her as her gaze met his.

Lando's expression shifted the moment their eyes locked. For a brief second, surprise flickered across his face, his confident demeanor faltering. He recovered quickly, though, his signature smirk sliding back into place as he straightened, his golf club resting lazily on his shoulder.

Arthur, oblivious to the undercurrent of tension, gestured between them with an easy smile. "Nina, this is Lando Norris, a colleague at work. Lando, this is Nina Hart."

Lando's eyes lit up, his smirk widening into a playful grin. Extending his hand, he said with an exaggerated tone of admiration, "Oh, Nina Hart—the professional golfer. I'm a fan."

Nina arched an eyebrow, her lips curving into a faint smile as she shook his hand. "What an honor," she replied smoothly, her tone carrying a hint of sarcasm. "An F1 driver is a fan of mine. I must be doing something right."

Lando chuckled, his gaze lingering on her for a moment longer than necessary. "You've definitely caught my attention," he said, his voice playful but with an edge that wasn't entirely teasing.

Arthur glanced between them, his smile faltering slightly as something in the exchange set him on edge. Clearing his throat, he gestured toward them with a curious tilt of his head. "Wait a second... Have you two met before?"

Nina hesitated, her expression momentarily guarded as she pulled her hand back. "Not exactly," she said, her tone carefully neutral.

Lando, however, leaned on his club with an easy confidence, his grin widening. "Not officially," he said, his voice light but unmistakably suggestive. "Let's just say I've seen her in action a few times."

Nina's jaw tightened slightly, though she kept her expression neutral. Seen her in action a few times, huh? she thought, a spark of annoyance flaring within her. What is wrong with this wanker.

Arthur's brows furrowed slightly, his unease deepening as he studied their expressions. "Huh," he said slowly, as if trying to piece together something he couldn't quite grasp. "Well, small world, I guess."

"Very," Nina said, her tone brisk as she turned back to Arthur, effectively ending the moment. "Now, are you ready to focus on your swing, or are we just here to chat?"

Arthur nodded quickly, his tension easing as he adjusted his stance. "Right. Back to business. Sorry, Lando—I've got a very strict coach," he said with a grin, casting a playful glance at Nina. "Plus, she promised me something if I pull it off flawlessly."

Nina's cheeks turned crimson as she caught Lando's curious look. He tilted his head slightly, an eyebrow raised. "She promised you something?" he asked, his tone intrigued.

Arthur laughed, clearly enjoying the moment, while Lando's serious gaze flickered between the two of them. Flustered, Nina quickly said, "Focus, Arthur."

Arthur struck the ball, but it wasn't as clean as his previous shots. Nina stepped closer, her tone firm yet encouraging. "You're lifting your head too soon. Keep your focus all the way through the swing."

Lando crossed his arms, a teasing smirk on his lips. "Tough coach you've got there, mate. Maybe I should start taking lessons myself," he said, his tone playful. Then, looking at Nina, he added, "Nina, do you have a schedule for me?"

Nina's stomach tightened at his words, a flicker of discomfort washing over her. The playful tone in his voice was enough to set her on edge, and she struggled to keep her expression neutral. She felt the faint heat creeping up her neck, an involuntary reaction she hoped went unnoticed.

Arthur shifted his focus to Lando, a mock-serious expression on his face. "Sorry, Lando, Nina is my private coach."

Lando raised his hands in surrender, laughing. "Alright, alright. I'll go find myself another coach as talented as her." His gaze lingered on Nina for a moment longer than she liked, a flicker of unspoken tension passing between them.

He grinned at both of them and said, "Well, good session. See you around." With a wave, he turned and walked back to his friend, leaving Nina to quietly exhale the breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding.

They continued their training, but Nina's mind was elsewhere, caught in a tangle of memories and emotions she couldn't quite shake. Fortunately, Arthur didn't seem to notice, his focus remaining on perfecting his swing as she mechanically offered corrections.

As the practice session wrapped up, the sun dipped lower in the sky, casting warm, golden hues over the golf course. Arthur and Nina laughed as they walked toward the clubhouse, both flushed from the day's effort. 

Inside the clubhouse, they decided to take a break. Arthur headed toward the lounge, and Nina separated to find the locker room to freshen up and change. The hallway was quiet, the chatter from the lounge muffled as she walked, her thoughts blissfully focused on the peacefulness of the moment.

In the women's locker room, she changed quickly, slipping into a fresh outfit that felt comfortable yet polished. She splashed some cool water on her face, letting it refresh her after the long day. Pulling out her makeup bag, she applied a touch of concealer, a quick swipe of mascara, and a soft pink lip gloss, the routine grounding her as it always did.

Feeling more put together, she slung her bag over her shoulder and exited the women's locker room, her steps confident as she moved toward the lounge.

Until she saw him.

Lando.

He was leaning casually against the wall near the men's locker room, texting on his phone. Nina's stomach twisted when she spotted him, but she straightened her shoulders and kept walking, her gaze fixed ahead as if he weren't there.

As she brushed past, the faint scent of his cologne caught her, stirring an unwelcome flutter in her chest. She kept her stride steady, determined not to falter.

Lando looked up, sensing her presence, his eyes catching on her retreating figure.

"Nina," he called, his voice low and commanding.

She didn't stop.

But then she felt his hand on her arm, firm but not rough, and before she could react, he stepped closer, guiding her back toward the wall. The move was smooth and deliberate, his presence overwhelming as he leaned in, one hand braced against the wall beside her head.

"Arthur Leclerc, huh? Your new interest ?" Lando said, his tone casual, but the sharp edge of his words was unmistakable. His blue-green eyes burned with something between amusement and irritation. "I didn't know you were into romantic muppets."

Nina's gaze hardened, her lips curving into a cold smile. "Well, I'm definitely not into arrogant dickheads," she said, her voice sharp and unwavering.

Lando's smirk deepened, his eyes glinting with a dangerous mix of mischief and challenge. He leaned in closer, just enough to invade her space, his voice dropping to a low, intimate murmur that sent an involuntary jolt through her. "Funny, isn't it? The so-called arrogant dickhead was the one who had you screaming his name in his bed last time."

For a moment, Nina just stared at him, processing his audacity. Then she laughed, a short, disbelieving sound that was equal parts amusement and frustration. Shaking her head slightly, she narrowed her eyes and met his gaze head-on.

"What are you playing at, Norris?" she asked, her tone incredulous but edged with steel. "You said it yourself—it was just sex, wasn't it? Just fun. So what exactly are you trying to say here? Because, honestly, I'm really lost right now."

Lando didn't answer. He stayed silent, his smirk gone, replaced by an intensity that made her pulse quicken. His gaze was fixed on hers, unwavering and powerful, and it felt as though he could see right through her defenses. There was something in the way he looked at her, a heat that seemed to envelop her, making the air between them heavy and electric.

She swallowed hard, her chest tightening as she tried to keep her composure. But his eyes—God, his eyes—were utterly mesmerizing. It wasn't just their striking color, but the way they held her captive, pulling her in, making her feel like the ground beneath her was shifting.

How does he do that? she thought, the question hitting her like a jolt. How does he make me feel like this with just a look?

She felt vulnerable, exposed, and yet unable to tear herself away. Her heart pounded in her chest, and despite every ounce of logic screaming at her to step back, to walk away, she remained frozen in place.

This man is dangerous, she realized, the thought both unsettling and undeniable.

And still, he said nothing. The silence between them was deafening, the weight of his gaze enough to unravel her carefully constructed resolve. For the first time in a long while, Nina felt like she was no longer in control—and that terrified her more than anything.

Nina forced herself to break eye contact, her chest heaving as she felt her resolve weakening under the weight of his gaze. She turned her head sharply, desperate to regain control. "I have to go," she muttered, her voice barely above a whisper, and she started to move toward the hallway leading to the lounge.

But before she could take another step, Lando grabbed her arm, his touch firm yet electric. She barely had time to register the heat of his grip before he pulled her toward him, and his lips crashed against hers.

The kiss was a blaze of heat, raw and consuming, stealing the breath from her lungs. She froze for a split second, caught off guard by the sheer intensity of it. But then her body responded, almost against her will, melting into him. She couldn't push him back. She wasn't going to lie to herself—she had missed him. Missed this.

With Arthur, it was delicate, soft, tender. But with Lando, it was hunger. Fierce, uncontrollable fire. Every nerve in her body ignited as his hands moved to her waist, pulling her closer. His kiss was relentless, demanding, yet impossibly familiar, and it undid her completely.

Her back hit the wall just outside the men's locker room as he deepened the kiss, his hands exploring her with a confidence that left her breathless. She could feel the tension in his body, the raw need he didn't bother to hide.

Before she knew it, he was guiding her backward, his lips never leaving hers, his movements calculated yet urgent. The door to the changing room clicked shut behind them, muffling the outside world and cocooning them in a haze of heat and need. With a deliberate motion, he reached back and locked the door, the soft click echoing in the charged silence between them.

He pressed her against the cool surface of a locker, his hands roaming her body as if rediscovering something he'd lost. Her breath hitched, her fingers threading through his hair as she pulled him closer. The intensity between them was undeniable, every touch, every kiss a desperate, unspoken confession.

But as the heat of the moment threatened to consume her, Nina's mind began to spiral. This is absolutely not right, she thought, the weight of her actions sinking in. Arthur's face flashed in her mind—his kind smile, his gentle touch. Guilt twisted in her chest, cutting through the haze of desire. I'm going to regret this. I have to stop.

She froze, her hands pressing lightly against Lando's chest to halt him. "Lando," she whispered, her voice shaky but firm. He paused, his breath hot against her neck, his movements stilling as her words registered. Slowly, he pulled back, his gaze searching hers, his expression shifting from heated to questioning.

Her chest heaved as she steadied herself, meeting his intense gaze. Her hands remained against his chest as she said, "I don't want to regret this, Lando. I need to stop now. This... it's not fun for me anymore."

He stayed quiet, his breathing still uneven, his lips parted as if he wanted to say something but couldn't find the words. The silence between them was heavy, the weight of her confession hanging in the air.

Then, slowly, his hands fell away from her body, his movements deliberate and measured. His jaw tightened, but his gaze softened, a flicker of understanding—mixed with something that looked like hurt—crossing his face.

"I'm sorry," he murmured, his voice low and rough, laced with emotions he didn't bother to mask. "I didn't mean to push you. I—" He stopped himself, exhaling deeply, his frustration with himself evident. "You're right. This isn't fair to you."

Nina swallowed hard, her heart pounding as she stepped back, putting more distance between them. "I have to go," she said softly, her voice steady but thick with unspoken emotions. She turned toward the door, desperate to regain control of herself.

Lando stepped aside, giving her room to pass, but he didn't say anything, didn't move to stop her. Her chest tightened painfully as she reached for the lock, her fingers trembling slightly as she unlocked the door. She left the room, the sound of the door clicking shut behind her feeling like a final blow.

With each step down the quiet hallway, a part of her hoped—desperately, foolishly—that he would catch up, that he would call out to her, tell her to stay with him. But the silence remained unbroken, and her heart sank further with each passing moment.

She couldn't face Arthur, not like this. Her emotions were too raw, her mind too scattered. Instead, she veered toward the reception desk, her legs shaky beneath her. She retrieved her golf bag, barely managing to smile at the attendant, and hurried outside to the parking lot.

Once inside her car, the tears she had been holding back came rushing to the surface. They spilled over uncontrollably, and she clutched the steering wheel tightly, her body shaking as she let the emotions take over. Frustration, guilt, sadness—they all swirled together, consuming her in a storm of feelings she couldn't escape.

Her phone buzzed beside her, and she wiped at her face, glancing at the screen. It wasn't Lando. Of course, it wasn't. It was Arthur, asking if everything was okay. She hesitated, her fingers trembling as she typed out a reply.

Nina: Hey, I'm so sorry. Something came up, and I had to leave. I hope you understand. We'll catch up soon.

She hit send and set her phone down, closing her eyes as another wave of tears spilled over. She wanted to regret the moment with Lando, wanted to push it out of her mind entirely. But she couldn't. The weight of it pressed down on her chest, refusing to let go.

She stayed there for what felt like an eternity, letting the storm within her settle before she finally turned the key in the ignition and drove away, still unsure of how to make sense of everything that had just happened.

Chapter Text

Nina sat cross-legged on the couch, a tub of salted caramel ice cream balanced precariously on her lap. The comforting theme song of Friends filled the room, Ross and Rachel's cheerful banter attempting to lift her spirits. The flickering glow of the TV cast soft shadows across her apartment, but even the cozy setting couldn't lighten the heaviness in her chest.

Her spoon scraped the bottom of the carton, the empty dessert a poor distraction from the storm in her mind. Arthur had been a bright spot earlier—a reminder of how uncomplicated things could be. His easy charm and steady kindness had grounded her, but even that wasn't enough to stop her thoughts from drifting back to Lando.

Lando. His magnetic smile, the intensity in his eyes, the way he could make her feel like the center of his universe—it was infuriating how easily he got under her skin. She groaned, leaning back against the couch cushions. "You're such an idiot, Nina," she muttered. She had sworn to avoid men like him: all charm and chaos, a temptation she couldn't afford to indulge. And yet, she had let herself get swept up, regretting every moment of it now.

Her phone buzzed on the coffee table. For a second, her heart jumped—Lando? No. It wouldn't be. Pushing away the flicker of disappointment, she picked it up and saw Arthur's name.

Arthur: I hope you're okay. Let me know if you need anything, okay?

Her thumb hovered over the keyboard, guilt tugging at her. Arthur didn't deserve her emotional mess. He had been nothing but kind, and she hated how her turmoil with Lando bled into her interactions with him. Sighing, she tapped his name and hit the call button. She owed him more than just another text.

Arthur answered almost immediately, his voice warm and steady. "Nina? Is everything okay?"

She hesitated, then said softly, "Hey... yeah. I just thought it'd be easier to call."

His tone shifted, a touch of playfulness creeping in. "Easier for me, too. Now I can tell if you're faking that 'I'm okay' act."

She let out a small laugh, despite herself. "You're impossible, you know that?"

"But also right," he teased. "So, what are you up to?"

"Nothing, really," she admitted, glancing at the now-empty ice cream tub. "Just watching Friends and finishing some ice cream."

"Nothing here either," he said. "Unless you count watching golf videos and wondering why I don't have ice cream. Guess I'm slacking."

She laughed again, the sound coming more freely now. "Golf videos? You're such a nerd."

"Says the one who knows enough about golf to call me out on it," he retorted playfully.

Her smile lingered, the knot in her chest easing a little more. There was something so effortless about talking to Arthur—his humor and sincerity felt like a balm. Before she could overthink it, she said, "Want to do nothing together? You could come over, and we can just... hang out."

There was a brief pause, then his warm chuckle filled the line. "Best offer I've had all day. I'll be there in twenty."

Arthur arrived exactly twenty minutes later, true to his word. Nina heard the faint knock on her door and hurried to open it, the remnants of her earlier anxiety fading as she saw his familiar, easygoing smile.

"Hey," he said, holding up a bag from the local corner store. "Figured ice cream might be running low."

She laughed, stepping aside to let him in. "You're not wrong."

Arthur walked into the apartment, his presence filling the space with a calm energy. He set the bag on the counter and glanced around. "Nice place. Very 'Nina.' Minimal chaos, maximum order."

"Are you implying my life is chaos?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Never," he replied, grinning. "I'm just saying, this place is a sanctuary. Probably why you keep me out most of the time."

She rolled her eyes, unable to suppress her smile. "You're hopeless."

"I know, that's why you like me, right?" he replied, settling onto the couch.

She laughed as she joined him with another spoon. "Exactly."

He smiled at her and said, "So, what episode are we on?"

"Season five," she answered. "Ross and Rachel are in full meltdown mode."

Arthur groaned dramatically. "Classic. Can't wait to judge them with you."

As the show played on, their laughter blended with the cheerful sitcom dialogue. Arthur's dry commentary on the characters' antics had her laughing more than she expected, his easy humor lifting the weight she'd been carrying all day.

Halfway through the episode, Arthur glanced at her, his expression soft. "You seem better now," he said quietly. "I mean it—you're smiling."

She hesitated, then nodded. "I guess I needed this. Just... something normal."

"Normal's underrated," he replied with a grin. "Glad I could help. Must be my irresistible charm."

She rolled her eyes, but her smile lingered. The sincerity in his voice struck her, and she felt a quiet gratitude for his steady presence. "Thanks, Arthur," she said softly, leaning into his shoulder. "For being here."

"Anytime," he murmured, resting his head lightly against hers. "Now, let's see if Ross can fix this mess."

The evening passed in a blur of shared laughter and easy conversation, the tension inside her slowly fading. Arthur had a way of grounding her, making everything feel manageable, even if just for a while.

When it came time for Arthur to leave, Nina hesitated, her heart tugging at the thought of him walking out the door. On impulse, she stepped forward, grabbing his collar gently, and pulled him into a soft, lingering kiss. Rising on her tiptoes, she felt his hands settle on her waist, his touch light but grounding. His scent—fresh pine with a hint of musk—wrapped around her like a warm embrace on a cold day. It was simple, steady, and exactly what she needed.

As they pulled apart, her lips curved into a small, grateful smile. "You did great at golf today. This is your reward."

Arthur laughed softly, his grin widening as he tucked a stray strand of her hair behind her ear. "Best reward I've had in a while."

She let out a quiet laugh, the sound lighter than she'd felt all day. "Next time, I'd like you to stay a little longer."

"Next time, I will," he promised, his voice warm and steady.

Her gaze lingered on him as he stepped out the door, the smile he left her with still etched on her lips.

"Good night, Arthur."

"Good night, Nina," he replied, his voice carrying a softness that stayed with her long after the door clicked shut.

As she leaned back against the door, the chaos of her thoughts quieted for the first time in what felt like forever. Arthur's steady presence had brought her something rare: peace. For tonight, that was enough.

Chapter Text

Nina and Arthur's relationship unfolded with an easy rhythm, their days filled with lighthearted dates and moments of connection. They explored quaint cafes and scenic parks, often losing track of time in their conversations. Nina continued teaching Arthur golf, and his self-deprecating humor kept her laughing, though his progress was undeniable. His swing grew more confident, his putts more precise, and his once-awkward stance transformed under her guidance.

"Look at you," she teased as he sank a tricky putt. "You're starting to look like a real golfer."

Arthur smirked. "Careful, Hart. I might start beating you soon."

She laughed. "Let's not get carried away."

Their sessions blended challenge with laughter, and Nina couldn't help but feel proud watching him embrace a piece of her world.

Their dynamic was refreshingly simple. No games, no facades—just two people enjoying each other's company. Arthur's calm presence was a balm for Nina's often-turbulent emotions, and she found herself looking forward to their time together more and more.

One evening, he invited her to his apartment for dinner, insisting he wanted to surprise her with something special. She arrived to find the table set with care—candles flickering softly and a bottle of wine waiting to be opened. The air was fragrant with the rich, savory aroma of the meal he'd prepared.

"Okay, you're officially showing off," Nina teased as he emerged from the kitchen with plates in hand, a proud smile on his face.

"Only for you," Arthur said, his eyes warm. "And don't judge until you've tried it. I've been watching an embarrassing number of cooking videos for this."

The food was exquisite—pan-seared salmon with a perfectly creamy lemon butter sauce and roasted vegetables. Nina was impressed, the meal far exceeding her expectations.

"You're full of surprises, aren't you?" she said, taking another bite.

Arthur shrugged modestly. "I just wanted to make this special for you. You deserve it."

As they finished eating, the rain began to pour outside, the rhythmic patter against the windows creating an intimate cocoon around them. Arthur lit the fireplace, and they moved to the couch, talking softly as the storm rolled on outside.

Eventually, the conversation quieted, their gazes meeting in the flickering firelight. Arthur reached out, brushing a strand of hair from her face.

"I feel like I just... crossed your path by chance," he said softly, his eyes searching hers. "Like I wasn't supposed to, but here I am."

Nina's lips curved into a faint smile, her heart skipping at the vulnerability in his voice. "Maybe you were supposed to," she whispered, her voice barely audible.

She leaned in, slowly, almost hesitantly, and Arthur mirrored her movement. The space between them seemed to vanish inch by inch, the flickering firelight casting soft shadows across their faces. Her heart raced as his gaze flicked to her lips, his eyes warm and inviting, silently asking the question she already knew the answer to.

When their lips met, it was soft and unhurried, a tentative exploration that quickly melted into something deeper. Arthur's hand found its way to her cheek, his touch gentle yet firm, grounding her in the moment. Her fingers brushed against his shoulder, their connection electrifying and natural all at once.

The kiss deepened, carrying an intensity that wasn't rushed but filled with purpose, as if they were silently confessing all the words they hadn't said aloud. The world around them seemed to fade away—the rain tapping gently against the windows, the crackling of the fire—all that mattered was the warmth of his lips on hers and the way he held her as though she was the only thing that existed.

As her hand trailed down to rest against his chest, her touch lingering, Nina felt a spark of desire stir within her. She leaned into him, her kiss becoming more insistent, silently asking for more. But just as the heat between them began to rise, Arthur broke the kiss, pulling back slightly.

He rested his forehead against hers, his breathing uneven, his hands still gently cradling her face. "Nina," he whispered, his voice soft but firm, "I want this as much as you do. But... I need to be sure it's what you want."

His words hung in the air, pulling her back to the moment. She met his gaze, the warmth in his eyes disarming her. For a moment, the vulnerability between them spoke louder than the kiss itself.

Nina caressed his face gently, her thumb brushing against his cheek as she looked into his eyes. "My heart is racing so much right now," she whispered, her voice trembling slightly but filled with honesty.

Arthur's lips curved into a soft smile, his own breathing still uneven as he held her gaze. He placed his hand over hers, pressing her palm lightly against his cheek.

"Mine too," he admitted quietly. "I just... I want this to be right. For you."

Nina felt a warmth spread through her chest at his words, a mix of tenderness and longing. With their foreheads still touching, her nose grazed his in the smallest, softest motion. "It already is," she whispered.

Arthur exhaled slowly, his fingers tightening ever so slightly around her hand. He searched her face, looking for any doubt, but all he found was a quiet certainty in her eyes.

"Okay," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

This time, when he kissed her, it was different—gentler, slower, as though he wanted to savor every moment. His hands slid to her waist, holding her as though she might slip away, while hers rested lightly on his chest, feeling the soft thrum of his heart beneath her fingertips.

The rain outside poured harder, a relentless backdrop to their quiet intimacy. The fire crackled softly, its glow casting warm shadows around them, but neither of them noticed. All that mattered was the closeness between them, the way their breaths mingled and their movements synced effortlessly.

Arthur was careful, thoughtful in every touch, every whisper. He made sure Nina felt safe, cared for, constantly checking her reactions, silently asking if she was okay. And Nina, her heart racing but full, answered him with her actions, her soft smiles, her gentle nods.

In the quiet storm of the evening, they found something deeper than words—a connection built not just on attraction, but on trust and tenderness. And as they lay tangled together afterward, the rain easing into a soft drizzle, Nina felt a calm she hadn't known she needed.

Arthur's fingers traced slow, lazy patterns along her arm as she rested her head on his chest. "You're incredible, you know that?" he said softly, breaking the silence.

"Incredible at what?" she asked, her voice muffled against him.

"At making me feel like the luckiest guy alive," he replied, his voice filled with sincerity.

Nina smiled, her eyes closing as she let herself sink into the comfort of his words. "Funny," she whispered. "I was just thinking the same about you."

Her phone buzzed, cutting through the peaceful moment. She reached for it reluctantly, the name on the screen making her stomach twist: Dickhead.

Lando.

Nina sighed, her mood shifting instantly. What the fuck does he want now? she thought, glaring at the phone. It was always like this—just when she was starting to move on, just when her life felt calmer, he managed to reappear. It was as if he had a sixth sense for the perfect moment to disrupt her peace.

Arthur's arm tightened around her slightly, his presence grounding her, but she could feel her frustration building. She stared at the buzzing phone for another second before making a decision. Without hesitation, she hung up and went to her settings.

Finally, she blocked Lando's number.

Setting the phone down, she exhaled deeply, as though shedding a weight she hadn't realized she'd been carrying. Arthur tilted his head slightly, noticing the shift in her expression. "Everything okay?" he asked gently.

"Yeah," Nina said, forcing a smile as she leaned back against him. "Just clearing some things up."

Arthur didn't push for more, simply pulling her closer. Nina rested her head on his chest again, determined to keep the peace she had found with him intact, no matter how hard Lando tried to disturb it.

Chapter Text

Niseko, Japan

The mountain air bit sharply at their skin, the cold seeping through even the warmest layers. Snowflakes clung to Lando's beanie as he adjusted his snowboard, squinting up at the slope ahead. His best friend Max Fewtrell stood beside him, grinning, his cheeks flushed from the cold.

"Ready to get smoked again, Bob?" Max teased, clipping into his bindings.

Lando shot him a sidelong glance, shaking his head. "You're delusional. I won the last run."

"Pure luck, mate. This time, you're toast."

Before Lando could respond, Max pushed off, carving down the slope with confident ease. Lando followed, the famed Niseko powder spraying around him as he found his rhythm. Each turn felt effortless, the crisp air and speed giving him the clarity he craved.

This was why he came here. The mountains were his refuge, a place to shake off the weight of the past year. The pressure, the chaos—it all dissolved in the rush of the descent.

By the time he reached the bottom, his chest heaved from the effort, his grin wide and unguarded. Max was already waiting, brushing snow from his jacket with a smug look.

"Not bad for an old man, huh?" Lando teased, unclipping his bindings with deliberate ease.

Max laughed, his cocky grin only deepening. "You wish, mate. The mountain doesn't lie—scoreboard's in my favor."

Lando rolled his eyes but let the moment linger. The slopes of Niseko had done their job. Here, at least, he could breathe.

They trudged back to their chalet, a sprawling retreat nestled in the woods, its floor-to-ceiling windows offering an uninterrupted view of the snowy landscape. Inside, the warmth enveloped them immediately, the scent of cedar mingling with the faint aroma of hot chocolate. Max flopped onto the couch, yanking off his gloves and grabbing his phone, while Lando lingered by the fire, staring into the flickering flames.

His phone buzzed in his pocket, the screen lighting up with a message.

Ana : I'm in London for two weeks. Let's have some fun.

Ana was nothing more than a brief escape—a girl he'd hooked up with at a New Year's Eve party in New York, a moment of fleeting gratification he had no intention of revisiting. He hadn't replied to her last few texts and wasn't about to start now. Instead, his thumb hovered over Instagram, instinctively searching for Nina's profile.

Frowning, he stared at the screen, the urge to call her rising once again.

He'd tried last night, but the call had barely lasted a few seconds before disconnecting. When he attempted again later, the line didn't go through. He'd chalked it up to the poor mountain signal—hardly the ideal spot for flawless service.

Now, standing in the chalet with full bars on his phone, he tried her number again. The result was the same. No connection. Did she block me? The thought hit him like a punch, unwelcome and unshakable.

But why had he called her in the first place? What was I even hoping for? He was miles away from her—physically and in every way that mattered. It didn't make sense, and the fact that it didn't made him hate himself even more.

Max glanced up from his phone, his sharp eyes immediately catching the tension in Lando's face. "Alright, what's with the sulking? You look like you just got overtaken on the last lap," he teased, leaning back into the couch with a smug grin.

Shaking his head, he shoved his phone into his pocket, trying to dismiss the nagging voice in his head. "It's nothing."

Max snorted, leaning forward on the couch. "Nothing? Mate, I've known you long enough to know when something's eating at you. Spill it."

"I said it's nothing," Lando muttered, turning back toward the fire, but his stiff posture gave him away. He couldn't shake the image from Nina's story yesterday, the one that had burned itself into his mind. It was just her on a golf course, but she wasn't alone. Arthur Leclerc was there too, his name casually tagged.

Lando didn't follow her on Instagram—he'd told himself it was just physical, nothing more, no strings attached. But lately, he'd caught himself giving in to the urge to check. What she was doing, what she was wearing, where she was, and, most frustratingly, who she was with.

He shook his head, a bitter laugh escaping under his breath. This is ridiculous. What am I thinking? Whatever was going on—whether she'd blocked him or not—it didn't matter. It was never serious anyway.

Max glanced up from his phone at the sound of Lando's laugh. "Laughing to yourself now?" he teased, leaning back into the couch with a smirk. "Should I be worried, or is this just the first sign you're finally losing it?"

Lando rolled his eyes, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. "Relax, Max. If I ever start losing it, you'll be the first to know—I'll make sure to drag you down with me."

Max snorted, shaking his head. "Oh, you'd love that, wouldn't you? Misery loves company, right?"

"Exactly," Lando said with a mock-serious tone, leaning back into the armrest. "And who better to suffer with me than you?"

Max laughed, shaking his head as he picked his phone back up. "You're hopeless, mate."

Lando let out a small chuckle, but the moment Max's attention drifted back to his screen, his smile faded. He didn't bother telling Max about Nina. What would be the point? Max wouldn't get it—and, honestly, Lando wasn't sure he did either. It was never serious, he reminded himself. Just a few moments that were supposed to stay exactly that—moments. Nothing more.

Still, as he sat there staring into the fire, he made a silent promise to himself: No more. I'm done checking. It was just sex—nothing more, nothing less.

Lando sat in the lounge of The Langham, the luxurious hotel they'd checked into after arriving back in the UK. His fingers lazily scrolled through his phone as a video played, the sound muted. Outside, the gray London skies stretched endlessly, rain spattering against the tall windows, a stark contrast to the snowy paradise they'd left behind in Niseko.

Across from him, Max sat slouched in an armchair, sipping a steaming cup of hot chocolate as he tapped away on his phone. They'd come back to work on some projects for Quadrant, but the hotel's warm ambiance and comfortable seats made productivity an uphill battle.

"Oh, look at that," Max muttered, the surprise in his voice cutting through the quiet. "Arthur Leclerc found himself a girlfriend."

Lando's head snapped up at the mention of Arthur's name, his thumb freezing on the screen. "What?" he asked, his tone sharper than he intended.

Max barely looked up, holding his phone higher to get a better look. "Yeah, mate. Spa day, robes and all. Lucky bastard." He smirked, then turned the phone toward Lando. "Here—tell me that doesn't look cozy."

Lando's eyes flicked to the screen before he could stop himself. His stomach dropped. The image was simple, but it hit him like a punch. Nina, in a white spa robe, standing next to Arthur Leclerc as they smiled into the mirror. Her hair was pulled back, and her face was glowing, relaxed. Arthur looked at ease too, like he belonged there.

The story had been posted by Nina and reposted by Arthur. It was casual—too casual—and yet it screamed intimacy.

Lando looked away quickly, forcing a tight laugh. "Good for him," he muttered, his voice strained as he focused back on his cup, his knuckles white against the handle.

Max didn't seem to notice at first. "Hang on," he said, scrolling through her Instagram profile, his curiosity clearly piqued. "Wait a second... she's a professional golfer? Nina Hart? Says here she won the Dubai tournament last month. That's massive."

Lando's heart thudded hard at the mention of her name, but he stayed silent, staring blankly at the steam rising from his hot chocolat.

"She's cute, too. I mean, really cute," Max continued, clearly impressed. "Arthur's done well for himself. And a golfer—damn, didn't know she was that good."

Lando's jaw tightened, his pulse quickening as he forced his expression to remain neutral. But Max's words echoed in his mind—Arthur's done well for himself. The sharp ache in his chest twisted deeper, making it hard to swallow.

He had no right to care. None. It had been nothing—just sex, he reminded himself. But seeing her there, with Arthur—that close, that comfortable, that intimate—felt like a knife twisting inside him. It ignited something raw and ugly, a monster roaring to life within him.

Lando's leg started bouncing under the table, the restless motion giving him away. Max's eyes flicked up. "Uh-oh," he said, half-teasing. "There goes the leg. What's got you worked up now?"

"I'm good," Lando muttered tightly, forcing his leg still and gripping his cup like a lifeline.

"Mate, come on. I know that move," Max pressed. "You look like you're about to either fight someone or puke."

"Drop it, Max," Lando snapped, though his voice lacked its usual bite. Max studied him, but eventually let it go, sitting back with a shrug.

Lando's gaze remained fixed on his cup, his chest heavy with memories he couldn't escape. He could still feel her—the warmth of her skin beneath his fingertips, impossibly soft and alive. That faint floral scent, roses mixed with something uniquely her, lingered in his senses like an intoxicating ghost.

Her voice echoed in his mind, soft and breathless, paired with the quiet, unguarded smile that made the world melt away. In those fleeting moments, she had been entirely his, the connection between them unspoken but undeniable.

And then, there were the moments that lingered most—the moments when she was completely undone. He could still see her, eyes wide and unfocused, her lips parted with soft, desperate gasps. The vulnerability in her expression made his heart race, as if the intimacy they shared ran far deeper than the physical. Her body arching into his, fingers clutching at him, her face caught between pleasure and surrender—it was etched into his memory like a painting he could never unsee.

That smile, those whispers, that bond—they had been his. Once. But now, they weren't. Now, they were Arthur's.

The thought landed like a hammer to his core, leaving him sick to his stomach. No matter how hard he tried to push her out, her image lingered—her laughter, her touch, the way she'd once looked at him. Now, those memories were hauntingly overlaid with her and Arthur. Together. Smiling. Intimate.

The pain in his heart twisted sharper, relentless. It was too much.

Before he could stop himself, Lando yanked his phone from his pocket and pulled up Ana's messages. His emotions spiraled into a reckless, desperate need to block out the storm raging in his head. He couldn't bear the weight of Nina's memory, the way it consumed him. He needed an escape—something, anything, to silence the noise.

I want you. Now.

He hit send, jaw tightening as the message delivered. Seconds later, another followed:

The Langham. Be there in an hour.

Her reply came almost instantly.

Ana:   I've been waiting for you. I'm already wet thinking about it.

The words stared back at him, blunt and eager—exactly what he'd wanted. But as he set the phone down, the storm inside him didn't subside. The noise remained, constant and consuming.

Lando exhaled sharply, his fingers curling against the table. There was no relief, only an unrelenting ache twisting inside him, refusing to let go. Nina was occupying every corner of his mind, leaving no room for anything else.

Chapter Text

Lando collapsed onto the bed, his chest rising and falling as he let out a final, shuddering breath. His body felt heavy, utterly spent, but it was the kind of exhaustion he sought—the kind that dulled everything else. He stared at the ceiling, letting the sweat dry on his skin, his mind mercifully blank, if only for a moment.

Beside him, Ana stirred, her body still trembling as she caught her breath. "You're a fucking beast, Lando," she murmured with a soft, breathless laugh, a mix of awe and disbelief in her voice. "I don't think I'll be able to walk after this."

Lando turned his head slightly, catching a glimpse of Ana sprawled beside him, her dark hair tangled against the pillows, her lips curled into a lazy, satisfied smile. She looked like she was still savoring the aftermath, but for him, the rush was already fading.

He exhaled sharply and swung his legs over the edge of the bed, planting his feet on the cool floor. The room was quiet now, the buzz of the city outside barely filtering through the heavy curtains.

Ana propped herself up on one elbow, watching him as he ran a hand through his damp hair. "What's wrong?" she asked, her voice light but edged with curiosity.

"Nothing," he replied, his tone flat. He stood and grabbed his boxers from the floor, pulling them on in one smooth motion. "Just need some air."

"Is this how it always ends with you?" she teased, but there was a flicker of something else in her eyes—hurt, maybe, or disappointment. Lando didn't dwell on it. He didn't want to.

"This isn't a 'let's talk about feelings' kind of thing, Ana," he said, glancing at her briefly. "You knew that."

She rolled her eyes and flopped back onto the bed, draping an arm over her face. "Yeah, yeah. No strings, no drama. You made that clear."

"Good." He grabbed a bottle of water from the minibar and took a long sip, the cold liquid grounding him. For a second, he considered staying—letting the quiet moment stretch a little longer—but the pull of the outside world was stronger. Anything to keep his mind from circling back to her.

Nina.

He clenched his jaw as the thought crept in, unbidden and unwelcome. Ana had done her part, distracting him for a night, but it hadn't been enough. It was never enough. Nina's face, her voice, her damn laugh—they kept haunting him, just like his ex once had. That same gnawing pull in his chest, that same ache he couldn't shake.

His fingers brushed against the silver bracelet on his right wrist, cool and familiar. It wasn't just jewelry; it was a reminder. A promise he had made to himself long ago. Never fall in love again. Love was messy, it was painful, and it always demanded more than he could give. The bracelet was his tether, grounding him to that vow whenever the edges of his resolve started to fray.

"I'm heading out," he said abruptly, grabbing his shirt, keys, and phone in one quick motion.

Ana peeked at him from beneath her arm, her expression unreadable. "See you around, Lando."

He paused at the door, his hand gripping the handle, his voice quieter this time but firm. "I want you to be gone when I come back."

She blinked, her lips parting as if to say something, but instead, she let out a short, humorless laugh. "Okay," she said simply, her voice devoid of emotion.

Lando nodded once, avoiding her gaze, and stepped into the hallway. The door clicked shut behind him, leaving Ana alone in the dimly lit room. For a moment, she stared at the ceiling, her face unreadable, before sighing and turning onto her side, the weight of the silence pressing in.

Lando didn't look back as he walked to the elevator, stuffing his hands deep into his pockets. No ties. No complications. That was the rule.

No exception.

When Lando stepped into the lobby, the faint hum of the night shift at the reception desk barely registered. He pulled out his phone, scrolling to Max's name, and hit call. It rang twice before Max answered.

"Well, this is a surprise," Max said, his voice tinged with groggy sarcasm. "Didn't think I'd hear from you tonight. Thought you'd still be with that lovely girl. Isn't she the one from New York? What's she doing here?"

Lando exhaled, running a hand through his messy hair. "I dunno. We didn't really talk much."

Max chuckled softly. "Ah, I see. Not much talking, but plenty of other activities. Classic."

"Something like that," Lando muttered, his tone flat.

There was a pause before Max's voice softened, edged with a hint of concern. "Look, mate, we need to talk about this pattern you've got going. All these hookups—it's not like you. Since Luisinha, I—"

"Let's not get into that," Lando cut him off abruptly, his voice sharper than intended. "Not tonight, Max. I'm really not in the mood for this."

Max sighed on the other end of the line, clearly debating whether to push the issue. "Alright, fine. But you know you can't just avoid this forever."

"Yeah, well, I can avoid it for tonight," Lando replied tersely, glancing around the quiet lobby. "Where are you?"

"In my room, obviously," Max said. "Why?"

"Come down," Lando said, already heading toward the seating area near the elevator. "I need to get out of here for a bit."

"You're really dragging me out of bed at—" Max paused, likely checking the time. "—two-thirty in the bloody morning? You'd better have a good plan, or at least coffee."

"Just get down here," Lando said, ending the call before Max could protest further.

He sank into one of the plush lobby chairs, resting his elbows on his knees, his head in his hands. The quiet hum of the lobby did little to soothe his restless thoughts, but at least it was better than the suffocating silence of his hotel room.

A few minutes later, Max appeared, wearing a hoodie and sweatpants, his hair sticking up in all directions. He looked like he'd been dragged out of hibernation.

"This better be good," Max muttered as he dropped into the chair opposite Lando. "What's the plan? Or is this just another one of your 'let's wander around aimlessly' nights?"

Lando shrugged, leaning back and staring at the ceiling. "No plan. Just needed to get out."

Max studied him for a moment, his usual teasing replaced with a rare seriousness. "Right. So, are we going to keep pretending this is about nothing, or are you actually going to talk to me?"

Lando smirked faintly, shaking his head. "Leave it, Max."

Max rolled his eyes, standing and gesturing toward the door. "Okay, then. Let's at least make this worth my time. You're buying."

"Fine," Lando said as he grabbed his jacket and followed Max to the exit.

As they stepped into the cold night air, Max shoved his hands into his pockets, his breath fogging up in front of him. "Since you don't drink coffee, I'm calling the shots. Let's get ice cream."

"In the middle of winter?" Lando raised an eyebrow, his lips twitching into a reluctant smile.

"Exactly," Max replied, grinning. "The best time to eat ice cream. No crowds, no melting, and you can actually enjoy it without sweating your arse off. Trust me."

Lando shook his head but followed anyway, the cool air biting at his cheeks as they walked down the quiet street. The absurdity of eating ice cream in freezing weather was exactly the kind of distraction he needed. Max led the way, chatting about random things—racing, streaming, whatever came to mind.

By the time they reached the small shop still open late, Lando was almost grateful for Max's ability to keep things light, even when he clearly knew there was more going on.

Max handed Lando a cone topped with an obnoxious swirl of chocolate and caramel. "Here you go, mate. Therapy on a waffle cone."

Lando chuckled despite himself, taking a bite. The cold was sharp, almost numbing. "You're an idiot, you know that?"

Max grinned, unfazed, as he licked his cone. "Yeah, but you wouldn't survive without me. So, what's the plan for tomorrow? What about golf? If it's not raining, let's hit the course and see if you can actually beat me this time."

Golf huh? Lando gave him a sideways glance, his smirk fading slightly. He remembered the first time he met Nina— on the golf course during a charity event. Her focus, her swing, the way she effortlessly outplayed him. "Not golf." He muttered, shaking his head. If only he hadn't shown up that day, if only he'd said no to Zak's invitation, he wouldn't be stuck dealing with all these unnecessary feelings now.

Max nearly choked on his ice cream, staring at Lando like he'd just sprouted a second head. "Ha? Not golf? Since when ? Who are you, and what have you done with my best mate?"

Lando rolled his eyes but couldn't suppress a small chuckle. "I'm still your best mate. Just... not feeling it right now. Besides, don't forget we've got work tomorrow—Quadrant photoshoot, sponsor meeting, and that podcast recording."

Max blinked. "Oh yeah, true. Busy day."

"Exactly," Lando said quickly. "So, golf can wait."

Max smirked. "Fine, Bob. But once we're done, I'm dragging you to the course. No escape."

Lando shook his head with a small laugh, tossing the rest of his cone into a nearby bin. "Yeah, yeah. We'll see."

Max grinned, licking the last of his ice cream. "You'd better get ready, mate. I'll be adding golf champion to my résumé soon enough."

Chapter Text

Nina stepped off the train at King's Cross, a smile tugging at her lips. London was buzzing as always, a mix of tourists and locals weaving through the station. Along with her suitcase rolling smoothly behind her, she carried her golf clubs slung over one shoulder and wore a very cute banana bag strapped snugly around her waist. The compact bag held her phone, wallet, and a few essentials, adding a sporty yet effortlessly stylish touch to her look. She checked her phone and saw Mila's latest message:

Nina: Hurry up, slowpoke. I'm waiting at home. The champagne's already chilling.

Shaking her head, Nina made her way to the taxi rank. Mila never did anything halfway, and tonight was no exception.

When she arrived at Mila's apartment, the door flung open before she could knock. "Finally!" Mila pulled her into a hug, grinning from ear to ear. "You took forever, Nina. Did the train break down or what?"

"Hi to you too," Nina laughed, stepping inside. The familiar warmth of Mila's apartment hit her—the cozy chaos of textbooks still scattered on the table, fairy lights strung up along the walls, and music already playing softly in the background.

Mila closed the door behind her and spun dramatically. "Okay, first things first—champagne. Second, you're helping me pick an outfit. And third, we are going all out tonight. No complaints."

Nina dropped her bag by the couch and sank into the nearest chair. "I didn't know I was signing up for a military operation."

"This calls for a proper celebration," Mila said, pouring two glasses of champagne with a cheeky grin. "That bloody project is finally done, Nina. The project. It's been my entire life for months, and I thought it'd never end. And you, my love, are my partner in crime tonight. We're hitting Soho and seeing where the night takes us."

Nina took the glass, raising it in a mock toast. "Here's to bad decisions."

"Exactly!" Mila clinked her glass against Nina's. "Now, let's get you sorted. I need you looking like someone who actually enjoys a night out."

Laughing, Nina followed Mila into the bedroom, where Mila declared, "Step one to partying properly is feeling like royalty. Bath first, champagne in hand, non-negotiable."

"You're ridiculous," Nina said, grinning, but Mila was already dragging her to the bathroom.

Moments later, they were lounging in a tub full of bubbles, glasses of champagne in hand, and a bottle balanced nearby. The room glowed warmly, fairy lights twinkling on the walls, and music drifting faintly from the other room. Mila raised her glass in the air dramatically.

"To the hardest thing I've ever done!" Mila declared, raising the bottle. "Didn't think I'd finish it, but here we are. And to love," she added with a teasing grin, glancing at Nina. "Because someone finally has a boyfriend after what felt like ages."

Nina shot her a look over the rim of her glass, rolling her eyes. "It wasn't that long ago with Tom."

Mila snorted, sinking back into the bubbles. "Tom? Please. That doesn't count."

Nina laughed despite herself. "Why doesn't it count?"

"Because he was boring, Nina. A human spreadsheet. I've had longer conversations with my toaster."

Nina nearly choked on her champagne, giggling. "You're terrible."

"I'm honest," Mila corrected, grinning wickedly. "And besides, Arthur's different. I can see it. You're actually glowing, you know?"

Nina's smile softened as she swirled the champagne in her glass. "Yeah... he's different."

Mila's teasing faded slightly as she nudged Nina's arm. "Good different, right?"

"The best kind," Nina said quietly, a small, content smile playing on her lips.

Mila raised her glass again. "Then let's toast again—this time to Arthur, the man who's made Nina Hart—sorry, Nina—finally admit she's happy."

Nina clinked her glass against Mila's with a laugh. "You're ridiculous ."

"And you love me for it."

"I really do," Nina replied, the warmth of the moment settling in.

The two of them lingered for a moment longer, sipping their champagne as the bubbles started to cool. Finally, Mila stretched her arms over her head with a satisfied sigh. "Alright, bath time's over. Let's get this show on the road."

They stepped out of the tub wrapped in fluffy towels, their laughter echoing through the apartment as they padded into Mila's bedroom. The air was still warm from the bath, soft music humming in the background, and the champagne bottle sat proudly on the nightstand like a trophy.

"It's Cinderella time," Mila announced, rifling through her closet with dramatic flair. "We're turning heads tonight, just you wait."

Nina smirked as she towel-dried her hair, watching Mila toss clothes over her shoulder like a woman on a mission. "I didn't know Cinderella got tipsy on champagne before the ball."

"This is modern Cinderella," Mila shot back, holding up a sequined dress against herself with a grin. "She pre-games in style and doesn't lose her shoe. Are you wearing black again?"

"It's a classic," Nina replied with a shrug, pulling on her jeans and a sleek black top.

Mila held up a shimmery dress, examining it in the mirror. "You always go for simple. Meanwhile, I'm out here trying to shine brighter than a disco ball."

Nina laughed. "That's because you are the disco ball."

Mila spun dramatically in the mirror, admiring the way the sequins caught the light. "And proud of it," she said with a grin, striking a playful pose. She turned back to Nina with a mischievous glint in her eye. "Speaking of which, it's been far too long since I've had a proper night out. I need to find a man tonight."

Nina raised an eyebrow, smirking. "Oh, really? Is this a 'new project' for you now?"

"Absolutely," Mila said with a wicked grin. "That bloody project had me so buried in my studies I practically forgot what a man looks like. And now? Honey, I'm starving. I need the D. Desperately."

Nina nearly doubled over with laughter, clutching her side. "You're insane."

"No, babe I'm just horny," Mila said with a playful shrug, tossing a pair of heels onto the bed. "You've got Arthur, all glowing and happy, and here I am with nothing but a finished project and an overactive imagination. Tonight, that changes."

Mila perched on the edge of the bed, slipping on her heels. "By the way," she said, shooting Nina a sly look, "how is it with Arthur?"

Nina frowned slightly, confused. "How is what?"

"You know," Mila said, her grin widening as she leaned in with mock seriousness, "how's the... bedroom department?" She wiggled her eyebrows for effect, barely able to suppress her laughter.

Nina's cheeks flushed instantly, and she threw a pillow at Mila. "You're such a cheeky cow!"

Mila caught the pillow mid-air, laughing, but her grin turned even more wicked. "Alright, serious question then—" she paused dramatically, "is he topping Lando?"

Nina froze, her mouth falling open as the words registered. "Mila!" she yelped, grabbing another pillow and swinging it at her.

Mila ducked, cackling as she grabbed a pillow of her own. "Come on, you can tell me! I mean, Arthur's Arthur, but Lando... well, we all know he's got that thing about him. Am I right?"

"Shut up!" Nina said, her face now bright red, though she was laughing too. The room quickly dissolved into a playful pillow fight, feathers flying as they pummeled each other. Mila, laughing uncontrollably, managed to wheeze between swings, "So? Spill it! Is Arthur—" thwack! "—topping Lando—" thwack! "—or not?"

Finally, both of them collapsed onto the bed, breathless and flushed, pillows abandoned around them. Mila wiped tears of laughter from her eyes and turned to Nina with a smirk. "Alright, Nina. Out with it. No dodging this time."

Nina stared at the ceiling, her chest rising and falling as the laughter faded. Her expression softened. "It's... different," she admitted quietly.

Mila turned onto her side, her teasing grin replaced with genuine curiosity. "Different how?"

Nina hesitated for a moment, chewing her lip. "With Lando, it was intense. Rough, fast, like he couldn't get enough of me. It felt wild, like we were on the edge of losing control—but in a way that made me want more. With Arthur... it's softer. Slower. He takes his time, and it's—" She trailed off, searching for the right words. "It's a different kind of spark."

Mila raised an eyebrow. "So, are you saying Lando wins?"

Nina let out a soft sigh, her gaze fixed on the ceiling. "It's not about winning," she said quietly. "Arthur... he's safe. Steady. With him, there's no chaos, no guessing games. I know where I stand, and I know how he feels about me. It's... simple."

Mila propped herself up on her elbow, watching Nina closely. "But you liked what you had with Lando," she said gently. "When I saw you texting him the other day, you were different. You were teasing him, playing with words. It was like seeing a whole new side of you—so carefree. So alive."

Nina's faint smile faltered, her gaze drifting upward. "Yeah," she admitted softly. "It was effortless, exciting. There was this spark, this fire, this connection... like we just got each other without even trying. For a while, it felt freeing."

Mila tilted her head, her voice soft but curious. "So why did it end?"

Nina exhaled slowly, her lips curving into a bittersweet smile. "Because it wasn't enough. Lando lives in the moment—it's all about the thrill, the chase. But that's all it ever was. Moments." She paused, her gaze softening as she reflected. "At some point, I wanted more. Something lasting. I wanted to feel loved, truly cherished."

Her voice dropped slightly as her thoughts lingered. "But with Lando..." She hesitated, her words heavy. "It was like there was this wall. I couldn't read him. I didn't know what he wanted, what he was thinking. It felt like he was keeping me out, and no matter how much I tried, I couldn't get through."

Mila studied her for a moment, her teasing gone, replaced with quiet understanding. "And Arthur?" she asked gently. "Does he give you what you're looking for?"

Nina's smile returned, softer now, with a warmth in her voice. "Arthur is adorable. Thoughtful. He notices the little things, remembers details I'd forgotten I even mentioned. He treats me like a princess—like I'm the most special person in the world. It's not chaotic or overwhelming—it's calm, like a quiet kind of love."

Mila raised an eyebrow, smirking. "And let's not forget, he's easy on the eyes. That jawline? Those dimples? The man could be in a rom-com." She gave Nina a playful nudge. "That definitely sounds like what you were looking for."

Nina laughed, shaking her head. "Okay, fine, I'll give you that. He is ridiculously good-looking. But it's not just that—it's everything. He grounds me, makes me feel like I truly matter. And that's what I need right now." She paused, her gaze dropping slightly. "But sometimes, I wonder if I miss the intensity. The unpredictability. The way it felt like everything could change in a single moment."

Mila watched her carefully, her brow slightly raised. "Do you think it's possible to have both? The fire and the stability?"

Nina arched an eyebrow, crossing her arms with a smirk. "You mean having both Lando and Arthur at the same time?"

Mila burst into laughter, her eyes glinting with mischief. "A threesome could be fun, no?"

Nina's cheeks flushed as she reached for a pillow and lightly swatted Mila with it. "What is wrong with you, you naughty girl?"

Mila grinned, dodging the pillow and holding up her hands in mock surrender. "Alright, alright. I was joking—mostly." Her tone softened as the laughter settled. "But seriously, I meant finding both in one person. Someone who gives you the fire but also makes you feel grounded and safe. Do you think that's possible?"

Nina's smile faded into quiet reflection. She glanced down, her voice soft. "I don't know. Maybe it's possible to have both. Or maybe the fire and the calm only exist in different people."

Mila tilted her head. "Do you think Arthur could ever give you that fire?"

Nina hesitated, her fingers brushing the edge of the blanket. "I'm not sure. That intensity... I don't know if it's something he has. Or if it's even fair to want both."

Mila gave her hand a gentle squeeze. "You shouldn't have to choose, Nina. You deserve both."

Nina let out a faint laugh, her lips curving into a wistful smile. "You make it sound so simple."

Mila grinned, standing and tossing a pillow onto the bed. "It's not simple, but that's why we take it one step at a time. Now, let's stop overthinking and start getting ready. Soho awaits, babe. Let's make some bad decisions."

Their laughter filled the room as Mila flitted between her wardrobe and the mirror, tossing dresses onto the bed. Nina shook her head with a smile, holding up a sleek black jumpsuit Mila had thrown her way. As they continued debating outfits, the weight of the earlier conversation melted into the playful anticipation of the night ahead.

Chapter Text

Wrapped in their glamorous outfits, Nina and Mila finally made their way out of the apartment, the cool London air hitting their faces as they stepped into the bustling street. A sleek black cab was waiting at the curb. Mila slid in first, her black strapless top and perfectly fitted jeans catching the light, an effortlessly chic departure from her usual glittery style. Nina followed, tugging slightly at the hem of her bold blue dress. She had decided to ditch her usual black for once, stepping out of her comfort zone for the night.

Mila leaned toward the driver, tapping the back of his seat with dramatic flair. "To Soho! We've got a party to crash and people to dazzle."

As the cab pulled away, Mila turned her attention to Nina, her eyes lighting up. "Look at you! Finally ditching the classic black. I'm proud of you."

Nina rolled her eyes but couldn't help but smile. "Don't get used to it. This is a one-night deal."

"We'll see about that," Mila teased, flashing her a knowing grin. She gestured at her own outfit. "And look at me, going all understated for once. I guess we're both trying new things tonight."

Nina nodded appreciatively. "You look great. It suits you."

"Thanks, darling," Mila said, flipping her hair dramatically. "We're redefining ourselves tonight. The new us, ready to take Soho by storm."

The cab wove through the glowing streets of London, the city buzzing with life around them. Mila leaned over to Nina with a mischievous glint in her eye. "So, you're awfully quiet. Let me guess—off daydreaming about your charming prince?"

Nina shook her head, though a small smile tugged at her lips. "Oh, give it a rest, Mila. Can't a girl enjoy a quiet moment?"

Before Mila could press further, Nina's phone buzzed in her bag. She pulled it out, her face softening as Arthur's name lit up the screen.

Mila grinned knowingly. "Speak of the devil. Go on, answer it. Let's see if he's missing you already."

Nina shot her a look before accepting the call. "Hi," she said, her voice warm.

"Hey," Arthur's familiar voice came through, soft and steady. "I just wanted to check in. How's London treating you?"

Nina smiled, the sound of his voice a comforting anchor amid the city's hum. "Good so far. Mila's already got us running around. We're on our way to Soho now."

"Sounds fun," Arthur said, though there was a subtle hint of longing in his tone. "I miss you."

Nina's chest tightened slightly, a mix of affection and guilt. "I miss you too," she said softly.

Mila, unable to resist, leaned closer and whispered loudly enough for Arthur to hear, "Tell him you'll miss him even more when you're dancing with other men tonight!"

Nina covered the phone, glaring playfully at Mila. "Stop it!" she hissed, her cheeks flushing.

Arthur chuckled on the other end. "Is that Mila?"

"Unfortunately," Nina said, her tone light. "She's always like this."

Before Nina could react, Mila snatched the phone from her hand with a devilish grin. "Arthur, hi!" she said brightly. "We haven't met yet, but let me tell you something—Nina's safe with me tonight. I won't let a single man lay a finger on your girl. Consider me her official bodyguard-slash-drill sergeant for the evening."

Nina gasped, trying to grab the phone back, but Mila held it out of reach, laughing.

Arthur's warm laugh came through the line. "Thanks, Mila. I appreciate it. Just don't scare her off from having fun."

"Oh, don't worry," Mila said, her voice dripping with mock seriousness. "She'll have fun. But not too much fun. You'll get her back in one piece."

Then, without missing a beat, Mila's tone shifted, laced with playful accusation. "You know, Arthur, you're lucky I like you. Stealing my best friend away? That's a crime. And don't get me started on the spa day you stole from me. That was our thing."

Arthur chuckled, clearly amused. "Ah, the famous spa day. I've heard about it. But, to be fair, I didn't exactly steal her. I like to think I'm borrowing her—temporarily."

"Borrowing?" Mila shot back with a smirk. "Don't push your luck, Ferrari boy. You still owe me big for that one. Next time, I get to pick the activity, and you're not invited."

"Deal," Arthur teased. "But just remember, I might fight you for those spa days. Nina's pretty great company."

"Oh, she's the best," Mila said, mock-sweetly. "Which is why you're still on probation."

Finally, Nina managed to wrestle the phone away, her face red from a mix of laughter and embarrassment. "I'm so sorry about her," she said, though she couldn't help but smile.

Arthur chuckled again, his voice softer now. "It's okay. She seems... spirited."

"That's one way to put it," Nina replied, throwing a playful glare at Mila, who was busy adjusting her earrings with a smug grin. "I'll call you later, okay?"

"Okay," Arthur said gently. "Have fun tonight, Nina. And be safe."

"I will," she said, her voice dropping slightly. "Goodnight, Arthur."

"Goodnight," he replied before the call ended.

As Nina lowered her phone, Mila crossed her arms dramatically. "Spirited? That's what he calls me? Please. Tell Ferrari boy he can do better than that."

Nina rolled her eyes, still smiling. "I'll let him know. Now, can we focus on tonight instead of you interrogating my boyfriend?"

"Fine," Mila said, crossing her arms dramatically. "But just so you know, I'm still not willing to share you. One more stolen spa day, and I'm filing a formal complaint."

"Noted," Nina replied, shaking her head with a grin.

She leaned back against the seat, letting out a soft laugh as the cab rolled through the glowing streets of Soho. The city buzzed with life, its energy spilling into the car, amplified by Mila's ever-present spark beside her. Whatever the evening had in store, Nina knew one thing for certain: it wouldn't be boring.

~~~~~~

As the cab pulled up in front of the club, the thumping bass reverberated through the pavement, promising an electric night ahead. At the entrance, a crowd gathered behind velvet ropes, overseen by two stern-looking bouncers in sharp suits. The club's neon sign cast vivid flashes of color across the eager faces of partygoers.

Mila, effortlessly flawless as always, flashed a dazzling smile at the lead bouncer, who nodded knowingly and stepped aside. With a confident wave of her hand, she beckoned Nina to follow, breezing past the line with the kind of ease only she could pull off.

The moment they stepped inside, a wave of sound and light engulfed them. Strobe lights danced across the walls and ceiling, fragments of illumination cutting through the pulsing crowd below. The music was deafening—a relentless beat that seemed to resonate in Nina's chest, impossible to resist. The air was thick with the intoxicating blend of expensive perfume, spilled cocktails, and a faint hint of smoke.

Mila navigated the crowd effortlessly, guiding Nina through the sea of bodies and up a staircase leading to the VIP section. This area felt like another world—still alive with energy but cloaked in refinement. Velvet couches surrounded sleek glass tables adorned with ice buckets brimming with champagne and premium liquors. The lighting shifted to soft hues of red and purple, creating an intimate atmosphere that stood in contrast to the chaotic dance floor below.

"Lu!" Mila suddenly exclaimed, pulling Nina's attention to one of the couches. A stunning young woman, her skin glowing under the warm lighting, looked up from her cocktail with a radiant smile. Her honey-colored hair fell in perfect waves over her shoulders, and there was an effortless elegance to the way she carried herself. She stood gracefully, her smile widening.

"Mila, you're late!" the woman said in a smooth, melodic voice. She stepped forward to hug Mila before turning her attention to Nina.

Mila, always quick to make introductions, gestured between the two. "Lu, meet Nina. My best friend, my partner-in-crime, and the one who keeps me sane."

The girl extended a delicate hand, her warm gaze holding Nina's. "Nice to finally meet you, Nina. Mila's been talking about you non-stop."

Nina shook her hand, momentarily caught off guard by her presence. "Same here. I've heard so much about you, Luisinha."

"Lu," the girl corrected with a playful smile. "Everyone here calls me Lu. Mila insists on keeping things simple."

"Exactly!" Mila laughed, dropping onto the couch beside Lu with dramatic flair. She gestured at the drinks on the table. "Come, sit. The night is still young, and we've got so much to celebrate."

As they sat down, glasses were poured, and the conversation flowed easily. Nina found herself relaxing in the rhythm of their banter. Despite Lu's polished exterior, there was a warmth to her that was inviting, and the playful back-and-forth between her and Mila kept the mood light.

After a while, Nina turned to Lu, curious. "So, how did you two meet? Mila never gave me the full story."

Lu glanced at Mila, her smile turning mischievous. "Oh, it's a story. We met at uni last year. And, well, we hated each other at first."

"Hated?" Nina asked, laughing in disbelief.

"Oh, absolutely," Lu confirmed with a dramatic nod. "She thought I was too uptight, and I thought she was too chaotic."

"Too chaotic?" Mila gasped, clutching her chest in mock offense. "Lu, you wound me."

Lu grinned. "Anyway, we got paired for this massive project—something we couldn't escape from. At first, we argued about everything, from deadlines to fonts. But then, somehow... we just clicked. Turns out we made a pretty great team."

"And we nailed it!" Mila added proudly, raising her glass. "It's done, and we absolutely smashed it."

The three of them laughed, the warmth of their shared energy cutting through the club's electric buzz. For a moment, it was as if the world outside their little circle didn't exist.

As they chatted, a familiar beat drifted through the speakers of the cab, catching Nina's attention. Her ears perked up as the iconic lyrics filled the space.

"Hold up, heeey, for my ****** who be thinkin' we soft," she sang, her voice rising with excitement. "We don't plaaaay, hope you ready for the next episode..."

Her eyes lit up, and she turned to Mila with a grin. "Oh, this is my jam!" she declared, swaying in her seat to the beat. She kept singing along, her voice carefree and full of energy.

Mila burst out laughing, clapping along in encouragement. "Okay, Nina! Bring the vibes! You better give Dre and Snoop some justice!" Mila shouted, joining Nina in a small dance.

Nina, caught up in the moment, turned to Lu with an inviting smile. "Come on, Lu! You can't just sit there. Dance with me!"

Lu hesitated, her smile faltering slightly. "Why not?" she said with a shrug, though there was a faint tension in her voice. "It's a great song."

Nina tilted her head, noticing the subtle shift in Lu's tone. "But?"

Lu sighed, brushing her hair back. "My ex used to play this all the time in clubs. It was his go-to. So... not exactly the fondest memories."

Nina's face softened immediately, her excitement dimming. "Ah, shit. Sorry about that." She paused, then offered a small, apologetic smile. "Okay, but, I mean... he might've had good taste in music, but he definitely didn't in girls. Letting you go? That's just dumb."

Lu blinked, then laughed—a genuine, warm laugh that made her entire face light up. "Okay, you win this one."

Mila chimed in, lifting her glass again. "To bad exes, good music, and even better friends."

They all laughed as they raised their glasses, the earlier awkwardness fading as quickly as it had appeared. The song played on in the background, but Nina focused instead on the easy connection between the three of them. It was one of those moments—effortless and full of promise—that made the night unforgettable.

Chapter Text

The first rays of sunlight were already creeping through the curtains when Nina finally managed to get Mila into the apartment. Mila was completely hammered, giggling uncontrollably one moment and muttering incoherent apologies the next.

As they stumbled through the door, Mila slurred, "Nina... this is the last time I drink like this. Ever."

Nina rolled her eyes but smiled, knowing full well she'd hear the same declaration the next time they went out. It took some effort, but she eventually managed to guide Mila into her bedroom. By the time Mila collapsed onto the bed, still mumbling about her poor life choices, the clock read 5:30 a.m.

Nina didn't even bother changing out of her clothes. She climbed into the bed beside Mila, who was already sprawled out, breathing deeply in her drunken sleep. Exhaustion washed over her in waves, and she drifted off almost instantly.

When Nina stirred again, it was almost noon. The apartment was silent except for Mila's faint snores beside her. Groaning as she sat up, she rubbed her eyes, shaking off the remnants of the long night. A glance at her phone jolted her fully awake—she had a golf session with Nelly at 2 p.m.

She quickly showered, pulling on a navy golf top, a white skirt, and a matching cap. To fend off the chill, she added a fitted navy jacket before grabbing her gear. Scribbling a quick note for Mila, she left it on the counter: "Took your car. Text me if you need it back. - N." With Mila's keys in hand, she stepped into the crisp February air, the briskness refreshing her groggy senses.

Mila's car, a sporty Audi coupe, purred to life, and Nina navigated through London's streets, enjoying the rare opportunity to drive. She arrived at Nelly's hotel just as her friend emerged, dressed in a sleek navy long-sleeved golf top, a white pleated skirt, matching white sneakers, and a classic white golf visor. Her blonde ponytail peeked out from the back, and her grin widened as she spotted Nina.

"Fancy chauffeur service now, huh?" Nelly teased as she slid into the passenger seat.

Nina smirked. "Only because you're special."

As they settled into the car and pulled away, Nelly leaned back with a dramatic sigh. "Honestly, I didn't think I'd make it today. So, how was Soho last night?"

Nina laughed, glancing at her. "Chaotic, as expected. Mila was in rare form—I'm not sure if she'll forgive me for dragging her home. But, hey, we survived."

"I'll admit, I had my doubts," Nelly said with a grin. "I was half expecting you to bail this morning."

"Come on," Nina said, feigning offense. "You know me better than that. And besides, I couldn't pass up a chance to see you. It's not every day we're in the same city."

Nelly's grin softened. "You're right. It really does feel like it's been ages."

The drive was filled with laughter and easy conversation, a testament to the natural ease between Nina and Nelly Korda. A professional golfer celebrated for her pinpoint accuracy and ice-cool demeanor under pressure, Nelly had cemented her status as one of the best in the game. But off the course, she was quick-witted and playful, especially with Nina. Their banter flowed effortlessly—Nelly teasing Nina about her chaotic Soho night while Nina poked fun at Nelly's perfectionist streak. Their dynamic was a blend of mutual respect and effortless rapport, shaped by years of shared triumphs and challenges in the sport.

When they pulled into the parking lot at Sunningdale Golf Club, they immediately spotted two familiar faces. Matthew Wolff, a rising star in the European golf circuit, and Viktor Hovland, an enthusiastic player with a knack for humor, waved them over.

The four of them shared a unique camaraderie that had developed over years of shared experiences. While they had often crossed paths at tournaments and training grounds, their connection went beyond competition. It was the laughter between rounds, the encouragement after a bad shot, and the friendly teasing that had turned them into a close-knit group. Their bond felt effortless, a dynamic blend of rivalry and friendship that made every reunion something to savor.

"Perfect timing," Viktor called, his Swedish accent lilting. "Thought we'd have to start without you."

"Start without me?" Nina scoffed. "Not a chance."

As they walked toward the clubhouse, Viktor's eyes caught a sleek McLaren 765LT parked nearby. He let out a low whistle, nodding toward the car. "Wow, now that's a beauty. McLaren 765LT. Whose is it?"

Matthew chimed in, "Looks like it's straight out of a dream. Whoever owns that has impeccable taste."

Nina couldn't help but feel a swell of pride at the compliments. It wasn't just about the car—it was a reflection of her family's incredible legacy, something she rarely spoke about but always carried with her. She smiled faintly, letting the moment linger before saying, "Of course it's beautiful. It's a McLaren."

Nelly raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. "I don't know. I've always been more of a Porsche fan."

Nina turned to her, her grin widening. "Porsche? You've got to be kidding me. McLarens are all about innovation and precision—true engineering masterpieces."

Nelly crossed her arms, her tone playfully defiant. "I'll give you speed, but I'm still a Porsche girl. They've got style and character that McLarens can't touch."

Nina shook her head, amused but determined. "Please. What style ? McLarens redefine performance and luxury. They're not just cars; they're experiences."

Matthew and Viktor exchanged amused glances, their grins growing wider with each playful barb traded between Nina and Nelly. The teasing seemed to energize the group, setting a lighthearted tone as they headed toward the course.

Once on the course, the banter seamlessly transitioned into friendly competition. Viktor's sharp-witted jabs and Matthew's understated humor kept the laughter rolling, while Nelly's quick quips added a lively edge to the game. The camaraderie was undeniable, each swing and comment a reminder of their easy bond and mutual respect.

"Nina, you call that a drive?" Viktor teased after one of her swings fell just short of his.

"At least it's straight," Nina shot back. "Unlike yours, which practically landed in the next county."

Matthew chuckled, lining up his shot. "Careful, Nina. Trash talk only works if you can back it up."

"Oh, don't worry. I can," Nina replied, her grin confident.

As they moved through the course, the teasing escalated, each player taking their turn in the spotlight. At one point, Nelly dramatically dropped to her knees after sinking a long putt, earning a round of exaggerated applause.

"Save some energy for the next hole," Nina quipped, rolling her eyes.

By the time they reached the seventh hole, the group's easy pace had caught up with them. The players from the group behind them were getting closer, and the hum of an approaching golf cart broke through their conversation.

Viktor glanced over his shoulder, a sheepish grin spreading across his face. "Looks like we're making traffic," he joked. "Better pick up the pace before they honk us off the course."

Matthew chuckled, adjusting his cap. "Wouldn't want to be the cause of a golf course jam."

"Fine, fine," Nina said, waving them forward. "Let's get moving before Viktor starts handing out apologies."

Matthew positioned himself to take the first shot on the seventh tee. The fairway stretched out before him, framed by clusters of towering pines, while a small pond sparkled near the green, waiting to challenge any misjudged approach. With a calm focus, he lined up his swing and struck the ball cleanly. The crisp sound echoed as the ball soared, landing perfectly in the center of the fairway, just shy of the pond.

"Wow, that was incredible," Viktor said, clapping enthusiastically. His excitement caught the attention of one of the players from the golf cart behind them, who hopped out to get a closer look.

"Holy hell, that was flawless," the stranger exclaimed, his eyes wide with amazement. "You hit that like it was the Masters."

Matthew chuckled, tilting his cap slightly. "I'll take that as high praise."

The newcomer took a step closer, clearly starstruck as he scanned the group. "This is wild. Top-tier golfers all together here? I feel like I've hit the jackpot just watching you guys. I'm a huge fan."

"Well, we like to keep it low-key," Viktor quipped, his grin growing wider. "You know, not everyone can handle our kind of pressure."

The stranger laughed nervously, clearly trying to keep his cool. "Seriously, though, this is amazing. I didn't expect to run into legends out here." His genuine enthusiasm was infectious, and the group exchanged amused smiles.

Then, as if remembering something, he spun around and called toward the cart he had come from. "Bob, get out of your phone and come see this! You won't believe it!"

Chapter Text

A not-so-tall man stepped out of the golf cart, his tousled brown curls framing a face that carried a mix of boyish charm and easy confidence. Viktor's eyes widened, a mischievous glint sparking in his expression.

"Oh my, oh my," Viktor drawled, clearly enjoying the moment. "Would you look at that? A British national treasure in the flesh."

Matthew adjusted his cap, his gaze lingering on the man with a mix of recognition and quiet amusement. "Well, that explains the McLaren parked outside," he said, his tone light but pointed. "Guess we've just crossed paths with one of the fastest men on four wheels."

The young man with them stepped forward, his wide grin practically lighting up his face. "Spot on," he said, gesturing toward the F1 driver. "This here's the British sensation everyone's talking about." He paused for effect, smirking. "And I'm Max Fewtrell—caddie, water boy, and occasional golf coach, though my client insists on driving into the rough."

Lando burst out laughing, shaking his head. "Don't listen to him," he said, nudging Max playfully. "He's not my caddie—just my unfortunate best mate. And he likes to think he's funnier than he is."

Max grinned, unfazed. Lando turned back to the group, sliding his hands casually into his pockets. "Anyway, nice to meet you all. Didn't expect to bump into such good company on a quiet day out."

Nelly leaned closer to Nina, her voice barely above a whisper. "I'm sorry, I must be rude, but... who is that? I feel like I'm missing out."

Nina blinked, her thoughts scattered as she tried to process the scene in front of her. Without thinking, her response came out mechanically, meant only for Nelly. "Lando Norris. Formula 1 driver."

Nelly's eyes widened slightly, her gaze darting back to him with curiosity. "Oh," she murmured, her tone carrying the weight of realization.

He moved through the group, shaking hands with each of them, offering easy smiles and polite nods. But when it came to Nina, something shifted. Their eyes met briefly, and the familiar spark of tension ignited for a fleeting moment before Lando broke the gaze abruptly, his expression carefully neutral as he moved on.

Nina froze. Her heart stumbled, a familiar knot of frustration tightening in her stomach. What the hell was he doing here? she thought. That unspoken tension, the push and pull neither of them acknowledged—it was back, gnawing at her composure. She had no right to feel this way anymore, not after walking away from Lando Norris and closing that door for good.

Her grip on the strap of her golf bag tightened as she steadied herself. Of all places, of all moments—why now? Why here? It felt deliberate, like some invisible hand was determined to tangle their lives together, refusing to let them move on. The coincidence was too glaring to dismiss, yet she didn't want to give it more power than it deserved.

She swallowed her irritation, forcing her eyes to stay anywhere but on him. Yet every laugh, every easy gesture of his pulled at her attention like a magnet. Was he feeling this too? Or was he truly as unaffected as he seemed? The way he blended seamlessly into the group, his carefree chuckles at something Viktor said—it was maddening.

Nina inhaled sharply, forcing herself to refocus. Get a grip, Nina. He's just a guy, nothing more. She repeated the mantra like a shield, trying to block out the swirling emotions threatening to surface. This didn't matter. Not anymore. She was with Arthur now—gentle, dependable, kind Arthur—and she was happy. Truly happy.

The thought brought her a small wave of calm, grounding her in the reality she had chosen. Lando might still hover in her mind like an unfinished sentence, but Arthur was the full story—the one that made sense. The one that made her smile for no reason at all. Centering herself, she reclaimed her usual poise and joined the group conversation.

Matthew, ever the joker, turned to Lando with a grin. "So, what's a Formula 1 driver doing here? Don't tell me you've suddenly decided to trade in your helmet for golf clubs."

Lando smirked, leaning casually on his club. "I'm just here to prove I can beat you at your own game."

Matthew raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. "Oh, bold words for someone who's just stepped onto a golf course. Do you even know which end of the club to hold?"

The group smiled knowingly, the playful atmosphere infectious. Lando rolled his eyes. "Guess we'll find out, won't we? Besides, I've got to keep my reflexes sharp somehow."

Matthew smirked, shouldering his club. "Well, since this isn't exactly the Masters, I say we all stick together. Six players, one friendly game. What do you think?"

Lando glanced around at the group, his grin widening. "I'm in. Let's see if I can keep up with the pros."

Max nodded enthusiastically. "Works for me. More people, more fun."

Viktor clapped his hands together. "Perfect. Just don't cry when I outdrive all of you."

Nina hesitated for a moment, her fingers tightening slightly on her golf bag. She glanced at Lando, catching the flicker of his gaze before he quickly looked away. Great. Just great.

But she forced a smile and shrugged. "Fine by me. Let's just make sure we don't hold up the course."

Matthew grinned. "Don't worry. If anyone complains, we'll just tell them we're giving Lando a master class."

The group chatted cheerfully as they moved toward the next tee, the friendly banter keeping the mood light. It didn't take long for the casual atmosphere to take over, and soon they were all enjoying the game—though Nina couldn't quite shake the tension that simmered just beneath the surface every time Lando was near.

They were at the 8th hole, and it was Nina's turn to drive. She adjusted her stance, gripping the club tightly as she lined up her shot. But she felt it—his gaze burning into her back. It was as if he were silently willing her to falter, though she couldn't tell if it was deliberate or just her own nerves playing tricks on her.

Her shoulders tensed, and her fingers tightened around the grip. She tried to block out the feeling, tried to focus on the ball and the fairway stretching ahead, but the weight of his attention was impossible to ignore. It sent a wave of heat crawling up her neck, making her acutely aware of every movement, every breath.

"Nina," Nelly called out from behind, her voice light but laced with amusement, "relax. There's no trophy waiting for you at the end of this course."

The group laughed softly, and Nina forced a faint smile. She bit her lip, her chest tightening with frustration. Of course, she knew there wasn't a trophy—but with Lando there, it felt like she was playing for something intangible. Something she didn't even want to name.

Taking a deep breath, she adjusted her grip once more, trying to steady her racing thoughts. Just hit the ball, Nina. Focus. One clean swing, and this will be over.

Nina swung the club, and the ball veered sharply to the left, bouncing awkwardly into the rough. She winced, her cheeks heating as the group reacted with lighthearted banter.

Lando, leaning casually on his club, smirked. "So, this is what a professional golfer looks like?" His tone was light but carried an unmistakable edge of mockery.

Max raised an eyebrow at the comment, a little surprised by Lando's boldness, but he kept quiet, watching the exchange unfold.

Nina turned to Lando, her eyes narrowing as she shot back, "Says the guy who can't seem to hold onto pole position past Turn 1. Should we compare sports now?"

A round of laughter erupted from the group, and Viktor gave an approving whistle. "Ouch, that one's gonna leave a mark."

Lando crossed his arms, a smirk still tugging at his lips. "So, you've been watching my races?"

Nina arched an eyebrow, her tone sharp and deliberate. "Not by choice. Your Turn 1 performances tend to go viral—you know, for all the wrong reasons."

The group let out another round of laughter, and Viktor chuckled, shaking his head. "Damn, Lando, she's not holding back."

Lando's smirk faltered slightly, but he quickly recovered, masking any hint of irritation. "Well, at least I'm keeping people entertained," he replied, his gaze flickering briefly to Nina, a trace of something indecipherable in his eyes.

Nelly, sensing the tension, chimed in with a playful nudge. "Alright, you two, let's save the sparring for the green. Nina's clearly still shaking off the 'last night in Soho' effect."

Nina spun toward her, her face a mix of exasperation and embarrassment. "Really, Nelly? You're jumping in too?"

"What?" Nelly said, shrugging dramatically. "I'm just pointing out the obvious. A night of dancing and cocktails doesn't exactly make for a strong swing."

The group laughed again, and Nina sighed, shaking her head as she adjusted her cap. "Alright, alright. Can we move on now, or do we need to set up a press conference to discuss my one bad shot?"

Lando chuckled quietly as he stepped away, a hint of mischief lingering on his face. Max leaned closer to him and whispered, "Careful, mate. She's got some fight in her."

Lando's smirk didn't falter. "I know. That's the fun part."

After finishing up on the 8th green and holing their final putts, the group headed toward the 9th tee. Max, unable to hold back his curiosity, turned to Nina with a playful smirk.

"So, Nina Hart," he began, his tone teasing, "are you the same Nina Hart I saw on Arthur Leclerc's Instagram story a few days ago? Or do you just have a twin with an identical smile?"

Nina blinked, momentarily caught off guard, but quickly recovered. "Ah, that," she said casually, shrugging as if it were no big deal. "Yeah, that was me."

Max's grin widened, clearly enjoying himself. "Wait, are you two—?"

"Yeah," Nina interrupted smoothly, giving a quick nod. "he's my boyfriend."

Matthew, walking alongside, raised an eyebrow with an intrigued smile. "Boyfriend? Well, that's news. When were you planning to share that little detail?"

Nina let out a soft laugh, shaking her head. "I wasn't hiding it; it just never came up—and it's only recent."

"Never came up?" Viktor teased, smirking as he gave her a playful nudge. "What, were you waiting for the perfect moment to drop his name and impress us? So, who's this Arthur Leclerc?"

Nina opened her mouth to respond, but Lando cut in, his tone calm yet a little too quick. "He's an F2 driver and an F1 development driver for Ferrari."

He hesitated for a moment, as if realizing he'd jumped in too fast, then added, "I've bumped into him here and there. He's a good guy." His tone softened slightly, as though trying to make the comment feel more casual, but the brief flicker in his expression hinted at something deeper.

The group exchanged glances, momentarily caught off guard by Lando's sudden interjection. Max raised an eyebrow at him, the teasing grin slipping from his face, but he stayed quiet, choosing instead to observe the exchange with growing curiosity.

Matthew broke the moment with a shrug and a grin. "Well, there you go. Seems like Norris is our motorsport encyclopedia."

Nina turned her head slightly toward Lando, her expression guarded. "Thanks for the assist, Lando," she said, her tone polite but cool. "I had it under control."

Lando gave a faint shrug, his face neutral. "Didn't think it needed a long explanation."

Max glanced between the two of them, his brow furrowing slightly as he made a mental note to talk to Lando later about what was going on. For now, though, he kept his thoughts to himself as the group continued along the fairway. The conversation shifted back to casual chatter, but Nina couldn't shake the flicker of irritation simmering beneath her composed exterior. What was that? she wondered, her mind replaying the moment as her focus wavered.

Lando, meanwhile, walked a few steps ahead, his hands tucked into his pockets. He kept his gaze forward, as if nothing had happened, but there was a faint tension in his shoulders that only Max seemed to notice.

By the time they reached the green of the 9th hole, their pace slowed as they prepared for the final putts. The earlier laughter and teasing had softened into lighter conversation, drifting from one topic to the next. Eventually, the discussion shifted toward Lando.

"So, Norris," Matthew said as he lined up his putt, glancing up briefly. "What do you even do when you're not racing? Any hobbies, or is it all about cars 24/7?"

Lando leaned casually on his putter, smirking. "I dabble in a few things. Golf, obviously—though I can't say I'm as good as some of you here."

Max chuckled. "That's putting it mildly."

Lando shot him a playful glare before continuing, his tone light. "I'm into sim racing, gaming, a bit of DJing here and there... and, of course, cars. Shocking, I know."

Matthew sank his putt and straightened up, smirking. "Alright, car guy, what's next on the dream garage list? Let me guess—something ridiculously flashy?"

Lando rubbed the back of his neck, his grin turning sly. "Well, not a Ferrari, obviously."

Nelly, intrigued, glanced up from her spot by the flag. "Why not? Isn't Ferrari, like, the ultimate car or something?"

Lando grinned, shaking his head. "Not when you drive for McLaren. Ferrari's kind of... the enemy. If Zak Brown—our CEO—found out I bought one, he'd lose his mind."

The group reacted with lighthearted amusement at the idea, but Nina caught the slight shift in Lando's expression as he spoke. His gaze flickered toward her, just for a moment, before he looked away, the faintest trace of something unreadable in his eyes. It felt like a private message, veiled in the humor of his words, and it made her chest tighten.

Nina focused on her ball, keeping her expression neutral. She knew exactly what he was implying—and why. The reminder of her connection to McLaren and her relationship with Arthur hung in the air, unspoken but heavy.

"Well, I guess that's fair," Matthew said, breaking the moment as he moved aside for the next player. "Can't exactly show up to work in the enemy's car."

"Exactly," Lando replied, his smirk back in place, though his eyes briefly rested on Nina before he turned his attention back to the game.

Nina exhaled quietly, her shoulders sagging slightly as she forced herself to focus on the green. The chatter around her faded into the background, her energy waning with each passing moment. The weight of the day—the awkwardness, the tension, and the unspoken emotions—pressed down on her, leaving her feeling utterly drained. By the time they finished the 9th hole, Nina had already made up her mind.

As the group began gathering their clubs to move on to the 10th tee, Nina cleared her throat, catching their attention. "I think I'm going to leave it here, guys," she said, her tone apologetic but firm. "I'm absolutely exhausted, and I've got a lot to do tomorrow."

Nelly turned to her, surprise flickering across her face. "Are you sure? We're just getting into the swing of things."

Nina smiled faintly, shaking her head. "Yeah, I'm sure. Nelly," she said, glancing at her friend, then turned to Matthew with a soft, apologetic smile. "Would it be alright if you took her back to the hotel later?"

"Of course," Matthew replied easily, his tone reassuring. "It's no problem at all."

"Thanks," Nina said with a small sigh of relief, then turned back to Nelly. "Have fun, and don't let them beat you too easily."

Nelly rolled her eyes with a grin. "Alright, alright. But you owe me for bailing, you know."

"Deal," Nina replied with a soft laugh. She gave a quick wave to the group. "It was great playing with all of you. Hopefully, we can do this again sometime."

"Definitely," Max said with a grin, while Viktor nodded in agreement. Lando gave a polite smile, his gaze lingering on her for a moment longer than necessary, but he said nothing.

With that, Nina headed toward the clubhouse, her steps heavy but resolute. The thought of stepping away from the group and finding some quiet brought a welcome sense of relief. She needed space—space to breathe, to think, and to let the day's complexities settle without the weight of anyone's gaze.

Behind her, Lando's eyes followed her retreat, his expression calm and inscrutable, giving no indication of what was running through his mind. Max, noticing his distraction, clapped him on the back with a teasing grin. "You coming, mate? Or are you just going to stand there and stare all day?"

Lando blinked, as though pulled from a daze, and shook his head lightly. "Yeah, I'm coming," he muttered, turning back to the group.

Chapter Text

Nina pushed open the door to Mila's apartment, the faint buzz of the TV filling the quiet space. She slipped off her shoes with a sigh, letting the familiar scent of lavender candles envelop her in comfort. The day had drained her, the tension clinging to her shoulders like an unwelcome guest.

In the living room, Mila was sprawled across the couch, wrapped in a blanket, a half-empty water bottle in one hand. Her eyes were glued to the TV, though it was clear from her expression that she was barely paying attention. She looked up when Nina walked in, her face pale but still managing a faint grin.

"Well, well, the golfer returns," Mila mumbled, her voice hoarse. "How was your fancy day out on the course?"

Nina chuckled softly, tossing her bag onto a nearby chair. "Exhausting. I'm not sure if it was the golf or the company."

Mila groaned, sitting up slightly. "Tell me about it. Meanwhile, I'm here trying to survive the world's worst hangover."

Nina grabbed a bottle of water from the kitchen counter and handed it to her. "Keep hydrating," she said with a small smile. "And I came with reinforcements." She held up a bag of takeout. "Something to get you back on your feet."

Mila's face lit up. "You're a saint. What'd you bring?"

"Thai," Nina replied as she set the bag on the coffee table. "Your favorite noodle soup."

Mila eagerly peeked inside the bag, then paused, glancing up. "How's Nelly? It's been ages."

Nina nodded, leaning back into the armchair. "She's good. Busy, as always, but doing fine."

Mila took a slow sip of her water, her attention momentarily caught by the TV show playing in the background.

Nina hesitated, her fingers lightly tracing the seam of the armchair. "You'll never guess who was on the course today."

Mila kept her gaze fixed ahead, her hands fumbling with the stubborn lid of the soup container. "Who?" she asked casually.

Nina hesitated again, her voice lowering. "Lando Norris."

Mila stilled for a moment before turning sharply, disbelief and pure shock etched across her face. "No freaking way."

"Yep," Nina said, her tone resigned as she rubbed her temples.

Mila set the container aside and leaned forward, her hangover momentarily forgotten. "Wait. You can't just drop that and not give me details. What happened? What did he say? What did you say?"

Nina stood up, shaking her head with a tired sigh. "I need to take a bath and reset my brain. I'll tell you after."

Mila gasped dramatically, clutching her chest. "Wait, no! You're not leaving me hanging like this after dropping that bomb!"

"Just give me a little time, okay?" Nina said with a faint smile. "I need to process the day—and maybe sleep for a year."

Mila groaned in frustration, flopping back onto the couch. "Fine. But I want everything after your bath. Don't even think about skipping details."

Nina chuckled softly as she headed toward the bathroom. "Right-o. Try not to have a meltdown while I'm away."

Nina stepped into the bathroom, closing the door behind her. The quiet felt like a relief, shutting out the buzz of Mila's questions and the whirlwind of the day. She turned on the faucet, letting the warm water fill the tub while she gathered a few essentials—a soft towel, lavender bath salts, and a candle she found tucked on the counter. She lit it, the gentle glow casting a calming light around the room.

As she slipped into the tub, the warmth of the water enveloped her, easing the tension in her shoulders and back. She exhaled deeply, leaning her head back against the edge. "I need to call Arthur," she muttered to herself, the words breaking the stillness.

Reaching for her phone on the stool beside the tub, she tapped his name in her contacts and waited. The sound of the ringing filled the small space, and after a moment, Arthur's warm, familiar voice answered.

"Hey, babe," he greeted, his tone instantly easing the tension in her chest. "How was golf? Did you crush everyone's spirits with your perfect swing?"

Nina chuckled softly, leaning her head back against the edge of the tub. "Not quite. Let's just say today wasn't my best performance."

Arthur laughed lightly. "That bad, huh? Don't worry. I'm sure you still managed to intimidate everyone with your sheer presence."

She smiled. "You're just saying that because you weren't there to see it."

"Probably," he admitted playfully. "But you're still my favorite golfer. How's Mila? Surviving?"

"She's in full hangover recovery mode," Nina said with a grin. "She's practically glued to the couch. But enough about me—how was training?"

Arthur groaned dramatically. "Grueling. My trainer's convinced I need to be part-machine by the time the season starts. I've done so many core workouts today I might never sit upright again."

Nina burst out laughing. "Core workouts? I thought you drivers only trained your necks."

"Ha, ha," Arthur replied dryly. "It's not just neck strength, you know. It's full-body endurance. You try holding G-forces for two hours."

"Alright, alright," Nina teased. "You win. I'm sorry your abs are suffering."

"Thank you," he said with mock solemnity. "Your sympathy means everything to me."

"You're ridiculous," she said, still smiling. "But seriously, you're amazing. I don't know how you do it."

"Same way you do," Arthur replied, his tone softening. "One day at a time. But honestly, hearing your voice makes it all a lot easier."

Nina felt her cheeks warm, the weight of the day momentarily lifting. A smile tugged at her lips as a thought struck her. She unlocked her phone and tapped to open the camera, the screen flickering to life. "Seeing my face would make it even easier, wouldn't it?" she teased, her tone light and playful.

Arthur's warm laughter filled the line before his face appeared on the screen, his smile wide and genuine. "Absolutely," he said, his playful tone matching the sparkle in his eyes. "But, seeing you like this... wait a second," his grin turned sly, "are you seriously FaceTiming me from the bath?"

Nina tilted her head back against the tub, a smirk tugging at her lips. "Why not? It's not like there's anything new for you to see."

Arthur's laughter deepened, and he shook his head, his cheeks faintly flushed. "You've got a point, but still—bold move, even for you."

She shrugged, the water rippling softly around her. "What can I say? Gotta keep things interesting. And I'm pretty sure there are enough pictures of you shirtless in the media to make us even."

Arthur laughed, leaning closer to the camera. "Fair point, but those don't exactly compare to this situation."

She smirked, tilting her head playfully. "Oh, I don't know. I'd say it's close."

His laughter eased into a warm grin. "You really do have a way of keeping me on my toes, you know that?"

"That's the plan," she replied with a teasing glint in her eyes. "Someone has to make sure you don't get too comfortable."

For a moment, the two of them fell into an easy silence, the sound of the water gently rippling around Nina filling the space. Arthur's warm smile remained on the screen, but Nina's gaze drifted, her mind tugged back to what Lando had said earlier about Ferrari and McLaren. The words replayed in her head, their implications unsettling, and she felt her chest tighten slightly.

Arthur tilted his head, his brows knitting together in concern. "Hey," he said quietly, his voice breaking the stillness. "You okay? You seem... distracted."

Nina blinked, pulling herself back to the moment. She forced a faint smile, brushing a damp strand of hair from her face. "Yeah, I'm fine," she said lightly. "Just tired. It's been a long day. I think I just need a good night's sleep."

Arthur's expression grew tender, though a trace of concern lingered in his eyes. "Then promise me you'll actually rest," he said gently but firmly. "No lying awake overthinking everything. Proper, real sleep, Nina."

She let out a quiet chuckle, leaning her head back against the tub. "You're starting to sound like my mom."

"Good," he replied with a smirk. "Because someone has to make sure you take care of yourself."

"I promise," she said, the faint smile on her lips reassuring him. "Sleep is definitely on the agenda."

Arthur's smirk softened into a warm smile. "Good. I'll hold you to that. And just so you know, if you don't wake up feeling like a completely new person tomorrow, I'll take full responsibility."

Nina laughed, the sound light and genuine. "Oh, so now you're guaranteeing results? Bold move."

"Always," he teased, his grin growing. "That's just the kind of boyfriend I am—results-driven and utterly reliable."

She raised an eyebrow, a playful smirk tugging at her lips. "Reliable, huh? Big words."

"Big truth," he shot back, his grin widening.

She laughed lightly, shaking her head. "But seriously, thank you, Arthur. For always knowing how to make me laugh, even when I don't feel like it."

"That's what I'm here for," he said warmly. "Now go on, finish your bath, get some proper rest, and dream about all the ways you're going to beat me at whatever sport we try next."

"Ah, so you're admitting I'd win?" she teased.

"Let's not get ahead of ourselves," he replied, his laughter relaxed and easy. "Sweet dreams, Nina."

"Sweet dreams, Arthur," she said gently, ending the call and setting her phone down on the stool beside her.

Leaning back into the warmth of the water, Nina let her eyes close, Arthur's reassuring voice still echoing in her mind. The tension from the day had loosened, replaced by a sense of calm that only he could bring. For the first time that day, she felt like she could truly rest.

After finishing her bath and wrapping herself in a warm robe, Nina stepped out of the bathroom feeling lighter. She wandered into the living room, where she found Mila fast asleep on the couch, bundled up in her blanket, with the TV still playing softly in the background. Smiling to herself, Nina grabbed another throw blanket and gently draped it over Mila.

Sitting down quietly next to her, Nina picked up her phone, scrolling absentmindedly through Instagram. As she tapped through stories, one caught her attention—Matthew's. She paused and opened it.

She stared at the picture for a moment longer, a laugh escaping her lips as she took in Max's exaggerated pose—leaning confidently on his club like he was the star of a magazine shoot. The rest of the photo was pure chaos: Lando, in the background, preparing a swing with intense focus; Viktor watching him with an amused, almost analytical expression; and Nelly pointing animatedly at something off-camera. It perfectly captured the energy of the day—fun, unpredictable, and a little ridiculous.

Shaking her head with amusement, Nina locked her phone and leaned back into the couch. The laughter faded into a quiet sigh as the events of the day replayed in her mind. She let the calm of the room settle over her, choosing to focus on the lighter moments rather than the underlying unease that lingered. For now, the chaos in the picture felt easier to handle than the chaos in her thoughts.

Chapter Text

The low hum of the car engine filled the quiet as Lando navigated the narrow streets toward the Italian restaurant where the Quadrant team was waiting. Streetlights flickered through the windshield, casting fleeting patterns on the dashboard. The faint scent of leather hung in the air, grounding the otherwise tense silence. Max sat in the passenger seat, arms crossed, his gaze fixed on the passing scenery. But the quiet wouldn't last.

Max shifted slightly, his voice breaking the stillness. "So," he began, a deliberate edge to his tone, "are we just going to pretend today didn't happen?"

Lando kept his eyes on the road, his grip tightening on the steering wheel. "What are you on about?" he replied, his tone clipped but feigning indifference.

Max let out a short laugh, one devoid of humor. "Don't do that. You know exactly what I'm talking about."

"I don't," Lando shot back, his jaw tightening as he turned onto a quieter street. "So why don't you tell me?"

Max turned toward him, his gaze sharp. "It's Nina," he said bluntly. "What's going on with her?"

Lando's eyes flicked to Max for a fleeting moment before snapping back to the road. "Nina who?" he said, his voice carefully flat.

Max scoffed, shaking his head. "Don't. Don't fucking insult my intelligence with that bullshit." He leaned forward, the words coming faster now. "Nina Hart. The Nina Hart you couldn't take your eyes off this afternoon. The one who's clearly got you so off your game, it's painful to watch."

Lando's grip on the wheel tightened further, the faint creak of the leather breaking through the tension. "I don't know what you're talking about," he muttered.

Max's laugh was sharper this time, biting. "You really think you're fooling anyone? Let me remind you. When I showed you that Instagram story of Arthur with her, you looked like you'd been punched in the gut. I didn't get it then, but after today? The tension, the digs, the way you kept staring at her like there's unfinished business—you're not exactly subtle, mate."

The silence that followed was heavy, suffocating. Lando's jaw clenched tighter as he stared ahead, the faint glow of the approaching streetlights illuminating his stony expression.

Max wasn't done. "You know her, don't you?" His tone was quieter now, but sharper, cutting straight to the point. "And not just in passing. There's something there. Something you're not telling me."

For a moment, Lando didn't answer, his jaw tightening as his eyes stayed fixed on the road. The silence in the car was thick, charged with unspoken tension, until he finally spoke, his voice low and strained. "There's nothing going on, Max. Yes, I met her before—at a charity event. And yeah, she showed up at a couple of races with McLaren. But that's it."

Max let out a sharp, disbelieving laugh, shaking his head. "Bollocks. It's more than that, and you fucking know it. Mate, I've known you my whole life. You can't fucking trick me. Just say it."

Lando pulled into a parking spot outside the Italian restaurant, turned off the engine, and leaned back in his seat, exhaling deeply. "We're here," he said flatly, avoiding Max's stare as his hand reached for the door handle.

Max didn't budge. He crossed his arms, his voice firm as he settled deeper into the seat. "Nope. Not getting out until you tell me what's really going on with Nina Hart."

Lando sighed, leaning back against the seat, his fingers drumming a restless rhythm on the steering wheel as frustration simmered beneath the surface. "You're really not going to drop this, are you?"

"Not a chance," Max replied, his tone firm and unwavering. He turned to face Lando fully, his eyes narrowing slightly. "So? What's the deal?"

Lando didn't answer right away. His gaze flicked to the silver bracelet on his wrist, turning it idly before shifting to the glowing restaurant sign ahead, as if it might somehow offer an escape. After a long pause, he let out a slow, weighted breath, the sound heavy with resignation. When he finally spoke, his voice was rough, tinged with frustration. "Fine. You really want to know?"

Max leaned in, his tone softer but insistent. "Obviously."

Lando turned his head slowly, his gaze sharp yet guarded. "I fucked her," he said bluntly.

Max blinked, clearly caught off guard by Lando's candid admission, before narrowing his eyes. "What do you mean, you fucked her?"

Lando exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. "I mean we had sex, Max. What do you want, a drawing?" His tone was sharp, defensive, a shield against the vulnerability creeping in.

Max frowned, his confusion turning into something closer to curiosity. "Okay, fine. You slept with her. And? Why are you like this?"

Lando didn't respond, his lips pressing into a thin line as he stared straight ahead, the muscles in his neck visibly tense. The silence between them stretched until Max, unwilling to let it drop, pressed on.

Max hesitated, his voice gentler as he chose his words carefully. "So... she's not just some random hookup? Not a one-night thing?"

Lando's fingers curled tightly around the steering wheel before he finally spoke, his voice low and measured. "It happened a few times, but it didn't mean anything." He paused, the words lingering in the air before he added quietly, almost to himself, "At least, that's what I thought."

Max tilted his head, studying Lando carefully. "And now?"

"Now?" Lando's voice dropped, thick with frustration and something darker, deeper. "Now, there's this fucking monster inside me, eating me alive every time I fucking see her." He drew in a shaky breath, his next words quieter but weighted. "She is different, Max."

Max leaned back in his seat, arms crossed, his expression softening as he processed Lando's confession. "Different how?"

Lando hesitated, his hand pressing against the edge of the door, as if grounding himself in the moment. "There's this... tension between us," he admitted, his voice low but heavy with emotion. "Whenever she's near, it's like my entire body is on high alert. Like I can feel her before she even says a word. It's—" He paused, searching for the right words, frustration flickering across his face. "It's electric. And it's messing with my head because I don't know what to do with it."

Max raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. "So, what you're saying is... she's gotten to you?"

Lando let out a hollow laugh. "More like she's consumed me in ways I can't even control." He exhaled, letting his head drop onto the steering wheel, the gesture heavy with defeat. When he spoke again, his voice was quieter, almost a whisper. "I can't explain it, Max. It's not just attraction—it's everything. She's in my head, even though I barely know her. And the funny thing? Just when I think I've moved on, she somehow finds a way to cross paths with my life—like today. It's terrifying."

Max sat up straighter, his gaze sharp as he studied Lando. "She's with Arthur now, mate. So why are you realizing this only now? What was the plan before, when it was just the two of you?"

Lando stayed where he was, his forehead still resting against the wheel as he spoke, his voice muffled but clear. "There wasn't a plan," he admitted after a moment. "It was supposed to be casual. No strings, no feelings. Just... fun."

Max tilted his head, skeptical. "And let me guess—somewhere along the way, 'fun' turned into something else?"

Lando let out a dry chuckle, slowly lifting his head from the steering wheel, his fingers drumming lightly against it. The truth was hard to admit, but it was undeniable. "Yeah," he muttered. "You could say that." He paused, his expression darkening as his voice dropped. "I didn't realize it until I saw her with Arthur the other day in Monaco during golf practice."

Max's brows furrowed as a memory clicked into place. "Wait... I remember that. I saw her from a distance, coaching Arthur. I didn't know who she was back then." He leaned forward, curiosity sharpening his tone. "That was her?"

Lando nodded, his gaze fixed on the dashboard, a faint, bittersweet smile flickering across his lips but never fully forming. "Yeah, that was her," he said softly. "She was coaching him, completely at ease, so in sync with Arthur. I couldn't look away. It hit me harder than I expected."

Max tilted his head slightly, his tone laced with understanding. "Funny how that works, huh? You only realize what something means to you when it's gone." He leaned forward, his voice firmer now. "So, what now?"

For a moment, Lando didn't answer. His gaze remained fixed ahead, his jaw tight. Then, with a deep exhale, he shifted his hand to the bracelet on his wrist, his thumb brushing over the cool metal in an absent motion. "Nothing," he said finally, his voice resolute but quiet. "I'm just forgetting about her. I don't want to get tangled in that web of complicated feelings again."

Max watched Lando carefully before speaking again, his tone softer, more deliberate. "This isn't just about Nina, is it? You're still caught up on Luisinha."

Lando's hand stilled, the name hanging in the air, tugging at a memory he had tried to bury. He drew in a slow, steady breath before releasing it, his voice low and almost resigned. "I'm just not sure I can go through all that again, Max."

Max regarded him intently, his tone firm but not unkind. "Mate, you're holding yourself back because of one relationship that didn't work. That's not fair to you—or to anyone else who might actually make you happy."

Lando shook his head, his hands clenched tightly in his lap. "I don't think I'm meant to be in a relationship. My life is... too chaotic. I'll only end up hurting them. Hurting myself."

As the words left his mouth, his leg began bouncing slightly, a physical manifestation of his growing frustration. Max reached out then, resting a hand on Lando's shoulder, his fingers tightening briefly in a quiet gesture of empathy. His voice softened, carrying a weight of shared sadness. "Lando, I know how much you loved Luisinha. Anyone could see it. And yeah, it broke you when it ended. But you can't let that one chapter define your entire story."

Lando's leg bounced more intensely now, his frustration peaking. His voice cracked under the strain. "It's not that simple, Max. I wasn't enough for her—not the way she needed. She deserved someone who could give her stability, someone whose life didn't come with all the chaos. I couldn't be that for her then, and I don't think I can be that for anyone now."

His voice wavered, betraying the emotions he was trying to keep locked away. "And besides, I need to focus on the championship right now. There's no room for anything else."

Max sighed, his hand slipping from Lando's shoulder to run through his own hair, his gaze steady and thoughtful. "You're so focused on what you couldn't give her that you're forgetting everything you did. You loved her. You made her smile. She was happy with you until things got too much—for both of you. That's not a failure, Lando. That's life. And yeah, your world is demanding, but it doesn't mean you're not capable of being with someone who can handle it."

He paused, his jaw tightening briefly as he struggled to find the right words. "I just hate seeing you like this, mate. I get it—the championship, your career—they're important, of course. But if you don't take a chance, you'll never know. It might not work out, sure, but you could also miss out on something truly wonderful—something that could finally make you happy." He gave Lando a steady look and added, "Don't let fear make the decision for you."

Lando let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. "Not everyone can handle being second to a career, to a life that's constantly on the move. I can't expect that from anyone."

Max's voice deepened, threaded with quiet determination. "You're not giving anyone a chance, though. You're shutting yourself off before you even let them try. Maybe Nina isn't Luisinha. Maybe she can handle the chaos in a way you didn't think was possible. But you'll never know if you keep running from it."

Lando rubbed the back of his neck, his frustration evident. "It's not running. It's being realistic. Love doesn't fix timing, Max. It doesn't make the chaos disappear."

"No, it doesn't," Max agreed, leaning forward again. "But love makes it worth it. And the right person? They'll find a way to fit into the chaos. You just have to let them."

The car fell silent again, the weight of the conversation settling between them. Lando's fingers brushed against the bracelet on his wrist, the familiar gesture grounding him as he stared out at the glowing restaurant sign.

"Think about it, mate," Max added gently. "Don't let what happened with Luisinha stop you from trying again. You deserve to be happy, too."

Lando sighed, the tension in his shoulders evident. "Anyway, there's no point debating it," he muttered, his voice heavy with finality. "It's too late now."

Max glanced at him, his gaze steady but thoughtful. He let the silence linger, allowing the weight of Lando's words to settle. Then, after a moment, he spoke softly, "I don't think it is. And if you let this slip away without even trying, you might never forgive yourself." A faint smile tugged at his lips as he added, "Besides, I know how competitive you can be."

Lando turned to look at him, his brow furrowing in confusion, but before he could respond, a sharp knock on the window interrupted them. Both men startled slightly, and Max reached over to lower the window.

Outside stood Ria, a member of the Quadrant team, her grin wide and easy. "What are you two up to? We've been waiting for you," she teased, leaning casually against the car door. "We were starting to think you ditched us for another restaurant."

Max chuckled, the tension in the car loosening slightly. "We're coming, we're coming. Lando was just... overthinking. You know how he gets."

Ria tilted her head, her sharp gaze shifting to Lando. "What's eating you, Lando? You looked like you were solving world peace in here."

Lando managed a small, sheepish smile, shaking his head. "Nothing. Just Max being Max," he replied, his tone lighter but not entirely convincing.

Ria smirked, unconvinced but choosing to let it slide. "Whatever existential crisis you're dealing with, put it on hold. We're starving, and you know how Steve gets when he's hungry."

Max laughed. "Yeah, yeah. We're coming. Tell Steve to hold his horses."

Ria straightened, giving them both a knowing look before stepping back from the car. "Alright, but hurry up. And Lando," she added, leaning back into the window with a teasing smile, "try not to overthink it too much, okay? Stress isn't a good look on you."

Lando rolled his eyes but couldn't help the faint smile tugging at his lips. "Thanks for the advice, Ria."

As she walked back toward the restaurant, Max turned to Lando with a smirk. "Saved by Ria, huh?"

Lando shook his head, starting to open the car door. "Let's just go inside."

Max stepped out of the car, letting the conversation drop but tucking it away for later. Whatever storm was brewing in Lando's head, Max knew it wasn't over yet. But for now, he hoped food and friends would be enough to distract him from his struggles and give his friend some peace—at least for tonight.

Chapter Text

Nina stood at the edge of the marina, her breath forming soft clouds in the crisp winter air. The sea lay still, shimmering under a blanket of stars, and she found herself stealing a glance at Arthur. He stood beside her, his hand warm and steady in hers, his face calm, betraying nothing.

Only a week had passed since her trip to London, where a chance meeting with Lando Norris had stirred feelings she thought she'd left behind. But now, in the quiet intimacy of the marina, with Arthur at her side and the soft murmur of waves filling the night, London felt like a distant memory—a chapter she wasn't ready to reopen.

"Are you going to tell me where we're going?" she asked, her voice laced with both excitement and suspicion.

Arthur smirked, his lips curving into that playful grin she'd come to adore. "You'll see," he said simply, leading her further down the wooden dock.

When they rounded the corner, Nina froze. A sleek, luxurious yacht was waiting, its deck glowing with the soft, golden light of lanterns and string lights that cast a warm glow against the dark sea. She gasped softly, her free hand instinctively coming to her chest.

"Arthur," she whispered, turning to him, her eyes wide. "You didn't..."

"I did," he said with a small smile. "Well, Charles might have had something to do with it. Let's just say I borrowed it for the evening."

He helped her step aboard, where the deck had been transformed into something out of a dream. Plush blankets and cushions covered the outdoor lounge area, and a table for two was set with elegant candles and fine dinnerware. Soft music played in the background, mingling with the gentle sound of the waves.

"It's beautiful," Nina said, her voice barely above a whisper as she took it all in.

"Not as beautiful as you," Arthur replied, his gaze steady and sincere, his hand lingering in hers a moment longer before guiding her to the table.

Nina's cheeks flushed at Arthur's words, the sincerity in his voice leaving her momentarily speechless. He guided her to the table, pulling out her chair with an easy grace that made her smile.

"Your seat, madam," he said, a playful glint in his eyes.

"Thank you," she replied softly, settling into the chair as he took his place across from her. The gentle sway of the yacht beneath them was soothing, and the sound of the waves lapping against the hull blended seamlessly with the soft, romantic melody playing in the background.

A waiter appeared from below deck, discreet and professional, and served the first course—delicate scallops resting on a bed of truffle risotto. The rich, enticing aroma made Nina's stomach flutter with anticipation.

"You really thought of everything," she said, picking up her fork and glancing at Arthur with admiration.

"I wanted it to be perfect," he replied, pouring champagne into her glass. "It's our first Valentine's Day, after all."

Nina paused, her fork halfway to her lips, as the significance of his words sank in. Their first Valentine's Day. A milestone she hadn't realized mattered until he'd said it. She lowered the fork and smiled. Arthur raised his glass, his gaze never leaving her. "To us," he said sincerely.

Nina clinked her glass gently against his. "To us."

As they ate, conversation flowed effortlessly. Arthur shared animated stories about growing up in Monaco, recounting childhood adventures with Charles that had Nina laughing at his vivid descriptions. For a while, the weight of her secrets and the fleeting thoughts of someone she'd rather not think about melted away, leaving only the warmth of the moment.

The main course arrived: perfectly seared sea bass paired with roasted vegetables and a velvety white wine sauce. Nina savored each bite, marveling at how Arthur had orchestrated such a flawless evening.

"Do you do this for all your Valentine's dates?" she teased lightly, a playful sparkle in her eyes.

Arthur chuckled, shaking his head. "This is a first," he admitted.

Her heart fluttered at his words, and she reached across the table, her fingers brushing against his. He took her hand in his, his grip firm and reassuring. For a moment, they sat in comfortable silence, the glow of the lanterns casting soft shadows across their faces.

"I hope tonight sets the bar," Arthur said finally, his voice low and sincere. "Because I plan to make every Valentine's Day from here on just as special."

Nina smiled, a mixture of warmth and longing filling her chest. She didn't know what the future held, but in this moment, with Arthur's grounding presence and the stars above reflecting on the calm sea, it felt like anything was possible.

After a moment, Arthur leaned back slightly, studying her with a curious smile. "What are you doing on the 7th of March?"

Nina blinked, caught off guard. She laughed softly, shaking her head. "Well, for now, nothing, I guess. That's in three weeks—plenty of time to make plans."

Arthur tilted his head, his smile growing. "Good to know," he said cryptically, a glimmer of mischief in his eyes. "I might have to make sure your schedule stays clear."

Nina raised an eyebrow, intrigued but also amused by his sudden shift in tone. "Oh? And why is that?"

"Well," he began, leaning slightly closer, "the F1 season starts the week after. It's a tradition—we gather as a family for dinner before everyone flies off. I want to invite you."

Nina's eyes widened slightly, her amusement giving way to surprise. "You want me to meet your family?"

Arthur hesitated, scratching the back of his neck with a sheepish grin. "Not in an official way," he clarified quickly, his voice softening. "But I want them to know you. And, well... my brothers have been asking about you too. They want to meet you."

Nina's heart fluttered at his words, but it was quickly followed by a small wave of unease. Less than three months. Wasn't this too soon? She felt a faint pressure settle on her chest, as though the idea carried more weight than she was ready for. She bit her lip, forcing herself to keep the smile on her face. "I didn't realize I'd made such an impression."

Arthur chuckled, his gaze warm and reassuring. "Oh, you've definitely made an impression. Trust me." He hesitated for a beat, then added casually, "And Netflix is launching the new season of Drive to Survive that week. My mum will probably insist on watching it—she loves seeing what they're saying about her sons," he said with a touch of sarcasm. "Especially when it's all so ridiculously dramatized."

Nina tilted her head, her brow furrowing slightly. "Drive to Survive?" she asked, her curiosity genuine. "What's that?" She let out a soft laugh, but the slight weight of his earlier words still lingered.

Arthur blinked, momentarily speechless. He leaned back in his chair, looking at her like she'd just told him she didn't know what the sun was. "Wait, you don't know Drive to Survive?"

Nina shook her head, a sheepish smile tugging at her lips. "No. Should I?"

Arthur stared at her, both amused and incredulous. "You're dating a future F1 driver," he said, pointing at himself, "and you've never heard of Drive to Survive? It's only the show that made Formula 1 explode globally."

Nina laughed, slightly defensive. "Hey, in my defense, I've been a little busy with my own career. Golf doesn't exactly have a Netflix series, you know."

Arthur rubbed his temples, shaking his head with a mock look of despair. "This is a disaster," he said dramatically, though the playful grin tugging at his lips gave him away. "I can't believe I have to explain this to you."

"Well, go on, then," Nina teased, leaning forward slightly. "Educate me."

Arthur leaned closer, his expression turning mock-serious. "Drive to Survive is a documentary series that covers the F1 season. It's all about the drama—on and off the track. Rivalries, big moments, team politics, everything. People love it. It's how half the world discovered Formula 1."

"Ah," Nina said, nodding. "So it's like reality TV for racing?"

Arthur groaned, covering his face with his hands. "Reality TV? No. It's... okay, yes, kind of, but it's way better than that."

She grinned, clearly enjoying his flustered reaction. "Sounds like something I should watch."

Arthur peeked at her from between his fingers, his playful exasperation fading into a genuine smile. "You absolutely should. And maybe you'll catch a glimpse of someone interesting in the new season."

"Oh?" Nina raised an eyebrow. "Who might that be?"

"Me, obviously," Arthur said with a smirk. "The last episode covers Abu Dhabi, FP1, and, apparently, my relationship with Charles. So, you know, no pressure."

Nina laughed, shaking her head. "Well, now I'm definitely curious."

"You should be," Arthur said with mock seriousness. "But more importantly, you'll see why my family is so invested in this sport—and why it's such a big part of who I am."

She smiled, her amusement softening into affection. "I think I already get that, Arthur. But if it means getting to know you better, I'll add Drive to Survive to my watchlist."

Arthur leaned forward, taking her hand again. "Good. Just know that it might make you want to run after seeing how crazy this world can be."

Nina's smile softened as she squeezed his hand. She understood the chaos of the F1 world all too well. Even from her brief time in the McLaren garage last year, she had caught a glimpse of the pressure and spectacle that came with it.

"I think I'll manage," she said lightly, her tone calm and assured. "I'm not one to scare easily."

Arthur's eyes lit up with warmth and pride at her response, and he leaned back, a playful grin spreading across his face. "That's my girl," he said softly. Then, with a mischievous tilt of his head, he added, "So, 7th of March, at my mum's?"

Nina's lips curved into a small smile, her heart skipping a beat at the way he said it. "Deal," she replied, her voice even and confident.

They lingered over dessert, the sweet richness of chocolate mousse perfectly matching the mood of the evening. Everything felt effortless, the conversation flowing, laughter punctuating their moments, and beneath it all, a comforting sense of connection.

As they finished their meal, Arthur reached for her hand again, his touch gentle but sure. "Come on," he said, his voice a low murmur that sent a shiver through her. "Let's head upstairs."

Nina followed him, her heart beating just a little faster. Once in the privacy of their room, the atmosphere shifted. The air grew warm and tender, the intimacy between them deepening as Arthur pulled her close, his hands resting gently on her waist. His kiss was soft and unhurried, a quiet exploration that spoke of care rather than urgency, wrapping them both in a calm, steady closeness.

She felt the warmth of Arthur's touch and the softness of his kisses drawing her closer, grounding her in his gentle affection. Yet, as she leaned into him, her thoughts wandered, unbidden. Mila's words echoed softly in her mind: "Do you think Arthur could ever give you that fire?"

The question lingered, stirring something restless within her. She didn't want to keep wondering—she needed to know if that spark was there, waiting to ignite.

Gently, she pulled back and met his gaze, her cheeks flushed but her voice steady. "Arthur," she murmured, a quiet determination lacing her vulnerability.

"Yeah?" he murmured, his hands brushing along her sides, his expression shifting to one of tender concern.

She hesitated for only a moment before speaking, her words measured but sincere. "I want to see all of you tonight," she said, her tone deepening as she searched his eyes. "Not just the calm, not just the gentle. I want to feel the fire, too. I want everything."

Arthur's brow lifted slightly in surprise, but his lips curled into a slow, knowing smile. "You want everything?" he asked, his voice dipping lower, carrying a hint of amusement but also something darker, more intense.

She nodded, her heart beating faster as she watched his expression shift. "I do," she whispered.

Arthur's smile deepened, his gaze smoldering as he leaned closer, his hands tightening around her waist. "Then let me show you," he murmured, his voice a low, thrilling promise against her lips.

His kiss came with a fierceness that caught her off guard, a hunger that pressed her backward until her knees met the bed. She sank into the mattress as he followed, his weight grounding her. His lips moved with purpose, his hands roaming her body with deliberate confidence, sending sparks skittering across her skin. She closed her eyes, willing herself to fall into the fire she craved.

For a fleeting moment, she thought she felt it—a flicker of heat, a tug that made her breath catch. But as his kisses deepened, his grip firm and his voice hoarse with want, the spark refused to ignite fully. Her body responded, arching toward him, yet her mind hovered at the edges, detached from the intensity he poured into her.

He moved with precision, guiding her into a rhythm that should have drawn her in, his breath warm against her neck and whispers low in her ear. She wanted to lose herself in him, to let go and match his passion. But a quiet restlessness stirred beneath the surface, persistent and unyielding.

Her thoughts intruded, unwelcome and insistent. Is this enough? Shouldn't it feel... different? More consuming? She pushed the questions aside, focusing on his touch, his tenderness, the effort he gave so freely. He was trying—she knew that. She wanted to meet him there.

And yet, beneath all of it, something was missing. The spark. The raw, electric pull she had once known. No matter how much she tried to quiet the longing, it lingered, whispering the truth she couldn't ignore.

Arthur's pace quickened, his intensity heightening as he chased the release she knew was coming. She focused on him, on the way his lips found her neck, the way he murmured her name like a prayer. His passion was real, tangible, and she let herself lean into it, holding onto him as tightly as she could.

When he finally stilled, his breathing harsh against her neck, she ran her fingers through his hair, offering him comfort. His body was warm against hers, his arm slipping under her to pull her close. He kissed her shoulder softly, the gentleness of the gesture a stark contrast to the fire he'd tried so hard to show her.

"Was that what you wanted?" he asked, his voice low and tender, tinged with a vulnerability he rarely let show.

Nina's heart ached at the question, and she forced a soft smile, her fingers brushing along his cheek. "It was amazing," she murmured, her voice steady but her chest heavy with unspoken truths. He'd given her everything he could, and yet...

As Arthur drifted off, his arm wrapped tightly around her waist, Nina stared at the ceiling, her thoughts swirling. His intensity had been undeniable, his effort evident in every movement, every whispered word. But it was controlled—measured, like he'd been careful not to lose himself completely. It was fire, yes, but a safe one, contained and deliberate, where no one could get burned.

Outside, the sea stretched calm and still, the waves brushing softly against the hull. Nina leaned into Arthur's embrace, his warmth steady and grounding. His love was easy, comforting—everything she'd told herself she needed.

It should be enough.

15th February 2025

Chapter Text

Nina wrapped herself tighter in her oversized sweater, the chill of the winter night seeping through the windows of her apartment. She'd returned from the marina earlier that morning, the lingering warmth of Arthur's romantic gesture still fresh in her mind. Yet, as darkness fell and the cold settled in, she found herself sinking back into the familiarity of her routine.

The couch enveloped her as she flipped on the TV, remote in one hand, her phone pressed to her ear with the other. Outside, the wind howled faintly, but inside, the glow of the screen and Mila's animated voice filled the quiet. The opening montage of Drive to Survive roared to life, engines screaming, and tension mounting as the world of Formula 1 unfolded before her.

"I'm just saying, Nina," Mila's voice crackled through the speaker, dripping with playful exasperation, "I like Arthur. He's sweet, and he's clearly head over heels for you, which is adorable. But, darling, sex is as important as love."

Nina rolled her eyes, though a faint smile tugged at her lips. "Not all of us are as insatiable as you, love," she shot back, her tone teasing.

Mila gasped dramatically. "Oh, please. Shall I remind you of the wild, untamed sex you had with Lando Norris?" She stretched out his name like a punchline, her laughter bubbling through the phone. "Because, trust me, I remember every single detail you drunkenly confessed to me."

Nina groaned, pulling a blanket over her legs as her cheeks flushed. "Mila, that was—"

"Insane," Mila interrupted, cackling. "You told me he kissed like he was trying to steal your soul. That man was fire, Nina. And now you're telling me it doesn't matter?"

"It's not that it doesn't matter," Nina muttered, the tips of her ears burning. "It's just—Arthur's different, okay? He's not—"

"Lando," Mila finished knowingly, her tone softening. "Yeah, I get it. He's stable. Safe. Sweet."

"And I like that," Nina said firmly, though her voice wavered just enough for Mila to catch it. She glanced at the screen, where Daniel Ricciardo was cracking a joke that drew laughter from the paddock. "Arthur makes me happy."

"And that's all I want for you," Mila said, her sincerity breaking through the teasing. "But don't underestimate the importance of passion. It's not about being horny; it's about feeling connected, body and soul. Stability and love are great, Nina, but don't ignore it if something feels like it's missing. Sometimes, sparks aren't optional."

Nina sighed, twirling a strand of hair between her fingers as the flush on her cheeks deepened. "Look, Mila, Lando is not husband material. He's... sex material. That's it. He's good at it. I'm sure every girl he sleeps with feels the same way. It's nothing special."

A loud, incredulous laugh burst from Mila. "Nothing special? Babe, are you even hearing yourself? You used to blush just saying his name. Don't try to convince me—or yourself—that what you had with Lando was nothing. That man left scorch marks on your soul, and you know it."

Nina groaned again, dragging a hand over her face. "Can you not be so dramatic for once?"

"Dramatic?" Mila gasped, mock offended. "You're the one who told me his voice alone made your knees weak. Honestly, if Arthur so much as breathed the way you said Lando did, I'd be telling you to marry him right now."

Nina laughed softly, but it quickly faded as she shifted the blanket around her legs. "Arthur wants me to meet his family next month," she said, her voice quieter now. "Before the new season starts. He said it's unofficial, just a casual dinner, but... I don't know, Mila. It still feels a little rushed."

Mila paused for a moment, thinking. "Unofficial or not, meeting the family is still a big step," she said gently. "Do you feel like it's too soon? Or is it something else?"

Nina hesitated, fidgeting with the edge of the blanket. "I just didn't expect things to move this fast," she admitted. "It feels like we've barely had time to just be us before jumping into something so serious."

Mila's tone softened, though her words were still thoughtful. "Maybe it's not just about the timing. Maybe it's because meeting the family feels like a step toward settling in, making things more real."

Nina's fingers stilled, and she tugged the blanket tighter around her. "Maybe," she said slowly, her voice filled with uncertainty. "It does make it feel more... definite."

"Exactly," Mila responded, her tone calm but knowing. "And maybe that's what scares you. Because meeting Arthur's family means really committing, and in doing so, you're closing the door on any possibility of... well, anything else."

Nina blinked, surprised by the sharpness of Mila's insight. "Anything else? Like what?"

Mila's pause was brief, but her words were steady. "Like Lando. I think a part of you is still holding on—maybe not to him specifically, but to the idea of him. The spark, the chaos he brought. And if you let yourself get too involved with Arthur, it means letting go of that completely."

Nina's chest tightened, the weight of Mila's words hitting harder than expected. "That's not fair," she said softly. "Lando and I... whatever that was, it's over."

"Is it, though?" Mila's voice was gentle but firm. "You're still measuring everything Arthur does against what Lando made you feel. It's not fair to Arthur, and it's not fair to you, either. You need to ask yourself if you're hesitant because it's too soon—or because deep down, you know it's not right."

Mila paused for a moment before continuing, her tone shifting to something a little lighter but still filled with truth. "Look, Selena Gomez got engaged after, what, eight or nine months of dating? It's not about how long you've been with someone. When you know, you know. If Arthur were really the right one, you wouldn't be second-guessing these big steps."

The silence between them stretched, and Nina stared at the TV, the quiet hum of the show mingling with the weight of Mila's words. Her chest tightened, but she forced herself to focus on the screen.

"It's just a dinner, right? It should be fine," Nina said, her voice almost too casual as she tried to brush off the unease. She gestured vaguely toward the TV, where Charles Leclerc's face filled the screen. "Apparently, we're watching the new season of Drive to Survive, so I need to catch up on all six seasons before I go. Guess I've got some serious binge-watching ahead."

Mila chuckled from the other end. "I stopped at season four. Didn't even bother with the fifth or sixth. Too much drama."

Nina raised an eyebrow. "Too much drama, even for you? Must be something, then."

Mila laughed. "Yeah, it got a bit over the top. But hey, enjoy your F1 Netflix marathon. And try not to swoon when Lando shows up in crystal-clear 4K on your screen."

Nina groaned playfully. "You're such a nightmare."

"Obviously," Mila teased. "But you love me anyway."

"Do I have a choice?" Nina replied with a smile, shaking her head as she turned her attention back to the screen.

Mila chuckled. "Alright, I'll let you get back to your new favorite show," she said warmly. "Bye, love."

"Bye, bae." Nina echoed with a smile before the call ended, leaving her alone with the sound of Lando's laugh ringing from the TV. She stared at the screen as the episode played on, her thoughts tangled and uneasy.

Nina powered through the remaining episodes, finishing the first season of Drive to Survive in one sitting. The drama, rivalries, and adrenaline pulled her in more than she expected, leaving her both fascinated and emotionally drained. As the final credits rolled, she stretched, turned off the TV, and made her way to her bedroom. Lying on her bed, she let the stillness of her apartment settle around her.

She grabbed her phone, hoping a quick scroll through Instagram might distract her. Casually liking a few posts, she paused when Arthur's story appeared. Tapping on it, she saw herself in a candid moment, and a soft smile spread across her lips. There was something grounding about seeing herself through his eyes—a reminder of the comfort he brought into her life.

Her scrolling continued until she decided to check her notifications. Expecting the usual flood of likes and tags, she opened them without much thought. Then she froze.

Her stomach flipped. What the fuck is this? she thought, sitting upright in bed. Her thumb hovered, pulse quickening with each new notification..

It wasn't just one like—it was several. Posts from weeks ago. Reels she barely remembered posting. And now... he was following her.

Her chest tightened, torn between irritation and an unwelcome spark of excitement. She clicked on his profile, the familiar blue checkmark glaring at her like a beacon, confirming this wasn't a mistake.

"What the hell are you doing, Lando?" she muttered, scrolling through his feed as if it might hold the answers.

Her thoughts raced, questions swirling in a chaotic storm. Why now? Was this deliberate? A drunken accident? Or worse—an intentional move to get under my skin? The timing couldn't have been worse—after Mila's pointed remarks and her deep dive into the F1 world, she was already on edge. And now this.

Her breath caught as the memory of their last tense encounter on the London golf course resurfaced. The way his gaze lingered when she lined up her drive, the teasing remarks, the subtle provocations—it all simmered with an unmistakable tension. Lando was never one to act without purpose. If he was reaching out—if this cryptic message was his version of reaching out—what could he possibly want?

She tapped her fingers against the screen, heart pounding, a bitter laugh escaping her lips.

"Should I block him here too, like I did with his phone number?" she whispered to herself, the words tasting sharper than she expected.

She tossed the phone onto the bed, pacing the room as her heart raced. Curiosity gnawed at her, unwilling to let her move on. With a sigh, she picked it up again, scrolling through the cluster of notifications, her thumb hesitating over the follow alert as if it might explain everything.

Memories she thought she'd locked away started to resurface—his smile, his voice, the effortless way he could disarm her. She bit her lip, caught in the undeniable pull he still seemed to exert.

With an exasperated groan, she locked her phone and dropped it onto the nightstand with a dull thud. Sliding under the covers, she yanked the blanket over her head, as if shielding herself could chase away the image of his name. But even with her eyes squeezed shut, the notifications replayed in her mind, vivid and electric, stirring emotions that felt like a quiet betrayal to Arthur and the future she was trying to build.

Chapter Text

Lando leaned back in his chair, the low hum of his gaming rig filling the quiet of his apartment. The glow of the monitor illuminated his face, his features set in a mix of concentration and boredom as he maneuvered through another round of his favorite game. But tonight, even the usual thrill of competition wasn't enough to distract him. His mind kept wandering, tugged in directions he wasn't ready to face.

Yesterday had been Valentine's Day, and Lando had spent it alone in his apartment in Woking. His best friend, Max, was off with his girlfriend, Pietra, leaving Lando to his own company. The off-season was officially over, and he'd started back on his training, gearing up for the new season, but the loneliness lingered, heavier than he wanted to admit. He'd spent the evening in his chair, playing games, trying to lose himself in anything that might take his mind off the emptiness.

He couldn't help but wonder what Nina had been doing. Who she'd been with. The thought of her spending Valentine's Day with someone else gnawed at him, though he had no right to feel that way. The need to see her face became overwhelming, and almost instinctively, he opened Instagram. The first story that popped up stopped him cold.

It was Arthur's story. The image of Nina standing on the yacht, bathed in the soft glow of the morning light, her arms spread wide in carefree joy, hit him like a punch to the gut. The caption read: "Good morning @ninaahart ☀️."

Of course, she'd spent Valentine's Day with him. A yacht, huh? I could do that too, right? The thought flickered briefly before reality hit like a punch to the gut. They'd spent the night together—she was his girlfriend, after all. The thought of them alone, sharing whispered words and intimate moments, tangled in each other's arms, made his chest tighten painfully. That monster again. He pressed a hand to his chest, trying to steady himself. He couldn't stop the images from invading his mind—what might have happened, what probably had happened—and it gnawed at him in ways he hated to admit. Jealousy burned, sharp and unrelenting, a bitter reminder of everything he didn't have. Disgusted with himself, he shook his head. What the fuck am I even thinking?

Unable to resist, he clicked on the tag in Arthur's story, which led him straight to her profile. His thumb hovered for a moment before he started scrolling through her posts. He already knew her posts—knew how hot she was, how effortlessly she seemed to light up every frame. He couldn't get tired of them—each photo, each reel pulled him in as if he were seeing her for the first time all over again. Her laugh in the reels was intoxicating, lingering in his mind long after it played. She wasn't just beautiful; she was captivating. The way she moved, the confidence in her swings, the candid moments she shared—it all made her feel untouchable yet magnetic. She was funny too, her sharp wit peeking through in her captions and videos. A flicker of heat stirred low in his stomach, spreading through him with a slow, deliberate ache. His body reacted instinctively, a tension building that made him shift in his chair. It was maddening, the way she could affect him so deeply, even through a screen, and he hated that he couldn't control it.

Without thinking, he made a reckless move. He started double-tapping on every post, not even registering what he was liking. It was automatic, a desperate need to leave a mark, to remind her that he was there, paying attention. Post after post, like after like, until he ended with the boldest move of all—hitting the follow button.

The moment the deed was done, doubt crept in. What the fuck is wrong with me? Why did i do that? Impulse wasn't his style, and this felt reckless, even for him. The questions churned in his mind, one colliding into the next. He had no plan, no clear purpose. He just wanted... to be seen by her. That was all. But he'd forgotten one crucial thing: this wouldn't just reach her. It would reach everyone—the media, the fans, all those watchful eyes waiting to pounce. The realization hit like a slap, but the truth remained: she was under his skin, and no matter how much he tried, he couldn't shake her hold on him.

He set his phone down and leaned back in his chair with a groan. "I am stupid. So fucking stupid," he muttered, the words cutting through the oppressive silence of the room. The stillness only amplified the weight of his actions. "I can't unlike and unfollow her now. It's out there," he murmured, frustration building. Trying to undo it would feel even worse—like doubling down on his mistake and drawing even more attention to it.

Usually, he could brush off mistakes, let things slide without a second thought. But with Nina, it wasn't that simple. She unsettled him, made him feel vulnerable in ways he wasn't used to. And the worst part? He wasn't even sure if he wanted those feelings to stop anymore.

And now, a new fear gnawed at him, sharp and unrelenting. What if this was the final straw? What if she blocked him completely, shutting him out of her world the way she had with his phone number? The thought sent a cold shiver down his spine. With just a tap of her screen, he'd be cut off from even the smallest glimpses into her life. No stories, no photos, no trace of her smile or her moments. The idea of her absence, even in this small way, felt like a door slamming in his face. Her world would keep spinning, but he'd be stuck outside, staring at the life he couldn't touch anymore.

Frustration boiled over, and Lando let out a sharp scream, the sound cutting through the oppressive quiet of the apartment. He raked his hands through his hair, as if he could physically dislodge the thoughts that clung to him like a weight. "Get out of my head," he growled, his voice rough and ragged. The silence pressed in, heavy and suffocating, and he couldn't stand it a second longer.

Shoving himself out of the chair, he grabbed his jacket from the back of the door, his movements jerky and frantic. He snatched a cap, pulling it onto his head as he whispered, "I need some air." Without another thought, he stepped into the cold, the sharp wind biting at his skin as he walked aimlessly down the dimly lit streets of Woking.

The chill stung his face, but it felt grounding—harsh, yet real. He tugged the cap lower, as though it could shield him from the storm raging in his mind. He didn't know where he was going, only that he needed to keep moving, to escape the walls closing in around him.

As he walked, his thoughts churned relentlessly, refusing to quiet. "The plan was to have fun," he muttered, his breath forming clouds in the cold air. "So what now? What's the plan, Lando? Did you really think you could keep it casual forever, that she'd just keep following your lead?" He let out a frustrated huff, shaking his head as the sharp bite of the cold pressed against his skin.

"She was always going to move on," he continued, his voice rising slightly, each word hitting like a jab. "Of course, she was going to choose someone safe, someone who could offer her a real relationship. What did you expect?" His steps quickened, the weight of his own words settling heavily in his chest, the chill in the air doing little to cool his growing frustration.

He stopped abruptly, his hand gripping a nearby lamppost as if to anchor himself. His breath came in short, sharp bursts, and his eyes dropped to the ground. "I need to figure this out," he said through gritted teeth, the low murmur betraying his urgency. "Before it gets too much—before I lose focus. Lose the championships." His fists clenched reflexively, the tension radiating through his body as his mind raced with possibilities and fears.

Straightening with a sharp inhale, he pushed off the lamppost, forcing his legs to move again. The brisk wind bit at his face, cutting through the chaos in his mind just enough to push him forward. A faint, humorless chuckle slipped past his lips. "I sound like a fucking desperate, crazy man talking to himself," he murmured under his breath, the absurdity of it all momentarily easing the weight in his chest.

But as the fleeting humor dissolved, his jaw tightened, and his steps quickened once more. He couldn't keep circling the same thoughts, couldn't let this spiral any further. If he didn't act now—if he didn't find a way to face this head-on—it would consume him. "Enough," he said firmly, his voice steady now. "It's time to figure this out, once and for all."

Chapter Text

The buzzing on the nightstand pulled Nina from a restless sleep. Groaning, she reached blindly for her phone, fumbling until she finally grabbed it. Cracking one eye open, she squinted at the screen. Coach.

Without hesitation, she swiped to answer, her voice heavy with sleep. "Good morning, Coach."

"Well, well," came the amused reply. "Still in bed, are we?"

She frowned, shifting upright. "What are you talking about? What time is it?"

"It's 1 p.m.," Coach said, his tone smug.

"What?!" She jolted fully awake, the blanket slipping into her lap. Rubbing her eyes, she tried to shake off the fog in her head. "You're joking."

"Do I sound like I'm joking?" he replied with a chuckle. "Rough night?"

"You could say that," she muttered, dragging a hand through her hair. Sleep had been elusive, her mind caught in an endless loop of questions about Lando. His sudden reappearance on her Instagram felt like a deliberate move, and she couldn't stop wondering what it meant—or why it bothered her so much.

"You alright?" Coach's voice softened, concern creeping in.

"Yeah," she lied, forcing her feet onto the cool floor. "Just... didn't sleep well."

"Hmm." He didn't sound convinced. "Well, I'm at the course. Usual spot. Get ready fast—we've got work to do."

She sighed, glancing at the clock. 1:07 p.m. "Alright, Coach. I'll be there in thirty."

"Twenty," he countered, firm but teasing. "No excuses. You need this, and you know it."

"Twenty-five," she shot back, already pulling open her wardrobe. "I'll be there, I promise."

"Twenty," he insisted, his tone easing slightly. "And Nina? Bring your A-game. The Ford Championship is at the end of March, and this marathon you're gearing up for—Phoenix, Vegas, then L.A.—is no joke. There's no room for distractions."

"I know," she replied, tugging a mint-green shirt off a hanger. The words felt automatic, like a reflex she couldn't suppress. But they lacked conviction, and she knew Coach could sense it.

"You keep saying you know," he said, "but I need to see it, Nina. This isn't just about showing up—it's about showing up with purpose. You've worked too hard to let anything throw you off now."

She paused, shirt in hand, and let out a slow breath. "You're right. I'll be ready."

"Twenty minutes," he reminded her. "And remember why you're here. Rankings and prize money might matter, but this is bigger than that—you know it. You belong at the top. Now let the world see it."

The line clicked off, leaving her in silence. She sat still for a moment, letting his words sink in. Time to show them what I'm made of.

She raised her eyes to the mirror in front of her, taking in her reflection. Tired eyes stared back at her, shadowed by the sleepless night, but beneath the fatigue, she caught a flicker of the determination that had carried her this far. She exhaled deeply, her thoughts crystallizing into a quiet resolve.

Her career was no accident. Every victory, every bit of recognition, came from years of discipline and sacrifice—not luck, and certainly not nepotism. This was her dream, her hard-earned place in the world, and she wasn't going to let anyone jeopardize that. Not Arthur. Not Lando. Not anyone. Not anything.

After a quick rinse in the bathroom to fully wake herself up, she pulled on her mint-green shirt and matching shorts, tucking in the shirt neatly. Over it, she slipped on a lightweight jacket to ward off the chill. She tied her hair into a ponytail, adjusted her black cap snugly on her head, and grabbed her bag. Stepping outside, the crisp late winter air hit her cheeks, clearing her head. She tucked her hands into the pockets of the jacket for warmth as she made her way to the car. The drive to the course was uneventful, the rhythmic hum of the road giving her a moment's peace to gather herself.

By the time she pulled into the parking lot, Coach was already waiting, leaning against a golf cart with his clipboard in hand.

"Twenty-three minutes," he remarked as she approached, sunglasses shielding his expression but the smirk unmistakable.

"Close enough," she replied, slinging her bag over her shoulder. "I'm here, aren't I?"

He raised an eyebrow but let it slide. "Alright, let's get started. Your form wasn't great on Thursday, and we need to tighten it up before Phoenix. Start with your drives—five strong ones. No excuses."

She nodded, stepping onto the practice green. The weight of her club settled in her hands, the familiar grip grounding her. Everything else faded into the background as she lined up her first shot.

The satisfying crack of the ball meeting the club echoed across the course. For the first time all day, she felt a flicker of relief. She wasn't perfect yet, but she was moving in the right direction.

No distractions, she reminded herself.

While Nina honed her swing, fully immersed in the rhythm of the game, chaos erupted online. Her name surged across social media, entangled in trending hashtags and rampant speculation. Posts and comments multiplied, each amplifying the frenzy with new theories and conjecture. The digital storm raged on, dissecting her life in ways she couldn't imagine.

Unaware of the unfolding drama, Nina lined up for her next drive, her attention fixed solely on the game before her.

By the end of the day, exhaustion weighed heavily on her. The relentless focus and physical toll of the game had left her drained. She dropped her bag by the door and collapsed onto the couch in her apartment, reaching for the remote. She needed an escape—something familiar, something that didn't require too much thinking. She pulled up the second season of Drive to Survive. The iconic narration and dramatic music filled the room, pulling her into a world she was starting to understand but still found overwhelming.

As she became absorbed in the series, her phone buzzed, breaking her momentary escape. Arthur's name flashed on the screen. She smiled as she picked up, his voice warm but carrying a curious edge.

"Hey, babe," she greeted, her tone soft with tiredness.

 "Hey, Nina," he said, a hint of concern in his voice. "You sound exhausted,"

"I am," she admitted, sinking deeper into the couch. "My coach absolutely killed me on the course today."

He chuckled lightly. "Mine too."

There was a brief pause before his tone shifted slightly. "Have you checked Instagram lately?"

She frowned, puzzled. "Oh, I saw your cute little story of me yesterday," she teased.

He laughed, but there was something hesitant in it. "I'm not talking about my story."

"Then what?" she asked, her confusion deepening. "I haven't checked Instagram today."

"Well... how do I put this?" he started, then sighed. "You're trending."

Her brows furrowed as she sat up straighter. "Huh? What are you talking about?"

"Just check," he said. She put him on speaker and opened Instagram, scrolling through her feed. As Arthur kept talking, her screen filled with posts—photos of her with Lando at the charity event, candid shots from the Abu Dhabi paddock, blurry images of her with friends at the golf course where Lando had joined, and a clip from her Abu Dhabi interview. In the interview, when asked if she supported a specific driver, Nina had insisted she was there for the motorsport. But the comments told a different story—no one seemed to buy it. Some speculated she was supporting Lando, pointing to her presence in the McLaren garage, while others argued it had to be Arthur, her boyfriend, especially with his first F1 drive in Abu Dhabi. The debate only fueled the frenzy. Her stomach tightened as she scrolled, the chaos pressing down on her like a weight.

"What the fucking hell is this?" she muttered, her stomach twisting.

Arthur's voice softened, but there was a sharp edge beneath it. "I don't know—should I be asking about Lando? Back when you were coaching me and we ran into him at the practice, you both acted like you barely knew each other. But now it seems like you saw each other multiple times. And in just one night, he's liked almost all your posts and even started following you. Don't you think that's a bit strange?"

Nina's heart skipped a beat as her thumb hovered over a post of her and Lando laughing together at the charity event. Her mind scrambled for a response that wouldn't reveal too much—or worse, stoke Arthur's suspicions further. Screw you, Lando, she thought bitterly.

Nina took a deep breath, keeping her tone light. "Honestly, Arthur, he's probably just being friendly. People do that all the time—follow someone they've met a few times on social media. Maybe he's just into golf or totally blown away by my incredible talent," she added with a playful lilt, hoping the humor might ease the tension. "Besides," she continued quickly, "he follows Nelly, Viktor, and Matthew too—my golfer friends. It's really nothing. People just love to stir things up, ugh."

Arthur was quiet for a moment, and Nina could almost hear the wheels turning in his head. Finally, he exhaled, his tone softening slightly but still carrying a hint of irritation. "You are incredible, no argument there, but liking all your posts like that—it's a bit much, don't you think? People are obviously going to talk. He should be more careful, especially knowing you're with me. He does know, right? We haven't exactly been subtle about it."

Nina nodded instinctively, even though he couldn't see her. "Yeah, and even if he's dumb enough not to figure it out, I told him about you when we ran into each other at the course with my friends in London."

Arthur let out another sigh, this one more frustrated than resigned. "It just doesn't sit right with me. He's not dumb—I know him well enough to say this was definitely intentional. Whether he meant anything by it or not, it looks bad. And now, people are dragging you into it too." He paused, his voice firm. "I should call him, talk to him, and set things straight."

Nina immediately interjected, her tone calm but carrying a hint of exasperation. "Arthur, it's really not that deep. You're putting way too much energy into this. Lando's just being his stupid, careless self. He probably doesn't even realize what it looks like. It doesn't mean anything, and it's not worth stressing over."

Arthur let out a long breath, the tension in his voice easing slightly, though not completely. "You're probably right," he admitted, though his irritation lingered. "It just pisses me off seeing you dragged into this for no reason." He paused again, his tone warming as the frustration began to fade. "I still don't like it, but you're right—this isn't worth the energy. What is worth it is you. I just want to see you right now... and kiss you until the rest of the world disappears."

Nina chuckled, the tension melting as she tried to lighten the mood. "Wait—are you jealous, Mr. Leclerc? My romantic man getting all possessive?"

Arthur's tone warmed further, a hint of a grin sneaking into his voice. "Maybe a little," he admitted, his voice low and teasing. "But can you blame me? When you're this irresistible, it's hard not to want the world to know you're mine—and keep you safe from all this nonsense."

She smiled, shaking her head. "Well, don't worry. You're the only one who gets to kiss me," she said, though her voice wavered just slightly. The words felt hollow, their weight settling uneasily in her chest.

They chatted for a few more minutes, shifting to lighter topics, but when the call ended, Nina set her phone down with a heavy sigh. She leaned back against the couch, struggling to shake the lingering discomfort. Arthur might be convinced for now, but the online whirlwind wasn't going anywhere—the comments, the speculation, the stories people were spinning. It was a storm, and she was standing right at its center.

"You are a liar, Nina," the thought echoed, sharp and unrelenting. Every word she'd said to Arthur felt like a thread in a web she couldn't stop weaving. How long until it unraveled completely? How long until Arthur saw through her?

Because, no matter how much she wished it were different, at the end of the day, it was Lando who had kept her awake last night, occupying her thoughts and refusing to let her rest—not Arthur.

Chapter Text

Nina had spent the morning on the course with her coach, who had filmed her swings during their session. Now, sprawled out on her couch, she was reviewing the footage on her laptop, her coach's voice playing over the video as he pointed out areas for improvement.

Despite all the chaos online—the speculation and rumors about her, Lando, and even her relationship with Arthur—her focus remained unwaveringly on golf. She paused the clip, her eyes narrowing as she studied her form. With a demanding series of tournaments ahead, every adjustment felt crucial, and she was determined to get it right.

Her phone buzzed on the coffee table. She glanced at the screen to see a FaceTime request from Zak Brown. With a sigh and a smile, she picked it up, settling back into the couch.

"What's my favorite golfer up to?" Zak's familiar face filled the screen, his grin contagious as always.

"Just trying to figure out how to stop slicing my drives," Nina replied, gesturing to the paused video on her laptop. "My coach thinks I've been getting lazy with my follow-through."

"Lazy? You?" Zak teased, raising an eyebrow. "I'll believe that when I see it. But seriously, are you ready for this crazy schedule of yours?"

"I'm working on it," she said, rubbing her temple. "I've still got time to prepare, and I'll be ready when it counts. Three tournaments back-to-back, across three states. What could possibly go wrong?"

"You'll crush it," Zak said with unwavering confidence. Then he leaned in closer to the screen, his tone softening. "By the way, have you marked March 9th on your calendar yet?"

Nina frowned. "March 9th? What's happening then?"

"It's the McLaren team gathering before the season kicks off. A big day to motivate everyone—drivers, engineers, staff... even family," Zak explained, his tone light but deliberate. "Your dad and I both think you should come. It's the perfect opportunity to show everyone who you really are."

"Please, Zak," she interrupted, shaking her head. "We've been over this a million times."

Zak leaned back slightly, his expression unwavering. "How long are you going to avoid this, Nina?"

"I'm not avoiding it," she shot back. "I just don't want to be publicly associated with McLaren. Is that so hard to understand?"

"Honestly? Yeah, it is," Zak replied firmly, but there was no edge in his tone. "You've already proven yourself to the world, Nina. As a professional golfer, not as a McLaren. You've won major tournaments, and you're competing in one of the toughest championships out there. Your rankings speak for themselves. But at some point, you need to ask yourself—when will you stop holding yourself back from being part of your family's legacy?"

He paused, letting his words sink in before softening his tone. "This gathering is a chance to meet the team, to connect with people who care about you. No media, no sponsors—just us. You're ready, Nina. I wouldn't say it if I didn't believe it."

Her stomach tightened at his words. The thought of stepping into that room as a McLaren felt overwhelming. "I don't know, Zak. I... I've spent so long keeping it quiet. What if it changes how people see me?"

Her thoughts drifted to Arthur. What if knowing she was a McLaren changed how he saw her? He'd always been supportive, but the rivalry between Ferrari and McLaren loomed large. Would this shift the delicate balance they'd found together?

Zak's voice interrupted her spiraling thoughts, gentler this time. "Look, Nina, I get it. I do. But you've built your career on your own terms. No one can take that away from you. And honestly, if anyone has a problem with who you are, that's their issue, not yours."

She stayed quiet, her gaze dropping to the edge of the couch. Her fingers idly traced the seam of her sweatpants as she processed his words.

Zak leaned closer to the camera, his expression earnest. "And it's just the team, Nina. They'll get it. They already respect you, not because of your name, but because of what you've accomplished. Trust me on this—it's time."

For the first time, she allowed herself to exhale. Zak's words lingered, nudging her toward a decision she wasn't sure she was ready to make but couldn't avoid forever.

"Nina, please," Zak said, dragging the word out dramatically. When she looked up at the screen, his face was twisted into an exaggerated sad expression, his bottom lip sticking out and his eyes wide like he was on the verge of tears.

She couldn't help it; a laugh bubbled out of her. "Oh my God, Zak, stop!" she said, giggling as he added fake sobs and pretended to wipe away nonexistent tears.

He doubled down on the act, making his face even more ridiculous, and Nina quickly snapped a few screenshots of his antics.

"Gotcha," she said triumphantly, smirking as she captured the screenshot. "This is definitely going in my collection."

Zak smirked, dropping the performance. "Blackmail material, huh?"

"Absolutely," she teased, shaking her head as her laughter subsided into a grin. She exhaled, feeling the tension begin to lift. "Okay, fine. I'll come."

Zak's face lit up with excitement. "That's my girl! You won't regret it, I promise."

"Just one thing," she said, sitting up a bit straighter. "What's the dress code?"

"Smart casual should be fine," Zak replied with a casual shrug. Then, with a mischievous grin, he added, "Oh, and maybe think about a little speech for the team. Just a few words—they'd love it."

Nina groaned, throwing her head back dramatically. "Zak, you're unbelievable. First, you drag me to this thing, and now a speech? What's next—a McLaren-branded PowerPoint?"

Zak laughed, clearly enjoying her reaction. "If you're offering, I'll take a pie chart or two."

"Don't push it," she muttered, narrowing her eyes at him. "A speech? Seriously? Is this my dad's idea?"

Zak shook his head, a small smile playing on his lips. "Nope, this one's all me. I just think it'd be a great experience for you—a chance to inspire the team and show them what a future leader looks like."

She folded her arms, raising an eyebrow. "Future leader? What leader? Where exactly are you trying to steer me, Zak?"

Zak's grin softened, a flicker of sincerity slipping through. "Just your legacy, Nina. Whether you like it or not, you've got something special to offer—not just as a golfer but as part of this family."

She hesitated, feeling a swirl of emotions. Zak had a way of making her see things differently, even when she resisted.

"Just think about it," he added, his tone lightening again. "You've got time."

She rolled her eyes but couldn't hide the small smile tugging at her lips. "Fine, I'll think about it. But you owe me, Zak."

"Deal," he said with a wink. "Now, go work on that follow-through. We'll see you on the 9th." He paused, a knowing smile creeping onto his face. "Oh, and I'm pretty sure someone will be especially happy to see you there."

Nina raised an eyebrow, her tone edged with playful skepticism. "If my dad wanted to see me that badly, he could've called when I was in London. I told him I'd be there, and he was in town for business too."

Zak shrugged, keeping it casual. "You know how it is—he was busy." Then, with a sly smirk, he added, "But I wasn't talking about him."

Her brow furrowed slightly. "Huh? Then who?"

Zak's grin widened mischievously. "A very loyal McLaren driver."

Nina blinked, momentarily caught off guard. "Lando? Seriously?"

Zak nodded, his grin unwavering. "He's been asking about you nonstop. Practically every single day."

She sighed, shaking her head. "Tell him to leave me alone. Social media's already onto me because of him, and if people figure out my family situation, he's finished," she said, dragging her finger across her throat in a mock gesture.

Zak chuckled lightly, his tone careful. "Yeah, people certainly have a lot to say."

"It's not funny, Zak," she snapped, her sharp tone cutting through any trace of humor.

He raised his hands in mock surrender. "Okay, okay. But for what it's worth, I'm rooting for you and Lando. Honestly, some of those comments aren't wrong—you'd make a great pair."

Nina's expression hardened, her voice firm. "Zak, I have a boyfriend."

Zak's eyebrows lifted in surprise. "Wait, don't tell me... Arthur?"

"Yes," she said with a sigh. "And thank God he's been cool about all of this, but it's not easy for me. It just... complicates things."

Zak's grin faded into something more thoughtful. "Is it... serious?"

"Yes, Zak. It is," she replied firmly. "Why? Didn't you see my stories?"

"I did," Zak admitted, tilting his head. "But honestly, when you mentioned him around Christmas, I didn't think much of it. You said you'd met an 'interesting guy,' but you didn't even know his last name back then."

She shrugged, a faint smile tugging at her lips. "Yeah, well, now I'm about to meet his family, so..."

Zak blinked, clearly caught off guard. "Nina, it's been less than two months," he said softly. He paused, hesitating. "Plus, he's..."

The words hung in the air, unfinished, his expression flickering with something unreadable. After a moment, he shook his head and sighed.

"Alright," he said, brushing it off with forced casualness. "I'll leave you to it. See you in two weeks, Nina."

"Wait," Nina said, leaning closer to the screen, her voice calm but edged with curiosity. "He's what?"

Zak quickly shook his head, a faint smirk tugging at his lips as if to dismiss the question. "Bye, Nina," he said, and before she could press further, he ended the call.

Nina stared at the blank screen, her thoughts swirling. Zak's hesitation—and the way he avoided finishing his sentence—lingered in her mind, leaving her more curious than ever about what he had meant to say. Was it about how soon it was to meet Arthur's family? Or was it something else entirely?

Her chest tightened slightly at the thought, but she quickly pushed it aside. Zak often managed to plant seeds of doubt without meaning to, and this time was probably no different.

Shaking it off, she decided to focus on something else. Arthur had been training late today, which was unusual for him. She thought about calling but hesitated. What if he's still focused? I don't want to distract him.

Instead, she opened Instagram, her fingers moving instinctively as she decided to send him a quick message—something simple, just to check in.

As the app loaded, her thumb froze.

An unread message.

From Lando Norris.

Her heart skipped a beat, and for a moment, her mind went completely blank.

First the likes on my posts, then the follow... and now a message?

She exhaled sharply, her frustration rising. He needs to stop. This is ridiculous.

Her mind raced. What should I do now? Talk to him? Ghost him? Block him?

Her thumb hovered over the notification, her indecision growing heavier by the second. Nina hesitated, taking a deep breath before finally opening the conversation.

Chapter Text

Lando: Hey

One word. That was it. Sent 55 minutes ago.

Her lips pressed into a thin line as she typed back, fingers moving with sharp precision.

Nina: Hey yourself. Enjoying the chaos you brought me into?

His reply came almost instantly.

Lando: Chaos? Just keeping things interesting. You're welcome.

Nina rolled her eyes, irritation spiking. She tapped out her response, jaw tight.

Nina: For what? Liking my posts and starting rumors about something we never had? Please, Lando. Grow the hell up.

The typing indicator appeared. Then it disappeared. Nina waited, her thumb tapping against the side of her phone impatiently. Finally, his message appeared.

Lando: You really believe that? That there was nothing between us?

Her breath hitched, her fingers flying over the keyboard.

Nina: Just sex. Casual. Exactly how you wanted it.

The typing bubble flickered again, then stopped. Nina's pulse quickened as her grip tightened around the phone. The pause stretched until his next message came through.

Lando:  Casual. Yea. That's what I said.

She frowned at the screen, her stomach knotting. For a moment, nothing happened. No reply, no typing bubble—just silence.

Then, the typing bubble appeared again.

It lingered for a long moment before disappearing.

Nina exhaled, staring hard at the phone, willing herself to put it down, but she couldn't. Her eyes stayed glued to the screen.

The typing bubble reappeared, only to vanish once more.

What is he even doing? she thought, her chest tightening.

Finally, the message came through.

Lando:  So why the fuck can't I get you out of my head??

Her breath caught, a flash of heat rising in her chest. Her jaw clenched as a mix of anger and something heavier settled over her. Her fingers curled tightly around the phone, staring at his words, her emotions surging.

He has no right to tell me that now. The thought burned in her mind, sharp and unrelenting.

Her fingers moved swiftly over the keyboard.

Nina: Whatever this is. Stop it. It's not fair. Not to me. Not to Arthur.

Her thumb hovered over his profile, ready to click the block button, her anger simmering just below the surface. She stared at his picture, tension building in her neck as the urge to cut him off completely grew stronger.

But before she could press it, her phone buzzed again.

A notification flashed across the top of the screen.

Lando: I'm sorry.

Her breath hitched, her thumb pausing mid-action.

Another notification followed almost immediately.

Lando: It's just

She froze, her pulse racing as she stared at the top of her screen, waiting. Her mind screamed at her to ignore it, to press the block button and end this now.

Then came another buzz, the final blow.

Lando: Can't stop thinking about you Nina.

Her chest tightened, her stomach flipped, and her hand trembled. She dropped her thumb from the block button, her breathing uneven.

Why is he doing this to me? she thought, her fingers moving on instinct as she clicked on the notification before it disappeared. It opened their conversation, and there it was—the message he'd just sent.

Can't stop thinking about you Nina.

Her pulse quickened as she stared at the words, the weight of them sinking in. Her breath became shallow, and her heart raced. She locked her phone and set it face down on the table, hoping that would stop the message from replaying in her mind. This is so unfair.

Before she could collect herself, another buzz broke the silence. This time, it wasn't a notification—it was a call. The repeated vibration startled her, and she quickly grabbed her phone.

Arthur.

As if he sensed something was wrong. She swiped to answer, her voice coming out a little too fast. "Hey!"

"Hey, babe. Sorry," he said, his tone soft, comforting. "I've been training all day. Just saw your texts. How are you doing?"

Her shoulders relaxed slightly at the sound of his voice. She leaned back into the couch, the tension in her chest easing as she talked to him.

They chatted for a while, his warmth and calm presence distracting her from everything else—especially Lando.

For the moment, she let herself forget the notifications, the messages, and the chaos. Arthur had a way of grounding her, and right now, that was exactly what she needed.

After the call ended, she stared at her phone for a moment, her finger hovering over the Instagram app. But instead of opening it, she locked the screen and set it aside.

With a deep breath, she reached for her laptop, where the video from her coach sat paused on the screen. The frozen frame captured her mid-swing, her form under scrutiny. She clicked play, and the slow-motion clips began to flow again.

As the video played, she focused on the technique they'd been refining. The familiar rhythm of golf analysis steadied her nerves, gradually pulling her mind away from everything else.

~~~~~~

The sun streamed through the large glass windows of the McLaren headquarters in Woking, casting sharp reflections onto the sleek surfaces of the sim room. Lando sat in the driver's seat of the simulator, his hands gripping the wheel, but his focus wasn't on the virtual track in front of him.

"Missed the apex again, mate," Oscar's voice came through, tinged with playful smugness. "Thinking about your next Twitch stream or something?"

Lando exhaled sharply, releasing the wheel and leaning back in the seat. "Yeah, or something."

Oscar, perched casually on a nearby chair with a bottle of water in hand, raised an eyebrow. "You're off today. What's going on?"

Lando hesitated, his fingers running through his messy hair as he glanced at the screen of his phone, which he'd placed face down on the console next to him.

Nothing. Still no reply.

He picked it up, swiped it open, and scrolled to their conversation.

Seen 11h ago.

The words stared back at him, sharp and unforgiving. She'd seen it—of course, she'd seen it—but she hadn't replied. Not a single word.

"Mate, you're staring at that thing like it insulted your driving," Oscar called out, spinning his chair slightly to face him.

Lando locked the screen and tossed the phone onto the desk beside him, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. "She left me on read," he muttered, the frustration slipping into his voice.

Oscar's eyebrows shot up, and a slow grin spread across his face. "She left you on read? You? Lando Norris? Isn't that, like, a crime against humanity or something?"

Lando shot him a flat look. "Trying to be funny, mate? Because it's not working."

Oscar chuckled, leaning forward. "Alright, alright. So what's the deal?"

Lando exhaled sharply, rubbing the back of his neck. "She's got someone already," he admitted, his tone clipped.

Oscar leaned forward, his grin widening. "Oh, this just keeps getting better. Fighting for someone who's already taken? That's bold—even for you."

"Thanks for the commentary," Lando said dryly, rubbing his temples.

Oscar chuckled, undeterred. "Come on, what'd you send? Some love poem? Quoting Shakespeare, maybe?"

"Ha ha. Classic, Oscar," Lando shot back, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "You should consider stand-up if this F1 thing doesn't work out."

Oscar raised his hands in mock surrender. "Relax, mate. Just saying—you've got it bad, haven't you?"

Lando groaned, running a hand down his face. "You're unbearable, you know that?"

"Maybe," Oscar said, leaning back in his chair, a smug grin plastered on his face. "But at least I'm not obsessing over someone who's clearly got you twisted."

Lando rolled his eyes, grabbing his water bottle as he stood. "I'm done talking to you."

"Good," Oscar called after him, laughing. "But you might want to try talking to her instead. Just a thought!"

Lando stopped at the doorway, turning slightly. "Yeah, I should... when she comes to the team's pre-season kickoff."

Oscar spun his chair around, intrigued. "Oh, so she works for McLaren?"

Lando hesitated, shifting awkwardly. "Not... exactly, no."

Oscar frowned, leaning forward, his curiosity growing. "Mmm, so she doesn't work for McLaren, but she's coming to the team gathering? Makes no sense, mate."

A beat passed as Oscar's expression shifted. The pieces began clicking into place, and suddenly his eyes lit up. "Wait... Zak mentioned the people coming to the kickoff earlier this morning. The speeches, the lineup..." He pointed at Lando, a smug grin spreading across his face. "It's Nina, isn't it?"

Lando froze, his eyes widening in surprise. For a moment, he said nothing, then let out a reluctant smirk. "Bang on, Oscar." He shook his head slightly. "He may be young, but he's not dumb."

Oscar burst out laughing, leaning back in his chair. "Oh, this is brilliant. You and Nina? No wonder you're spiraling. That's a tricky one, mate."

"Yeah, thanks for the input," Lando muttered, rolling his eyes as he turned to leave.

"And here I thought pre-season was going to be boring," Oscar called after him, his laughter echoing through the sim room. "Fighting Ferrari on and off the track this season? Good luck with that, mate."

Lando paused at the doorway, glancing back with a smirk. "Yeah, well, one's easier than the other. Pretty sure you can guess which."

Oscar leaned back in his chair, grinning. "Don't worry, mate, you're taking home both 'ships. Championship and relationship—I'll be cheering for you."

Lando chuckled, shaking his head as he headed toward the gym. "You can be funny sometimes. It's rare, but it happens."

Oscar smirked. "Rare? Nah, I'm just saving my best material for my girlfriend, not for you."

Lando rolled his eyes. "Stick to racing, Oscar. Comedy's not your thing."

"Sure, mate," Oscar called after him. "But when you pull it off, don't forget who saw it coming!"

Lando waved him off, but as he walked toward the gym, Oscar's words stuck with him. Winning both? Easier said than done.

Chapter Text

March 7th arrived, carrying a nervous anticipation that Nina hadn't been able to shake all morning. It wasn't every day that she met a boyfriend's family, let alone the family of Arthur Leclerc. She stood in front of her closet, mentally debating whether she was overthinking her outfit. It was a casual lunch, Arthur had reassured her, but nothing about the Monegasque Leclercs felt casual to her.

And then there was the conversation with Lando two weeks ago—an unwelcome thorn in her side. His words lingered, teasing her resolve in moments she wished she could push them aside. She hadn't responded to his last message. But even in his silence, he was still there, his presence subtly reminding her of him. Every like on her recent posts or stories felt like a nudge, a whispering don't forget me.

The familiar sound of Mila's voice pulled her out of her thoughts. She was on FaceTime with her best friend, who was currently lounging in her apartment, miles away but still her voice of reason—or chaos, depending on the mood.

"Babe, you look stunning, stop stressing. It's not like you're meeting the Queen," Mila teased, waving a hand at Nina's outfit.

Nina groaned. "You're not helping. Is this one too much? Or should I go with the cream?"

"The one you're wearing," Mila said, squinting at the screen. "The cream makes you look like you're trying too hard. You need effortless chic, not first day at a corporate job."

"Mila, this is a big deal," Nina said, her voice tight. "What if they don't like me? What if—"

"What if they do?" Mila interrupted, her tone softening. "Arthur is head over heels for you. His family will see that. And if they don't, screw them. You're Nina freaking Hart."

A knock at the door snapped Nina out of her mounting anxiety. "He's here. Mila, I—"

"You've got this," Mila said with a grin. "And don't forget, I want all the tea later."

As Nina hung up and grabbed her coat, she cast one last glance at her reflection. The nerves still fluttered in her chest, but Mila's pep talk had bolstered her resolve.

When she opened the door, Arthur greeted her with his signature easy smile, one that made her feel as though the world wasn't quite as overwhelming. "Ready?" he asked, his accent turning the simple word into something effortlessly charming.

"As ready as I'll ever be," she replied, stepping out to join him.

The drive to his mother's house was filled with Arthur's soothing reassurances, his hand resting on hers. But as they approached the villa nestled in Monaco's hills, Nina's nerves surged anew. The understated elegance of the home spoke of generations accustomed to perfection.

"You'll be fine," Arthur said, giving her hand a reassuring squeeze. "They're going to love you."

She offered him a small, wavering smile, grateful for his calm, even as her doubts persisted.

The door swung open to reveal Arthur's mother, Pascale. She enveloped Nina in a warm hug, her perfume light and inviting. "So, you're the famous Nina," Pascale said with a smile that was both kind and appraising. "Arthur has told me so much about you. Welcome, my dear."

"Thank you," Nina replied, her voice steady despite her nerves. Pascale's warmth chipped away at her anxiety, piece by piece.

Inside, the villa was as welcoming as it was elegant. The living room was bright and spacious, filled with laughter and conversation. Charles was there, his natural charm on display as he chatted with Alexandra, his girlfriend. Lorenzo stood nearby, laughing with Charlotte, his fiancée, the two couples exuding a camaraderie that Nina admired.

The warmth of their family dynamic helped ease her nerves. She found herself drawn into light conversation, their genuine curiosity about her life melting away her apprehension. There were solemn moments too—Charles mentioned Jules Bianchi in passing, his voice soft with emotion. It wasn't a full conversation, just a fleeting acknowledgment, but it carried a weight that seemed to bring the family closer together, a quiet reminder of their shared loss and enduring bonds.

Lunch was a simple yet exquisite affair featuring Monegasque specialties. The flavors were rich, the atmosphere lively, and Nina began to relax as laughter and stories filled the room. Charles' playful jabs at Arthur had everyone grinning, and Lorenzo's tales of childhood mischief painted a picture of a family deeply rooted in love and shared memories.

The mood shifted when Charles raised a glass. "To Dad," he said softly, his voice steady but tinged with emotion. "Happy birthday, Papa. We miss you every day." The table fell silent, the clinking of glasses the only sound. The significance of the day—Hervé's birthday—deepened the sense of togetherness, a shared acknowledgment of love and loss.

As the conversation turned to Ferrari, Nina saw how much the team meant to the Leclercs. It wasn't just a dream but a legacy, passed down from Jules to Charles and now inspiring Arthur. The room grew quieter as Charles shared a poignant memory about their father, Hervé. He spoke of how, in his final days, he had told his father he was joining Ferrari, even though it wasn't yet true.

"I regret lying to him," Charles admitted, his voice low. "But I wanted him to believe the dream was coming true, even if it wasn't yet."

The room fell silent again, heavy with the significance of his words. Arthur reached over to squeeze Charles' shoulder, a quiet gesture that spoke volumes about their bond. Nina felt the depth of their connection—the way they carried their family's dreams and losses together.

When Arthur spoke of one day joining Ferrari in Formula 1 alongside his brother, his voice was filled with quiet determination. It wasn't just a goal; it was a vision shaped by love, inspiration, and their family's legacy. Nina admired his passion, but it stirred unease within her—a mix of fear and guilt she couldn't shake. The weight of the Leclercs' legacy magnified her doubts, making her question her place in Arthur's world and whether she could truly support him.

Her gaze fell to the table, where Charles' Ferrari key fob lay near his glass. The prancing horse logo gleamed in the sunlight, its brilliance drawing her in. As she stared, her thoughts spiraled. The emblem seemed to come alive, its piercing eyes locking onto hers as if it knew her secret. She felt exposed, like a spy in enemy territory, holding her breath and bracing for someone to notice she didn't belong.

Arthur's hand brushed hers under the table, his touch gentle and reassuring. The soft hum of conversation around her brought her back to the present, grounding her momentarily. She forced a smile, hoping it concealed the unease bubbling beneath. The prancing horse lay still once more, an innocent piece of metal on the table. But the feeling of being an outsider in their world lingered, sharp and unshakable.

As the meal wound down, Pascale brought out dessert—piles of delicate pastries that filled the room with their sweet aroma—and suggested they watch Drive to Survive together. It was Charles who quickly proposed skipping to the last episode, eager to see how Netflix had framed the season for him and Arthur.

Lorenzo arched an eyebrow, casting a knowing glance at Arthur. "I thought you said Nina didn't even know about the show?"

Nina chuckled, setting her napkin aside. "That's true, but I've done my homework. I started watching it a few weeks ago—I'm halfway through the fourth season now."

She turned to Charles, a playful glint in her eyes. "So, you don't want to watch the whole thing?"

Charles grinned. "Not really. We only care about our episode."

Arthur leaned back in his chair, smirking. "It's true. You see one episode, and you've basically seen them all. Add some dramatic music, a slow-motion shot, and voilà—instant F1 drama."

Nina laughed, picking up one of the delicate pastries from the platter. "I mean, it is entertaining. Though I can't lie, watching it feels a little different now that I know some of the popstars of Formula 1."

"Popstars?" Charles echoed with a laugh, leaning forward. "She called us popstars, Arthur. Did you hear that?"

Arthur grinned. "I think she's talking about you, Charles. You're Netflix's golden boy."

As the laughter circled the room, Pascale gestured for everyone to move to the living room. Nina followed the group to the couch, settling in beside Arthur. As the last episode began to play, she felt the weight of his hand brush against hers, subtle but warm, and she glanced at him. His expression was relaxed, but there was a flicker of something softer in his eyes, and it made her heart skip a beat.

The screen lit up, and soon the room was filled with snippets of dramatic music and stylized editing. Charles groaned at the narration, Arthur chuckled at the exaggerated tension, and Nina couldn't help but join in their amusement.

The episode opened with Arthur preparing for his first-ever Formula 1 appearance during FP1 in Abu Dhabi. The footage showed him standing in the garage, his expression a mix of nerves and determination, with Charles watching intently from the side. The narrative unfolded with Charles' voiceover describing the pride he felt seeing his younger brother achieve something they had both dreamed of since childhood. "It's a historic moment," Charles said in the interview clip, his smile wide. "The first time two brothers drove in Formula 1 together. I was so proud of him."

The camera cut to clips of them driving side by side on the track, the Ferrari liveries gleaming under the Abu Dhabi lights. The emotion of the moment was palpable, and Nina could see how much it meant to both of them. A brief flashback revealed the struggles they'd faced—how their family couldn't afford to support both of them in their racing careers. Arthur had to step back while Charles rose through the ranks, but once Charles secured his place in Formula 1, he used his success to help Arthur return to the path they had dreamed of together.

The screen returned to the present, showing Charles in the paddock, watching Arthur finish his laps. His pride was unmistakable as he embraced Arthur after the session. "I told him, 'You belong here,'" Charles said in the interview, his voice thick with emotion.

Nina felt her heart swell. She turned to Arthur, her eyes glistening. "I'm so proud of you, babe," she whispered, leaning in to kiss him softly. Arthur smiled, his hand squeezing hers in silent gratitude.

Before they could say more, Pascale stepped forward, her arms opening wide as she pulled both Arthur and Charles into a warm hug. "My boys," she said, her voice thick with emotion. "You make me so proud, both of you. Watching you grow into the men you've become, it's the greatest joy of my life."

Arthur and Charles exchanged a glance over their mother's shoulder, both smiling, their shared bond palpable. "Merci, Maman," Charles murmured, his tone soft and heartfelt.

Arthur echoed the sentiment, his hand briefly resting on his mother's back. "We wouldn't be here without you."

Pascale pulled back just enough to look at them, her hands resting on their shoulders. "You've both worked so hard to get where you are. Don't ever forget how loved you are—and how proud we all are of you."

Nina watched the moment unfold, a warm smile spreading across her face. It was a rare glimpse of vulnerability and closeness between the brothers, and it made her heart swell even more.

Just as Nina began to feel a faint sense of belonging, the episode shifted its focus to other teams, highlighting McLaren's triumphant win in Abu Dhabi and pulling her back to a legacy she didn't know how to confront. The footage showed Lando Norris crossing the finish line, arms raised in victory, his voice raw with emotion as he screamed over the radio.

Nina's chest tightened as the screen cut to the McLaren garage, where her parents and sister were caught in celebration with the team. Her father's beaming smile, her sister's laughter, and the unmistakable pride on their faces filled her with an odd unease—a dissonance between their joy and the life she had carved out for herself here, in this moment.

Charles' voice pulled her from her thoughts. "Yeah, no, I don't need to relive that," he said, his tone calm but tinged with disappointment. "Losing the constructors' championship still stings." Reaching for the remote, he moved to turn off the TV.

Nina, still glued to the screen, barely registered his words. Her eyes stayed fixed on Lando as he stepped out of his car, pulling off his helmet, his cheeks flushed red and glistening with sweat. His laugh was unrestrained, filled with pure, unfiltered joy as he moved toward Zak for a celebratory hug. Just as their arms began to reach for each other, the screen abruptly went black.

"That's enough drama for one night," Charles said with a grin, standing up and placing the remote on the table.

Nina blinked, the sudden silence in the room jarring. She forced a smile, but her thoughts lingered on the image of Lando, his triumph, and the bittersweet emotions it stirred within her.

Arthur glanced at Nina, his hand still resting lightly on hers. "Ready to head back?" he asked softly, his voice warm.

Nina hesitated for a moment, pulling her gaze from the now-black screen. Forcing a small smile, she looked at Arthur. "Yeah," she said softly, her voice carrying a faint edge of distraction. "Thank you. Tonight was lovely."

The family exchanged goodnights, Pascale giving Nina another warm hug. "Come back soon, my dear," she said, her kind eyes shining. Nina thanked her, feeling a little more at ease as they stepped out into the cool Monaco evening.

Arthur drove her back, the gentle hum of the car filling the comfortable silence between them. When he pulled up outside her apartment, he shifted into park and turned to her with a soft smile. "You were great tonight," he said sincerely. "My family really likes you."

She returned his smile, her heart warming at his words. "Thank you for tonight. Your family is amazing, Arthur. Really."

As the moment lingered, Nina hesitated before speaking. "Will I see you before you fly to Australia?"

Arthur sighed softly, his smile fading just a little. "I'm leaving next Tuesday, but there's so much to prepare with Ferrari. I'll try to steal some time to come see you, but..." He paused, meeting her eyes. "I can't promise."

She nodded, understanding but still wishing for more time. After a moment, she looked at him, her voice softer. "Do you want to stay over tonight?"

Arthur's lips curved into a warm smile. He leaned closer, brushing a gentle kiss against her lips. "Yes," he murmured. "I'd love to."

They made their way upstairs to her apartment, where the evening melted into an intimate connection, both of them savoring their last moments together before the long stretch of distance ahead. Wrapped in each other's warmth, they let the weight of time slip away, if only for a little while.

As the night deepened and the apartment grew quiet, Nina's phone buzzed in her bag, forgotten on the chair by the door. The screen lit up, the name "Papa" displayed above a family picture—her father, mother, and sister, smiling together in a moment from a world she had kept carefully hidden.

7th March 2025

Chapter Text

Nina stirred, barely waking up as she felt a soft kiss pressed to her forehead. She opened her eyes just a sliver, catching a glimpse of Arthur leaning over her, already dressed and ready to leave.

"Sorry I woke you," he said softly, his voice warm with affection. "I have to go, babe. I'll call you later."

She smiled sleepily, her hand reaching out to catch his collar and pull him closer. Pressing a soft kiss to his lips, she murmured, "Be safe, and good luck."

"Thanks," he whispered, his smile warm as he stood upright again. With one last glance at her, he turned toward the door, the sound of his footsteps quiet against the floor.

As he reached the doorway, Nina stirred again, pushing herself up slightly. Her voice, still groggy with sleep, stopped him. "Arthur, wait. When will I see you again?"

He paused at the door, turning back to her with a small, sad smile. "In the end of May. For the Grand Prix here in Monaco."

Nina blinked as the words sank in. "Wait, what? That's almost three months away?"

He sighed, leaning against the doorframe, his expression apologetic. "Yeah, I know. I... I'm sorry. The schedule is insane."

She frowned but gave him a soft, understanding look. "Don't be sorry, babe. I understand. Besides, I've got a packed golf schedule myself."

Arthur hesitated for a moment, his fingers resting on the door handle as if torn between leaving and staying. Finally, he turned back, stepping into the room with a serious yet tender expression. "When I come back to Monaco for the Grand Prix, I want to introduce you as my official girlfriend," he said, his voice steady but tinged with vulnerability. "I want you by my side in the paddock. Would that be okay with you?"

Nina stared at him, surprised by the suddenness of his words. She opened her mouth but didn't know what to say, her hesitation clear.

Arthur offered a reassuring smile, sensing her uncertainty. "You don't need to give me your answer now," he added gently. "Just think about it."

She nodded slowly, her voice quiet. "Okay."

His shoulders relaxed slightly as he walked over and leaned down, pressing another tender kiss to her forehead. He hesitated, as if about to say something more, but instead whispered, "Take care." With one last glance, he turned and left, the door clicking softly behind him.

Nina lingered in bed for a few moments, her thoughts swirling as the morning light slowly filled the room. The faint memory of Arthur's voice from the night before crept into her mind—his soft, breathless words as they moved together. Had he really said it? The three words? She hadn't been sure at the time, too caught up in the haze of the moment, but now the possibility made her heart ache slightly.

Eventually, she stretched and sat up, her gaze drifting toward the kitchen. She blinked in surprise. On the counter was a neatly prepared breakfast—toast, fruit, and the small jar of honey she liked best. Her heart melted instantly, and a quiet smile spread across her face. This man is absolutely adorable.

Still smiling, though her thoughts lingered on the night before and her own uncertainty, Nina made her way to the coffee machine and grabbed a capsule, popping it into the machine as the comforting hum of brewing filled the air. Just as she reached for her mug, an idea struck her. She picked up her phone from the chair by the door, where she'd left it last night, and dialed Mila's number.

The line rang a few times before a groggy voice answered. "Mmm... hello?"

Nina chuckled, settling onto the couch with her coffee in hand. "Morning, sunshine. Did I wake you?"

"Ugh, yes," Mila grumbled, her voice thick with sleep. "I was up super late last night. Exams are coming, and I've been cramming like crazy."

"Sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt your beauty sleep," Nina said teasingly. "But I needed to talk to my bestie."

Mila groaned softly, but there was a hint of curiosity in her voice. "Fine, fine. You woke me up—make it worth it. Oh, wait! Your lunch! Tell me about it. How did it go?"

Nina grinned, tucking her legs beneath her on the couch. "It was actually really nice. I was so nervous going in, but the Leclercs are amazing. Pascale is the sweetest, Lorenzo's hilarious, and even Charles was easier to talk to than I expected."

"And Arthur's brothers didn't grill you or anything?" Mila teased. "No third-degree interrogation?"

"Not at all," Nina replied, grinning. "They were just really curious about my golf career and kept things light. Honestly, it couldn't have gone better."

Mila sighed dramatically. "Lucky you. Sounds like a dream. And Arthur? Was he his usual perfect self?"

Nina glanced toward the empty space where he'd been just minutes ago, her smile softening. "Yeah, he was perfect. He even made me breakfast before leaving this morning."

There was a pause on the other end before Mila groaned. "Ugh, stop. You're making the rest of us look bad."

Nina laughed, taking a sip of her coffee. "What can I say? He's one of a kind."

Mila snorted. "Lando is light-years away from Arthur. He wouldn't even think to make breakfast—unless cereal counts."

Nina groaned playfully. "Oh my God, Mila, why did you have to bring him up? I was actually in a good mood this morning."

Mila laughed, clearly unapologetic. "Sorry, hon. Couldn't resist."

Nina rolled her eyes but couldn't hold back a chuckle. "Well, for the record, I didn't even deserve the cereal treatment. Every time I woke up with him, he was gone—disappeared without a trace for weeks. Not even a crumb left behind."

Mila burst out laughing. "Well, at least the sex was good."

Nina groaned, shaking her head. "We are not doing this again, Mila. I get your point, but it's Arthur I chose, and I'm happy with that."

Mila chuckled softly on the other end. "Alright, alright, I'll drop it. But you know me—I can't help myself sometimes." Then, with a teasing tone, she added, "So, when am I finally going to meet him?"

Nina paused for a second, leaning back against the couch. Her lips curled into a small smile, but her tone was laced with curiosity. "Actually, I wanted to tell you something about last night. It was... different."

Mila's interest was instantly piqued. "Oh? Different how? Spill, babe!"

Nina hesitated, unsure of how to phrase it. "So, we were, you know... in the middle of things," she said, her cheeks flushing even though Mila couldn't see her. "And I think I heard him say something. Like, 'I love you.'"

The line went silent for a beat before Mila gasped. "Wait, WHAT? He said 'I love you' during sex?"

Nina groaned, burying her face in her free hand. "I think he did, but I'm not sure. It could've just been heat-of-the-moment sex talk or something. You know how people get caught up."

Mila laughed so hard it sounded like she nearly dropped her phone. "Oh my God, Nina. This is amazing. You're saying the man who made you breakfast also dropped the L-bomb? That's next-level!"

"Calm down," Nina said quickly, her voice exasperated but amused. "It's not that serious. Like I said, it was probably just sex talk. People say weird things when they're in the moment, right?"

Mila hummed knowingly. "Mmm, maybe. But Arthur doesn't strike me as the kind of guy to throw those words around casually. Are you sure it wasn't real?"

"I don't know," Nina admitted, sighing. "It caught me off guard, and honestly, I didn't say anything back. I wasn't even sure I heard him right."

Mila's tone softened, though the teasing lilt never completely left. "Well, whether it was sex talk or not, it sounds like he's got some pretty deep feelings for you. And maybe, just maybe, you're not ready to admit how you feel yet."

Nina rolled her eyes, but Mila's words struck a chord. "Let's not overanalyze this, okay? It was probably nothing. Anyway, he's traveling for months now, so there's plenty of time to think about it."

"Uh-huh, sure," Mila replied, clearly unconvinced. "But if he says it again, you owe me a call right away."

Nina groaned. "Fine, but only so you can say, 'I told you so,' in that smug voice you love so much."

Mila burst out laughing. "Oh, you know I will, babe. Maybe I'll even record it for posterity. Anyway, more importantly—when do I finally get to meet him?"

Nina laughed, shaking her head. "Soon, I promise. Probably in two or three months."

Mila gasped dramatically. "Two or three months? Are you serious? Why so long?"

"Well," Nina explained, "he'll be traveling non-stop for the season until the Monaco Grand Prix. We can plan something then. How does that sound?"

Mila sighed but eventually relented. "Fine. I'll clear my schedule and come for the Monaco GP. But this better be worth the wait."

Nina grinned, leaning back against the couch. "Trust me, you won't be disappointed." She hesitated for a moment, then added, "Oh, and there's more. Arthur asked me to join him in the paddock as his girlfriend when he's back in Monaco."

There was a brief pause on the other end before Mila let out an exaggerated gasp. "Nina, does this mean you're becoming a WAG?"

Nina froze, frowning. "WAG? What on earth is a WAG?"

Mila blinked in disbelief, then burst into uncontrollable laughter, nearly dropping whatever she was holding. "Oh my God, Nina. Wives and Girlfriends! You know, the glamorous bunch who follow the drivers around, looking flawless, sipping champagne, and stealing the spotlight."

Nina groaned, rubbing her temples. "I'm not a WAG, Mila. I'm a professional golfer, thank you very much."

"Sure, sure," Mila teased, her voice dripping with mischief. "But let's face it—you'll be in the paddock with Arthur, looking stunning. Whether you like it or not, you'll be WAG-adjacent."

"WAG-adjacent?" Nina threw her head back in mock exasperation. "That sounds even worse."

Mila giggled. "Oh, don't fight it, Nina. You'll be sipping champagne before you know it. WAG-in-training, babe. Own it!"

"Stop," Nina groaned, laughing despite herself. "I haven't even said yes yet."

"Well, when you do," Mila teased, "you'll officially be living the dream. And then, obviously, you'll find me a cute Ferrari engineer or something. Deal?"

Nina rolled her eyes, still smiling. "Fine, I'll do my best."

They shifted to chatting about Mila's studies and her upcoming project. Mila groaned about deadlines but perked up when she shared her excitement for a potential internship. Nina listened attentively, offering words of encouragement.

"Oh, by the way," Nina began, her tone curious. "How's Luisinha doing? I haven't really talked to her since that night in London. We follow each other on Instagram, but that's as far as it goes."

Mila's voice brightened. "She's doing great! We texted last week. She's swamped with exams right now and—get this—she's started modeling in her free time."

"Modeling?" Nina asked, clearly impressed. "How does she even find the time for that?"

"I have no idea," Mila said with a laugh. "But she's one of those people who seems to do it all and look flawless while doing it. Honestly, she's amazing."

"She really is," Nina said, smiling at the memory of their first meeting. "She left such a good impression on me. We clicked so fast at the club—it felt like I'd known her forever. I'd love to see her again."

"You should," Mila agreed enthusiastically. "She's so easy to get along with, and I know she'd be thrilled to hang out again."

Nina thought for a moment, her eyes lighting up with an idea. "Why don't you bring her with you the next time you come to Monaco? It'd be fun to all hang out together."

"That's a great idea," Mila said, her excitement evident. "She's been wanting to travel more, so I'm sure she'd love it. I'll ask her!"

"Let me know what she says," Nina replied, her own excitement growing. "It'd be so nice to catch up."

"Definitely," Mila agreed before her tone turned curious. "And what about you? What's on your agenda before we make this reunion happen?"

Nina hesitated, her smile dimming slightly. "Well, golf, of course... and actually, I'm heading to Woking tomorrow for a McLaren gathering."

Mila perked up instantly. "Oh! Now that sounds exciting!"

Nina let out a heavy sigh. "It's really not. Honestly, I'm nervous. I don't know how to act around these people. It just feels like I don't belong." She hesitated, then added, "And to make it worse, Zak wants me to give a speech. A speech, Mila!"

Mila gasped. "A speech? About what?"

"I have no idea," Nina groaned, running a hand through her hair. "Zak said it should be about motivation or teamwork, something inspiring. He thinks just because I'm a golfer, I'll know what to say. But standing up in front of all those people? It's terrifying."

Mila's voice softened, filled with familiar warmth. "Nina, you've always been a natural leader. I've known you since we were five, and you've had this aura about you for as long as I can remember. Just be yourself, and you'll be amazing."

Nina hesitated, her fingers brushing against her coffee cup. "You think so?"

"Of course," Mila said confidently. "Why not talk about what you felt when McLaren won the Constructors' Championship? You were there, right?"

"Yeah," Nina admitted, "but I wasn't really involved."

"Doesn't matter," Mila said quickly. "It's a great moment to share. Just tie it to what you know."

Nina managed a small chuckle, a bit of tension easing. "What would I do without my bestie?"

"Absolutely nothing," Mila replied with a grin in her voice. "Now go show them what you've got. You'll crush it."

Nina laughed softly, some of her nerves easing.

Mila paused, then her tone turned curious. "Oh, wait... so you're going to see Lando there, right?"

Nina groaned. "Unfortunately, yeah. I might see him. It's a team event, so of course, he'll be there."

Mila hummed dramatically, her tone playful. "Mm, interesting. So, the man who can't stop thinking about you will finally see you again. Sparks might fly!"

"Mila," Nina said, dragging her name out in exasperation. "Ugh, stop. I'll be avoiding him, for sure."

Mila laughed, clearly amused. "Avoiding him? Babe, let's be real—he's Lando Norris. He'll find a way to corner you with that cheeky grin of his. Probably start with some flirty comment about your golf swing."

Nina rolled her eyes. "Well, he can keep his comments to himself. I'm not interested."

"Sure, sure," Mila teased, her voice dripping with mischief. "But if he pulls out the charm, don't say I didn't warn you. You know he's persistent."

"I can handle it," Nina said firmly, though her voice wavered just slightly.

Mila caught the hesitation immediately. "Oh, that tone! That little waver! Girl, you have a boyfriend who loves you. Don't even think about it."

Nina groaned, flopping back onto the couch. "I'm not thinking about it, Mila! It's just... complicated."

Mila sighed but softened her tone. "I get it, Nina. He's Lando Norris, and there's history there. But seriously, Arthur loves you, and he deserves all of you—not the part that's still holding on to something else."

Nina was quiet for a moment before nodding, even though Mila couldn't see her. "I know. You're right. I just need to get through tomorrow." She sighed softly. "And hopefully, without any drama."

"You will," Mila said confidently. "And if he tries anything, just remind yourself of Arthur—sweet, caring Arthur who makes you breakfast. Lando can't compete with that."

Nina chuckled despite herself. "He definitely can't."

"Now go crush that McLaren gathering and call me if anything juicy happens," Mila said cheerfully.

"Nothing's going to happen," Nina insisted, though the faintest trace of doubt crept into her voice.

"Uh-huh," Mila said knowingly. "We'll see, babe. We'll see."

"Bye, hon. Talk soon!" Nina replied with a small smile before hanging up.

Setting her phone down, Nina let out a sigh, Mila's words lingering in her mind. The thought of the McLaren gathering—and the chance of seeing Lando—sent a nervous flutter through her stomach. She shook her head, trying to push the unease aside. Focus on Arthur, she reminded herself firmly.

Just as she reached for her coffee, her phone buzzed, pulling her attention back to the screen. Her heart skipped a beat at the name flashing across it. Smiling, she swiped to answer, her voice light and playful.

"Good morning to the love of my life!"

Chapter Text

Nina picked up her phone, swiping to answer as a playful smile spread across her lips. "Good morning to the love of my life!" she greeted cheerfully, her voice light and teasing.

"Morning, Nina," her father replied, though his tone was far from warm. There was a tension in his voice that immediately set her on edge. "How are you?"

"I'm good," she said cautiously, her smile faltering. "What about you?"

"I've been better," he said, sighing audibly. "We need to talk, Nina."

The shift in his tone made her stomach knot. "Talk about what?"

"Did you see Charles Leclerc's Instagram post last night?" he asked, his voice pointed.

"No," she said slowly, already sensing where this was going. "Why?"

"He posted photos from the family gathering you attended. You're in them, Nina," he said bluntly. "So I have to ask—how serious is your relationship with Charles' brother?"

Nina took a deep breath, gripping the phone tightly. "His name is Arthur, Dad. And why are you even asking? Since when do my relationships need this level of scrutiny?"

"Since your boyfriend is a Ferrari driver," he replied, his tone firm. "You might think this is just personal, but to the rest of the world, it's not. They'll see the connection to McLaren and start speculating—about you, about Arthur, and about us. Questions about loyalty, conflicts of interest... it's inevitable, Nina."

"Dad, I'm not waving a McLaren flag in the middle of Ferrari's garage," she said, her frustration clear. "Nobody even knows I'm a McLaren—not the public, not even Arthur. For now, it's private. I've handled everything else on my own—I can handle this, too."

Her father sighed audibly. "You've done a good job keeping things separate, Nina, but this changes the game. Charles's post is out there now, and everyone will see it. Whether you like it or not, people are going to connect the dots at some point. They're going to dig—into your past, your present, and even start speculating about your future. Just... think about what this could mean for everyone involved."

"I've already thought about it," she replied, her tone softening, though the words were a lie. "And I'll deal with it, Dad. This is my life."

There was a pause, his silence heavy on the line. "We'll talk more about this tomorrow," he said finally. "I'll pick you up at the airport."

The line went dead before she could respond, leaving Nina staring at her phone, frustration and doubt swirling in her chest.

She lowered the phone and instinctively opened Instagram, her chest tightening as she searched Charles Leclerc's profile. His latest post was impossible to miss—a carousel of photos from the family gathering.

The first image was a warm family portrait: Charles, his brothers, and their mother, all smiles under the radiant Monaco sun. But it was the second photo that made her stomach drop.

There she was, standing beside Arthur, her hand resting lightly on his arm, mid-laugh. Arthur's gaze was unmistakable, his affection for her captured in a way that left no room for doubt. The rest of the post was filled with candid family moments, but the caption—a simple heart emoji—tied it all together in a way that felt intimate and undeniably public. She wasn't just Arthur's girlfriend anymore; she was part of the Leclercs' world, a world watched by millions.

This wasn't like the fleeting Instagram stories she and Arthur had shared—or the subtle likes from Lando that left room for speculation. Charles's post was different. It carried an unmistakable sense of officiality, and his influence ensured it would be seen—by fans, the media, and anyone inclined to dig deeper. Their relationship had been relatively low-key until now, flying under the radar. But with her connection to the Leclerc family now in full view, questions about her own identity were inevitable.

She set the phone down, her thoughts spinning. Tomorrow, in Woking, at McLaren's headquarters, all eyes would be on her. The careful distance she had maintained between her personal life and her family's legacy was beginning to crumble. What if someone let something slip? Worse, what if Charles or his family connected the dots themselves?

Her chest tightened. How would Arthur react? Would he feel betrayed, or would he understand? And what about his family—especially Charles, Ferrari's golden boy? Would they question her motives, her loyalties?

She sighed, running a hand through her hair as the weight of her thoughts pressed down. Her father's words echoed in her mind, stark and unrelenting. The risks had always been there, but she'd underestimated them. Caught up in the simplicity of being with Arthur, she hadn't thought far enough ahead, assuming things would somehow work out. But now, it was too late.

Everything felt exposed—her secret, her choices, her feelings. And the biggest question lingered: should she tell Arthur before the truth inevitably came to light? Could she? It wasn't a matter of if anymore but when. The clock was ticking, and the weight of that certainty grew heavier with each passing moment.

Leaning back against the couch, she exhaled slowly. The life she had worked so hard to keep separate was unraveling, and she wasn't sure she was ready for what came next.

Chapter Text

Nina stepped out of arrivals at Heathrow, her gaze immediately landing on the sleek black Rolls-Royce parked near the curb. Her father stood beside it, checking his watch, while her mother smiled warmly, and Sofia waved excitedly the moment she spotted her.

"Nina!" Sofia called out, rushing forward to hug her.

"Hey, munchkin," Nina said with a laugh, bending to scoop her little sister into a quick hug.

Her mother followed, pulling Nina into a warm embrace. "It's so good to see you," she said softly.

Her father nodded in greeting, already opening the trunk. "Let's get going," he said briskly, taking her carry-on and loading it with practiced ease. "Traffic's fine now, but it won't stay that way."

They slid into the Rolls-Royce, its luxurious interior enveloping them in quiet comfort. Sofia immediately claimed the backseat beside Nina, chattering away about her latest school project, while their mother took the front passenger seat.

"And then," Sofia said animatedly, "I told my teacher I'd do my presentation on Monaco because of you! She said it was a great idea!"

"That's amazing," Nina replied, smiling. "I can help you if you want."

"Really? You'd help?" Sofia beamed, her excitement filling the space.

The hum of the engine and the smooth ride made the journey feel effortless, but as they neared Woking, a quiet tension began to settle in. Nina's father finally broke the silence.

"Charles's Instagram post is everywhere," her father said evenly, his eyes focused on the road ahead.

Nina's stomach tightened, but she forced her tone to remain calm. "I figured it would be."

Her father glanced at her in the rearview mirror, his expression unreadable. He opened his mouth as if to say something more, then closed it, his grip tightening slightly on the wheel instead.

The weight of the moment lingered in the car. Even Sofia, sensing the shift in mood, fell silent.

Nina turned her gaze to the window, watching the familiar roads of Woking come into view. The closer they got to McLaren's headquarters, the tighter the knot in her stomach grew. She knew the conversation about Arthur was inevitable—sooner or later, it would have to happen.

The Rolls-Royce glided smoothly around the glassy lake near McLaren's headquarters, the sleek building's iconic glass and steel facade reflected in the still water. It came to a stop at the private entrance, where staff bustled in the background, the energy of preparation palpable.

Nina stepped out of the car, smoothing her jacket as she glanced around. The sight of McLaren's iconic logo and the pristine surroundings never failed to give her a strange sense of familiarity mixed with detachment. This was her family's world, yet she had always kept herself carefully apart from it.

"Nina, we'll head inside so you can change," her father said, already moving toward the entrance. Her mother and Sofia followed closely, Sofia practically skipping as she took in the impressive surroundings.

Before they reached the main doors, Zak Brown appeared, his broad smile cutting through the air of busyness. He walked toward them with his usual easy confidence, arms outstretched in welcome.

"Harry! Claire!" Zak called warmly, shaking her father's hand and pulling him into a friendly clap on the shoulder. "Great to see you both." He turned to her mother, his grin softening. "Claire, you look as elegant as ever. And Sofia!" He crouched slightly to meet her excited gaze. "I hope you've been keeping everyone in line?"

Sofia giggled, nodding eagerly. "Of course! Someone has to!"

Zak laughed, standing straight again before turning to Nina. "And here she is. Nina, glad you made it! How was the trip?"

"Not too bad," she replied with a small smile, relaxing slightly at his familiar warmth. "Thanks for asking."

"Good to hear," Zak said with a nod, motioning toward the entrance. "We're still pulling things together, but everything's coming along. Let's get you all sorted. Nina, I'm guessing you'll want to freshen up first?"

"That would be great," she said, grateful for the moment to herself.

"Right this way," Zak said, leading them inside. The glass doors slid open, revealing the sleek, futuristic interior of McLaren's headquarters. The hum of activity continued as they walked through, but Zak kept the tone light, chatting easily with her parents while Sofia peppered him with questions about the building.

"Things are looking as sharp as ever, Zak," Harry commented, glancing around.

"Well, we try to keep the place tidy for you McLarens," Zak replied with a wink, earning a chuckle from Claire.

As they approached a central atrium, the group instinctively slowed. There, standing proudly, was the bronze statue of Bruce McLaren, his gaze cast upward with a determined expression. The sight of it made Nina's chest tighten.

Zak paused beside them, his tone softening. "It's a powerful reminder, isn't it? Everything we do here started with him."

Harry nodded solemnly, his gaze fixed on the statue. "It always comes back to Bruce."

Nina swallowed hard, feeling the weight of her family's history pressing down. She glanced at her father, whose features were calm but carried an unmistakable heaviness, and then at Zak, who offered her a small, knowing smile before continuing down the hallway.

As they entered a quieter corridor, Zak gestured toward a nearby room. "Here you go, Nina. Take your time. We'll be just down the hall if you need anything."

"Thanks, Zak," Nina said, stepping inside. The room was simple yet luxurious, with a large mirror, a comfortable seating area, and a private bathroom. She placed her bag down, exhaling slowly as she caught her reflection in the mirror. Today was going to be a long day, and she knew she'd need every ounce of composure she could muster.

Hours passed as she prepared herself, rehearsing the speech Zak had asked her to deliver to the team. The words felt forced, a formal acknowledgment of their work and her appreciation. No matter how many times she practiced, it didn't feel genuine.

Her gaze lingered on her reflection. Addressing the team felt daunting. They knew her only in passing, as a guest or occasional visitor. Standing in front of them, speaking with authority, felt like stepping into shoes that weren't hers.

She ran a hand through her hair, nerves bubbling beneath her calm exterior. Agreeing to Zak's request had seemed manageable at the time, but now, with the moment approaching, doubt crept in. Smoothing her outfit, she took a deep breath. She'd find the words—or at least hoped she would.

Nina stepped out of the room, her heels clicking softly against the polished floors as she made her way toward the gathering. The muffled buzz of voices grew louder with each step until she entered the expansive hall where the McLaren team had assembled. The space was a striking blend of sleek modernity and rich tradition, with displays thoughtfully highlighting the team's achievements.

On one side of the room, a line of McLaren cars stood under soft lighting, their gleaming exteriors showcasing the evolution of the brand. From vintage models to cutting-edge designs, the lineup was a powerful reminder of McLaren's journey from its beginnings to its bold aspirations. On the opposite wall, championship trophies sparkled in pristine glass cases, each one marked by a plaque detailing the victories that had secured them.

The impressive setting, however, did little to calm Nina's nerves. She lingered just inside the doorway, her gaze sweeping across the room. The low murmur of voices, the clinking of glasses, the occasional bursts of laughter—it all blurred together, distant and overwhelming. The weight of being in a room filled with unfamiliar faces hit her harder than she'd anticipated.

The occasional glance in her direction didn't help. Some eyes lingered on her a little too long, their expressions curious, questioning.

What am I doing here? she thought, uneasy under the weight of their silent stares. Their faces seemed to say it all—they didn't know her, not really. To them, she was just another guest, someone of vague importance, but still an outsider. None of them knew yet that she wasn't just Nina Hart, the golfer. She was here as Nina McLaren, though even she wasn't sure how to embrace that truth in a room like this.

She shifted her gaze and spotted her father near the far corner, deep in conversation with Oscar Piastri. His tone was serious, and Oscar nodded along intently. The sight was oddly grounding—her father always seemed at home in this world, fitting into the McLaren family effortlessly.

Nina took a step toward them, but her stomach twisted as a thought struck her. Lando must be here.

Her breath caught as her eyes scanned the room, searching for him. They hadn't seen each other since that day at the golf course in London, but the memory of his teasing grin and the way his gaze lingered on her crept back, unbidden. The tension between them had been undeniable, unspoken yet impossible to ignore. The thought of facing him now sent a ripple of unease through her—especially after she'd been ignoring his messages on Instagram.

She straightened her posture, willing herself to focus. Whatever lay ahead—curious glances, whispered questions, or even Lando—she'd handle it. For now, she forced a polite smile, nodded at a few passing glances, and made her way toward her father. One step at a time.

When she reached them, Harry greeted her with a welcoming nod. Oscar turned with a smile as well.

"Nina," Oscar said warmly. "It's been a while. How are you?"

"Good," she replied, returning the smile. "And you?"

"Can't complain," Oscar said, glancing at the bustling room. "Looks like you've picked an interesting day to visit."

"Seems that way," she said lightly, though her nerves hadn't entirely settled.

"Well, I'll let you two carry on," Oscar said, excusing himself with a polite nod. "Good luck, Nina."

"Thanks," she replied, watching as he moved away.

Harry placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "Let's make some introductions," he said with a small smile. "It'll help you settle in before the big moment."

Nina nodded, letting her father guide her through the hall. Though her nerves lingered, she followed his lead, determined to find her footing.

"This is my daughter, Nina," he said warmly to a small group gathered near a display. "She's been doing incredible things in golf, but I figured it was time she spent some time with the team."

"Nice to meet you," Nina said, shaking hands and exchanging polite smiles. One of the engineers caught her attention, his face sparking a faint memory.

"You were in Oscar's garage at Silverstone last year, right?" she asked, her voice tentative but curious.

The engineer grinned, clearly surprised. "That's right. I remember you—quiet, standing near the screens, right?"

"That's me," Nina replied, her smile widening slightly. "I was trying to stay out of the way."

"You did better than most," he said with a laugh. "Silverstone's always a madhouse."

They moved on, and Nina's confidence started to build. She spotted a familiar face—a mechanic she'd seen in Lando's garage in Abu Dhabi. The memory came rushing back: the electric atmosphere, the tension in every move, and his voice breaking down the stakes during the race.

"Hey," she said with a small smile. "I remember you. You were explaining the strategy in Abu Dhabi, right?"

The mechanic's face lit up with a grin. "Yeah, that sounds about right. I think I said something like, 'If Lando loses P1 and gets stuck behind the Ferraris, we're screwed.' Not my calmest moment, but, hey, it was intense."

Nina chuckled. "It definitely made things more nerve-wracking. But it made the win feel even bigger."

"Yeah, Lando nailed it that day," the mechanic said with a nod. "One of those races where everything just clicked."

Before Nina could respond, a familiar voice cut in from behind her. "I heard my name. Should I be worried, or are you all just inflating my ego?"

She turned, startled, to see Lando standing there, his signature grin firmly in place. Her breath caught for a split second before she composed herself.

"Just reminiscing about Abu Dhabi," the mechanic said with a smirk. "You know, that race where we were all sweating bullets while you made it look like a stroll in the park."

Lando laughed, his gaze flicking briefly to Nina before settling back on the mechanic. "That's the goal, isn't it? Keep it cool so you lot don't lose your heads in the garage."

Nina raised an eyebrow, her lips curving into a faint smile. "Flawless and humble. Quite the combination."

Lando's grin widened, a teasing glint in his eye. "What can I say? I aim to impress," he quipped, his tone light but playful, his gaze lingering on her just a heartbeat longer than necessary.

Before Nina could respond, Harry cleared his throat, cutting through the moment. "Lando," he said, his voice calm yet firm. "Good to see you're still leaving an impression."

Nina turned toward her father, who stood nearby with his usual composed authority. His expression was warm as he addressed Lando.

"Good to see you, sir," Lando said with a polite nod, though the grin never left his face.

"No need for 'sir.' Just Harry will do." Harry chuckled lightly, waving off the formality. "I wanted to catch you before the speech. Thought you might share a few insights with Nina about how the team's shaping up."

Lando glanced at Nina, his smile taking on a more playful edge. "Ah, I see. Getting her up to speed before the main event."

Harry chuckled. "Something like that. She's already winning them over, though. Isn't that right, Nina?"

Nina forced a smile, trying to keep her composure as her father's gaze settled on her. "Just getting to know everyone a little better."

"You're doing great," Harry said with an approving nod before turning to Lando. "Mind handling the rest of the introductions? You know this team better than anyone. I need to have a word with Zak before the speeches."

"Of course," Lando replied easily, falling into step beside them. His presence brought a natural ease to the group, though Nina couldn't shake the undercurrent of tension she felt humming just below the surface.

As they moved through the hall, Nina tried her best to focus on the team members her father introduced her to. Names and faces blurred together as she nodded and smiled, but every now and then, she caught Lando's gaze lingering on her. His grin was subtle yet unmistakable, sending a flicker of heat through her resolve.

The weight of the moment pressed down on her—it was going to take everything she had to navigate through this smoothly.

9th March 2025

Chapter Text

Lando's voice was low and steady as they strolled through a quieter corner of the event space, away from the lively hum of the main hall. "A lot of the people who make this team work aren't the ones you see on TV," he explained, gesturing toward small groups mingling at high-top tables. "Like Hannah over there—she's the one who keeps our European circuits running smoothly. Without her, half the team wouldn't even make it through airport security."

Nina followed his gaze to a petite woman chatting animatedly with a colleague, her confidence evident even from a distance. "That's impressive," she said sincerely. It was hard not to admire the sheer coordination it must take to keep the team moving.

"And over here," Lando continued, guiding her toward another group where several engineers stood laughing over drinks, "these are the design guys. They're the ones who come up with the wild ideas we somehow turn into reality."

One of the engineers spotted them and waved. "Don't let him fool you. Lando's the one who has to test all our 'wild ideas.'"

"And critique them endlessly," another quipped, drawing laughter from the group.

"I'm a professional nitpicker," Lando said, his mock-serious tone earning more laughs. He turned to Nina, his expression softening. "But seriously, they're brilliant. A lot of what makes us competitive starts with them."

As they continued through the room, Lando introduced Nina to more of the team—a woman from marketing who handled brand campaigns, a software developer who ensured race-day data flowed seamlessly to the pit wall, and even the chef who orchestrated meals for the crew during race weekends.

"These are the people who don't get the spotlight but are just as important," Lando said, his tone reverent as he glanced around the room. "Without them, we wouldn't stand a chance on the track."

Nina nodded, her gaze sweeping over the room. It was a side of Formula 1 she hadn't considered—beneath the glitz and adrenaline, there was this intricate web of dedicated people making it all happen.

"So, what do you think?" Lando asked, his grin teasing, though his eyes held a flicker of real curiosity.

"It's incredible. I never realized it took so many moving parts," Nina admitted, her voice carrying a note of awe as her gaze swept across the room. The sheer scale of it all—the people, the coordination, the passion—was overwhelming in the most inspiring way.

Lando chuckled, leaning in slightly. "You get used to it. But hey, if you ever feel out of place, you know where to find me."

She raised an eyebrow at him. "Do you actually know your way around here, or are you just really good at pretending?"

He feigned offense, placing a hand over his chest. "I've been coming to this center since I was seventeen. This place is practically my second home."

"Practically?" she teased, some of the earlier weight of the day lifting from her shoulders.

"Well," he said, leaning closer, his voice dropping slightly, "it'd feel more like home if you were here more often."

Nina rolled her eyes, though the faint blush creeping up her cheeks betrayed her. Lando's soft laughter echoed between them as they approached another group. His grin widened as he gestured toward two familiar faces.

"Andrea, Will, this is Nina," Lando said, his tone casual but warm. "She's joining us for the team event, so try not to scare her off."

Andrea Stella, McLaren's team principal, extended a hand with a knowing smile. "Ah, Nina McLaren. It's a pleasure to finally meet you. Your father speaks very highly of you."

Nina stiffened slightly at the mention of her real surname, but she quickly masked it with a polite smile as she shook his hand. Andrea was one of the few at McLaren who knew her true identity—a fact that felt both reassuring and unsettling.

"Thank you, Andrea," she said warmly, her smile polite as she subtly tried to recall if they had met before.

Will Joseph, Lando's race engineer, chuckled lightly. "Welcome to the chaos. Don't worry, we're not as intimidating as we seem."

Lando raised an eyebrow with a playful grin. "Speak for yourself, Will. I think we've got a reputation to uphold."

Andrea's smile widened slightly as his gaze shifted briefly between Nina and Lando. "You're catching us at a good time. We just wrapped up three solid days of pre-testing in Bahrain last week. The team's in high spirits, and it's shaping up to be a promising season."

"That sounds exciting," Nina said, her curiosity piqued. "What's the main focus during testing—performance or reliability?"

Andrea's expression grew thoughtful. "It's a balance of both, though reliability is always the priority. A fast car is useless if it can't finish a race. That said, the upgrades performed well, and the feedback from Lando and Oscar has been invaluable."

Will nodded. "We spent a lot of time on setups, tire management, and running simulations. It feels like we're in a much better place than this time last year."

Lando leaned in slightly, his tone playful. "Basically, I complain about everything, and they work their magic."

Will rolled his eyes, grinning. "It's not magic—just a lot of late nights and way too much coffee. To be fair, though, his feedback has been spot on."

Andrea turned to Nina, his tone softening. "Your father's always emphasized the importance of teamwork. It's what makes a group like this thrive."

Nina smiled, a mix of pride and unease swirling within her. "He's definitely big on that. It's incredible to see how it all comes together."

"And it's worth it," Lando added with a grin. "Because when race day comes and everything clicks, there's no better feeling."

Andrea nodded. "Exactly. Pre-testing is all about preparation, and so far, the signs are encouraging."

Before the conversation could continue, Harry's voice broke through. "Lando, Nina, Andrea," he called out as he approached, his presence commanding but warm. "It's time. Come join me on stage."

Nina's stomach flipped with nerves as she followed her father, Lando, and Andrea through the gathered crowd. The atmosphere buzzed with energy, and the hum of conversation quieted as they stepped onto the stage where Zak Brown stood, his familiar charisma setting the tone.

Zak took the microphone, smiling at the team gathered before him. "Good evening, everyone. Tonight, we celebrate the incredible effort that brings this team together. From pre-testing in Bahrain to everything leading up to the season opener, it's a reminder that McLaren is more than just a racing team—it's a family. And what better way to acknowledge that than with the people who make it possible? Let's hear it for Lando, Oscar, and the entire team!"

The room burst into applause as Lando stepped forward first, his grin confident. "Thanks, Zak. I'm not much for speeches, so I'll just say it's an honor to be part of this team. Bahrain was a solid start, and I can't wait to see what we can do this season. And to everyone here—you're the real heroes. You make our job on the track possible."

As Lando stepped back, Oscar took his place, his tone calm and sincere. He thanked the team for their hard work, expressing his gratitude and excitement for the challenges ahead.

When Oscar finished, Andrea Stella stepped forward, the mobile microphone in hand. With quiet confidence, he reminded the team that last year's success was no coincidence—it was their hard work and dedication that made it possible. He urged them to build on that momentum, pushing boundaries and striving for even greater achievements this season. With a focus on teamwork, precision, and relentless effort, he assured them they had everything needed to succeed again. As he stepped back, the room erupted into applause, energized and motivated for the challenges ahead.

Zak took the microphone with a knowing smile, turning toward Harry. "And now, I'd like to hand this over to someone who knows better than most what McLaren truly stands for."

Harry stepped forward with his characteristic composure, his presence both assured and approachable. "Thank you, Zak," he began, his voice steady. "As many of you know, McLaren has always been close to my heart—not just because of the racing, but because of the incredible people who make it all happen. Tonight, I'd like to share something personal."

He paused, his gaze shifting toward Nina before gesturing to her with his hand. "Most of you know her as the professional golfer Nina Hart," he began, his voice warm and steady, "but what many of you don't know is that she's also my daughter."

The room fell into a stunned silence for a moment before murmurs rippled through the crowd, quickly followed by applause. Nina felt the heat of dozens of eyes on her, and her nerves spiked, but the steady presence of her father beside her helped ground her. Harry's voice broke through the applause as he continued.

"Nina has spent years building her career in golf, charting her own path. But tonight, I wanted to share this part of her story because it connects deeply to what this team represents: legacy, resilience, and passion."

He turned to Nina, offering her the microphone with a steady nod. "Nina, the floor is yours."

Taking a deep breath, Nina stepped forward and gripped the microphone. The words she'd prepared seemed distant—polished but impersonal. After meeting so many people in the room and hearing their stories, she decided to set them aside and speak from the heart.

"Good evening," she began, her voice calm despite the whirlwind of emotions. "As my father said, most of you know me as Nina Hart, the golfer. But tonight, I stand here as Bruce McLaren's granddaughter."

The room grew quiet as she paused, gathering her thoughts. "When I arrived tonight, I thought I understood what McLaren meant. But after meeting so many of you, I realize it's not just about a name or history—it's about people. Each of you plays a vital role in making McLaren extraordinary."

Her gaze swept over the crowd as she continued, "From the engineers and designers who turn bold ideas into reality to the logistics teams who ensure everything runs seamlessly, from the data analysts to the support staff—every single person here contributes to something greater than themselves. That's what makes this team special."

She paused, her voice steady but filled with emotion. "Last year in Abu Dhabi, I felt that firsthand. Watching Lando's win and seeing the energy in the garage was unforgettable. But what struck me most was the live feed of all of you here at headquarters, cheering and celebrating with the same pride and passion. It wasn't just a victory for the drivers or the crew—it was a triumph for every one of you."

Taking another deep breath, she smiled, her confidence growing. "Tonight has shown me that McLaren's legacy isn't built on speed alone. It's built on innovation, teamwork, and the relentless dedication of people who believe in a shared dream. That's what makes this more than a sport—it makes it a family."

Her tone softened as she concluded, "I'm still learning about this world, and I know I have a lot to catch up on. But after tonight, I have an even deeper appreciation for what this team represents. I'm honored to be a part of this journey—not just as Bruce McLaren's granddaughter, but as someone who admires and respects everything you do. Thank you for welcoming me into this incredible family."

As Nina finished speaking, the room erupted into applause. It wasn't the polite kind, but a genuine, heartfelt response that resonated deeply with everyone present. Her cheeks flushed, but her heart felt lighter, as though a weight she hadn't realized she was carrying had been lifted. Relief mingled with pride as her gaze found her father. Harry's approving smile and subtle nod spoke volumes, a quiet acknowledgment that meant more to her than words ever could.

She turned slightly, noticing Oscar clapping warmly, his expression calm but genuinely impressed. Beside him, Andrea joined in with composed applause, his nod conveying the respect of someone who understood the gravity of the moment.

Then there was Lando. He was clapping along with everyone else, but something in his eyes caught her attention. She saw a glimmer of something sincere—not just the usual playful glint she'd grown used to, but something deeper. It was an unspoken acknowledgment she hadn't expected, and it made her chest tighten in a way she couldn't quite explain. She met his eyes, letting the moment linger just a little longer than she intended, before offering him a small, grateful smile and turning back toward Zak.

With a steady hand, she passed the microphone to him, her fingers brushing the edge of the mic as she let go. Zak stepped forward, his grin broad and sincere. "Well, I don't think there's much I can add to that," he said, his voice carrying easily across the room. "Thank you, Nina, for reminding us all why we do what we do—and who we do it for."

The applause swelled again, and Nina stepped off to the side, exhaling deeply. She felt the tension in her shoulders ease as a new sense of belonging began to take root. As she moved toward the edge of the stage, she found herself standing beside Lando.

Leaning slightly toward him, she smirked and whispered, "Impressed?"

Lando turned his head, leaning in just enough for his voice to reach her ear, low and warm. "Very," he replied, his tone laced with heartfelt admiration.

Nina pulled back slightly, meeting his gaze. There was no teasing in his expression this time, only a deep sense of respect that made her cheeks flush again. He held her gaze for a moment before adding, "You did a great job, McLaren."

Her lips curved into a small smile, her heart fluttering at the unexpected weight in his words. "Thanks, Norris," she said softly, her voice steady despite the sudden warmth in her chest.

Chapter Text

Nina had barely stepped off the stage when her mother and sister, Sofia, appeared, their faces glowing with pride.

"That was incredible, darling," her mum said, pulling her into a tight hug. "Your grandfather would be so proud."

Sofia grinned, giving her an enthusiastic thumbs-up. "I didn't know you had that in you, big sis. First step in world domination, huh?"

Nina laughed softly, her nerves from the speech finally melting away. "Thanks, you two. That means a lot."

After a few more words of encouragement, they left her to mingle, and she soon found herself standing with Zak and her father in a quieter corner of the room, away from the main stage and the watchful eyes of the crowd. The atmosphere shifted into something more businesslike as the conversation turned to her professional life.

"So, Nina," Zak began, his tone casual but curious, "how's the prep going for the Ford Championship? You've got Phoenix, Vegas, and then L.A., right? That's quite the marathon."

Nina nodded, a small smile tugging at her lips. "It is, and it's intense. Three tournaments back-to-back in less than a month. Training's been non-stop, and the travel's going to be brutal, but I'm ready for it."

Zak leaned back slightly, his expression thoughtful. "The end of March through April, if I'm not mistaken? That's a lot to handle."

"End of April," Nina confirmed. "It's a grind, but it's what I signed up for."

Zak's expression lit up with an idea. "Perfect! After the Championship, you'll be heading back to Monaco, right? You should join us for the Monaco Grand Prix at the end of May. You've earned a break, and there's no better way to recharge than at one of the biggest races of the year."

Nina froze, her stomach twisting. Monaco. Arthur had already invited her to watch the race with him—in the Ferrari garage. Admitting that, especially in front of her father, sent a wave of anxiety through her.

She hesitated, her voice careful. "Actually... I might already have plans for Monaco."

Zak raised an eyebrow, curiosity sparking. "Plans? Let me guess—Arthur?"

She swallowed hard, her gaze flicking briefly to her father. "Yes. Arthur asked me to join him."

Zak's expression shifted, a mix of surprise and disbelief. "In the Ferrari garage?" he asked, his tone light but edged with skepticism.

Harry, who had been quietly listening, turned sharply toward her, his brow furrowing. "What?" he said, his voice cold and sharp. "You're planning to watch the race from the Ferrari garage?"

Nina straightened, forcing herself to stay composed. "He asked me, and I'm considering it."

The background noise of the event seemed to fade as the tension thickened in their secluded corner. Harry's expression darkened, his voice low but biting. "You, Bruce McLaren's granddaughter, are seriously considering sitting with Ferrari—our biggest rival—during Monaco? Do you even realize what kind of message that sends?"

"I understand how it looks," Nina said, her voice steady but firm. "But it's not my fault that my boyfriend drives for Ferrari. Arthur invited me, and I want to be there for him. Support him. That's all this is about."

Harry exhaled sharply, his frustration bubbling to the surface. "Support him? Nina, this isn't just about you. Sitting in Ferrari's garage isn't just a gesture—it's a signal, whether you intend it or not. Do you know what Ferrari could do with that image?"

Her cheeks flushed as she snapped back. "Arthur isn't the enemy—he's just a driver, like Lando or Oscar. Besides, no one knows about my connection to McLaren, Dad. You're blowing this way out of proportion."

Harry's eyes narrowed, his voice sharp and unyielding. "Are you really that naive, or are you just pretending not to understand? You're a McLaren, Nina. Everyone in this room knows it now, and it's only a matter of time before people outside of McLaren find out too. When that happens, do you have any idea what kind of power that gives Ferrari?"

Zak interjected gently, raising his hands. "Harry, let's not escalate this—"

Harry cut him off, his voice sharp and unwavering. "This isn't overreacting, Zak. Do you remember 2007? The Spygate scandal nearly destroyed us! Ferrari turned the world against McLaren, cost us millions, and dragged our name through the mud. And now, you're suggesting we give them another chance to do it?"

Nina's heart sank. She hadn't considered that her actions might dredge up painful memories of one of McLaren's darkest chapters. "This isn't like 2007, Dad," she said, her voice firm. "I'm not leaking secrets or betraying anyone. I'm just supporting someone I care about."

Harry's jaw tightened, his voice cold but controlled. "This year is critical. We're in a prime position for the Constructors' Championship, and Lando has a real shot at the Drivers' Championship. I can't afford any distractions—especially ones tied to Ferrari."

"Distractions?" Nina's voice rose with anger. "You're blaming me for McLaren's pressure to win? That has nothing to do with me!"

"It has everything to do with you!" Harry thundered. "Whether you like it or not, you carry the McLaren name. Your actions have consequences, Nina."

Zak stepped between them, his tone calm but firm. "Enough, both of you. Harry, you can't put all this on Nina. She's not the reason McLaren wins or loses, and pushing her like this isn't helping anyone."

Harry glared at Zak but said nothing, his jaw tight with unspoken frustration.

Nina exhaled sharply, her patience wearing thin. "So, what now? You're asking me to choose between Arthur and McLaren?"

Harry's expression didn't soften. "If that's what it takes to protect this team, then yes."

The words struck her like a blow. Tears pricked at her eyes, but she held her ground, her voice steady despite the tremble in her chest. "I can't believe you're asking me to give up someone I care about—for your expectations."

"You think this is hard for you?" Harry's voice lowered, cold but weighted. "Try carrying the weight of a legacy that could crumble with one mistake. I won't let this team be put at risk again—not after everything we've been through."

Zak sighed, his voice softening. "Harry, this isn't 2007. Nina isn't a threat to McLaren, and treating her like one is only going to push her further away. Let her figure this out for herself."

Nina stared at her father, her chest tightening with a mix of anger and heartbreak. "I thought family was about support—not control. Clearly, I was wrong."

An uneasy silence settled over their corner of the room, the weight of past wounds and present expectations pressing down like a heavy fog.

The words were too much. Her composure cracked as her vision blurred. She stepped back, tears welling up and spilling over. Harry's voice continued, relentless, but it all became a muffled roar in her ears. The room felt too loud, too suffocating.

Her chest tightened, and she turned sharply, walking away without a word. Someone called her name, but she didn't stop. Her heels clicked faster against the floor until she found the nearest bathroom. She pushed the door open, hurried inside, and locked herself in one of the stalls.

Sitting on the closed toilet lid, she buried her face in her hands as the tears came, hot and uncontrollable. Her breathing was ragged, her chest heaving with the weight of everything she couldn't say.

When she finally looked up, the small, sterile space seemed to close in around her. She pressed her palms against the stall walls, grounding herself against the overwhelming tide of emotions. The clash of family and love churned within her, leaving her hollow, trapped between two worlds she didn't know how to reconcile.

Back in the room, Zak broke the heavy silence. "Harry, do you hear yourself? She's not a chess piece in this game. She's your daughter. You can't treat her like this."

Harry exhaled sharply, his shoulders tense as he kept his gaze fixed away from Nina, refusing to watch her walk away. "I'm protecting this family."

"Protecting it from what?" Zak challenged, his voice steady but firm. "From her living her own life? Harry, if you keep pushing her like this, you're going to drive her away—and that's not what Bruce built this team, or this family, for."

Harry's gaze faltered briefly, his voice steady but heavy with emotion. "You don't understand, Zak. You weren't here in 2007. I was. Ferrari didn't just try to beat us on the track—they went for everything. It nearly destroyed us. That kind of fear doesn't just go away."

Zak softened his tone but held his ground. "Harry, that was almost twenty years ago. Fred and I have worked hard to turn the page, to build mutual respect between McLaren and Ferrari. The rivalry's still there, sure, but the animosity isn't. Nina isn't going to undo all of that by sitting in their garage."

Harry exhaled deeply, his shoulders slumping slightly as the weight of the situation bore down on him. "Zak, perception is everything. One photo of Nina in that garage, and the headlines write themselves: 'Bruce McLaren's granddaughter backs Ferrari.' That kind of story doesn't just fade—it sticks." He ran a hand through his hair, his frustration bubbling over. "And Fred doesn't even know my daughter is dating his driver. Imagine how that's going to blow up when he finds out."

Zak placed a reassuring hand on Harry's shoulder. "Fred wouldn't let it spiral out of control, and deep down, you know that. Nina's not a threat to McLaren, Harry. She's just trying to figure things out—like anyone her age. This isn't about the team. It's about her life."

Harry hesitated, his jaw tightening as he wrestled with the weight of his fears. "I just want to protect her—and everything Bruce built. I can't let anything jeopardize that."

Zak nodded, his voice gentle but firm. "Then trust her, Harry. Protecting her doesn't mean controlling her. You have to let her make her own decisions, even if it scares you."

Harry didn't respond immediately, his thoughts clouded. After a long moment, he gave a reluctant nod, though his expression remained conflicted. "I just hope she understands what she's risking."

Zak gave him a small, understanding smile. "She's smart, Harry. You raised her well. She'll figure it out."

~~~~~~

Lando had been heading toward the group, ready to join the conversation, when he heard Harry's voice rising. He slowed his steps, catching pieces of the heated exchange as he approached. Something about Ferrari, Arthur, and the weight of legacy. His brow furrowed as he stopped a few paces away, hesitating to interrupt.

He saw Nina step back suddenly, her expression crumbling. Their eyes met briefly—hers glistening with unshed tears, a silent plea he couldn't quite decipher—before she turned and hurried away.

"Nina," he called softly, but she didn't stop. His gaze shifted to Harry, whose voice still carried, sharp and insistent. Zak stood beside him, arms crossed, his expression tense. Lando clenched his jaw, the weight of what he'd overheard settling in. He hesitated for only a moment before deciding to follow her.

He trailed her down the hall, his steps quickening as she disappeared through a bathroom door. He stopped outside, leaning against the wall, unsure of what to do next. The sound of the door locking from the inside told him she needed space, but he couldn't bring himself to leave.

Minutes passed. He kept glancing at the door, his foot tapping anxiously against the tiled floor. Just then, Mary and Olivia, two McLaren staff members, approached, chatting quietly. They paused when they spotted him.

"Lando?" Mary asked, her tone curious. "What are you doing here?"

He straightened and offered a sheepish smile. "Just, uh... waiting for someone."

Olivia raised an eyebrow, her lips curving into a knowing grin. "Outside the women's bathroom?"

Lando shrugged, looking mildly embarrassed but holding their gaze. "It's complicated."

Mary chuckled softly, exchanging a look with Olivia. "Right. Well, we'll leave you to... whatever this is," she said as they walked past him and into the bathroom.

He laughed quietly, a sound tinged with shame, and ran a hand through his hair. As the door closed behind them, he leaned back against the wall, exhaling deeply.

His thoughts returned to Nina, the memory of her tearful expression tugging at his chest. Whatever had happened, it had clearly shaken her. For now, all he could do was wait—and hope she'd be willing to talk when she came out.

Chapter Text

Nina sat quietly in the small, confined space of the toilet stall, her breathing slowly evening out. The tears had stopped, leaving her feeling hollow but slightly more composed. She clenched her hands into fists, the subtle pressure against her skin anchoring her as she listened to the muffled sounds of the bathroom.

The door swung open, and she heard two voices—strangers to her. They were chatting and laughing, their light conversation echoing off the tiled walls. Nina stayed silent, not wanting to draw attention to herself as she waited for them to leave.

"God, this man is so hot!" one of the women said, her voice playful and teasing. "How does he not have a girlfriend right now?"

The other woman laughed. "From what I've heard, he's just not into the whole commitment thing. He prefers to keep things... fun."

"Really?" The first woman raised an intrigued eyebrow. "I mean, he's young, rich, and gorgeous. Why settle, right? But didn't he date someone a couple of years ago?"

"Yeah, he did," the second woman nodded. "But apparently, it didn't go well. The media and fans were just too much for her."

"That makes sense," the first woman replied thoughtfully. "Being with someone like him must be a lot to handle. Constant attention, no privacy... it'd be overwhelming."

"Speaking of attention," the second woman said, leaning in slightly with a sly smile, "did you see Charles Leclerc's latest post?"

The first woman's curiosity was instantly piqued. "No. What's in it?"

The second woman pulled out her phone, quickly scrolling through before turning the screen toward her friend. "Here, check it out."

The first woman leaned closer, her eyes going wide. "Oh my God!" she exclaimed, half-laughing, half-surprised. "Our golden girl is dating a Ferrari driver?"

"Yep," the second said, grinning knowingly. "Arthur and Nina, front and center. They're all smiles, and look at him." She tapped the screen for emphasis. "He's staring at her like she hung the stars. The man is down bad."

"Wow," the first woman said, still scrolling through the post. "They look great together, but isn't this kind of... risky? McLaren and Ferrari aren't exactly besties."

"Exactly," the second replied, slipping her phone back into her pocket. "It's a bold move, I'll give her that. But considering who she is, you'd think she'd be a little more careful."

"Right?" the first said, nodding. "With her ties to McLaren, it's like she's asking for drama."

"And you know there's going to be drama," the second said, shaking her head. "Maybe they just don't care, though. Maybe they're just doing their thing."

"Or maybe she hasn't thought it through," the first added. "It's a pretty big risk, considering her background."

"Totally," the second said with a laugh. "Everyone in the paddock's going to have an opinion on this."

"And it's going to be interesting to see how it all plays out," the first said with a smirk.

Their voices softened as they washed their hands, the conversation shifting to lighter topics—weekend plans and an upcoming team event. Moments later, the bathroom door swung shut, leaving Nina in silence.

She stayed frozen in the stall, their words looping endlessly in her mind. So this is what they think of me—bold, risky, and bound for drama. Perfect. Exactly what I needed to hear, she thought, the sarcasm heavy as it settled in her chest.

For what felt like an eternity, she didn't move, trying to summon the strength to face herself. Finally, with an uneven breath, she unlocked the stall door and stepped out. The fluorescent lights overhead were stark and unforgiving, glaring against her tear-streaked cheeks and swollen eyes.

She stopped in front of the mirror and winced at her reflection. Mascara streaked down her face, her eyes rimmed with redness. She looked as disheveled as she felt. Gripping the edge of the sink, she steadied herself, the cool porcelain grounding her as she turned on the tap. Splashing cold water onto her face, she gently wiped at the smudges, scrubbing away any evidence of her breakdown.

It wasn't perfect, but it would have to do.

Drawing in a deep breath, she straightened her shoulders and stepped out of the bathroom. She froze mid-step when her eyes landed on Lando, leaning casually against the wall outside. The playful light in his eyes was gone, replaced by a furrowed brow and a gaze filled with quiet concern.

As soon as he spotted her, he straightened, his expression softening. "Nina," he said gently, his voice low. "Are you okay?"

She paused, her eyes locking with his for a long moment. The worry etched into his features was so genuine, so unguarded, that it made her throat tighten.

"I heard you and your father earlier," Lando began, his tone cautious. "Look, Nina, you—"

"Please," she interrupted, her voice barely above a whisper. "Just get me out of here."

The words hung in the air, and for a moment, he simply looked at her, the concern on his face softening into quiet resolve. Then he nodded, his tone firm. "Alright," he said. "Let's go."

He reached up, pulling the cap off his head, and gently placed it on hers, tucking her hair beneath the brim. "There," he said softly, adjusting it slightly. "Now no one will bother you."

She blinked at him, her lips parting as if to protest, but the weight of his gesture—simple, thoughtful, and unspoken—settled over her. Her need to vanish felt understood without her having to say it aloud. She lowered her head, pulling the brim further over her eyes, and nodded.

Lando took her hand in his, his touch steady and warm, guiding her swiftly through the complex. His pace was purposeful but unhurried, his focus entirely on her. As they moved, her gaze dropped to their joined hands, and an odd, unsettled feeling stirred within her. She didn't know what to feel—grateful, guilty, or simply numb. The confusion weighed heavier on her chest with each step, but she didn't let go. She couldn't—not now, when she needed someone more than ever.

They navigated the halls, skillfully avoiding curious glances, until they reached the coat check. Behind the counter, a staff member quietly managed a row of neatly hung coats and bags.

Lando glanced at Nina, lowering his voice. "Do you have a coat?"

She didn't respond, only giving a small shake of her head. Her shoulders sagged slightly, as if even that admission weighed on her.

Without hesitation, Lando turned to the staff member. "Can I grab my coat, please?"

The attendant retrieved a dark jacket from the rack and handed it over. Lando took it and draped it over Nina's shoulders, the heavy fabric enveloping her like a protective shield. "Better?" he asked, his voice gentle.

She clutched the coat tightly, nodding without meeting his eyes. "Thank you," she murmured, her voice barely audible.

He didn't ask anything more. Taking her hand again, he guided her outside to his car. The cold air bit at her cheeks, but the coat and cap provided a fragile barrier she desperately needed. Lando opened the passenger door for her, waiting until she was seated before closing it gently.

Sliding into the driver's seat, he glanced at her briefly. "Let's just get you somewhere away from all this," he said, his tone calm but resolute. "You don't have to talk. Just breathe."

She nodded again, leaning her head back against the seat. The city streets, glowing faintly under the amber light of streetlamps, blurred past as Lando drove. His focus was fixed on the road, his unwavering presence unexpectedly reassuring. Gradually, the bustling roads gave way to quieter ones, the faint outlines of trees looming under the pale glow of the moon. Open spaces replaced the city, and the stillness brought a flicker of relief.

Lando pulled into a clearing by a tranquil lake, where the water shimmered softly under the moonlight. The serenity of the place stood in stark contrast to the turmoil swirling inside her. He turned off the engine and glanced her way, his voice calm and soft. "Take your time. I'm here."

Nina stepped out, the cap shading her face as the crisp night air embraced her. She tightened the coat around her shoulders, her breath visible in soft clouds. The rustle of leaves and the gentle ripple of the lake carried a calm that eased the weight in her chest. She exhaled, slow and even, the tension starting to release.

Behind her, Lando leaned casually against the car, his silhouette faintly outlined by the glow of the headlights. He kept his distance, offering her the space she needed but silently letting her know she wasn't alone.

At the edge of the water, she crouched, her fingers brushing the damp earth. The moonlight danced across the ripples, shifting with the breeze, its patterns oddly soothing. Closing her eyes, she drew in a deep breath, the night air softening the chaos inside her. For the first time in hours, her thoughts began to settle, carried away by the gentle flow of the lake.

A soft pattering began, faint but distinct. She heard it before she felt it—the rain tapping lightly on the brim of her cap and the shoulders of her coat. She tilted her head slightly, catching the droplets on the edge of her vision.

"Great," she muttered to herself as she straightened from her crouch, her voice barely audible over the growing sound of rain hitting the lake. She glanced back at Lando, who was now standing upright, water already dripping from his hair.

"You doing okay over there?" he called out, raising his voice slightly over the rain.

She smirked faintly. "I'm dry, thanks to this." She tapped the brim of the cap.

Lando pointed at her with mock seriousness. "See? I knew it'd come in handy. Meanwhile, I'm—" He gestured to himself, already drenched. "Well, this."

The rain quickly intensified, soaking through her coat and sleeves despite her best efforts to stay dry. Lando's dramatic attempt to shake the water off his arms made her laugh, the sound bubbling up unexpectedly.

"Don't laugh at me!" he exclaimed, grinning despite his words. "This is your fault, you know."

"My fault?" she shot back, trying to contain her laughter. "How is this my fault?"

"You're wearing all the waterproof gear," he replied, motioning to the cap and coat. "And yet, here I am, standing in the rain like some idiot."

The absurdity of the moment hit her then, and she burst into uncontrollable laughter. The tension of the day melted away, carried off by the rain and the sound of their shared amusement.

Lando stepped closer, his grin widening. "Glad I can brighten your night by being a human sponge."

She shook her head, still laughing. "You're ridiculous."

He gave a dramatic shrug. "You're welcome."

When the rain showed no signs of stopping, Lando pointed toward the car. "Alright, before we both catch a cold, let's get out of here."

Nina followed him, her smile soft as they climbed back into the car. The rain continued to fall, tapping gently against the roof, the rhythmic sound offering her a surprising sense of comfort.

Nina settled into the passenger seat, the cap still covering her damp hair. She glanced sideways at Lando as he started the car, the faint glow of the dashboard lights casting soft shadows on his face. He was completely drenched—his hair plastered to his forehead, water dripping from his jaw onto his shirt, and his sleeves clinging awkwardly to his arms.

"You're soaked," she said, her tone somewhere between amusement and concern.

Lando smirked, glancing at her briefly. "It's sweat, baby. I'm a high-performance athlete."

Nina blinked, caught off guard for a moment, before bursting into laughter. "Sure," she said between giggles, "but you still need to change. If you catch a cold before race day, my dad's going to blame me forever."

At the mention of her father, her laughter dimmed, and she slumped back in her seat with a groan. "Ugh, why did I even bring him up?"

Lando's smirk softened into something warmer. "Hey," he said lightly, "forget about him for now. It's just you, me, and my championship-level sweating skills."

Nina side-eyed him, a reluctant smile tugging at her lips. "Seriously, though. You're dripping. Go change, Lando, before your 'sweat' turns into a full-blown cold."

He ran a hand through his wet hair, only for it to stick up in odd directions. "Alright, you win," he said with a laugh. "But, uh, here's the thing—I'll need to swing by my place to change. It's about twenty minutes from here. That cool with you?"

Chapter Text

"That cool with you?" Lando asked, running a hand through his damp hair.

She hesitated for a moment, her fingers idly tracing the brim of his cap. "Your apartment?" she repeated, then gave a light shrug. "Yeah, that's fine. Just don't blame me if you end up catching a cold."

Lando chuckled, the corners of his lips tugging upward. "I'm a professional, Nina. I've survived worse than a bit of rain."

Nina let out a soft laugh, leaning back against the seat as he turned the car onto the quiet road. The rain still fell steadily, tapping against the windshield, but the warmth of the heater and Lando's easygoing energy made the night feel less heavy.

When they pulled into the ground-level parking area, Nina glanced around, surprised by how unassuming it was. The space was clean and practical, with neatly parked cars and simple, well-lit surroundings—nothing like the ostentatious setup she might have imagined for a Formula 1 driver.

Lando guided the car smoothly into a spot near the elevator, turning off the engine with a flick of his wrist. "Home sweet home," he said, shooting her a grin as he grabbed his keys and stepped out.

Nina hesitated, her hand lingering on the car door handle as she watched him stride ahead. A mix of uncertainty and curiosity flickered in her mind—was she ready to step into his world like this? With a deep breath, she pushed the door open and stepped out, the cool air biting against her skin. Grateful to finally escape the rain, she caught up to him, and together they walked toward the elevator, their footsteps echoing softly in the quiet parking lot.

When they reached his floor, Lando unlocked the door to his apartment and pushed it open, holding it for her with a flourish. "Welcome to Casa Norris," he said, flicking on the lights.

Nina stepped inside, pausing as she took it all in. It wasn't at all what she'd expected. Instead of flashy décor or a space designed to impress, the apartment was understated and inviting. Clean lines and open spaces gave it a modern feel, but the warmth of personal touches—like the golf bag leaning against the wall, framed photos on a shelf, and a pair of sneakers casually kicked off near the door—made it feel lived-in and effortlessly welcoming.

Her eyes drifted to the large windows, where the faint glow of the rainy night created a soft backdrop against the room. Pulling off the damp cap, she smiled, brushing some stray strands of hair back. "This is... not what I pictured," she admitted, turning to look at him.

Lando leaned casually against the wall, watching her reaction with a slight smirk. "Let me guess—you thought I'd have a trophy room and a giant TV playing my best overtakes on loop?"

"Something like that," she teased, setting the cap down on a nearby table.

"Sorry to disappoint," he said with mock seriousness, tossing his keys onto the counter. "I guess you'll have to settle for this."

She gave him a small, approving nod. "It's nice. It suits you."

His smirk softened into a genuine smile, the kind that crinkled the corners of his eyes. "Glad you think so. Make yourself at home."

As Nina wandered deeper into the apartment, she felt herself relaxing. The space was grounded, unpretentious—a reflection of a side of Lando she hadn't fully appreciated before.

Her thoughts were interrupted when Lando's eyes narrowed, and he stepped closer. "Hold on. You've been giving me grief about being soaked, but look at you—you're dripping everywhere."

She glanced down at herself, realizing how wet her clothes really were. "I'll be fine. It's not a big deal."

Lando rolled his eyes, already heading toward another room. "Yeah, I'm not buying that."

She opened her mouth to protest, but before she could, he reappeared with a towel and a set of joggers and a sweatshirt in hand. "Here," he said, handing them to her. "Change before you catch something. The bathroom's just down the hall."

Nina hesitated, holding up the clothes. "Lando, I don't need to—"

"Yes, you do," he interrupted, his voice firm but kind. "You're not sitting on my couch soaked through, and I'm not letting you leave here sneezing your head off. Just humor me, okay?"

She looked at him for a moment, noting the way his tone softened despite his insistence. With a small sigh, she relented. "Fine. But if I look ridiculous in these, I'm blaming you."

His grin widened, boyish and unapologetic. "Don't worry, they're my most fashionable joggers. You'll pull them off."

She rolled her eyes but couldn't help the small smile tugging at her lips as she headed to the bathroom. Closing the door behind her, she let out a quiet laugh. Lando Norris, insisting on taking care of her? That was unexpected. She glanced down at the joggers in her hands, a strange thought creeping in—she'd never even worn Arthur's clothes, yet here she was, about to slip into Lando's. A shiver ran down her spine—whether from the cold or something else, she didn't want to think about it. Shaking the thought away, she unfolded the clothes and focused on practicality.

As she pulled on the sweatshirt, the familiar scent of Lando's cologne wrapped around her—cool winter air, fresh snow, pine, and something warm and earthy. It lingered in the fabric, surprisingly comforting. She tried to ignore it, but it lingered at the back of her mind. Focusing instead on getting ready, she pushed the sensation aside.

When Nina stepped out of the bathroom, warm and dry in Lando's oversized clothes, she ran the towel through her damp hair, wringing out the last of the moisture. She glanced up and saw that Lando had changed too, now wearing a fresh hoodie and sweatpants. He was already moving toward the kitchen, his steps purposeful but relaxed.

"Drink?" he called over his shoulder, glancing back at her with a raised eyebrow. "Water, or something hot, maybe?"

"Alcohol," she quipped without missing a beat, a playful smile tugging at her lips as she continued drying her hair.

Lando raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. "Tempting, but it's race week. No alcohol for me."

She smirked, leaning against the counter. "Of course. High-performance athlete."

"Exactly," he said with a wink, opening a cabinet. "But you're not on a podium schedule, so what'll it be?"

Nina tilted her head, watching him rummage through the cabinet. "I'm thinking of something strong," she said, her tone light but with a deliberate edge.

Lando paused, glancing over his shoulder with a small smirk. "Strong, huh?" He reached into another cabinet, pulling out a dark green bottle of Jägermeister, and set it on the counter with a solid thud. A moment later, he grabbed a can of Monster from the fridge, sliding it toward her. "Jägerbombs? They'll get the job done."

Her gaze lingered on the bottle, and for an instant, she hesitated. She wasn't much of a drinker—getting tipsy came embarrassingly fast—but maybe that was the point. Tonight, she didn't want to overthink. Nodding more to herself than him, she murmured, "Yeah, that works."

Lando didn't say much, unscrewing the cap and pouring a generous shot into a glass. Handing it to her, he popped open the can of Monster with a sharp hiss and pushed it across the counter.

"Mix it yourself," he said simply, leaning back against the counter as he watched her with calm curiosity.

Nina stared at the glass before pouring the energy drink, the fizz bubbling up. The cool glass grounded her, though it couldn't quiet the noise in her head. She lifted the drink, her eyes brushing against Lando's briefly. He said nothing, his gaze steady and unreadable, as she tipped it back. The sharp burn hit first, followed by a soothing sensation that spread through her chest.

Setting the glass down with a soft thud, Nina wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, her gaze drifting across the room. The sleek DJ setup in the corner caught her attention, its blinking lights demanding her focus.

"That yours?" she asked, nodding toward it. "Since when are you a DJ?"

Lando followed her gaze, a low chuckle escaping him. "Just a hobby," he said with a shrug. "Got it as a gift. Thought I'd try it out, and, well, turns out I'm decent."

"Modest," she teased, a smirk tugging at her lips.

He grinned, stepping away from the counter. "What can I say? I like to keep busy."

Her curiosity deepened, a playful glint lighting her eyes. "If you're so good, prove it. Play something."

Lando raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. "Now?"

"Why not?" she challenged, taking another sip of her drink. "Let's see what you've got."

Shaking his head with a laugh, he moved to the setup. "Fair warning," he said, flipping a few switches as the system came to life, "you might fall in love with my music."

Nina leaned against the counter, her expression daring. "I'll risk it."

The speakers pulsed with a melodic beat, rich and inviting. It filled the room, wrapping around her like a warm embrace. She raised an eyebrow, caught off guard by how good it was.

"Okay, I'll admit it," she said, her smirk softening into genuine surprise. "I like it. Where've you been hiding this?"

Lando glanced at her, the colorful lights reflecting off his face. "Hidden talents," he said, his voice low and smooth. "I save them for the right moments."

She laughed softly, letting the music soothe the restless thoughts that had followed her here. For a fleeting second, she felt lighter, the tension in her chest easing. But it didn't last. Her phone buzzed: Zak. Then her dad. Then her mom. Each vibration pulled her further from the calm she so desperately wanted, until she set the phone down with more force than she intended.

Lando's eyes flicked to her, his brow furrowing slightly. "Everything okay?"

"It's fine," she murmured, more to herself than to him.

He studied her for a beat longer, then nodded toward the DJ booth. "Good. Now stop overthinking and let the music do its thing. Trust me—it works."

She shook her head with a reluctant laugh, but as the music swelled, a calm began to settle over her. Sitting here with Lando, sharing easy conversation and laughter, the chaos in her mind began to fade. For a brief moment, she forgot about the blocked numbers, unanswered messages, Arthur, McLaren, and the weight of everything she'd been carrying.

Here, in the rhythm of the music and the comfort of his presence, she let herself breathe.

As she finished her drink, the warmth of the alcohol spread through her, filling her with a comfortable haze. Her gaze lingered on Lando at the DJ booth, his hands gliding effortlessly over the controls. The glow of the setup illuminated his face, and when his eyes met hers, a knowing grin tugged at his lips.

"I want another drink," she said, her voice steady with a hint of boldness.

"Another?" he asked, his tone light and teasing.

"Why not?" she replied with a smirk. "But this time, I'm making it."

His eyebrow arched, his grin widening as he grabbed a bottle of Jägermeister and a can of Monster, placing them on the counter between them. Leaning in just enough to catch her gaze, he said, "Confident, are we? Alright then, let's see what you've got. Shot first, then the Monster. No spilling."

"Relax, DJ Norris," she shot back with a laugh, reaching for the bottle. Her fingers brushed his, and the faint contact sent a flicker of warmth up her arm. She glanced at him briefly, catching the spark in his gaze before focusing on the task. She poured with deliberate care, ignoring the way her pulse quickened under his watchful eye.

"Not bad," he murmured, leaning closer, his shoulder brushing hers. His proximity was impossible to ignore. "You might even pass as a bartender."

She rolled her eyes, masking her reaction with a soft laugh. "High praise."

The alcohol burned in her throat, chased by the fizzy sweetness of the energy drink. When she set the glass down, Lando was already back at the booth, his hands moving with hypnotic precision. The beat deepened, vibrating through the room, pulling her closer.

"Can I try?" she asked, the question slipping out before she could second-guess it.

He turned, surprise flickering across his face before his grin reappeared. "You? DJing?"

"Only one way to find out," she challenged, stepping closer.

He gestured toward the setup, his arm brushing hers as he leaned in slightly. "Start with these. Volume, tempo—just keep the rhythm smooth."

She hesitated, her fingers hovering over the controls. "What if I mess it up?"

"You won't," he murmured, his voice quiet but sure. "I've got you."

The words settled into her like a promise. She moved the slider, adjusting the tempo as he guided her. The beat shifted, deeper now, resonating through her chest. She glanced at him, her smile widening as he nodded in approval.

"Not bad," he said, his tone softer now. "Now blend the next track."

Their hands brushed as she followed his instructions, the fleeting contact sending a ripple of heat through her. The music flowed seamlessly, her laughter breaking the tension like a spark catching fire. The alcohol hummed in her veins, loosening her edges and emboldening her thoughts.

"You're a natural," he said, his grin softening as his eyes lingered on her. "Or maybe I'm just a good teacher."

"Or maybe you are," she replied, her voice low and playful. Her gaze stayed locked on his, her lips curving into a slow, teasing smirk. She tilted her head slightly, her tone dripping with suggestion. "Think you've got more lessons for me? Something... hands-on?"

The room seemed to close in around them, the air thick with unspoken tension. The music's pulsing beat mirrored the charge building between them, amplified by the warm buzz of the drinks she'd downed. When his hand settled over hers to guide her movement again, she didn't pull away—instead, she let her fingers shift deliberately under his, the subtle motion daring him to react.

Her eyes flicked to his, her smile now edged with wicked intent. "You're good at this," she murmured, her voice soft and teasing. "But I wonder... are you still as good at making me lose myself?"

The energy between them shifted, hotter now, the teasing edge in her words undeniable. Her pulse quickened as his expression hardened, his grin fading into something darker, more intent. She leaned in just enough to close the space, her breath brushing his ear as she added softly, "Care to show me?"

The alcohol in her system dulled her restraint, making her bolder, freer. For the first time, she let the tension spiral freely between them, daring him to take the bait. Tonight, she wasn't holding back—and she wanted him to feel it, to know exactly where this was leading. She was playing with fire, and she was ready to see just how fiercely it could burn.

Chapter Text

Nina's head throbbed, a dull, relentless ache spreading through her temples like the aftermath of a bad decision. She groaned softly, squeezing her eyes shut as even the dim light filtering through the curtains felt like knives stabbing her pupils. The soft rustle of sheets nearby made her freeze. Someone was next to her. Someone... breathing softly, their presence undeniable.

Her heart raced, a flicker of panic cutting through her groggy mind. Who was it? Struggling to move, her limbs heavy as lead, she turned her head slowly, bracing herself for what she might see.

A familiar mess of dark hair spilled across the pillow beside hers. Relief washed over her, calming her frantic heartbeat. Mila.

Mila stirred slightly, her face buried in the pillow, her mouth slightly open in the carefree way she always slept. Nina blinked, trying to piece together fragments of the previous night. The relief of recognizing her best friend was quickly replaced by confusion.

Where am I? she wondered, her gaze darting around the room. The faint lavender scent in the air, the eclectic mix of vintage posters and plants, the cozy clutter of books and mismatched pillows—this was Mila's apartment. London.

But wasn't I in Woking? Images of Lando's apartment flashed in her mind—sharp, disjointed, and disorienting. She'd been there. She was certain. The music, the drinks, the tension between them. It all felt so vivid, so recent. What am I doing here?

Nina sat up slowly, the room tilting as her headache protested the movement. She winced, pressing her fingers to her temples, hoping the pressure might dull the relentless ache. The faint hum of city noise filtered through the windows, grounding her for a moment, though her thoughts remained scattered, like pieces of a puzzle she couldn't quite fit together.

With trembling fingers, she unlocked her phone, her breath catching as notifications lit up the screen—missed calls and messages. Each name felt heavier than the last: Zak, her dad, her mom... and Arthur. His name froze her in place, a sharp pang of unease gripping her chest. The thought of guilt crept in, insidious and suffocating. She didn't know what she had done, but she knew it couldn't have been good. Please let it be nothing, she thought desperately—something small, something forgivable. But the uncertainty gnawed at her, leaving her stomach in tight, painful knots.

She bit her lip, forcing herself to breathe steadily as her thoughts spiraled. What the hell happened last night? How did I end up in London without remembering a single thing?

The questions swirled in her mind, their answers maddeningly out of reach. Clutching her phone like a lifeline, she pushed herself to her feet, moving toward the kitchen. Coffee. Water. Anything to clear her head. As she filled a glass at the sink, small fragments of memory flickered to life—disjointed and blurry, like an old film reel trying to snap into focus.

The soft creak of the mattress behind her made Nina freeze mid-sip. She turned to see Mila stirring, her hair a chaotic tangle as she pushed herself up slightly on her elbows. Mila's eyes narrowed, her grogginess fading as sudden realization dawned on her face.

"YOU!" Mila screamed, her voice slicing through the quiet morning like a knife. Nina flinched, nearly spilling her water, as Mila pointed a dramatic finger at her, as if accusing her of some grand crime.

"What did you do last night?" Mila demanded, her tone a mix of shock and disbelief.

"Mila, please," Nina groaned, squeezing her eyes shut as her head throbbed. "Not so loud. My head is killing me."

Mila's accusing finger wavered before she sighed and let her hand drop. "You look like death. Let me guess—you don't remember much?"

Nina groaned, setting the glass down on the counter and leaning heavily against it. "No. That's the problem. Now, please, tell me—what happened last night?"

Mila swung her legs off the bed and walked over, her playful expression giving way to concern. She folded her arms, her tone more serious. "For starters, your mom called me. Twice. She's freaking out because you're not answering your phone."

Nina winced. "Great. I'll deal with her later."

"Oh, and it gets more interesting," Mila continued, her eyes narrowing. "I called you to check in, and guess who picked up your phone?"

Nina froze, her stomach twisting. "Who?"

Mila tilted her head, a knowing glint in her eye. "Lando," she said, letting the name hang in the air like a challenge.

Nina blinked, her breath catching. "Lando?" she repeated, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Yep. Lando Norris," Mila confirmed, crossing her arms. "He's the one who answered your phone. And let me tell you, he didn't exactly sound happy."

Nina's stomach twisted, her headache pounding harder as her mind raced. "What did he say?"

Mila raised an eyebrow, her tone matter-of-fact. "Well, first, he told me you were at his apartment. Completely hammered. Then he asked for my address because, apparently, you didn't want to go back to your family. Something about an issue with your dad. He said it was better to bring you here."

Nina's face turned red as flashes of the night before teased the edges of her memory. "He brought me here?"

Mila nodded. "Yeah. It was around 1 a.m., and in less than thirty minutes, he showed up at my door carrying you. You were completely out of it. He must've been speeding like crazy. Didn't say much, just looked... tense, like he was holding something back. He put you in bed and left right after. Didn't even stick around long enough for me to ask any questions."

Nina pressed her hands to her temples, her chest tightening with every word. "Oh my god. This is a disaster."

Mila's eyes narrowed as she studied Nina, her expression shifting to one of realization. "Wait... are those his clothes?" she asked, gesturing to the oversized sweatshirt and joggers draped loosely on Nina's frame.

Nina glanced down, her fingers nervously tugging at the hem of the sweatshirt. "Uh... yeah, I think so," she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. A flush crept up her cheeks as she avoided Mila's sharp gaze.

Mila raised an eyebrow, her tone steady but insistent. "You think so? Nina, what do you actually remember about yesterday?"

Nina let out a shaky breath, her hands still pressed to her temples. "I was at McLaren headquarters yesterday—for the team event and the speech I told you about. Everything went fine at first, but then I mentioned that I was thinking about staying in Ferrari's garage for the Monaco Grand Prix." She paused, her voice tightening. "That's when my dad completely lost it. He started ranting about my legacy, saying it was unthinkable for his daughter to even consider being in a Ferrari garage."

She looked down, her fingers fidgeting slightly. "And now, with all the attention from my relationship with Arthur, some people at McLaren have started seeing me differently—judging me. It feels like every move I make is under a microscope, and I can't even breathe without someone having an opinion about my life and my choices."

Mila's expression softened, but she said nothing, letting Nina continue.

"I was so mad. At my dad, at everything. I just wanted to disappear. Lando was there, and he took me outside to get some air. It started raining, and somehow, we ended up at his apartment. He gave me dry clothes and offered me a drink. I just..." She hesitated, her voice catching. "I just wanted to shut it all out. To stop thinking, to let everything go. So I drank, and for a while, it worked. Everything else faded, and I just stayed in the present."

Mila sighed, leaning against the counter. "That clears up some things, but it still doesn't answer the real question."

Nina frowned, confusion flickering across her face. "What question?"

Mila tilted her head, her gaze sharp and unrelenting. "What happened at Lando's apartment?"

Nina ran a hand through her hair, her voice laced with frustration and confusion. "I don't know, Mila. I just don't. I remember being... too close to him. Touching him more than I should've. And I don't know why—it didn't feel like me."

Mila leaned in, her expression both serious and understanding. "Nina, there's always tension when Lando's around. So I have to ask—do you think you... crossed a line?"

Nina froze, her breath catching as her mind raced to fill in the blanks, but the memories stayed hazy—except for one. She remembered how her hand had lingered on his arm, her fingers brushing the fabric of his sweatshirt. The touch had felt deliberate, almost instinctive, and she couldn't shake the image of his face, how close their lips had been. The tension in the air had been electric, undeniable.

Her stomach twisted, and she turned her wide, panicked eyes to Mila, her voice barely a whisper. "I... I might have. I don't know, Mila. I really don't. I remember touching him—his hands, his jaw—and feeling..." She hesitated, her voice breaking. "Feeling like I wanted him more than I've ever wanted anyone. Like nothing else mattered in that moment."

Mila groaned, throwing her hands up in exasperation. "For God's sake, Nina! You have a boyfriend. Arthur. Your adorable, sweet, Ferrari-driving boyfriend. How could you even let it get this far?"

"I didn't mean to!" Nina snapped, her voice rising before it cracked under the weight of her guilt. She lowered her gaze, her hands trembling as she gripped the counter. "I didn't mean for any of this to happen. I was angry, I wasn't thinking, and then... and then Lando was just there. He made it easy to forget everything, and I let myself go. I just wanted to escape, Mila."

Mila sighed, shifting her weight against the counter as she studied Nina. "Escape? From what? Your dad, Arthur... or maybe even yourself?"

"All of it," Nina admitted, her voice trembling. "My dad pushed me too far." Her words cracked as her emotions spilled over. "During the event, he told me I had to choose—between Arthur and McLaren. He didn't even try to understand how I feel. It's all so black and white to him. And then there's me, stuck in the middle of this mess, not knowing how to deal with it." She hesitated, her voice faltering. "And Lando..." She swallowed hard, looking away. "He just felt like... a way to breathe for a moment. Like I didn't have to explain myself to him."

Mila frowned, placing her hands on the edge of the counter as she braced herself against it. "Your dad told you to choose? Between someone you care about and your family's legacy? That's—" she stopped herself, exhaling sharply. "That's absurd."

Nina sighed, running a hand through her hair, her frustration bubbling to the surface. "It's not about Arthur as a person. It's the fact that he drives for Ferrari. My dad can't see past the McLaren-Ferrari rivalry. To him, dating someone from the 'enemy' team is completely unthinkable. He keeps saying it's bad for my legacy, bad for McLaren—bad for everything. He's so focused on protecting McLaren that he doesn't even care how it's affecting me."

Mila raised an eyebrow, her expression a mix of disbelief and frustration. "That's beyond ridiculous. You're not driving for McLaren. You're not even in Formula 1. What does your legacy have to do with who you're dating?"

"It doesn't make sense to me either," Nina said, her voice heavy with exhaustion. "But in his mind, it's all connected. He thinks I'm betraying McLaren just by being with Arthur. And now that the team knows who I am—that I'm Harry's daughter—it feels like there's even more pressure. Like I've put myself under this giant spotlight, and it's only a matter of time before the rest of the world knows too."

Mila's expression softened, the sharpness in her tone replaced by concern. "And Arthur doesn't know about your identity yet."

Nina looked down, her voice trembling. "No, he doesn't. I haven't told him my real last name. He only knows me as Nina Hart, and I honestly don't know how to tell him. I'm scared he'll think I've been hiding it because I don't trust him—or worse, that I've been lying to him all along."

Mila crouched beside her, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. "Nina, listen to me. Arthur loves you. He deserves to know the truth, but more importantly, he deserves the chance to support you. If he hears it from someone else, it's going to feel like a betrayal, no matter what your intentions were." Her voice softened further. "And when I say the truth, I mean everything."

Nina stiffened, her voice faltering. "Everything? Are you talking about Lando? No way, Mila. I can't."

Mila stood, crossing her arms again, her expression thoughtful but firm. "Nina, I get that you're overwhelmed. But letting yourself get so close to Lando—while you're with Arthur? It's not just risky, it's a ticking time bomb. Sooner or later, it's all going to blow up, and someone's going to get hurt."

"I know," Nina whispered, her voice breaking. "I know, and I hate myself for it. But I can't tell him, Mila. I don't even remember if I did anything wrong. That's what scares me the most."

Mila tilted her head, her gaze piercing. "But it's not just about last night, is it? Lando didn't just become a part of your life yesterday. There's something between you two, isn't there?"

Nina opened her mouth to deny it, but no words came. Her silence spoke louder than anything she could have said. Mila sighed, her expression a mix of exasperation and understanding.

"You need to sort this out, Nina. Not just for Arthur, but for yourself. You're carrying so much, and ignoring it isn't going to make it go away."

Nina sank into a chair, burying her face in her hands. Her shoulders shook as she let out a choked sob. "Why is everything so complicated? Why can't my feelings just make sense? I'm trying to do the right thing, but it feels like I'm failing at all of it."

Mila wrapped her arms around Nina, holding her tightly. "Hey, it's okay. You're not failing. You're dealing with more than anyone should have to, and it's okay to feel overwhelmed. But you're strong, Nina. You'll get through this."

"It doesn't feel like it," Nina murmured against Mila's shoulder, her voice muffled and trembling. "It feels like I'm drowning."

"You're not drowning," Mila said firmly, pulling back to meet Nina's eyes. "You're treading water in a storm, and that's tough, but it's not the same as sinking. And you're not alone. I'm here, Zak's got your back with the McLaren stuff, and I'm sure Arthur will too—if you trust him enough to tell him."

Nina wiped her eyes, her voice shaky. "I'm scared, Mila. I'm scared he'll see me differently."

"It's okay to be scared," Mila said softly, squeezing her shoulders. "But being honest is the only way forward. You'll feel lighter once it's all out in the open."

Nina hesitated, biting her lip. "How should I even start?"

Mila leaned back slightly, her expression thoughtful but determined. "Start by figuring out what happened last night with Lando."

Nina's brow furrowed, her voice rising slightly in disbelief. "How am I supposed to do that?"

Mila raised an eyebrow, her tone straightforward but gentle. "Ask him."

Nina blinked, stunned. "What? Ask him? Like, just casually text him, 'Hey, did something happen between us?' Are you serious?"

"Yes," Mila said firmly. "A simple message on Instagram—or better yet, unblock him and call him."

Nina's jaw dropped. "Call him? Mila, that's insane. I can't just—what would I even say?"

Mila rolled her eyes, crossing her arms. "It's not that complicated, Nina. Something like, 'Hey, I need to clear the air about last night.' You're not confessing your undying love; you're just asking a question."

Nina groaned, burying her face in her hands. "You make it sound so easy."

"It is easy," Mila said, her voice gentle but firm. "The longer you avoid it, the worse it'll get. You don't have to overthink this. You just need to know the truth, and the only person who can give it to you is Lando."

Nina peeked through her fingers, her voice muffled. "What if I don't like the answer?"

Mila crouched beside her again, her expression softening. "Then at least you'll know where you stand. You can't fix anything if you don't even know what's broken."

Nina sighed, dropping her hands to her lap. "I hate this. I hate how stupid I can be sometimes."

"You're not stupid," Mila said, giving her a small, reassuring smile. "You're human. Now go on. Do it before you overthink it."

With a reluctant nod, Nina pulled her phone from the table, her hands trembling slightly as she unlocked it. Her breath caught when she opened the chat and saw his last message, stark and impossible to ignore: Can't stop thinking about you.

She stared at the words for what felt like forever, her chest tightening. She had ghosted him after that message, leaving it unanswered. At the time, she hadn't known what to say—or maybe she had known but hadn't wanted to admit it. And now, after all this, here she was, texting him about something completely unrelated, skirting around the very thing he had confessed.

Part of her wanted to throw the phone across the room, but another part—a quieter, braver part—knew Mila was right. She needed answers.

Her thumb hovered over the keyboard, hesitating, before she finally typed.

Nina: Hey. Can i ask you something about last night?

She stared at the screen, her heart pounding, before quickly locking her phone and placing it face down on the table. "It's done," she muttered, her voice shaky.

Mila gave her a proud smile. "See? That wasn't so hard."

Nina leaned back in her chair, exhaling shakily. "Now I just have to survive waiting for his reply." Her stomach churned, the weight of everything catching up to her, and her massive hangover only made it worse. She pressed a hand to her forehead, closing her eyes as a wave of nausea rolled over her. "I think I'm going to throw up."

Chapter Text

Lando lay on his bed, staring at the ceiling, the faint hum of rain against the windows filling the quiet apartment. The morning light filtered through the curtains, muted and gray. He hadn't slept. Not a single minute.

The wind howled outside, its breath scraping against the edges of the glass, swirling and restless. It should have been calming, but for Lando, it only heightened the unease that had kept him awake all night.

His mind wouldn't stop. No matter how many times he turned over, how many breaths he took, or how often he closed his eyes, the night before kept replaying. Every look, every word, every moment she had been close enough to touch—it was all burned into his memory, sharp and unforgiving.

He reached for his phone on the nightstand, his movements slow, almost hesitant. The screen lit up as he glanced at his lock screen, and there it was again.

The notification popped into view, bold and unavoidable.

Can I ask you something about last night?

The message stared back at him, motionless, yet it carried a weight that shifted something inside him. He'd seen it minutes ago, the vibration disturbing the stillness of the day, but he hadn't answered—not then, and not now.

He tapped the notification, his eyes drifting over their brief conversation as he scrolled up to reread it. Each word tightened the knot in his chest, leaving him exposed and unsettled, his vulnerability to her cutting deep. And now, she was asking about last night? She probably didn't even remember how she'd driven him to the precipice, how effortlessly she had toyed with his senses. With a heavy sigh, he locked his phone and let it fall into his lap. The question hung in the air, unresolved, while the memories it stirred surged back—vivid, unrelenting, and impossible to push away. He closed his eyes to relive the moment again and again, each repetition sinking deeper into his thoughts, until he couldn't tell where the memory ended and his longing began...

~~~~~~

The rain was relentless, streaking down the windshield as they drove through darkened streets. She hadn't said much, her gaze fixed out the window, her fingers clutching the edges of his coat as though it were the only thing anchoring her. His cap had been pulled low over her face, hiding her from view, but now and then, she shifted just enough for him to catch a glimpse of her profile.

She looked so small in the passenger seat, drawn inward, her posture tight and defensive. It hadn't been like her—not the Nina he had known, with the cutting tongue and the spark of defiance in her eyes. This was someone else entirely, and it twisted something painfully in his chest.

When they arrived at his building, she hesitated, lingering in the passenger seat a moment too long before finally following him inside.

The apartment felt different the second they stepped in. The rain outside was a faint percussion against the glass, steady but distant, while inside, the silence pressed heavily between them. She stood near the door, her eyes scanning the room.

"It suits you." she said softly, her voice calm but laced with something he couldn't quite place.

The words struck deeper than he expected, carrying a meaning far more personal than they should have. He forced a casual response, "Make yourself at home," though his awareness lingered on her—drenched and radiant in the dim light, a vision he couldn't look away from.

She nodded subtly, stepping inside with hesitant movements. When she disappeared into the bathroom with the towel and clothes he handed her, he exhaled sharply, raking a hand through his damp hair. It felt like a mistake. Having her there, in his space, was too personal, too raw, unraveling his restraint faster than he cared to admit.

When she emerged, wearing his oversized sweatshirt and joggers, her wet hair wrapped in a towel, the sight of her hit him like a blow to the core. The clothes draped loosely on her, the sleeves slipping past her hands, and the unguarded softness in her appearance deepened the weight in his heart.

She moved to the kitchen, deliberate yet unhurried, her hand reaching for the liquor and mixer he set out. Every movement was unassuming yet magnetic, her presence filling the room. When her eyes met his, a quiet challenge glimmered in her gaze, catching him off guard.

She perched herself on the counter, legs swinging idly as she sipped her drink, her curiosity drifting to his DJ setup. A teasing smirk played on her lips, and he couldn't resist. He stepped toward the booth, letting the music fill the room, deep and rhythmic, bridging the unspoken tension between them. Her carefree laugh softened the edges of his restraint, even as it chipped away at his defenses.

She poured herself another drink, stepping closer to the controls. Her fingers hovered over the buttons, and he hesitated, knowing the intimacy of guiding her. But when she leaned in, he gave in, positioning himself behind her. His hands covered hers, their warmth intertwining as he showed her the controls. The faint, intoxicating scent of her damp hair clouded his senses. Every subtle brush of her fingers against his sent a jolt through him, making it impossible to focus on anything but her.

The tension grew with every fleeting touch, every charged glance. She undid him without trying, pulling him into her orbit with the teasing tilt of her head and the flush on her cheeks. Her voice, low and playful, dared him to fall further.

And he wanted to. God, he craved her—so deeply, so desperately, it almost hurt.

When she turned to face him, her gaze burned with an unmistakable fire. Slowly, she lifted her hand, her fingers grazing the fabric of his clothes, sending a surge of electrifying heat through him. The touch was delicate but intentional, a subtle invitation that made his pulse race. Keeping her eyes locked on his, she said, "Come on, Lando, you're the one who told me to stop fighting it—to enjoy the banter, the tension, whatever this is between us."

He swallowed hard, his voice tight as he said, "Yes, back when it was still fun."

But she ignored his words. Her hand rose again, fingers trailing lightly along his jaw, her touch feather-soft before resting there. She stepped closer, her breath warm against his skin, and his gaze instinctively dropped to her lips. The ache within him swelled, deep and undeniable, urging him toward her in a way he hadn't thought possible.

Yet, he stayed still.

Instead, his hands covered hers, trembling faintly as they settled over her touch. "Nina," he murmured, his voice strained, heavy with everything he'd been holding back. "Please stop. I don't want you to regret this."

Her response came instantly, soft but filled with emotion. "I want you, Lando," she whispered, her voice cracking slightly. "Make me forget everything else. Please."

Her words sliced through him, quivering with need, leaving him frozen. The intensity in her gaze shattered every barrier he built, her need a mirror of his own.

The knot coiled low in his stomach, his entire being battling the storm inside. The tension between them was electric, a live wire ready to snap. He was seconds from losing control, her presence overwhelming his thoughts and breaths until nothing else existed.

She sensed his hesitation, the fragile balance he walked between determination and surrender. Her lips curved into a sly smile, a glint of mischief in her eyes as she turned toward the counter. He watched, his breath hitching, as she picked up the bottle and poured herself a shot. The crisp sound of liquid meeting glass cut through the quiet room.

"If you don't," she hushed, her voice low and teasing, "I'll just keep drinking." She tipped the shot back, the faint scrunch of her nose betraying the burn, and reached for the bottle again.

Before she could take another shot, his hand closed over hers, firm yet gentle. "Nina, don't," he said, his voice raw with frustration and something unspoken—something that ignited sparks in her eyes, a blend of rebellion and intensity, making his pulse quicken.

Her eyes locked onto his, silence thickening the air between them. Then she stepped closer, her gaze unwavering, her voice soft but resolute. "Then fuck me, Lando." The words fell like a match to dry tinder, unleashing everything he fought to suppress.

Her plea pierced the charged silence, boldness unraveling him inch by inch. Her eyes held his, pleading and unyielding, drawing him deeper into the fire she lit. His resolve frayed, teetering on the edge of collapse. Then her phone lit up on the counter, cutting through the moment like a cold slap of clarity.

Arthur.

The name glowed on the screen, stark and undeniable—a sharp reminder of the line he couldn't cross. The sight jolted him back from the brink. He tore his gaze away from her, fixing it on the phone as the weight of the situation crashed over him. Yes, he wanted her—but not like this. Not while she was weakened. Not while she was already bound to someone else.

She followed his gaze, her expression shifting. Something unreadable flickered across her face before she sighed deeply, the moment's weight settling over her too. Without a word, she tipped her head back and downed the shot in her hand, the liquor's burn matching the sting of reality.

Lando watched her, his chest tight with emotions he couldn't name. The desire still roared within him, but now it was tainted with frustration, regret, and the harsh truth that this wasn't how he wanted to fight for her.

He exhaled heavily, running a hand through his hair. "Nina, I'm taking you home," he said, his voice steady but strained.

She shook her head, defiance flashing in her wide, desperate eyes. "No," she murmured, almost begging. "I don't want to go to my father's. I want to stay here."

Her words made it even harder to hold himself together. Teeth gritted, he fought against his instincts, knowing he couldn't let her stay. Not under these circumstances. Not when every fiber of his being screamed to give in to her. Before he could respond, her phone buzzed again. Mila's name flashed across the screen, and relief flooded him. Without hesitation, he grabbed the phone.

The conversation was tense but brief. Mila's worry was clear, her tone urgent as Lando explained the situation. He told her enough—Nina was drunk, off balance, and needed somewhere safe. After a pause, Mila agreed and sent her address. Lando thanked her quickly, his voice composed despite the turmoil still churning inside him.

After ending the call, he turned back to Nina. Her heavy-lidded eyes fought to stay open, resistance and exhaustion written across her expression, as though daring him to question her even in that state.

He helped her to her feet, steadying her as they made their way across the slick concrete floor to his car. She laughed softly, her voice airy and carefree, but every word she uttered felt like a test of his resolve. The faint echo of rain drumming against the structure above filled the underground parking lot as he guided her into the passenger seat.

His movements were calculated, his focus fixed on the task at hand, yet the weight of the night clung to him, pressing down on him with every step.

"Kiss me, Lando," she whimpered, her tone teasing but heavy with intent. Her lips curved into a playful smile that tightened his chest painfully.

Ignoring her, he stiffened his neck and buckled her seatbelt with quick, precise motions. Her soft laughter filled the air, light and warm, hanging in the space as he stepped back and shut the door. His hands hovered too long, betraying his struggle before he forced himself to retreat.

Sliding into the driver's seat, he gripped the wheel tightly and started the car. The hum of the engine barely masked her voice, soft and provocative. When her hand brushed his thigh, heat shot through him, his entire body tensing as his fraying control threatened to snap.

"Nina," he grumbled, his voice strained as his eyes stayed fixed on the road. Her fingers trailed, feathery but maddening, undermining his composure with every passing second.

The dark streets blurred past as he pressed the accelerator harder than necessary. He needed to get her home, needed to put distance between them before he lost what little control he had left. Her laugh, her teasing touches, her very presence made it nearly insufferable to think straight.

When her hand slid slightly higher on his thigh, deliberate but subtle, he sucked in a quick breath, his grip on the wheel tightening until his knuckles turned white. He didn't dare look at her. One glance, and he knew he'd lose the fight. The temptation was unbearable, but the weight of the line he couldn't cross held him back, even as his resolve threatened to crack.

The speedometer climbed, mirroring his racing pulse, his concentration directed solely on the road in front of him and the pressing urge to get her to Mila's. Every moment she was this close pushed him closer to the limit.

When they arrived, the tension in the car hung heavy. Nina had fallen asleep, her head resting against the window, her breathing soft and steady. He exhaled sharply, his pulse still erratic, and stepped out of the car. Moving to her side, he opened the door and gently unbuckled her seatbelt. She stirred slightly, murmuring something incoherent, but didn't wake.

Sliding his arms under her, he lifted her effortlessly, her warmth pressing against him—a cruel reminder of how close he came to falling apart. He carried her inside, each step measured, his attention fixed on getting her settled.

Mila met him at the door, her eyes wide with concern. He gave her a tight nod and brushed past, following her direction to the bedroom. The room was dim, the faint glow of a streetlamp casting soft shadows. He laid Nina down gently, her body sinking into the mattress, and adjusted the blanket over her. When her hand gripped the sleeve of his hoodie, as if reaching for him, he froze, breath catching in his throat.

For a moment, he lingered, his eyes tracing her peaceful face, the tension in his chest tightening unbearably. He needed to leave. Now. Forcing himself to step back, he gently pulled his arm away from her grasp, his jaw clenched as he turned abruptly and left the room.

In his car, he slumped forward, resting his head against the steering wheel as the weight of the night pressed down on him. The evidence of his struggle was unmistakable, straining visibly against his joggers. Frustration and desire warred within him, his body betraying the control he fought so hard to maintain.

"What are you doing to me, Nina?" he breathed, the words barely escaping his lips.

~~~~~~

Lando could still see her, feel her, as if it had happened only minutes ago. Her presence lingered, intimate and undeniable, as though it had permanently claimed space in his mind.

This woman is evil.

The memory haunted him, refusing to fade. Even now, the heat of the moment clung to him, her image etched too deeply to erase. He'd tried to shake it, hoping solitude would bring relief, but it never came. The strain coiled within him, like an iron grip he couldn't loosen, refusing to let him forget how easily she got under his skin. She always gets to you, he thought, the memory cutting deeper than he cared to admit. So why let it happen? Why let her get so close when you know how she unravels you?

Last night, he'd lost the battle but not the war against Arthur. As it stood, Arthur was still her boyfriend, and Lando remained nothing more than the one she leaned on when things felt heavy. Even so, he permitted himself a small sense of victory, proud that he hadn't let his desires or instincts take over—that he hadn't surrendered to temptation. For her. It wasn't much, yet it was something to hold onto. But for now, he needed to step back and regroup. With race day fast approaching on Sunday, distractions like this were a luxury he couldn't afford—especially when they left him restless and unfocused.

Dragging himself out of bed, he rubbed his face, trying to clear the fog of a sleepless night. The flight to Australia felt heavier than it should have. For a moment, he stood still, drawing a deep breath, bracing himself for the fight ahead—against Ferrari.

Stepping into the shower, he let the hot water cascade over him, easing the stiffness in his shoulders. The warmth was a welcome relief, small but enough to begin clearing his mind. It wasn't a complete reset, but it was enough to start realigning his priorities. The season was waiting, and no matter how much she lingered in his thoughts, he had to be ready to face it.

Chapter Text

Cocooned in Mila's bed, Nina spent the entire day sipping water in small, reluctant gulps, the simple act becoming her only routine. Fatigue clung to her like a heavy shroud, her limbs too leaden to move. Lando's oversized sweatshirt and joggers hung loosely on her frame, their softness doing little to lighten the heaviness she felt. The dim evening light seeped through the curtains, casting long shadows across the walls. With her eyes closed, she pressed her fingers to her temples, trying to ease the relentless ache in her head as fragments of the previous night flickered through her mind in hazy disarray. Shame twisted in her chest, sharp and unyielding.

"I feel disgusting," she muttered, her voice barely above a whisper.

Mila perched beside her, her tone gentle but firm. "Go take a shower. You'll feel better before we head to the airport."

Without a word, Nina pushed herself off the bed, the weight of regret pressing harder than her exhaustion, and shuffled toward the bathroom.

Under the shower's warm spray, she pressed her palms against the cool tiles, her head hanging low as water streamed over her. Slowly, like a veil being drawn back, flashbacks began to surface, each more vivid than the last. Her hands reaching for him—his hands, his face, his clothes. The quiet tension in his restraint, the soft yet steady way he'd tried to stop her.

And then, the last thing she could remember: his voice, tired and strained, saying, "It's not funny anymore." Or was it fun? The words blurred in her mind, unclear and jumbled, but she didn't dwell on their meaning. The edge in his tone alone was enough to send a sharp pang of humiliation through her, cutting deeper than the water cascading over her skin.

He had welcomed her into his apartment, tried to help her, and this was how she had acted? Am I completely out of my mind?  The memory of losing control like that, of letting alcohol and emotion dictate her actions, made her stomach twist painfully. Heat crept up her neck as her mind raced. What would he think of me now?  The question sent a cold shiver down her spine. A reckless mess? A fucking cheater? Or someone to avoid? She ran her hands through her wet hair, the water pouring over her face as if it could wash away the sting of her behaviour and the heavy cloud of her own embarrassment.

Her breathing hitched as another, darker thought crept in, tightening her chest. Did we really...? The question sent a wave of panic through her, and she froze under the spray of the shower, her body growing rigid.

No. She pushed the idea away almost immediately. Still, she hesitated, her heart pounding as she glanced down at her body. Her hands brushed over her hips, her thighs, her lower stomach, searching for any sign—any faint hint that might confirm her fear. But there was nothing. No soreness, no discomfort, nothing to suggest they had gone that far.

She let out a shaky breath, trying to ground herself. If we had, I'd know. I'd feel it. With Lando, it had always been intense, raw, and consuming. Every time they'd come together, her body carried the aftermath—sensations that lingered for days, reminders she couldn't ignore. But now, there was nothing. No lasting trace of passion, only the empty weight of disappointment.

And then, another unsettling scenario surfaced, unbidden. Maybe a kiss? Her fingers moved to her lips, brushing over them as if trying to feel for some forgotten evidence. The idea felt closer, more plausible, and her chest tightened again at the possibility.

She shook her head sharply, droplets scattering around her. Stop. Stop overthinking, she told herself, squeezing her eyes shut as her hands dropped back to her sides. Taking a deep breath, she turned off the shower and stepped out, grabbing a towel to wrap around herself. After a moment, she began drying her hair, the loud roar of the hair dryer shutting down the turmoil within her. Once satisfied, she quickly changed into fresh clothes she pulled from her bag—the one her mom had dropped off earlier after picking it up from the McLaren Technology Center. Nina hadn't seen or spoken to her father since yesterday, and that was for the best. She needed to sort things out with Arthur before dealing with his lectures again.

"You're late, Nina! Come on, let's go!" Mila called from the other room, her tone sharp with impatience.

Nina sighed, running a hand through her freshly dried hair before tossing the towel into the laundry basket. She grabbed her phone and bag, then paused, glancing at Lando's clothes resting neatly on the bathroom counter. For a moment, she hesitated, the faint scent of him still lingering on the fabric. Shaking her head, she picked them up and tucked them into her bag with a steadying breath.

"I'm coming!" she called out, trying to inject some energy into her voice.

Before leaving, she caught a quick glimpse of herself in the mirror—pale skin, tired eyes, and a faint tension etched across her expression. She didn't like what she saw, but there was no time for self-reflection. She slung her bag over her shoulder and stepped out to find Mila pacing impatiently by the door, arms crossed and foot tapping.

"About time," Mila said, exhaling dramatically. "I thought you were going to marinate in there forever."

"Sorry," Nina muttered, slipping on her shoes.

They headed to the airport in Mila's sporty Audi coupe, the upbeat chatter of a local radio station filling the quiet between them. When they pulled into the drop-off zone, Mila reached into the back seat and grabbed a small bag.

"Take this with you," Mila said, handing the bag to Nina. "There's some food in there and tea to help you feel better."

Nina blinked, the unexpected kindness cutting through her haze. "Thanks, Mila."

Mila's sharp tone softened into a small smile. "Take care of yourself, okay? And try to get some sleep on the flight."

"I will." Nina leaned over and gave her a quick hug, holding on just a moment longer than usual. "Love you, Mila."

Mila smirked, patting her back lightly. "Love you too, idiot. Now go before you miss your flight."

With the bag in hand, Nina stepped out of the car and closed the door, watching as Mila drove off. She stood for a moment, her eyes following the taillights as they disappeared into the flow of traffic. A faint sense of gratitude settled over her despite the chaos still swirling in her mind. Adjusting the bag on her shoulder, she turned and headed into the terminal.

The flight felt endless, like she was traveling all the way to Australia instead of just back to Monaco. Too long, too much time to think. Her mind kept circling back to Arthur—how she'd face him after what had happened with Lando—or perhaps what hadn't happened. And then there was the McLaren matter. She knew she had to tell him, but the thought tied her stomach into knots.

When the plane finally touched down at Nice Côte d'Azur Airport, weariness and nerves clung to her like a second skin. She let out a long breath as the wheels screeched against the runway, a small release of the strain that had built up over the flight.

By the time she stepped into the arrivals area, her phone buzzed in her hand. Arthur's name lit up the screen, and she paused briefly before answering.

"Hey," she said, her voice soft but tinged with hesitation.

"Nina, finally! I've been trying to reach you since yesterday," he said, his voice laced with worry. "What happened?"

Nina swallowed hard, her heartbeat quickening as she pressed the phone tighter to her ear. She forced her tone to remain calm. "I'm sorry, Arthur. I just got back from London. I told you I was going to see Mila," she said, her voice slightly uneven, fully aware of the lie.

Her free hand fidgeted with the hem of her shirt, her stomach twisting uncomfortably. She could feel warmth creeping up her neck, a telltale sign of her guilt. Turning toward the nearest window, she pressed her fingers against the cool glass, hoping it would calm her.

"I know you told me," Arthur said, his tone softening slightly. "But I was worried when you didn't pick up, especially after..." He trailed off, leaving an awkward silence.

"After what?" Nina pressed, her voice trembling slightly, betraying her uncertainty.

Arthur sighed deeply, his voice dropping. "Nina... are we good?"

The question threw her for a moment, and she widened her eyes in surprise, unsure how to respond. "What? Yeah... I guess. Why would you even ask that?" she said, her tone tinged with confusion.

He hesitated for a moment, then spoke more firmly. "Can I see you now? Where are you?"

Nina exhaled, glancing around the bustling terminal. "I'm still at the airport," she admitted.

"Okay," Arthur said quickly. "Stay there. I'll come pick you up."

"Wait, what? You don't have to—" she started, but his tone was final. "I'm already on my way," he cut in.

"Um... alright," she replied, her voice soft and unsure, her fingers tightening around the phone as she tried to make sense of his sudden insistence.

When the call ended, she stood still for a moment, her pulse quickening as a strange heaviness settled over her. She couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to his urgency than he had let on. Could it have something to do with what happened yesterday?"

Thirty minutes later, Nina spotted Arthur's car pulling up outside the terminal. She recognized it immediately and took a deep breath, adjusting the strap of her bag before stepping outside. The cool evening air brushed against her skin as she made her way over.

As soon as she slid into the passenger seat, Arthur leaned over and kissed her—a brief yet firm press of his lips that left her momentarily stunned. She froze for a moment, startled, but before she could say anything, he pulled back, started the car, and began the drive back to Monaco.

"You didn't have to come all the way here," she said after a moment, her voice soft.

"I wanted to," he replied simply, his eyes fixed on the road ahead. The subdued intensity in his tone left no room for argument, silencing any protest she might have made.

The rest of the ride passed in silence, the hum of the engine and the occasional sound of tires on the road the only interruptions. Nina stared out the window, watching the city lights fade into the dark curves of the coastline, her thoughts tangled. She wanted to speak, to break the silence, but the pull of Arthur's earlier urgency kept her quiet.

Arthur didn't speak either. His jaw was tight, his hands steady on the wheel. Whatever was on his mind, he wasn't ready to share it, and Nina wasn't sure she was ready to ask.

By the time they reached her apartment, the air between them felt heavy with unspoken words. Arthur pulled into the driveway, cut the engine, and glanced at her, his expression unreadable.

Nina unbuckled her seatbelt and turned to him, hesitating for a moment. "Do you want to come up?" she asked softly.

Arthur shook his head with a faint smile. "Not tonight. I've got an early flight tomorrow."

She nodded, trying to brush off the unease creeping into her chest. "Okay, good night then. Have a safe flight." Her hand was on the car door when he caught her arm, his grip gentle but determined . "Wait."

Hesitation lingered in the silence as he exhaled, his gaze dropping before slowly meeting hers again. "I'm sorry," he murmured.

The words caught her off guard, and she blinked, confused. Why is he apologizing? It didn't make sense. I'm the one who should be sorry. What's going on?

Arthur ran a hand through his hair, his voice tinged with frustration. "I'm sorry about my brother's post on Instagram. I told you I wanted to make our relationship official at the Monaco Grand Prix. I didn't push because I felt like you might not be ready, and I thought maybe you wanted to keep things the way they are—not too exposed."

He paused, his jaw tightening. "But then Charles... he went ahead and posted something unnecessary. I told him to delete it, but by the time I saw it, it was already too late."

Arthur sighed, his gaze flickering toward her briefly before continuing. "I tried calling to explain, but you didn't answer yesterday or today. I started to worry you might be upset." He paused, his voice softening. "I just wanted to make the announcement in a way that felt right—for both of us, when you were ready."

Relief swept over Nina as she realized this was what had been troubling him—the Instagram post. With everything else going on in her life, she had almost forgotten about it. Offering him a small, reassuring smile, she said gently, "Don't worry, Arthur. I'm not upset, really. And honestly, it's a cute picture."

Her attempt to lighten the mood was genuine, but as the words left her mouth, a knot tightened in her stomach. She hesitated, gripping the strap of her bag. The longer she looked at him, the more the weight of her secret pressed down on her. A relentless thought nagged at her—this was it. She had to tell him the truth... But how much of it?

Chapter Text

The car was silent, save for the faint creak of the cooling engine, as they sat together in stillness. Outside, the darkness pressed in, broken only by the dim glow of the streetlights lining the quiet road. The air inside felt heavy, thick with the weight of unspoken words, as if the car itself was holding its breath.

A soft tap-tap broke the stillness as raindrops began to speckle the windshield. Arthur glanced up, watching the droplets spread into uneven trails. "It's starting to rain," he said quietly, his voice calm as he turned back to Nina. "You should go before it gets worse."

Nina nodded, her hand moving toward the door handle. "Yeah, you're right. I should." She pushed it slightly, but her grip lingered. Her heart thudded as the rain picked up, the drizzle turning into a soft patter against the car's roof. She hesitated, her thoughts racing. This was her chance—before the moment slipped away.

Taking a breath, she let go of the handle and turned to Arthur, her voice trembling as she summoned her courage. "But before I go... I need to tell you something."

Arthur shifted in his seat, his full attention now on her, concern flickering in his eyes. "What is it?"

Nina pressed her fingers against the edge of her sleeve, steadying herself. Outside, the rain gained rhythm, matching the urgency building in her chest. "Remember," she began, hesitant, carefully choosing her words, "before we went to your mum's, I told you Mila called me because she was feeling overwhelmed and needed me to visit her?"

Arthur nodded slowly, his expression cautious. "Yeah. You said she needed you in London on Sunday. What about it?"

Her gaze flickered toward her apartment building, then back to him. "That's what I told you," she admitted, her voice softer now. "But it wasn't the whole truth."

Arthur frowned, leaning slightly closer. "What do you mean?"

"I did fly to London on Sunday," she continued, the words tumbling out as though she feared losing her nerve. "But it wasn't to see Mila. I went to a team event at McLaren Technology Center."

The name hung in the air between them, heavy and unspoken. Arthur's brows furrowed. "McLaren?" he repeated slowly. "A team event at McLaren?"

The silence stretched until realization dawned. "McLaren as in McLaren Racing? The Formula 1 team?"

Nina's throat tightened, her voice barely a whisper. "Yes, that McLaren."

Arthur's confusion deepened. "That doesn't make sense. Why would you..." His voice trailed off as his gaze fixed on her, the pieces slowly falling into place. "Nina... what are you trying to say?"

Her stomach churned as she struggled to find the right words. "Arthur," she began softly, "from the day we met, I introduced myself as Nina Hart. It's the name I've lived by, the one everyone knows me as. But... there's more to me than that. Something I've kept hidden."

Arthur said nothing, his silence unnerving. His expression remained unreadable, his eyes locked on hers, waiting.

Drawing in a steadying breath, she pressed on. "Bruce McLaren... he was my grandfather," she confessed, her voice shaking. "And my father, Harry McLaren, runs the McLaren Foundation. I've spent my life hiding that part of me because I didn't want to be seen as just a McLaren—"

"Wait," Arthur interrupted, his tone sharp but not unkind. He raised a hand, tilting his head slightly. "Just... wait."

He exhaled deeply, running a hand through his hair. When he finally looked at her, disbelief and confusion clouded his expression. "Are you telling me that Nina Hart—the woman I've been dating—is actually Nina McLaren?"

Nina stayed silent, her eyes locked on his. In his gaze, she saw uncertainty and hurt. There was something else too—a question, unspoken but clear, asking if everything he thought he knew about her was a lie.

"My birth name is Nina Alexandra McLaren," she said finally, her voice barely above a whisper.

The silence between them was deafening as Arthur let out a slow breath. His voice, quieter now, was laced with shock. "This... it's huge, Nina. You know how much Ferrari means to me—to my family. "

His gaze flicked away, his hands gripping the steering wheel as though anchoring himself. Shaking his head, he murmured, "You're McLaren? McLaren?"

Nina's chest constricted, a lump forming in her throat. "Arthur, I—"

He raised a hand to stop her, his voice thick with emotion. "Just... give me a second."

The silence lingered, heavy and uneasy. When he finally spoke, his tone was quieter but no less strained. "Why didn't you tell me? How could you keep something like this from me?"

Nina exhaled slowly, guilt tightening her chest. "I didn't know how. I didn't even realize you were a Ferrari driver when we met. I wanted to prove myself on my own, without being judged for my name. I never wanted to lie to you, Arthur—I just... didn't know how to tell you."

Arthur's gaze didn't waver, his expression inscrutable. She hesitated under the intensity of his stare, then pressed on.

"But lately..." her voice faltered before she steadied herself. "My family responsibilities have been catching up with me, even though I tried to avoid them. Yesterday, for the first time, I introduced myself as a McLaren to the team. It was surreal." She paused, her voice trembling. "I don't know how long I have before this becomes public—before someone else reveals it. I wanted you to hear it from me, Arthur. Not anyone else."

The car remained silent, save for the faint hum of the rain outside. Arthur's jaw tightened, his fingers flexing against the wheel. When he finally spoke, his tone was quiet but firm.

"So, yesterday you stood in front of McLaren and claimed your name. And now, you're telling me because you're afraid I'll find out from someone else?"

Nina flinched at the edge in his voice but nodded. "I didn't want you to feel blindsided. I wanted to be honest, Arthur. I know I should've told you sooner, but—"

"But you didn't," he interrupted, his tone sharp but calm. Exhaling, he turned to face her fully, his grip tightening on the steering wheel. When he spoke again, his voice was lower, simmering with restrained frustration.

"Nina, if people find out you're Nina McLaren—dating me, a Ferrari driver—what do you think that'll look like? What will my team think? Did you even consider that? I can already imagine the looks, the questions—from everyone, including my brother." He stopped, shaking his head as though trying to control his emotions. "Charles would never understand this."

Nina's chest tightened at his words. She had never seen him like this—calm on the surface but filled with unmistakable anger. And he didn't even know about Lando yet. The memory of that night in his apartment lingered, its unresolved threads threatening to unravel. The thought of Arthur finding out made her stomach twist.

"I didn't mean for this to affect you," she said softly, her voice trembling. "I didn't think it would—"

"No, you didn't think," he cut in, his tone sharper. His eyes met hers, blazing with emotion. "You didn't think about what this would mean for me, my team, or my reputation. Do you even realize how this looks? Dating the granddaughter of the man who founded one of Ferrari's biggest rivals—without knowing it?"

His words hit her like a blow, and she dropped her gaze to her hands, twisting them in her lap. The stillness between them grew unbearable until she finally whispered, "I'm sorry."

Arthur leaned back in his seat, running a hand through his hair as he let out a deep, uneven breath. For a long moment, he didn't speak, his jaw tight, his gaze fixed out the window as though trying to make sense of the storm outside.

When he finally spoke, his voice was subdued, but the gravity in his words remained. "I just... I need time to process this, Nina. To figure out what it means—for you, for me, for us."

He turned to her then, his expression softer but still serious. "I'm angry. Confused. And, honestly, I don't know how to make sense of it all right now," he admitted, his tone measured but vulnerable. "But there's one thing I do know—I care about you, Nina. I care about us. And I don't want this to tear us apart."

He paused, dragging his hands down his face with a long sigh, as though trying to clear his mind. "This is going to be complicated—messy, even. But I don't believe it's something we can't work through. We'll figure it out."

Arthur reached for her hand, his touch confident and protective, yet gentle as he met her eyes. "We'll get through this. I'll talk to Fred—our team principal—and Charles. We'll figure it out together. Just... give me some time."

His reassurance cracked something inside her, and the tears she'd been holding back began to spill. Her shoulders shook as emotion overwhelmed her. Arthur's expression softened, and his voice dropped to a gentle murmur. "Nina, please. Don't cry," he said, his hand tightening around hers. "I don't want to see you like this."

He pulled her into his arms, his warmth surrounding her as she clung to him. "It's just..." she began, her voice muffled, "Arthur, everything feels so complicated. I'm being pulled in so many directions, and I don't know how to handle it."

"It's okay," he murmured, his voice tender but steady. "I'm here." Pulling back slightly, he looked into her tear-filled eyes, his expression softening. "But promise me something."

She nodded weakly, her lips trembling.

"I need you to trust me," he said, his tone firm but full of emotion. "Tell me everything, Nina. No more secrets. Please." His thumb brushed her hand gently, grounding her. "You know I'll always support you, right? Even if you're a McLaren."

Her breath caught at his words, but he continued, his voice quieter now, almost hesitant. "Things might change—hell, they probably will. But how I feel about you won't." His gaze stayed locked on hers, unflinching and full of emotion. "To me, you're still Nina Hart—the woman I fell in love with the moment we bumped into each other on that street. Hart or McLaren, you'll always be my Nina."

Nina's heart swelled at his words. In that moment, she remembered why she had chosen Arthur: the way he made her feel truly seen, valued, and unconditionally safe. Even now, after everything, he stood by her—embracing the harder path without hesitation, simply because it was hers.

Without thinking, she reached for his face, her fingertips brushing his jaw, and kissed him softly. It was a kiss full of gratitude, love, and all the emotions she couldn't put into words.

As his arms wrapped around her, a fleeting thought surfaced: Lando who again? The shadows of her past faded, leaving only Arthur. Bringing up Lando felt meaningless now—a thread better left untouched. Arthur was her present, her future, and the one who truly deserved her trust.

What Nina didn't realize—what she couldn't fully recall—was that Lando, the unpredictable man she hadn't chosen, had fought a battle she might never truly understand. For her, the memory of that night was blurred and fragmented. But for Lando, it had been a silent struggle—a moment of profound restraint and inner conflict as he protected her from the guilt she might have carried if they'd gone too far.

Chapter Text

The next morning, Nina sat on the edge of her bed, her phone resting lightly in her hand. The faint light of dawn spilled across the room, painting soft streaks on the walls. She unlocked her screen and tapped on Arthur's name.

Nina: Have a safe flight, bae. Call me when you land, she typed, her fingers moving with ease.

His reply came almost instantly:

Arthur:  Thank you, chérie.  I'll call you later.  Bisous <3

A soft smile tugged at her lips. She loved when he called her chérie—the word felt like a caress, even from afar. She typed back quickly:

Nina:  Bisous to you too :*

Satisfied, she set her phone aside and headed to the kitchen to prepare a light breakfast. The morning passed peacefully, with a few hours spent reviewing her swing techniques and refining her game plan for the upcoming tournament.

Later, with her work done, she settled onto the couch and turned on the TV, navigating to Drive to Survive. She resumed the series from where she had left off—just before the final episode of Season 4.

The episode dove into the buildup to the dramatic finale, capturing the fierce battle between Mercedes and Red Bull for the Constructors' Championship. The tension was palpable as the show transitioned between heated team radios, precise pit strategies, and high-stakes on-track moments.

As the scenes unfolded, a much younger Lando Norris appeared on the screen, his face serious as he discussed strategy with his race engineer, Will—the same man she'd met at the McLaren gathering. The determination in his expression mirrored the charged atmosphere of the championship fight, a far cry from the laid-back, cheeky Lando she had come to know.

The sight of him pulled her thoughts in a direction she hadn't intended. Her focus wavered, and without realizing it, her hand reached for the remote. She paused the screen, the image of young Lando frozen before her.

Her mind wandered. Moments with him flickered in her memory, unbidden. Shaking her head, she reached for her phone and opened Instagram, her thumb idly scrolling through her feed—a blur of curated moments from other people's lives.

Then she hesitated, the search bar blinking back at her, as if daring her to type his name. Her thumb hovered, her heart quickening. Just a quick look, she told herself, the pull too strong to resist.

Lando Norris.

The familiar profile loaded, and there it was: a carefully crafted snapshot of his life. She noticed something immediately—his name was shorter now, just Lando. She frowned slightly, tilting her head.

"Oh, look at that. Dropping the last name like he's Madonna. What's next, a world tour?" she muttered, rolling her eyes. "New season, new me, huh? Classic Lando."

She tapped the message icon and opened their last conversation. Her final text stared back at her: Can I ask you something about last night? Her chest tightened as her eyes drifted to the bottom of the screen. There it was, small but unmistakable—Seen yesterday.

He'd left her on read. 

After everything that happened, she was surprised he hadn't blocked her outright. Her gaze drifted to his last text: Can't stop thinking about you Nina. The words that once quickened her pulse now felt like a cruel reminder, tightening the knot in her chest. He must regret sending that, she thought bitterly.

Nina closed her eyes and exhaled slowly. She didn't want to think about that night anymore, didn't want to piece together the blurry fragments she couldn't remember. Maybe it was better this way—Lando ignoring her was probably for the best.

She set her phone down, the silence between them heavy and unforgiving. Yet, as the ache dulled, a quiet certainty began to take shape. There was no room for doubt—she needed to move forward, to let go of what no longer mattered, and to focus entirely on Arthur. Only Arthur.

"Ugh, whatever." With a steadying breath, she deleted the conversation from her inbox, hoping to erase it from her mind as well.

Pushing her phone aside, Nina stood and stretched. With one of the biggest tournaments of her career just two weeks away, she couldn't afford any distractions. Her gaze flicked to the TV, where Lando's face remained frozen on the screen. With a decisive click, she turned it off, changed into her training gear, and grabbed her bag. Purpose filled her stride as she headed out, determined to leave the shadows of the past behind.

This was her moment to grow and rise to the challenge ahead: the tournament.

~~~~~~

The soft morning light streamed through the jet's windows, bathing the cabin in a warm, honeyed glow as the Leclerc brothers, Alex, and Leo settled into the quiet rhythm of the flight. Arthur sat by the window, his gaze drifting over the endless expanse of clouds. Across the aisle, Charles and Alex were chatting, their voices carrying a light, teasing energy that contrasted with the stillness outside.

Leo lay sprawled across Alex's lap, his golden fur glinting in the sunlight as he slept peacefully. Every so often, Alex's hand drifted down to gently stroke his back, her fingers gliding through his soft coat. His ears twitched slightly in response, but he remained blissfully undisturbed.

"You're still claiming Leo prefers you?" Charles asked, raising an eyebrow at Alex, who was sipping her coffee with an air of mock innocence, her free hand idly caressing Leo.

"He doesn't just prefer me," Alex replied with a grin, tucking her brunette hair behind her ear. "He's obsessed with me. Let's not forget—every time you're around, he still runs straight to me."

Charles scoffed, leaning back in his seat. "That's only because you spoil him. Treats, cuddles, letting him sleep on the bed. He's got you wrapped around his paw."

Alex smirked, her dark eyes sparkling with amusement. "It's not spoiling; it's called love. You should try it sometime."

At the sound of her voice, Leo stirred slightly, letting out a soft sigh before snuggling deeper into her lap. Arthur chuckled, setting down his empty coffee cup. "You two argue about Leo like he's your child."

"He basically is," Alex said with a laugh, her hand still brushing over Leo's fur. "He's more demanding than most kids, anyway."

Charles grinned, crossing his arms. "And more loyal—at least to me. When was the last time he actually listened to you without being bribed?"

Alex feigned offense, placing a hand dramatically over her chest. "Leo listens to me because he respects me. You, on the other hand, have to beg him for attention."

Arthur shook his head, unable to hide his amusement. "You two should just start his Instagram already. 'Leo Leclerc' could have a bigger following than either of you."

Charles groaned, rubbing his temples. "Please, no. He's already spoiled enough."

Alex scratched behind Leo's ears as he gave a contented sigh, a soft smile tugging at her lips. "You know who he really loved, though?" she said, turning to Arthur. "Nina."

Arthur raised an eyebrow, surprised by the sudden mention. "Yeah, I noticed. He barely left her side."

Alex nodded, her tone softening. "She was so natural with him. It's like she immediately understood how to win him over. Honestly, it was sweet to watch."

Charles leaned back, his brow lifting in mild surprise. "That's a first. Leo doesn't usually warm up to new people so quickly."

"She's got this calm energy," Alex added. "I think it's why he trusted her so fast. Plus, she seemed so comfortable with your mum, Arthur. It felt like she belonged."

Arthur's smile grew slightly, but a flicker of hesitation passed through his eyes. "Yeah, she was great with Mum. They got along better than I expected."

Leo let out a soft murmur in his sleep, his tail giving a single lazy wag before he nestled deeper into Alex's lap, completely content.

Charles's eyes narrowed, locking onto Arthur. "You're holding something back, aren't you?"

Arthur's smile faded, and his gaze drifted to the window, his fingers idly tracing the edge of the armrest. "It's nothing," he mumbled, though the tension in his voice gave him away.

"Arthur," Charles pressed, his tone firm. "I know that look. Just say it."

Arthur's jaw tightened, his focus remaining on the clouds outside as if they held the answer. "I said it's nothing, Charles. Just... let it go, okay?"

Alex frowned, leaning slightly forward. "Arthur, what's going on? You're acting strange."

Arthur exhaled sharply, his shoulders slumping further. He knew there was no escaping this—Charles and Alex were relentless once they sensed something was off. Turning back to face them, his expression was a mixture of hesitation and unease.

"It's about Nina," he said at last, his voice barely above a whisper.

Charles immediately straightened, concern etched across his face. "What about Nina?"

Arthur hesitated, his heart pounding in his chest. "She told me something yesterday. Something... big. And... I don't know how to handle it."

Charles raised an eyebrow, his lips twitching into a cautious smile. "Don't tell me she's pregnant."

Arthur shot him a look of disbelief. "Are you serious right now?"

Charles shrugged, leaning back in his seat. "You said it was big. I'm just covering my bases."

"No," Arthur replied firmly, though his voice carried an edge of frustration. "But honestly... I don't know if it's better or worse than that."

Alex leaned forward, her brows knitting together in concern. "Arthur, what is it? You're clearly shaken. Just tell us."

Arthur rubbed his palms against his jeans, his mind racing. "She's... she's not who you think she is," he said slowly, his words weighed down by reluctance.

Charles's brows knitted together. "What the hell does that mean?"

Arthur took a deep breath, steeling himself. "Nina isn't just Nina Hart. Her real name is Nina Alexandra... McLaren. She's Bruce McLaren's granddaughter."

The cabin fell into a stunned silence, the only sound the soft whir of the jet engines. Charles blinked, his expression neutral at first, before a frown began to take shape.

"You're joking," Charles said flatly, though his tone made it clear he didn't find the possibility amusing.

Arthur shook his head, his voice quiet but steady. "I'm not. Her dad is Harry McLaren. She's been hiding it her whole life because she didn't want to live under her family's shadow."

Charles leaned back in his seat, crossing his arms. "And you only found out now? How long have you and Nina been together?"

Arthur flinched at the question, guilt flickering across his face. "A few months," he admitted quietly. "She didn't think much of it at first. But when she realized the stakes, she got scared—scared of how I'd react. It's not an easy thing to talk about."

Charles's expression hardened, his lips pressing into a thin line. He exhaled sharply, tension radiating from him. "I get that it's tough for her, Arthur. But have you considered what this could do to you? To us? Ferrari and McLaren aren't just rivals—they're enemies on and off the track. This isn't just a 'difficult conversation.' It could cause serious damage."

Arthur nodded, his hands tightening into fists. "I know it's a risk. But I'm not walking away from her because of her last name. She's still Nina to me."

Charles's tone grew sharper. "You can say that now, but what happens when this gets out? You think Ferrari's going to just shrug it off? The media will eat it alive and turn it into a circus."

Alex placed a hand on Charles's arm, her voice calm but firm. "Charles, he just found out. Give him a break. He's trying to sort it out, like anyone would."

Charles exhaled sharply, leaning forward, his frustration evident. "Fine. But who else knows, Arthur? Who knows she's a McLaren?"

Arthur hesitated for a moment, then answered. "Her family, obviously. And on Sunday, she introduced herself to the McLaren team—used her real name for the first time in public. It was a big step for her."

Charles's brow furrowed, his tone edged with urgency. "So McLaren knows. Her family knows. But Ferrari is completely in the dark? Arthur, do you see the problem here? Ferrari can't be blindsided by this. If they find out through the media—or worse, from McLaren—it'll make everything ten times worse for you."

Arthur let out a heavy sigh, running a hand through his hair. "I know, Charles. That's why I'm planning to talk to Fred. I'll handle it. Nina and I just needed time to figure out the best way to approach it before bringing it to Ferrari."

Charles shook his head, his impatience showing. "You don't have much time left, Arthur. This isn't just about protecting Nina. You have a responsibility to Ferrari, too."

Arthur met his brother's gaze, his voice steady despite the tension tightening in his chest. "I told you—I'll talk to Fred as soon as we land and figure it out. But I'm not letting this come between me and Nina. I... I can't lose her, Charles."

Charles studied him for a moment, his sharp expression softening as he took in the strain on Arthur's face. With a quiet sigh, he leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees. "I get it, Arthur. I can see how much she means to you." He hesitated, then added, his tone gentle, "Do you want me to come with you? When you talk to Fred? You don't have to do this alone."

Arthur felt a wave of relief wash over him at Charles's words. He let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding and nodded, his voice soft with quiet gratitude. "I'd... yeah, I'd appreciate that. Thank you, Charles."

Charles gave a small nod, his lips curving into a faint smile. "We'll figure it out. You've got my support, Arthur. Always."

That small gesture—the faint smile, the quiet reassurance—brought Arthur more comfort than he expected. It wasn't just the offer of help; it was the unspoken bond between them as brothers. No matter how complicated things became, Charles's support reminded him of the strength of family, a foundation he could always count on.

Alex reached over and gently squeezed Arthur's hand, her voice warm and encouraging. "For what it's worth, I think you're doing the right thing. Just be careful, okay?"

Arthur's shoulders relaxed, the tightness in his chest easing slightly as he nodded. As the jet glided toward Australia, he gazed at the horizon, bracing himself for the difficult conversations ahead. Yet one thought remained unwavering—Nina was worth it, no matter the cost.

Chapter Text

Zak Brown's voice came through the phone, calm and reassuring. "It didn't go too badly, Nina. Thursday's Zoom call was tense—having your dad, Charles, Arthur, Fred, and me all in one room while you were on the screen didn't make things easier—but we got through it. I think everyone's on the same page for now."

Nina sighed, pacing her living room. "Dad was being such a dick about all of this," she muttered, frustration clear in her voice. "Even Fred was fine with me being with Arthur, but no—Dad had to make the whole room awkward. Ugh."

Zak chuckled, his tone warm but steady. "Cut him some slack, Nina. He's protective, that's all. You know how much he cares about you—and how seriously he takes the family name."

"I know," she admitted, her voice softening. "It just feels like he doesn't trust me to handle things on my own sometimes."

Zak's tone grew more serious. "He does trust you. He's just worried. This isn't an easy situation, and he knows it could get complicated—for you and everyone else."

A brief silence followed before Nina finally spoke. "He's still not convinced about Arthur, is he?"

"Not yet," Zak said gently. "But give him time. He'll come around when he sees how happy you are. That's what matters."

Nina exhaled deeply, leaning against the couch. "I hope you're right."

"I usually am," Zak teased, earning a small laugh from her.

Her expression shifted to a thoughtful one. "So... from what we've said, I guess I can't go to the Monaco Grand Prix in Ferrari's garage?"

Zak chuckled softly. "No, Nina. As we agreed, you both need to keep things low-key—no public displays of your relationship anymore."

"Yeah," she replied, a small sigh escaping her. "We'll be thousands of miles apart for the next two months anyway, so it's not really an issue."

Zak's tone turned firm again. "I've instructed the team to keep your identity confidential—no press leaks, no casual mentions. It's completely off-limits." He paused. "But with over 3,000 people, mistakes can happen. Just be prepared."

"Fair enough," Nina said, her tone more resolved. "You've done all you can, and that's what matters." She took a steadying breath before adding, "Whatever happens, I'm ready."

Shifting gears, she smiled faintly. "So, for Monaco, I guess that means I'll be in one of the boys' garages? Lando's or Oscar's?"

Zak laughed. "We'll decide closer to the time. But you're definitely wearing the cap this year."

Nina groaned dramatically. "Oh no, not the McLaren cap. Papaya doesn't suit me at all."

Zak laughed harder. "That's not true—it suits you better than anyone else."

"Mmm," she murmured, her lips curving into a faint smile. "Alright, I'll wear it—but only if I can bring friends. You know, to keep me company."

"Friends?" Zak asked, amusement in his voice. "Who do you have in mind?"

"Mila, of course," Nina said quickly. "And maybe a friend I met in London. I promise, no chaos."

Zak chuckled knowingly. "Mila and no chaos? That's ambitious."

"She's not that bad!" Nina protested, laughing.

"Fine," Zak said with mock reluctance. "If bringing them gets you to show up, I'm all for it." He paused, his tone softening. "And Nina, about Arthur—your dad might not be thrilled right now, but he loves you. Even when he's tough, it's because he wants the best for you. Trust me, I know him."

Zak's voice lowered slightly, his words carrying a rare tenderness. "Just take care of yourself, alright? And if it helps, always trust your heart. It'll guide you to where you need to be."

Nina couldn't help but feel there was something deeper in his words, but she brushed the thought aside. Smiling softly, she replied, "I'll do my best." Then, tilting her head playfully, she added, "It's Sunday—don't you have a race?"

Zak chuckled. "Yeah, and don't you have a flight?"

Nina laughed, leaning back against the couch. "I guess we both have somewhere to be."

"Yeah," Zak said with a smile in his voice. "Bye, Nina. And good luck with your tournament."

"Thanks," she replied, standing up. "Well, good luck to you guys, too! Bring that win today. I'll be watching you on the plane."

Zak laughed. "We'll do our best. Safe travels."

"You too," Nina said before ending the call, a small smile lingering as she grabbed her suitcase and made her way out the door.

Hours later, Nina was settled into her seat on the plane, headphones on and tablet propped up in front of her. The Australian Grand Prix was in full swing, and her eyes were glued to the screen. The tension on the track was palpable as Lando and Charles battled fiercely for P1, trading quick laps and pushing their cars to the absolute limit.

She leaned closer to the screen, her heart racing with every move. "Come on, Lando," she whispered under her breath. "You can do it. Come on."

The final lap began, and the fight between the two drivers intensified. Lando was right on Charles's tail, hunting for any opening to make a move. Nina's screen was locked on Lando's cockpit view, immersing her in every moment of the battle. She watched intently as his hands worked the steering wheel, the rapid gear shifts, and the split-second decisions he made with each turn and brake. Every movement was precise, calculated, and relentless as he closed the gap.

And then it happened. In the last few corners, Lando dived down the inside with precision and nerve, overtaking Charles in a breathtaking move. He crossed the line first, winning the Australian Grand Prix.

"Yes! You did it, Lando!" Nina exclaimed, her excitement spilling over.

The cabin fell silent, heads whipping around to look at her. Nina froze, her cheeks flushing as she realized everyone was staring. She quickly pulled her headphones down and gave an awkward smile. "Uh... sorry. Hehe, sorry."

A few passengers chuckled, and some returned to their own screens, but Nina could still feel the heat of embarrassment on her face. She sank into her seat with a sheepish grin, muttering under her breath, "Well, that wasn't awkward at all."

Still, she couldn't stop the pride bubbling in her chest. Lando had done it. He'd won. And she couldn't help but feel an inexplicable, warm sense of happiness for him and for the team. Despite everything that had happened between them, she knew one thing for certain—she would always support him as he brought victories for McLaren.

Nina's eyes stayed glued to the screen as Lando stood atop the podium, champagne bottle in hand, a wide grin stretching across his face. Oscar and Charles flanked him, each wearing smiles that didn't quite mask their competitiveness. The McLaren crew erupted in cheers below, clapping and embracing one another. The sight of Zak Brown grinning ear-to-ear made her heart swell with pride.

The camera panned over the team, capturing the raw elation in their faces, and something stirred in Nina's chest. She wanted to be there. She wanted to share that joy, the camaraderie, the rush of standing on the brink of something extraordinary.

For so long, she had convinced herself to keep her distance from this world—chaotic, demanding, and full of scrutiny she wasn't prepared to face. But now, watching the celebration unfold, she realized with startling clarity—she was starting to love this sport.

She turned off her tablet, letting the realization settle as she leaned back in her seat. A tired yet contented smile crossed her lips. With her thoughts swirling, she allowed the gentle vibration of the plane to lull her into a peaceful sleep.

Upon landing in Florida, Nina's focus shifted entirely to her training. Her team—comprised of her coach, caddie, and support staff—was waiting for her at the course, ready to dive into preparations. The days that followed were grueling, filled with early mornings and endless hours on the driving range under the relentless Florida sun. Together, they analyzed every detail of her game, fine-tuning her swing, approach shots, and putting to ensure she was in peak condition.

The tournament season opened in Florida on a course that demanded precision and mental fortitude. Nina rose to the challenge, her sharp focus and consistency setting her apart from the competition. Paired with her longtime rival and friend, Nelly, and the fearless Lily, whose bold and calculated risks kept everyone on edge, the atmosphere crackled with intensity. Each round tested their limits, but Nina's poise under pressure carried her to a commanding finish, securing her first victory of the season.

From Florida, Nina traveled to Las Vegas for the high-stakes match-play event. The fast-paced format required adaptability, and the competition was fierce. Nina thrived, outmaneuvering her opponents with strategic play and unwavering focus. The excitement of the city was a stark contrast to the calm she maintained on the course, and by the final match, she claimed victory once again, solidifying her position as a force to be reckoned with.

Her final stop was Los Angeles, where the stakes were higher than ever. The course was demanding, and the field was packed with the sport's best. Nelly proved to be a formidable opponent, pushing Nina to elevate her game with every shot. In the final round, under the watchful eyes of fans and competitors, Nina delivered a brilliant performance, edging out Nelly and claiming the championship.

Throughout her tournament schedule, Nina found brief moments to follow Formula 1. She celebrated McLaren's incredible successes in Australia, China, and Bahrain, reveling in the team's strong start to the season. However, her packed itinerary meant missing the races in Suzuka and Saudi Arabia, as they clashed with her most intense tournament days.

By the end of the whirlwind weeks, Nina stood victorious, her achievements marking a new pinnacle in her career. The back-to-back wins not only showcased her talent but also her resilience and determination. As she left the Los Angeles course with her trophy in hand, she couldn't help but feel that she was exactly where she was meant to be. At the top.

The following morning, with her luggage packed and her three trophies securely tucked away, Nina boarded a flight to London. Fatigue weighed heavily on her, but it was accompanied by a deep feeling of accomplishment. After weeks of hard work and triumph, she was ready for some well-deserved rest.

London welcomed her with its signature overcast skies and lively streets. Yet, as soon as the car pulled up in front of Mila's apartment, the dreariness seemed to vanish. Before Nina could knock, the door swung open to reveal Mila's radiant smile.

"Nina!" Mila exclaimed, throwing her arms around her in a tight hug. "You're here! And with three trophies—what a superstar!"

Nina laughed, leaning into the embrace. "I needed some best friend time before I completely crash. You're stuck with me for a while."

"Stuck?" Mila teased, grabbing Nina's suitcase and stepping aside. "I've been counting the hours since you texted. Get in here, and let me pamper you."

Inside, Mila had clearly gone to great lengths. A chilled bottle of champagne waited on the counter, surrounded by an assortment of Nina's favorite treats.

Nina arched an eyebrow as she set down her bag, a smirk playing on her lips. "You never miss a chance to pop champagne, do you?"

Mila grinned, holding the bottle aloft. "What can I say? Celebrations are my specialty. And this one's for you—you earned it!"

She expertly poured two glasses and handed one to Nina. "Here's the plan: we toast your wins, change into comfy pyjamas, binge some trashy rom-coms, and avoid talking about golf or Formula 1. Deal?"

Nina chuckled, accepting the glass. "Perfect. Let's get started."

The evening unfolded in laughter and comfort. For the first time in weeks, Nina felt truly relaxed, grounded by the familiar ease of her friendship with Mila.

As they lounged on the couch, champagne in hand, Nina's gaze turned playful. "You know, Mila, why don't you invite Lu? Let's make this a proper pyjama party."

Mila's eyes lit up. "Yes! Great idea—I'll take care of it." She grabbed her phone and sent a quick message.

Before long, Luisinha arrived, wrapped in a cozy hoodie and pyjama pants, fitting seamlessly into the laid-back vibe. The trio spent the evening swapping stories, laughing at rom-com clichés, and enjoying the easy warmth of their impromptu gathering.

As the night wore on and the conversation turned to upcoming plans, Nina leaned forward with a playful glint in her eye. "Are you both free the last Sunday of May? The Monaco Grand Prix is happening, and it'd be the perfect chance for you to meet Arthur."

Mila's face lit up instantly. "Oh, Arthur! I've been waiting for this—finally, I get to meet him!"

Luisinha, her curiosity piqued, leaned forward slightly. "Who's Arthur?"

Nina opened her mouth to answer, but Mila jumped in, her tone playful. "Arthur Leclerc. He's Nina's boyfriend."

Luisinha blinked, surprise flickering across her face. "Charles Leclerc's brother? He's your boyfriend?"

Mila nodded with a playful grin. "That's right! Our Nina's on her way to becoming an official WAG!" She laughed, clearly entertained by her own joke.

Nina rolled her eyes at Mila's teasing but didn't argue. Meanwhile, Luisinha's smile faltered, and her gaze dropped to her glass. She swirled the champagne slowly, her expression growing distant.

The atmosphere changed ever so slightly, a subtle tension filling the air. Nina noticed Luisinha's hesitation, her brow furrowing as she watched her friend. While she wasn't sure what was wrong, she could sense there was more behind Luisinha's silence than met the eye.

"Lu?" Nina prompted gently, her expression concerned.

Luisinha glanced up with a small, tentative smile. "It sounds amazing, really. But... I'm not sure it's the best idea for me to be there with you guys."

Nina tilted her head, confusion crossing her face. "Why not?"

Luisinha offered a faint shrug, her smile not entirely convincing. "Well, I have a really tight schedule. I'm not sure if I could make room for a weekend in Monaco."

Mila immediately jumped in, throwing her hands up dramatically. "Oh, come oooon, Lu! I've always wanted a girl trip with you. Let's do thiiis!"

"I... I don't th—" Luisinha started, but Mila cut her off, wagging a finger at her. "Nope! You're coming, baby. I don't want to hear another word. You've been overworking yourself, and this is the perfect chance to rest. You need it. We all do."

Nina grinned, raising her glass. "Well, that settles it! You're coming to Monaco at the end of the month."

Luisinha hesitated, biting her lip as her gaze flickered between them. Finally, she asked carefully, "If Arthur's your boyfriend... it must be the Ferrari garage, right?"

"No," Nina said, tilting her head slightly, her tone light and innocent. "It's McLaren."

Chapter Text

The silence that followed was almost comical. Luisinha blinked, her brow furrowing in confusion. "McLaren?" she repeated, her voice tentative, as if she had misheard.

Mila leaned forward, her eyes wide with mock disbelief. "Wait... don't tell me they said no to the Ferrari garage?" she asked, her tone dripping with playful scandal.

Nina gave a sheepish smile. "Yeah, apparently I need to keep things... under wraps for now," she admitted, her words careful but genuine.

Luisinha tilted her head, her confusion deepening. "I'm sorry," she said hesitantly. "I don't understand what's going on. Who is 'they'? And why do you have to keep things quiet?"

Mila shot Nina a look, the kind that said everything without needing words. Her raised eyebrows and slight tilt of her head were clear: Are you going to tell her?

Nina sighed, her fingers brushing the edge of her glass. Something about Luisinha's open expression and the ease of their conversation made her feel comfortable in a way she hadn't expected. For once, the idea of sharing her secret didn't feel daunting.

"Okay," Nina began, her voice steady despite the flutter of nerves. She turned to Luisinha, who was watching her intently, still waiting for an explanation. "So... my real name isn't Nina Hart. It's Nina McLaren."

With that, Nina shared everything—her family history, her decision to use her mother's last name, and why she kept her connection to McLaren a secret. She spoke with a mix of honesty and relief, finishing with a light shrug. "Now you know everything. That's why it has to be McLaren's garage."

Luisinha leaned back in her chair, her expression a mix of surprise and understanding. "Wow, I didn't expect this. How come I've never seen you before?"

Nina tilted her head, frowning slightly. "What do you mean?"

"Well, I—" Luisinha began, but the sound of Nina's phone ringing cut her off. Nina glanced at the screen, her eyes widening. "Oh my god, sorry, I have to take this! I've been trying to reach him for hours," she said quickly, rising from her seat. "Just give me a minute."

Luisinha waved her off with a small smile. "Yeah, no problem."

Nina answered the call, her voice brightening. "Arthur! Finally!" she said as she walked away, leaving Luisinha watching her with an expression that hinted there was more she hadn't said.

Mila leaned back in her chair, letting out a dramatic sigh. "Ugh, I wish I was getting a call from a boyfriend. Must be nice to have someone all devoted and charming."

Luisinha chuckled softly, taking a sip of her drink. "It's not always as dreamy as it looks, you know. Relationships take work," she said, pausing before adding thoughtfully, "especially with someone who's so publicly exposed... like Arthur."

Mila raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Oh? Go on, Lu. Sounds like you're speaking from experience."

Luisinha shrugged, offering a small smile but keeping her response vague. "Let's just say, being in the spotlight can complicate things. It's not always as glamorous as people think."

Mila leaned in closer, her eyes gleaming with curiosity. "Well, if you ever feel like sharing, you know I'm all ears," she said with a playful grin.

Luisinha laughed lightly, but before she could respond, Nina returned to the table, her cheeks flushed and a bright smile lighting up her face. Mila immediately noticed and froze, her eyes narrowing as she took in Nina's expression.

"Huh!" Mila exclaimed, pointing at her. "What did he say to make you blush like that?"

Nina's face turned even redder as she quickly looked down, fiddling nervously with her phone. "Nothing!" she blurted, her voice pitching slightly higher than usual.

Mila smirked, leaning forward with a mischievous glint in her eyes. "Let me guess—he whispered something French. Something like... mon amour?" she teased, drawing out the words dramatically.

Nina bit her lip, trying to suppress a grin, but the heat rising to her cheeks gave her away. "More like... je t'aime," she mumbled, her voice barely audible.

Mila's jaw dropped, her eyes widening as she slapped her hand on the table. "He did not!" she exclaimed, her voice rising in disbelief and delight.

Nina groaned, covering her face with her hands as laughter bubbled out. "He did!" she admitted, her voice muffled by her palms.

Luisinha smiled warmly, watching Nina's flustered reaction. "Sounds like he really adores you," she said gently.

"You think?" Mila interjected, raising her eyebrows with mock indignation. "He said it in French, Lu. French! That's like, the universal language of love. I'm absolutely living for this!"

The three of them dissolved into a fit of giggles, their laughter echoing through the apartment as the night unfolded. Wine flowed freely, glasses clinking as they toasted to silly jokes and spontaneous moments. Music filled the air when Mila unearthed a karaoke setup, pulling Luisinha and Nina into impromptu performances. Their voices—sometimes melodious, often hilariously off-key—blended with the cheerful chaos of the evening.

They sang loudly and laughed even louder, picking songs that ranged from heartfelt ballads to ridiculous pop anthems. Mila's exaggerated dance moves had them in stitches, while Luisinha's unexpectedly sweet voice earned playful cheers. Nina's bold delivery of an old-school hit left all three of them in a heap on the couch, breathless from laughing too hard.

By the end of the night, their cheeks ached from smiling, and the wine left them blissfully tipsy. They eventually stumbled off to bed, still teasing each other about their hilariously bad singing.

A few days later, on Sunday, race day in Miami arrived. Nina and Mila stretched out on the couch, surrounded by snacks and drinks, as they tuned into the live broadcast.

"You know, Lando won his first Grand Prix here last year," Mila said casually, glancing at Nina with a knowing smile. "I think this track is special to him."

"Really? I didn't know that," Nina replied, her eyebrows raising in surprise.

"Well, now you do," Mila said with a grin as the race coverage began.

They watched with growing excitement, cheering at overtakes and gasping at tense moments. At one point, the broadcast cut to Arthur in Ferrari's garage. He stood amidst a cluster of engineers, headphones on, his focus locked on the data displayed on a monitor in front of him. The flurry of activity around him didn't break his concentration until he seemed to notice the live feed. Arthur glanced at the camera, and a faint, confident smile softened his serious expression.

Nina's heart fluttered, and her cheeks grew warm. Mila caught the moment instantly and nudged Nina with a teasing grin. "Oh, come on. That was totally for you."

"Shut up," Nina groaned, trying to hide her growing smile as she nudged Mila back.

The race ended with Lewis Hamilton taking the win, Charles Leclerc in second, and Lando Norris in third, with Oscar Piastri close behind in fourth. Both Ferrari and McLaren garages erupted in celebration, and Mila couldn't stop grinning as she cheered for the drivers.

Nina stayed with Mila for another week, enjoying a much-needed break filled with spa days, shopping, and plenty of laughter. They spent their days relaxing and pampering themselves, and their nights were just as lively—dressing up and hitting the city's best clubs, dancing until the early hours. It was the perfect escape, filled with unforgettable moments.

As Nina prepared to leave, she sent Mila a quick message: See you next week in Monaco—with Lu! Can't wait! She hit send, a smile tugging at her lips as the plane began to taxi down the runway.

On the flight back to Monaco, the soft glow of the cabin lights added a cozy ambiance. Nina slipped on her headphones and queued up the final episode of Drive to Survive Season 4. The F1 drama pulled her in, but her thoughts occasionally drifted back to her time with Mila and Luisinha—their laughter, the karaoke, and the easy comfort of their friendship.

Her smile faltered slightly as she remembered Luisinha starting to say something just before Arthur's call interrupted them. I'll have to ask her about that next time, she thought, making a mental note.

As the episode faded to black and the credits rolled, a rush of excitement surged through her, leaving her with goosebumps. This shit is so good, she thought, but the image of Lewis Hamilton sitting in the car, losing the championship, stuck with her, raw and heart-wrenching. Poor Lewis, she murmured, her chest tightening at the devastating scene.

The thought of starting Season 5 filled her with fresh anticipation. I hope it's as good as the 2021 season, she mused, eager for more of the drama and intensity.

~~~~~~

Two men leaned casually against the barrier at the Imola circuit, the distant roar of engines blending with the chatter of the paddock, adding to the electric buzz of race weekend.

"God, I miss her so much," Arthur groaned, running a hand through his hair, his voice heavy with longing.

"Man, get your shit together," said the man in the suit, a faint French accent curling around his words. His name tag read Julien Dufort. "You'll see her in a couple of days."

"Yes, I know, but it's too loooong," Arthur whined, dragging out the word dramatically. "I want to see her now."

Before Julien could respond, Lando strolled over, a cocky grin on his face.

"Look at these two folks," Lando teased with a grin. "What is this, some kind of bromance moment?"

Arthur rolled his eyes, but a grin tugged at his lips as they all laughed. Julien leaned back against the barrier, smirking. "Jealous, Norris?" he shot back, keeping the banter alive.

"Of this bromance? Not in a million years," Lando quipped, hopping onto the barrier next to Julien and Arthur, his playful grin widening. "But I'll admit, I might feel a bit left out."

"Non, non," Julien said, smirking as he glanced between them, feigning seriousness. "Arthur is missing his girlfriend." His voice dripped with mockery, and he placed a hand over his heart for dramatic effect.

Arthur sighed, his face flushing as he tried to brush it off. "Can you not?"

But Julien wasn't done. "What's her name again? Ah, oui, Ninaa," he said, drawing out her name with a theatrical lilt. "Ninaa," he repeated with a grin. "You're not excited for Monaco because of the Grand Prix, are you? It's because Ninaa is comiiing, right?"

Julien's teasing brought a round of laughter—his own loud chuckle mixing with Arthur's reluctant grin. But Lando didn't join in. The grin that had been on his face just moments ago was gone, replaced by a faintly strained expression.

Arthur groaned, rolling his eyes at Julien. "Oh, shut up, Julien," he muttered, shaking his head.

Lando stood there quietly, his silence stark against the laughter. He seemed to be staring past them now, his jaw tight. "Nina's coming to Monaco?" he asked abruptly, cutting through the moment with a tone that sounded far too casual to be genuine.

Arthur nodded. "Yeah."

Lando straightened up, his tone shifting. "Alright, I'll see you guys later. Hate to break it to you, Arthur, but Imola comes before Monaco, so no time to lose focus. I need to get back to prep—you know how it is. See you around." Without waiting for a response, he turned and walked off, heading straight for Zak.

"Nina's coming to Monaco next week?" Lando asked, his tone sharper than he intended.

Zak looked up, slightly surprised but amused. "Yeah, I thought I mentioned that?"

"You didn't," Lando replied, crossing his arms. "She's staying with us, not Ferrari, right?"

Zak raised an eyebrow, his lips twitching in amusement. "And why do you care so much, my friend?"

Lando hesitated but quickly recovered. "Obviously because she's part of our team. It wouldn't make sense for her to go to Ferrari."

Zak chuckled. "Her boyfriend is a Ferrari driver. It kind of does make sense."

Lando's jaw tightened. "And I'm her—her friend. I want her cheering for me—I mean, for us, for McLaren."

Zak chuckled, shaking his head. "Relax, Lando. She'll be with us."

Relief washed over Lando's face. "Good."

Zak added with a sly grin, "We spoke this morning. She mentioned wanting to be in Oscar's garage."

"Oscar's garage?" Lando repeated, incredulous. "No. I want her in my garage."

Zak's amusement only grew. "Oh? And why's that?"

"Because—" Lando hesitated for a moment, then straightened up. "Just find an excuse to put her in my garage if you want me to win Monaco."

Zak burst into laughter. "She'll be with friends, so don't think you'll have her all to yourself anyway."

"Whatever," Lando said firmly. "I just want her with me."

Zak grinned knowingly. "You'd better start making some moves, my dear. I'd hate to see her taken by Ferrari."

Lando smirked, confidence returning. "Don't worry, Zak. I'm already planning on it."

Zak's grin widened as an idea struck him. "Alright, here's the deal. If you win Imola, I'll make sure she's in your garage for Monaco. Deal?"

Lando's smirk grew, determination flashing in his eyes. "Deal. I'll win Imola... and Monaco."

Chapter Text

Mila's exasperated voice burst through the phone, her frustration palpable. "This fucking delay—I'm tired, Nina! We've been in this terminal for hours. I swear, we've had enough time to visit every boutique in the place twice! If I see one more overpriced neck pillow, I'm going to lose it."

In the background, Nina could hear Luisinha's soft laugh as she chimed in, "She's not lying. I think she's memorized the entire menu of the café too."

Nina laughed, shaking her head. "Calm down, baby. Think about the positive—you'll be seeing me in just a few hours."

Mila sighed dramatically. "Yeah, well, why don't we travel in jets and stuff like normal rich people? Doesn't your family have something like that?"

Nina snorted, rolling her eyes. "Yeah, only for business, not for pleasure. Believe me, if it was up to me, you'd be sipping champagne on a private jet right now."

"Ugh," Mila groaned. "I need to marry rich or something. Anyway, I'll call you when we finally board so you know when to come pick me up from the airport."

"Sounds good," Nina replied with a smile. "Just don't kill anyone in the meantime."

"No promises," Mila shot back with a laugh before hanging up.

Nina set her phone down on the nightstand and stretched, turning toward Arthur, who was lying beside her, still half-asleep. His arm lazily reached out to pull her closer.

"I want cuddles," he murmured, his voice thick with sleep.

Nina chuckled, brushing her fingers through his hair. "You've had plenty this morning. We've been in bed all day."

"Yeah, well, I still want more," he whined, nuzzling against her shoulder.

Giving in, Nina let him wrap his arms around her as they sank back into the pillows. "You know you have to go soon, right?" she said softly, her fingers tracing idle patterns on his arm.

"I know," Arthur groaned dramatically. "You've got your guests, and I've got to check in with the team. But I really don't want to."

"Life's tough," Nina teased, pressing a quick kiss to his forehead.

Reluctantly, Arthur sat up, stretching with a reluctant sigh. He kissed her one last time before pulling on his clothes. "See you later, mon amour," he said with a wink as he headed out the door.

Nina stayed in bed, scrolling aimlessly through Instagram, when a new post from the F1 account caught her eye. It was a clip from Lando's radio after his Imola win.

"Oh Yes! Yeeees! I really wanted this one! Good job, everybody! Papaya always on top!" Lando's triumphant voice rang out, followed by Zak's response.

"Well done, Lando, you were perfect," Zak said.

Then Lando's voice added, "Don't forget, a deal is a deal."

Zak's chuckle came through the radio. "Yeah, yeah."

The caption under the post read: "An idea of the deal? 🤔"

Curious, Nina opened the comments. Fans were already buzzing with speculation:

"A tattoo for Zak?!"
"It must be about that Ferrari Lando's been wanting to buy forever!"
"Maybe a private jet for winning!"

Nina frowned, tilting her head in curiosity. A deal? She had no clue what it was about, but the cryptic nature of the post and the wild theories in the comments amused her. Some guesses were so ridiculous that she couldn't help but smile.

Just as she was scrolling, a notification popped up.

Mila :  On fucking board finally. This plane better not fall apart mid-flight.

Nina snorted, instantly knowing it was Mila. She quickly typed back.

Nina : Relax, drama queen. If it does, I'll send Arthur to come rescue you in his Ferrari.

Satisfied with her reply, she let her thoughts drift for a moment before stirring from bed. Stretching lazily, she made her way to the couch in the living room and sank into its familiar comfort. The quiet filled the space as she glanced around, her mind already searching for a distraction. After a beat, she grabbed the remote. Might as well start Season 5 of Drive to Survive while waiting for them, she thought, queuing up the first episode with a grin. It was exactly what she needed.

Little did she know that what she was about to discover in the first few minutes of the episode could change everything about the much-anticipated weekend ahead.

With the opening montage rolling, Nina swiped lazily through Instagram, her attention divided between the familiar F1 faces on screen and the endless scroll of her feed.

"And our next team are on the way. It is McLaren," a cheerful female voice announced, catching Nina's attention.

The screen cut to Lando walking toward a car with a woman by his side. Nina's eyes narrowed slightly as she focused on them.

"Way too early," Lando said, rubbing his eyes dramatically.

The girl beside him laughed lightly, her back to the camera. Something about her seemed strangely recognizable, but Nina couldn't quite place her.

"Oh, you gonna drive?" the girl teased, her voice playful.

Lando smirked. "Oh, I'm driving. You're in the back, baby."

The camera shifted to the interior of the car, showing a full view from Lando's driver seat. Nina's heart skipped a beat as her eyes landed on the girl seated in the back—the same one who had been walking with him seconds ago.

What on earth... I must be tired. She's the spitting image of Lu. Nina's breath hitched, her gaze locked on the screen, her mind scrambling to make sense of what she was seeing.

As the girl turned slightly, Nina's stomach twisted. The resemblance was undeniable.

She looks so much like her. What the fuck—is this her twin or something? Nina thought, disbelief crashing over her. Her heart pounded, a mix of confusion and anxiety tightening in her chest.

The lighthearted banter between Lando and the girl filled the background, but Nina couldn't hear a word. Her mind was consumed by what she was seeing—how impossibly familiar the girl looked, how casual Lando seemed with her.

And then Lando's voice cut through the fog in her head like a sharp blade.

"I've got a girlfriend, Luisa,"

Luisa? Nina froze, the words echoing in her mind.

Oh my fucking god. It IS Lu.

Her stomach dropped, and a wave of shock coursed through her. What girlfriend? she thought, her mind spiraling. Luisa? Girlfriend?

She sat there, completely stunned, her brain struggling to process the revelation. Confusion and disbelief swirled within her, making it nearly impossible to focus on anything else. The scene on the screen continued to play, but Nina's world felt like it had ground to a halt as she tried to piece things together.

Fragments of past conversations suddenly flooded her mind. She remembered Luisinha casually mentioning that her ex used to play DJ sets, and the memory of Lando's impromptu DJ session in his apartment in Woking clicked into place.

Then there was the moment when Luisinha had asked, How come I've never seen you before? At the time, Nina had brushed it off, but now the meaning behind the question felt glaringly obvious. Luisinha hadn't been making small talk—she'd been genuinely confused, likely thinking about all the times she'd been in the McLaren paddock with Lando without ever seeing Nina. It made sense—Nina had only attended races as a child and hadn't returned until last year at Silverstone, carefully maintaining her disguise as simply Nina Hart.

The realization hit her like a punch to the gut. Pieces of the puzzle were falling into place, each one deepening her shock and unease. How am I going to deal with this? she thought, her mind racing. Did I seriously invite Lu to watch her ex's race?

Her stomach churned as another thought hit her. Oh my god. And what about Lando?

He didn't know she was friends with Luisinha—he couldn't have. But Luisinha knew about Nina's connection to McLaren. So why didn't she say anything? Was she trying to avoid an awkward conversation? Did she think I already knew? Or maybe she wanted to tell us but didn't know how? She probably only accepted the invite to be polite because Mila and Nina wouldn't stop insisting.

The questions swirled in her head, leaving her completely overwhelmed. She'd promised Zak there wouldn't be any chaos this weekend, but now it felt like chaos was inevitable.

Monaco was supposed to be simple, she thought, anxiety gripping her chest. How am I supposed to face Lu? Or Lando? Especially since Zak had told her they'd be staying in Lando's garage—not Oscar's, like she'd requested.

Her fingers tightened around the remote as the weight of it all settled over her. Monaco wasn't just going to be awkward—it was shaping up to be a complete disaster.

She sank back into the couch, her gaze fixed on the screen as the episode played unnoticed in the background. Her thoughts spiraled in endless loops, leaving her restless and uneasy. Unable to shake the doubt gnawing at her, she rewound to the scene of Lando and Luisinha's interaction, clinging to the hope that she'd been mistaken. But as the moment played out again, her stomach sank. In the end, she froze the frame, her eyes locked on their expressions, searching for answers she didn't want to admit.

No doubt, it's her.  What do I fucking do now?

Chapter Text

Nina stood outside the airport, her arms crossed tightly over her chest as her foot tapped a restless rhythm against the ground. The cool air did little to settle her nerves, her thoughts as chaotic as the bustling terminal behind her. She kept her gaze fixed on the arrivals door, silently willing Mila and Luisinha to appear.

Finally, the doors slid open, and Nina spotted them. Mila strode out first, her suitcase trailing briskly behind as she scanned the crowd, while Luisinha followed with her usual graceful confidence.

Nina raised a hand to catch their attention, a small smile tugging at her lips as they headed in her direction.

The drive home was unusually quiet—far quieter than Mila typically allowed. Nina's fingers gripped the steering wheel a little too tightly, her thoughts racing as she tried to focus on the road. Mila sat in the passenger seat, scrolling through her phone, while Luisinha gazed out the window from the backseat, as calm and composed as ever.

By the time they reached Nina's apartment, the tightness in her chest still hadn't eased. She unlocked the door and motioned for Mila and Luisinha to step inside. Mila immediately dropped her bag by the couch and threw herself onto it, while Luisinha carefully placed hers in the corner, every move as composed as she was.

Mila stretched out lazily, giving Nina an exaggerated side-eye. "Alright, spill it. Did you and ton chéri have a fight or something?" she teased, tilting her head with mock curiosity.

Nina waved her hand quickly, shaking her head. "No, no, it's nothing. Sorry, I'm just... I've got a lot on my mind," she said, her voice tight as she avoided meeting Mila's gaze.

Mila studied her for a moment, clearly unconvinced, but eventually shrugged it off. "Alright, but if you're keeping something juicy from me, I better hear about it sooner or later," she teased, grabbing the remote and flipping on the TV.

"Wait—" Nina's voice faltered as the screen lit up, her stomach dropping. With everything weighing on her mind, she had completely forgotten to turn off the episode she'd been watching earlier.

The screen displayed a frozen shot of Lando and Luisinha in the car, mid-laugh.

Mila froze, her gaze snapping to the screen. Slowly, she turned to Luisinha, the remote still pointed at the TV.

"What am I watching?" she asked, her tone laced with curiosity and a hint of playful disbelief.

The room fell silent, the tension hanging heavy in the air. Mila's eyes darted between Luisinha, Nina, and the frozen screen before she finally spoke.

"Nina, why is Luisinha on your TV screen with Lando Norris?"

Luisinha let out a quiet sigh, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "Because... he's my ex-boyfriend," she said, her tone steady and matter-of-fact. "Nina was probably watching the Formula 1 series on Netflix."

Nina's chest tightened as guilt rushed in. She stepped forward, her voice filled with regret. "Lu, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean for Mila to find out this way. I only just found out myself and didn't know what to do. If I'd known, I wouldn't have asked you to come to Monaco... and definitely not to stay with McLaren."

Luisinha offered a small, reassuring smile, her tone gentle. "It's fine, really. Don't be sorry. If I didn't want to come, I wouldn't have."

Mila, still processing the revelation, crossed her arms and tilted her head. "But why didn't you tell us? I mean, this is Lando Norris we're talking about! That's... kind of a big deal."

She then glanced at Nina, her expression layered—saying nothing yet speaking volumes.

Luisinha hesitated, her gaze dropping briefly before meeting Mila's eyes. "Because I didn't want it to define me," she said softly, her voice wavering. "We broke up over two years ago because of everything—the attention, the media, the constant scrutiny. It was overwhelming, and I just couldn't handle it anymore." She paused, drawing a steady breath before continuing. "I was afraid that if I told you, you'd see me differently—as just Lando Norris's ex, not as myself. And honestly, I didn't want to relive it all—the questions, the memories. It felt easier to leave it behind."

Mila's expression softened as she stepped forward, gently placing a hand on Luisinha's shoulder. "It's okay," she said softly, her tone calm and reassuring.

Luisinha offered a faint smile at the gesture and continued, her voice steady but tinged with emotion. "I thought this might be my chance to clear the air with him. He always blamed himself for what happened, and I never told him it was okay... that it wasn't just his fault. That it just wasn't meant to be."

She paused, her eyes distant for a moment. "And maybe that's part of the reason I never fully moved on," she admitted, her tone quieter now. "There's still this... knot, this unfinished piece of us that I couldn't untangle. I thought time would fix it, but it didn't. So, maybe seeing him again—talking to him—is the only way to let it go."

Mila gave her shoulder a light squeeze, her playful nature softening into quiet reassurance. "I get that," she said gently, noticing the flicker of vulnerability in Luisinha's eyes. "Sometimes you have to go back to move forward."

Luisinha's faint smile returned, but the vulnerability remained as she nodded. "Exactly."

Nina observed the exchange in silence, her breath hitching slightly as a wave of conflicting emotions surged through her. The connection between Luisinha and Lando, though firmly in the past, seemed to linger in the air. If she hasn't fully moved on, what does that mean for this weekend? Nina wondered, the weight of it all pressing down on her.

Breaking the quiet, Luisinha cleared her throat. "I think I'll stay in the VIP area during the race," she said, her voice steady. "Less distraction and fewer eyes on me. It's just... easier."

Nina nodded, understanding but feeling a pang of awkwardness. "I have to stay in the garage, though," she admitted. "As part of the team now, that's kind of non-negotiable."

Mila, sensing the tension, quickly jumped in, her tone playful. "Okay, then! I'll stick with Lu in the VIP area. You go do your team stuff, and we'll drink for you. How's that?"

Luisinha chuckled softly, and even Nina managed a small smile at Mila's attempt to lighten the mood.

"Actually," Mila added, raising an eyebrow, "why wait for the weekend? Let's start drinking now!" She hopped off the couch and headed to the kitchen. "Lu, what's your poison? Wine? Something stronger?"

Nina couldn't help but laugh as Luisinha rolled her eyes with a grin. "Wine's fine," she said.

Mila peeked her head out from the kitchen, holding up a bottle with a flourish. "Perfect. Let's toast to complicated weekends and surviving whatever chaos Monaco throws at us!"

For the first time that evening, the tension in the room seemed to ease, and Nina let herself exhale. Whatever challenges the weekend had in store, at least they were in it together.

The next morning, sunlight streamed softly through the curtains as Nina stirred awake. She blinked a few times, the haze of sleep giving way to a reminder of what lay ahead. It was Friday—the first practice session—and Zak had made it clear she needed to be in the paddock early in the morning.

Sliding out of bed as quietly as possible, she glanced over at Mila and Luisinha, still fast asleep in the guest room. Their peaceful faces contrasted sharply with the restless thoughts that had kept her up half the night.

Nina moved quietly through the apartment, careful not to wake them. She quickly showered, dressed in casual jeans and a crisp white shirt, and tied her hair back into a sleek ponytail. Picking up the papaya McLaren cap Zak had given her, she hesitated for a moment before slipping it on. It felt unfamiliar, the bright color carrying the weight of her connection to the team and everything else that had been on her mind.

Grabbing her bag and a light jacket, she took a moment to glance at the quiet apartment. At least they'll get some extra rest, she thought. She scribbled a quick note and left it on the kitchen counter:

Gone to the paddock. See you later! – Nina

With one last glance at the sleeping girls, she slipped out of the apartment, the door clicking softly behind her.

Nina stepped into the cool morning air, her bag slung over her shoulder as she walked toward the paddock entrance. She pulled out her badge, ready to pass through security, when a blur of motion caught her attention.

Before she could react, someone darted past her, plucking the papaya cap right off her head.

"Hey!" she called out, her tone laced with annoyance. She immediately recognized the culprit as he turned around, his mischievous grin on full display.

"Good morning, Nina," Lando said casually, spinning the cap on his finger. "Hope you had a good rest from me."

Nina let out an exasperated sigh. "Give me that back, Norris," she said, her tone sharp but not entirely serious.

His grin only widened as he raised an eyebrow. "Come on, don't tell me you didn't miss me."

"Ugh, this dickhead," Nina muttered under her breath, though a reluctant smile tugged at her lips. She reached forward, snatching the cap from his hands. "No, I didn't miss you. And yes, it was absolutely the best rest I've ever had," she said with mock sweetness, slipping the cap back onto her head.

Lando chuckled, stepping aside to let her pass through the gate first.

As they walked into the paddock, Lando broke the silence, his tone unusually sincere. "By the way, congrats on your wins. That shot on the 18th hole in Florida? Absolutely incredible. You made it look so easy."

Nina blinked, surprised. "You... watched the tournament?"

He grinned, his expression somewhere between playful and sincere. "Of course. I had to cheer for my future boss, didn't I?"

She stared at him for a beat, trying to process his words. I wish I could climb into his head and see how it works, she thought. One moment he's completely uninterested—ghosting her, ignoring her texts—and the next, he's fully invested, talking about her golf achievements like he's her biggest fan. It was exhausting trying to make sense of him.

No, she decided firmly, I've already gone down this rabbit hole before. Not this time.

Shaking off her thoughts, she smirked. "You were flying in Imola, by the way. What happened? Did you drink a Red Bull or something to sprout wings?"

Lando shot her an exaggerated look of mock offense. "Please don't insult me like that. You know I'd never drink that bullshit. I was just... very motivated that day."

His words made something click in Nina's mind, and she remembered the radio conversation she'd heard after his win. "Motivated, huh?" she said, raising an eyebrow. "So, what was the deal you had with Zak?"

He froze for a moment, clearly caught off guard. "What deal?"

"You know," she continued, her tone light but curious. "After the race, on your radio. You said, 'A deal is a deal,' and Zak laughed. What was that about?"

A faint blush crept up Lando's neck, and he scratched the back of his head awkwardly. "Oh, that. It's, uh... it's just something between me and Zak. Between men, you know?"

Nina tilted her head, crossing her arms. "Between men, huh?"

"Yeah," he said quickly, his grin returning, though it didn't quite reach his eyes. "Nothing for you to worry about."

She narrowed her eyes playfully but decided to let it slide. "Alright, between men, then."

Lando let out a breath, clearly relieved, and gave her a cheeky smile. "Good. Now, don't go overthinking it, boss."

Nina rolled her eyes, her tone dry. "Oh, please don't call me that."

"I like it," Lando shot back with a smirk, leaning slightly closer. "It suits you. You've got this whole commanding presence thing going on—very intimidating."

"Intimidating?" Nina repeated, arching an eyebrow. "I think you're confusing me with Zak."

"Nope," Lando said, his grin widening. "Zak doesn't have the same charm you do. Besides..." His eyes glinted mischievously as he lowered his voice. "If you're the boss, does that mean I get to be your favorite employee?"

Nina's lips twitched as she fought back a smile, refusing to let him win. "You're going to have to try harder than that, Norris," she said, her tone light but daring.

Lando leaned in, just enough to make her pulse quicken, his playful energy almost tangible. "Oh, I can earn it," he murmured, his voice smooth and teasing. "Just give the word—I'm very good at following orders."

For a fleeting moment, his smirk softened, and something flickered in his eyes—a memory that seemed to weigh heavy. His tone shifted, quieter now, touched with something unspoken. "Although... there was one time I couldn't give you what you wanted."

Nina tilted her head, her brow furrowing in confusion. "What are you talking about?" she asked, her voice soft, curiosity mingling with surprise.

He hesitated for a moment, the teasing edge in his voice fading into something deeper, more serious. "That night... when you asked me to fuck you."

Her cheeks flushed crimson, heat rushing to her face. "Excuse me?" she blurted, her voice rising in disbelief. "I never said that. What are you even talking about, Lando? I would never—"

"—give that kind of order?" he interrupted smoothly, his smirk returning as his gaze locked with hers. "Of course, you wouldn't."

Nina froze, her breath catching as hazy fragments of that night began to surface. The warmth of his apartment, the haze of alcohol dulling her senses, and the magnetic pull she'd felt toward him all came rushing back, though the details remained blurred and fragmented. Her heart pounded as she swallowed hard, trying to steady herself. She had promised herself she'd never revisit that night—and yet, here she was, its shadow looming over her once again.

Lando's smirk deepened, his eyes flickering with a mix of amusement and something more thoughtful. "You gave me a hard time back then, you know."

The air between them grew heavier, the silence thick with unspoken tension as Nina struggled to find the right words.

Before she could speak, Lando tilted his head slightly, his voice soft yet firm, carrying a quiet resolve. "Next time," he murmured, his gaze never leaving hers, "I won't fail to follow your orders again."

He paused, his smirk returning with a hint of mischief. "No more holding back."

With that, Lando straightened up, his expression calm and self-assured, and turned away. His footsteps echoed softly against the concrete as he walked off with an easy confidence, leaving her standing there.

Nina remained rooted in place, her mind spinning as his words replayed on an endless loop. Her cheeks burned, heat flooding her face as she cringed inwardly. Did I really say that? she wondered, mentally facepalming so hard she wished she could erase the moment entirely.

Chapter Text

Nina sat tucked in a corner of the McLaren garage, her headphones snug over her ears and her body angled just enough to keep herself partially out of view of the prying cameras and journalists lurking nearby. Her eyes stayed focused intently on the screens in front of her, where data and live footage flashed by, a convenient excuse to keep her head down and her presence understated. But her concentration was disrupted by a sudden warm breath on her neck.

She jolted, turning quickly and pulling her shoulders up as a shiver ran down her spine. "Stop it, Lando! You're impossible today," she snapped, her tone sharp but with an edge of exasperated amusement.

Lando grinned, completely unapologetic. "Told you—I'm not holding back anymore," he said before sauntering off to chat with an engineer.

Throughout the practice session, he kept up his relentless teasing—fleeting glances, playful remarks, and moments that lingered just long enough to make her lose focus. She reminded him—and herself—about Arthur, her boyfriend, more times than she cared to count, but Lando didn't let up. Every smirk, each clever comment, and the way his gaze seemed to search hers—it was maddening. And yet, beneath her frustration, an unwelcome spark flickered, betraying her resolve. Nina hated how much she secretly enjoyed the game he was playing with her senses and emotions.

Midway through the session, her phone buzzed with a message from Mila. Curious, Nina glanced at the screen and opened it to find a photo of Luisinha standing on the VIP area balcony, smiling brightly with the iconic Monaco racetrack and cityscape stretching out behind her.

Mila: Something's missing here. Can you come share a glass of champagne with us for memories?

Nina smiled to herself, grateful for the distraction. She quickly excused herself, stepping away to escape the tension and intensity of the garage, relieved for a brief moment of calm.

As she left, Lando's eyes followed her, his grin tugging at the corners of his mouth as he watched her retreating figure.

Nina made her way to the VIP area, where Mila and Luisinha were waiting, champagne glasses already in hand. The moment Mila spotted her, she waved her over enthusiastically.

"There she is!" Mila exclaimed, pulling Nina into a quick hug. "You've been hiding down in the garage too long. Sit with us for a bit."

Nina laughed softly as she settled into the chair beside them. The tension from earlier melted away as their glasses clinked together, sharing a moment of easy, lighthearted camaraderie.

They chatted and caught up, Mila peppering Nina with playful questions. "So, how's it really going with the team? You're slowly getting involved now—what's it like?"

Nina leaned back with a small smile, swirling her glass. "Honestly? It's amazing. I'm learning so much, and the energy is unreal. But," she added with a chuckle, "it's draining, too. Non-stop action and so much to keep track of... and the weekend's only just begun."

Luisinha gave her a warm smile. "It sounds intense, but I'm glad you're enjoying it. It's a unique experience, for sure."

Mila grinned, her playful tone returning. "Draining, huh? Well, lucky for you, we're here to make sure you have some fun this weekend. Starting with this champagne."

Nina laughed, taking a sip from her glass, savoring the rare comfort of being with her friends. The chaos of the garage faded to a distant hum, though she knew it wouldn't stay that way for long.

A voice from behind broke the moment. "Nina, there's no time for champagne," the firm tone cut through the air.

Nina sighed, rolling her eyes as she turned around. "Let me breathe, Dad."

Harry McLaren stood with his arms crossed, his expression unwavering. "You know you need to work harder than anyone else. You're starting from scratch here."

Mila leaned forward with an apologetic smile. "Hi, UncleHarry. Sorry, we're the ones who asked her to take a quick break."

Harry's gaze softened just slightly as he nodded. "Hello, Mila. But now the break's over. Back to work, Nina."

Nina let out a resigned sigh, setting her glass down and glancing at her friends. "Sorry, girls. I've got to go. See you later, okay?"

Mila and Luisinha nodded, offering her small smiles of understanding. As Nina headed back toward the garage, frustration churned inside her. The weight of expectations pressed down on her shoulders, each step through the paddock corridor making her feel even more drained.

"So much for taking a breather," she muttered under her breath, then mimicked her father's stern tone. "'No time for champagne, Nina. You need to work harder than anyone else.'" She rolled her eyes, her voice dripping with sarcasm as she continued. "'You're starting from scratch, Nina.'"

She sighed heavily, shaking her head. "What next? Ask me to drive, maybe?" she muttered, her footsteps echoing down the corridor as her frustration simmered.

When she looked up, she stopped short. Lando was leaning casually against a door, watching her with an amused smirk. "Didn't think F1 would drive you mad this fast. Talking to yourself now?" he teased.

Nina groaned, throwing her hands up in disbelief. "Why are you everywhere I go?" she snapped, exasperated.

Lando raised an eyebrow and pushed off the door slightly, gesturing to the sign on it. "You're literally standing in front of my room."

Confused, Nina glanced at the door. Written clearly in bold letters: Lando Norris. Her face flushed. "Oh... right. Sorry. Bye," she said quickly, turning to leave.

As she turned away, Lando called after her, "Everything's alright?"

Without stopping, she waved a hand dismissively over her shoulder. "Yeah, yeah, all good."

His voice followed her, softer this time. "You're doing a good job, Nina. Keep it up."

She stopped mid-step, his words catching her off guard. Slowly, she turned to face him, a genuine smile softening her expression. "Thanks," she said, her voice quieter, warmer. "I think I needed to hear that."

Lando gave her a nod before retreating into his room. Nina stood there for a moment, his words of encouragement echoing in her mind. It felt good to have someone recognize her hard work.

With her motivation reignited, she returned to the garage, slipping her headphones back on and diving back into the team's work. As the second practice session unfolded and the night wore on, the crowd gradually thinned. But Nina stayed with the mechanics and her father, determined to push through the hours and continue honing her skills.

She hadn't checked her phone during the entire session, unaware that Mila had been messaging her all evening. By the time she finished, exhaustion weighed heavily on her, and she decided to stop by the restroom before heading out. As she glanced at her phone, the unread messages lit up her screen:

Mila: When's your next break? We miss you.
Mila: Wow, the McLaren car is a rocket ship. Are you sure you're not hyping yourselves up too much?
Mila: We're leaving, Nina. See you at home?
Mila: Lando's here, Nina!

A ripple of unease spread through her as she read that message, her thoughts immediately spiraling.

Nina's eyes darted to the next message from Mila.

Mila: They just went somewhere to talk!

Her pulse quickened as the realization hit. Lando and Luisinha? When did she send this? 20 minutes ago? She stared at the timestamp, her thoughts racing. Are they still talking? What are they talking about?

A knot formed in her stomach as she imagined the two of them together. The thought of Luisinha and Lando—laughing, reminiscing, or worse—felt like a weight pressing down on her. Nina swallowed hard, her exhaustion now mingling with a sharp, unwelcome tension she couldn't shake.

As she left the bathroom and made her way toward the VIP area, her steps felt heavy with dread. Without meaning to, she found herself once again in front of Lando Norris' room. This time, the door was wide open—and what she saw stopped her in her tracks.

Lando and Luisinha stood in the center of the room, locked in an embrace that was anything but casual. It was steeped in deep familiarity, their emotions intertwining as if they were reclaiming something lost. It felt like a reunion—two souls reconnecting after too much time apart, finding in each other what they'd been missing.

A wave of pain crashed over Nina, sharp and unrelenting. Her chest tightened, her breath hitching as she quickly turned away, unable to endure the sight. Her hand instinctively rose to her chest, clutching at her shirt as if to hold herself together. She hadn't expected to see them like this, nor had she anticipated just how deeply it would sting.

Tears threatened to blur her vision, but she blinked them away, brushing her cheeks quickly and taking a deep breath to steady herself before leaving the garage.

By the time she reached her car, the ache in her chest still hadn't subsided. Her grip on the steering wheel was tight, her knuckles white as she sat in silence, the thought of returning to the apartment swirling in her mind. The idea of being under the same roof as Luisinha after what she'd seen was unbearable. She couldn't do it. Not tonight.

Arthur was the only person she could think of.

With trembling hands, she reached for her phone and dialed his number. Holding it to her ear, she fought to keep her voice steady. "Hey... are you home?"

"Hey, love," Arthur replied warmly, his tone instantly soothing. "Yeah, I just got back to the apartment."

She hesitated, fumbling with her keys as she unlocked the car door. "Do you mind if I stay over tonight?" she asked, trying to sound casual, though the vulnerability in her voice gave her away.

"Of course you can," he said without a moment's hesitation, his voice gentle and reassuring. "You never have to ask."

As she started the engine, Arthur began listing ideas for dinner, his calm, easy tone filling the silence. Nina barely registered his words, her thoughts spiraling inward. I'm being ridiculous, she chastised herself. Yet, even as doubt gnawed at her, the sound of Arthur's voice brought her a small sense of comfort, softening the ache in her chest just enough.

When she arrived at Arthur's, Nina parked outside and stared at the steering wheel. Letting out a shaky sigh, she reached for her phone and noticed a message from Mila:

Mila: I'm at your apartment. Just call me when you're finished.

Nina's chest tightened further at the thought of Mila waiting there, unaware of what she was dealing with. Resolving to let her know about her new plans, Nina pressed the call button.

"Hey," Mila answered quickly. "Done already?"

"No, uh... not exactly," Nina said, her voice soft. "I'm at Arthur's. I'm going to sleep over here tonight... Sorry."

There was a pause on the other end before Mila let out an exaggerated groan. "Oh no, not you too!"

"What do you mean, 'not me too'?" Nina asked, her brow furrowing.

"Luisinha just called," Mila replied, her tone tinged with disbelief. "She said she's staying at Lando's tonight."

The words cut through Nina like a knife to the heart, sharp and unrelenting, leaving her breathless. For a moment, she couldn't respond, her grip tightening on the phone.

"Nina?" Mila's voice softened. "You okay?"

"Yeah," Nina lied, her voice barely above a whisper. "I'm fine. I'll... I'll talk to you tomorrow, okay?"

"Nina," Mila started, but Nina cut her off.

"Really, I'm fine," she insisted, forcing a smile she knew Mila couldn't see. "Goodnight."

Ending the call, Nina set the phone in her lap and leaned back against the seat, tilting her head toward the ceiling as she closed her eyes. The ache she'd tried to suppress returned—deeper, heavier, and impossible to ignore.

Why does it hurt so much...

Chapter Text

"P1, Lando. P1!" His race engineer's voice crackled through the radio, carrying an unmistakable note of pride. "Great job out there. The car's looking strong."

Lando grinned beneath his helmet, a rush of satisfaction surging through him. "Nice one, guys! Car feels good. Let's keep it that way tomorrow."

The roar of the crowd filtered faintly through his helmet as he guided the McLaren back toward the pit lane. Even though it was just the second practice session, the adrenaline of topping the timesheets at Monaco never failed to stir something deeper.

"Bring it in," the engineer instructed. "We'll review the data and prep for FP3 and quali. But for now, soak it in—great work."

As Lando pulled into the garage, the bright orange of the McLaren team swarmed the car, a well-oiled machine of mechanics ready to analyze every detail. He climbed out, removing his helmet and balaclava, his damp hair sticking to his forehead. A wide smile lit up his face, the kind reserved for moments like this—when everything clicked.

Zak Brown clapped him on the shoulder. "That's what I'm talking about, mate. Keep this up, and Sunday's going to look very interesting."

Lando nodded, his grin widening. "Monaco's treating us well so far. Let's not jinx it."

As the team buzzed around him, his gaze drifted to the back of the garage, where Nina stood quietly, taking in the organized chaos. Their eyes met, and she flashed him a warm smile, giving him a thumbs-up. He couldn't help but smile back, playfully returning a victory sign. She is so cute, he thought, almost without realizing it.

Shaking off the thought, Lando stayed with the team for a while, reviewing data and discussing strategies for the next day. After finishing, he headed to his room to shower and change. The cool water felt refreshing as he let the adrenaline of the day fade.

Once ready, he returned to the garage, but Nina was still deep in conversation with Harry, her father, and a few mechanics. She was focused, leaning over the data screen, her brows furrowed in concentration. He couldn't bring himself to interrupt her, not when she was so engrossed. Instead, he decided to wait for her in the VIP area.

Lando made his way upstairs to the bar and ordered a glass of milk. The bartender gave him a slightly puzzled look as he handed it over, but Lando simply smirked and took a seat. He casually settled in, watching the replay of FP2 on the bar's TV while waiting for Nina.

As he leaned back, his gaze wandered around the room, eventually landing on a familiar face. Someone who had once saved him from a potentially disastrous situation. Mila.

The moment their eyes locked, she froze, her expression a mix of surprise and uncertainty. Lando chuckled to himself and strolled over.

"Hey there," he said with an easy grin. "You're this surprised to see me?"

Mila blinked, collecting herself. "What are you doing here?" she asked, her gaze dropping to the glass in his hand. A smirk tugged at her lips. "Wait... are you drinking milk? What are you, a baby?"

Lando smirked, lifting the glass slightly. "What can I say? It's the only thing I can drink other than alcohol."

Mila raised an eyebrow. "How come you're up here relaxing while Nina's still working?"

"Yeah, she's with her father," Lando replied, his tone softening. After a moment, he added, "I think he's been a little hard on her lately. Hopefully, you're doing your job as her best friend—making sure she has some fun."

Mila grinned. "Oh, don't worry, I'm keeping tabs on her." She paused, tilting her head with a sly smile. "But the real question is, are you making sure you're not distracting her?"

Lando's lips twitched with amusement, a glint of mischief in his eyes as he leaned in slightly. "Honestly? Not even a little," he said, his tone teasing. "I might actually be making it worse—completely on purpose."

Mila shook her head with a sly smile. "You're playing with fire, man. I know someone in red who's definitely not going to be happy about this."

Lando leaned back with a shrug, his smirk unfazed. "That's the least of my concerns."

Mila glanced at Lando. "Anyways, you should go. It's getting late," she said casually.

But Lando shook his head. "No, I'll wait for her."

Mila sighed. "I really think you should g—"

She was interrupted by a familiar voice coming from behind Lando. "Nina's still working?"

Lando's eyes widened as he froze. He knew that voice—of course he knew it. Slowly, he turned around, his reaction giving him away.

"Luisa?" he said, his tone somewhere between disbelief and surprise.

Luisinha smiled warmly, stepping closer. "Hey Lan, you were amazing today."

Lando blinked, still processing her presence. "What—what are you doing here?"

Before Luisinha could answer, Mila chimed in, her tone slightly hesitant. "Nina invited us to the race."

Lando turned to Mila, eyebrows raised. "Nina?" Then, shifting his gaze back to Luisinha, he asked, "How do you know Nina?"

Luisinha smiled. "Through Mila. We met at uni, and since Mila's Nina's best friend, I ended up meeting her when she came to visit in London."

Mila added with a teasing tone, "What a small world, huh?"

Lando hesitated, staring at Luisinha as if he'd forgotten how to form words. "Luisa... I—"

Mila stepped in once more, glancing around at the few people still lingering in the VIP area. "Why don't you two talk somewhere privately? This isn't exactly the best place," she said, gesturing to their surroundings.

Luisinha nodded. "Yeah, you're right..."

Lando let out a breath, his gaze softening. "Alright. Let's go to my room."

He motioned for her to follow, and together they left the VIP area. Mila watched them go, then pulled out her phone, quickly typing out a message to someone.

Lando closed the door behind them, his expression guarded. He leaned against the wall, crossing his arms as he looked at her. "What are you really doing here, Luisa?" he asked, his voice steady but laced with curiosity.

Luisinha hesitated, her gaze dropping to the floor before meeting his. "I wanted to talk to you," she said softly.

"About what?" he pressed, his tone gentler now.

She took a deep breath, wringing her hands nervously. "About us. About how things ended."

Lando's eyebrows knit together as he watched her, waiting for her to continue.

"I know it's been long enough that I should have moved on," she admitted, her voice trembling slightly. "But the truth is, I haven't. I couldn't let go without clearing the air between us. What we had was so special—I didn't want it to be remembered as something that hurt us both."

Lando frowned, his posture softening as he straightened up. "Luisa..."

"No, let me finish," she interrupted, her voice steady now. "I know you understand why I left—the constant travel, the pressure, the spotlight. I thought I could handle it, but I couldn't, and that wasn't fair to you. What I didn't see back then was just how much it hurt you, and for that, I'm sorry."

Lando looked away, his jaw tightening. He didn't have to say anything—she already knew.

"Max told me," she said gently, her eyes searching his face. "After the breakup, he told me how much you blamed yourself. How you thought you didn't give me enough or that you weren't enough."

He exhaled deeply, his shoulders sagging slightly. "I thought I pushed you away," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

"You didn't," she said firmly. "It wasn't your fault, Lando. It never was. I wasn't ready for your world, and that's on me. But what we had—it wasn't wrong, and it wasn't a mistake. I just needed you to know that."

The room fell silent for a moment, the weight of her words hanging in the air. Lando looked at her, his expression soft but conflicted. Finally, he reached for his wrist and slid off the silver bracelet he always wore—the one she had given him as a gift.

"I've been holding onto this," he said, his voice steady but filled with emotion. "For a long time, it reminded me of you, of us, of everything I thought I did wrong. But maybe it's time I let it go now."

Luisinha's breath hitched as he held the bracelet out to her. She hesitated, then took it slowly, her fingers trembling slightly. "Lando..."

"It's okay," he said with a small, bittersweet smile. "What we had—it was real. It mattered. But I think we've both been holding onto something we need to let go of."

Tears glistened in Luisinha's eyes as she clutched the bracelet, staring at it for a moment before turning to leave. She opened the door but hesitated, standing in the doorway. Finally, she spoke, her voice trembling but resolute.

"I don't think I want to let go," she said softly, turning back to face him. "I want to try again, Lando. I feel stronger now. I feel like I can handle it this time."

Before he could respond, she stepped forward and wrapped her arms around him in a tight hug.

Lando froze, caught off guard, but after a moment, he hugged her back just as tightly. Her warmth stirred emotions he thought had faded—nostalgia for what they once had and a bittersweet ache for how it ended.

He buried his head in her shoulder, inhaling the familiar scent of her perfume. It was soft and delicate, a blend of jasmine and vanilla, just as he remembered. It carried him back to late-night drives, quiet moments shared away from the spotlight, and the way she used to rest her head against his chest.

"I missed you, Lan," she whispered, her voice trembling slightly.

"I missed you too, Luisa," he murmured, his voice muffled against her white and orange light vest.

For a fleeting moment, it was as if nothing had changed. But as the embrace lingered, Lando couldn't ignore the subtle difference—what once felt consuming now felt comforting, like a memory he had already begun to let go.

When they pulled apart, Luisinha looked up at him, her voice soft and unsure. "Can I come home with you tonight? I feel like there's so much we need to talk about after these two years."

Lando hesitated, the weight of her words settling over him. He studied her face, seeing the vulnerability and quiet longing in her expression. After a moment, he nodded. "Yeah. Let's go."

Lando left the paddock quietly, Luisinha following close behind, careful to avoid lingering team members, the media, and especially Nina—unaware that she had already seen them together in his driver's room and left for Arthur's. The drive to Lando's house was mostly silent, the air heavy with unspoken thoughts. Once they arrived, he led her inside and switched on the soft, warm glow of the living room lights.

"You know the house," he said, gesturing toward the couch. "Make yourself comfortable. I'll grab us something to drink."

Luisinha sat down, her hands tightly clasped in her lap as she glanced around. The space felt unchanged—the same familiar scent lingered, the DJ set stood in its usual spot, the helmet collection had grown with new additions, the couch looked just as she remembered, and even the slippers still sat by the door. The only difference was the missing photo from the desert, which had once held pride of place on the shelf.

When Lando returned, he handed her a glass of water and sat down across from her. For a moment, neither of them spoke, the quiet punctuated only by the faint hum of the fridge in the background.

Finally, Luisinha broke the silence. "I followed your races," she said softly, her voice a mix of pride and nostalgia. "You've improved so much. How's your new teammate? I remember things were always fun with Danny."

Lando smiled, leaning back in his chair. "Yeah, I'm working with Oscar now. He's very different from Danny. They're both Aussies, but that's about where the similarities end. Danny was all jokes and chaos, always keeping things light. Oscar's quieter, more focused, but insanely talented. He's great to work with—really collaborative."

Luisinha nodded with a warm smile. "Sounds like you've got a good dynamic."

"And what about you?" Lando asked, his tone curious. "I saw you in a Rabanne campaign recently. Balancing that with uni must be crazy."

She laughed lightly, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. "It's tough, yeah, but I love what I'm doing. Uni, campaigns, everything—it's a lot to juggle, but I've gotten used to it. It's rewarding in its own way."

Lando smiled softly. "I'm glad to hear that."

There was a pause, a weight in the air as if they both knew what the next question would be. Finally, Luisinha broke the silence, her voice softer now. "So do you... have someone?"

Lando hesitated, his gaze dropping to the glass in his hand. He traced its edge absently, searching for the right words. After a long moment, he looked up at her, his voice low and steady. "Luisa... you know how much you mean to me. You were my first love, and you'll always be someone very special to me. What we shared—it was everything, and it meant the world to me."

He paused, exhaling slowly, the weight of his words pressing on him. "But... I can't keep holding on to it anymore."

Luisinha's expression faltered, her earlier determination to hold on to their past slowly unraveling.

Lando's gaze dropped to his glass, his fingers absently tracing its edge as he continued. "After we broke up," he said, his voice quieter now, "as Max probably told you, I couldn't really turn the page. I was afraid—afraid of falling in love again, of not being... enough. Of failing someone else the way I felt I failed you."

Luisinha's chest tightened at his words, guilt and understanding washing over her in equal measure.

"But lately..." Lando's voice wavered slightly, and he hesitated before continuing. "Lately i've started to feel something again—something I haven't felt in a long time. There's someone I just can't get out of my head."

Her lips parted slightly, but no words came. She stilled, her breath hitching for a moment before she managed a soft smile. "That's good, Lando. You deserve to be happy."

Lando let out a short laugh, shaking his head. "Well, I'm not happy yet," he admitted, his voice carrying a trace of frustration and regret. After a brief pause, he added, "I didn't say I'm with her. It's just... complicated right now. I was a coward—I didn't act when I should have because I was scared."

He sighed deeply, his gaze dropping for a moment. "And now, she's with someone else."

Lando looked back at Luisinha, his expression determined. "But I'm fighting for her. I don't want to give up... not like I did with you."

Luisinha leaned back slightly, her heart heavy but steady. She searched his face, the sincerity in his words unmistakable. After a long pause, she nodded. "Then don't give up, Lando," she said softly, her tone carrying both sadness and a quiet acceptance. "If she's the one you want, fight for her."

Her words lingered in the air, and for the first time, Lando saw a flicker of peace in her expression—a sign that she, too, was letting go of what they once had.

"I will," he said firmly, his voice unwavering. "I can't let fear stop me again."

Luisinha smiled faintly, though her eyes shimmered with unshed tears. "Good," she said, her voice wavering slightly. "You deserve to be happy. She'd be lucky to have you, Lando."

He reached out and gave her hand a gentle squeeze. "Thank you, Luisa. That means a lot."

For a moment, they sat in silence, the quiet between them no longer heavy but soothing, like the final chapter of a story gently coming to a close.

As the conversation picked up again, they began to laugh, reminiscing about old memories and sharing light-hearted stories. Despite everything, their bond remained strong—no longer as lovers, but as friends who deeply cared for each other. The weight of their past was replaced by an understanding that they would always support one another, no matter what.

Eventually, Lando glanced at the clock and stretched. "I should get to bed soon—early start tomorrow," he said with a small smile. "The guest room's ready for you."

Luisinha paused briefly before nodding. "Thanks."

"I'll grab some blankets," he said, rising to his feet.

As he walked her to the guest room, they exchanged a few more quiet words, the air between them lighter than it had been all night.

"Goodnight, Luisa," Lando said, his tone warm.

"Goodnight, Lan," she replied softly, watching him retreat down the hall before stepping into the room.

As she settled into the guest bed, a faint smile lingered on her face. They weren't the same as they once were, but this—this friendship, this connection—felt right. It was the closure they both needed and the start of something new.

Chapter Text

It was qualifying day in Monaco, and the last practice session had just wrapped up with promising results for McLaren. The atmosphere in the paddock was buzzing with anticipation, but Nina felt weighed down, her chest tight with unspoken emotions. She hadn't had time to catch up with Mila or Luisinha, who were probably lounging in the VIP area, sipping champagne and gossiping about whatever had unfolded with Lando last night.

Ugh, I expected this to be a tough weekend, but not this tough, she thought with a sigh.

She removed her headphones and headed toward the fridge for an energy drink, hoping it would give her the boost she needed to push through the day. But as she approached, she spotted Lando standing by the fridge, casually chatting with one of the mechanics. The mechanic grabbed a can and moved aside, and Nina immediately turned on her heel, desperate to avoid Lando and whatever tension might come with him.

She hadn't even taken two steps when someone caught her arm.

"Wait a minute," a familiar voice demanded, firm and unyielding.

She froze, her stomach twisting. She didn't need to turn around to know who it was—she'd recognize that voice anywhere.

"Not in the mood, Norris," she said sharply, keeping her back to him. "Just let me go."

Lando's grip didn't loosen, and his voice took on a frustrated edge. "Funny, because I'm the one who shouldn't be in the mood, Nina."

Reluctantly, she turned to face him. His expression was stormy, his jaw tight with tension. Without another word, he took her wrist and led her toward his driver's room. The door closed behind them with a sharp click, and he turned to her, his eyes blazing with intensity.

"How long are you going to test my limits, Nina?" he demanded, his voice low but simmering with anger. "Is this funny to you? Are you enjoying the show?"

"Please," Nina shot back, folding her arms defensively. "Stop being cryptic. I don't know what you're trying to say."

"Oh, you don't?" Lando stepped closer, his presence overwhelming. "After begging me to fuck you, now you invite my ex to my race? What the fuck is wrong with you?"

Her eyes widened, and a flicker of anger ignited within her. "First of all, don't bring up that night ever again. I wasn't myself, and honestly, I probably would've wanted to sleep with anyone in that state," she said, her tone cold and cutting. "And second, I didn't know she was your ex until two days ago when she showed up in Monaco, okay? I don't go around dropping 'Lando Norris' into every damn conversation with my friends. So don't flatter yourself—you're not that special."

Lando's fists curled at his sides as he took a step closer, his gaze burning into hers. "I'm doing everything I can to be fair to you—to protect you from making a mistake or having regrets! But you... you're the one who's not being fair to me!"

For a moment, silence filled the space between them, his words lingering in the air. Then, his anger wavered, giving way to something softer, more vulnerable.

"Luisa wants to get back together," he said quietly, the weight of the confession settling heavy between them. His eyes stayed on hers, the vulnerability behind them unmistakable.

Nina's chest tightened, and she looked away, unwilling to let him see the flicker of something unguarded in her eyes. "Well, good for you," she said, her voice carefully neutral. "You don't need to tell me. There's nothing going on between us, so it doesn't matter."

"Don't you dare say there's nothing going on between us," Lando said, now only centimeters away. He raised a hand, gesturing between them. "This—whatever this is—it doesn't feel like 'nothing' to me."

"Well, I'm sorry to break it to you, Lando, but you're the only one who thinks it's something," Nina replied, her tone growing colder. "Let me remind you—I have someone in my life. Someone who actually loves me."

A heavy silence followed, and Lando's lips twisted into a bitter smile. "Oh... and do you love him?"

The question caught her off guard. Of course, I love Arthur, she thought instinctively. But the words felt empty, as if they weren't hers to claim, clashing with the quiet truth her heart was trying to whisper, lingering fragile and wrong, like a lie she wasn't ready to voice.

When she turned her head to avoid his gaze, Lando moved swiftly. "Look at me," he said, his voice softer now, almost pleading. His hand gently but firmly tilted her chin, guiding her to face him.

"Tell me you love him, Nina," he said, his voice breaking slightly. "Say it, and I'll stop everything."

Her heart raced, threatening to burst. His eyes—those piercing green-blue eyes—held a raw burn she couldn't escape. She wanted to speak, to say something that would end this, but no words came. She stayed silent.

Lando exhaled deeply, running a hand through his hair, the tension bleeding through his every movement. "I don't know what to do anymore, Nina," he said, his voice quiet and strained. "I told you I'd follow whatever you wanted me to do."

He placed a hand on the door, leaning in slightly. "So tell me, Nina. What do you want me to do?"

The weight of his words broke through the defenses she had clung to for so long. The emotions she had buried rose to the surface, too powerful to push down anymore.

"Don't go back with Lu," she said, her voice trembling but firm. The truth, bare and undeniable, hung heavily in the moment between them.

Lando closed his eyes, lowering his forehead to hers. His breath was unsteady, and when he spoke, his voice was a mix of hope and desperation. "I know you want this, Nina. And I want it too. So please... please just leave him. Leave Arthur."

His plea resonated, heartfelt and exposed, pulling her closer to the edge she'd fought so hard to resist.

Tears brimmed in Nina's eyes as her voice broke. "I care about him, Lando. I don't want to hurt him."

Lando's jaw clenched, his frustration clear, but his voice softened, quivering with emotion. "But you're hurting me instead."

Her breath hitched as she looked up, meeting his gaze. The intensity in his beautiful eyes made her heart sink, her own emotions spilling over.

She lifted a shaking hand, about to reach for his face, when a sudden knock at the door shattered the moment.

"Lando! It's time for quali. Let's go, mate," a voice called from the other side.

Nina quickly lowered her arm, the fragile connection between them breaking in an instant.

"I... I have to go," Lando murmured, his voice barely above a whisper as he stepped back. His eyes lingered on hers for a moment before he brushed past her, opened the door, and left the room, leaving Nina alone with a heart weighed down and emotions swirling in the silence he left behind.

She stood still for a few seconds after he left, her thoughts drifting back to everything that had just happened. The weight of his words, his gaze, his plea—it all stayed with her, along with the faint trace of his scent, following her as she finally stepped out of the room. Shaking her head, she pushed it aside and refocused. It was time to get back to the weekend at hand.

Qualifying ended with Lando securing pole position, an exciting result, especially on the narrow Monaco circuit, where starting at the front is everything. Nina couldn't deny how proud she felt, though she quickly shoved the thought away as she made her way to the VIP area.

There, she joined Luisinha and Mila, who were already chatting animatedly about the session. They talked about the qualifying highlights for a while before Mila, with a teasing smile, turned to Luisinha.

"So," Mila said with a sly look, "are you joining us tonight, or are you staying at Lando's again?"

At the mention of Lando, Nina's chest tightened, but she forced herself to stay composed.

Luisinha chuckled lightly. "Oh no, I'm with you guys for the rest of the week."

Mila raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing on her lips. "Oh, really? I thought you two would be back together by now. The way he looked at you yesterday... I was sure it'd happen by Sunday."

Luisinha laughed again, shaking her head. "He's already moved on. I was the only one still stuck in the past."

Mila's smile softened. "Oh, I'm sorry to hear that. I just thought... well, you did spend the night with him."

Luisinha shrugged. "Yeah, but not in the way you're thinking. We just talked, like the old days. He went to bed early. He told me he's interested in someone... someone who's already taken. I felt so sorry for him."

Mila glanced at Nina with a knowing smirk before turning back to Luisinha. "Did he say who it was? Must be someone amazing if he's still hung up on her and she's with someone else."

Luisinha shook her head. "No, we didn't get into details. We talked more about what happened between us, and honestly, I'm glad we did. It helped me let go. I feel lighter now."

Nina's mind raced at Luisinha's words. This man... He'd already told her he wasn't getting back with her. But then it hit her: He just wanted me to say it—to admit that I didn't want him to go back to her.

She bit her lip, trying to steady the emotions churning inside her. Yet, despite everything, a small smile tugged at her lips as one thought settled in her mind: He's not getting back with her.

Chapter Text

Nina's gaze drifted to the clock on her nightstand. 4:04 a.m. The glowing numbers taunted her. She sighed heavily, rolling onto her back and pulling the duvet tighter around her. "Ugh, please," she whispered into the silence, her voice tinged with desperation. "Just let me sleep." But her mind, relentless and cruel, refused to quiet. Instead, it replayed those fifteen agonizing minutes with Lando in his driver's room over and over again.

His eyes—filled with pain. His voice—tight with frustration. His face—a reflection of emotions she couldn't bear to see. Every part of him radiated anguish, and every part of her knew she was the cause.

Seeing Lando hurt had been like a jolt to her soul, an ache that pierced deeper than guilt. In that moment, she understood how much he truly mattered to her, how much of her heart he already held. The pain she'd caused him forced her to confront the truth she'd been avoiding for so long: she cared for him more than she had ever allowed herself to admit.

Her chest tightened, and she pressed a trembling hand to her heart, as if to still its frantic rhythm. She had buried the truth beneath layers of denial, convincing herself it wasn't there. But now it was undeniable, clawing its way to the surface and demanding to be faced. I can't keep doing this. I can't keep pretending it was Arthur. It never was. It's always been Lando—right from the start.

The thought settled over her like a storm, heavy and unrelenting. Deep down, I've always known.

Her breath hitched as the weight of her realization pressed down on her. He deserves better than this—better than my tangled lies and hesitation. They both do.

A groan escaped her lips as she grabbed her pillow and buried her face into it, muffling the frustrated cry that tore from her. Her feet thrashed against the bed in a futile attempt to shake off the turmoil roiling inside her. If I don't do something, I'll hurt them both. I'll ruin everything.

Finally, she tossed the pillow aside and stared up at the ceiling as the first light of dawn filtered through her curtains. Her heart pounded, steady now, each beat echoing with resolve. I have to talk to Arthur after the race. I have to.

The thought sent a shiver through her, but there was no avoiding it anymore. No more running, no more hiding. It was time to confront the truth—and face the consequences of her choices.

Now, race day had arrived.

Nina leaned against the wall of the bustling garage, her body weighed down by exhaustion. She hadn't slept a single minute the night before. The restless hours had stretched endlessly, leaving her drained and barely able to function. Her mind was still tangled with the same questions and doubts. Now, surrounded by the frenetic rhythm of race preparations, there was no time or space for reflection. Mechanics moved with seamless precision, engineers shouted commands over the hum of machinery, and the air pulsed with an almost suffocating tension.

She turned to one of the race engineers, who was intently studying the data on his tablet. "Is it always this frantic on race day?" she asked, her voice a mix of curiosity and fatigue.

The engineer glanced up, a faint smile breaking the intensity of his expression. "It's Monaco," he said, his tone carrying a note of pride. "It's always frantic here. The most prestigious circuit on the calendar—it comes with the territory."

Nina nodded, absorbing his words as her eyes roamed the garage. Though burdened by fatigue, she found herself drawn into the rhythm of it all. Her tired body moved almost instinctively—handing over small tools, helping shift equipment, or stepping aside as the crew rushed past. The chaos, which might have felt overwhelming, instead gave her an unexpected boost, as if the electric energy of the day pulsed through her veins, filling her with a newfound sense of focus and purpose.

Throughout the pre-race activities, her interactions with Lando were fleeting yet charged. He would squeeze her shoulder in passing or let his hand brush hers as they both focused on the engineer's instructions. He never said a word to her directly, but each subtle touch carried a quiet significance, a silent reassurance amid the frenzy.

Running on fumes, she reached for yet another can of Monster Energy, McLaren's sponsor, in a desperate bid to stay awake. She had been relying on the drink for hours, but just as her fingers brushed the can, a hand darted in and snatched it away. Startled, she looked up to see Lando standing there, a playful glint in his eyes mixed with a hint of hesitation.

"How many of these have you had today?" he asked, eyebrows raised in concern.

Nina blinked at him, the question catching her off guard. "Too many," she admitted with a shrug. "I've lost count."

"You're not drinking this," he said firmly. Without waiting for a response, he walked over and placed the can on a nearby shelf, out of her reach. "Too much of it will mess with your heart," he added, his tone unwavering.

She let out a hollow laugh, the corners of her mouth twitching. "My heart's already a mess, anyway."

Lando's expression softened as he stepped closer. "Nina," he said gently, "stop overthinking."

She drew in a shaky breath, her voice wavering. "I want to do the right thing for you, Lando." She hesitated, her gaze dropping. "Seeing you like that yesterday... I just... I couldn't bear it."

His expression grew tense, a flicker of vulnerability flashing across his face as he reached for her hand. He squeezed it gently, his thumb gliding over her skin. "Nina," he said softly, his voice steady yet filled with quiet insistence.

She kept her head down, her gaze fixed on the floor.

"Nina, it's okay," he said calmly.

She shook her head, her voice cracking. "No, it's not okay. I'm horrible, Lando."

His grip on her hand tightened slightly, his tone firm yet soothing. "Don't say that," he murmured, his free hand brushing her arm in a comforting gesture. "We all lose our way sometimes, Nina. That doesn't make you horrible. Please, be kinder to yourself."

Slowly, hesitantly, she raised her head, her weary eyes finally meeting his. The emotions she had tried so hard to suppress spilled over, raw and unguarded.

Lando held her gaze, unwavering, his voice calm and reassuring. "Whatever you decide to do, Nina, I'll be here. And i'll be okay with it."

Her breath hitched, and she nodded slowly, her fingers tightening slightly in his. "I'm going to talk to Arthur after the race," she said, her voice soft but determined. "I need to... settle things with him. It's not fair to anyone like this."

For a moment, neither of them spoke. The hum of the garage, the distant voices, the faint roar of engines warming up—it all faded into the background as she finally said, her voice trembling. "Will you wait for me?"

Lando's expression softened even further, his eyes glimmering with quiet understanding and patience. "Nina..." he began, pausing to exhale a breath he hadn't realized he was holding.

"I'll wait," he said, his voice sweet and sincere, his thumb gently tracing circles over her knuckles. "As long as it takes, I'll wait."

Relief spread through her chest, mingled with an ache she couldn't name. She nodded, but before she could respond, the sharp voice of a race engineer cut through the air, calling Lando's name.

He glanced over his shoulder, then back at her, unwilling to leave. "I have to go," he said.

"I know," she replied, her voice barely audible.

As he started to step away, he paused, turning back to her with a thoughtful expression. "Nina... whatever happens, just be honest with yourself, okay?"

She let out a soft, breathy chuckle, a flicker of warmth breaking through her exhaustion. "You sound exactly like something Zak would say." she said, a faint smile playing on her lips.

Lando's lips quirked upward in a small grin, his eyes holding a hint of amusement. "Maybe he's rubbing off on me. Spending too much time in those strategy meetings."

She shook her head, her smile lingering despite the heaviness in her chest. "Let's just hope you don't start quoting him word for word."

Lando laughed quietly, the sound brief but genuine, before the race engineer's voice called him again, more urgent this time.

"I really have to go," he said, his gaze lingering on her for a beat longer. "We'll talk after the race, yeah?"

"Yeah," she replied softly, her hand brushing against her other arm as if to steady herself.

He gave her a quick nod, then turned and disappeared into the organized chaos of the garage. Nina stood there for a moment, staring at the empty space where he'd just been. Her heart was still racing, a mix of anticipation and dread surging through her.

She took a deep breath, trying to calm her nerves. The weight of what she had to do after the race loomed heavy, but for the first time, everything felt clear. She knew exactly what her heart wanted.

Later, she stood on the starting grid alongside her father, Zak, and Lando's dad, Adam Norris. It was her first time meeting Adam, and his calm, composed demeanor instantly put her at ease.

As Lando approached to prepare for the race, Nina caught his eye and managed a soft, "Good luck."

He paused for the briefest moment, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "Thanks," he said, his voice low and warm, before heading toward his car.

The race itself was a masterclass in tension. Nina stood in the garage, her heart pounding with every lap as she watched the cars weave through Monaco's unforgiving streets. The team held their breath with every corner, every daring overtake, and every precisely executed pit stop.

Everything fell perfectly into place, and when Lando crossed the finish line in first place, the garage erupted in jubilant cheers. Nina's hands flew to her mouth as a wave of relief and pride surged through her. The victory was monumental. Not only had Lando won the Monaco Grand Prix, but he had done so with undeniable brilliance.

This win meant the world to Lando. Monaco wasn't just another circuit—it was his second home after Silverstone. The achievement held deep personal significance, solidifying his legacy in the storied history of one of racing's most iconic tracks.

The podium was equally thrilling, with Charles Leclerc and Lewis Hamilton finishing second and third, respectively. Both Ferrari drivers had pushed hard, keeping the race competitive until the very end. It was a moment that reflected the very best of Formula 1.

The celebration spilled into parc fermé, where the team gathered to welcome their triumphant driver. Nina hesitated, lingering at the edge of the crowd. She wasn't sure if she belonged there, if she should step into this moment. But Zak nudged her gently, his tone soft yet firm. "Go on, Nina."

Taking a deep breath, she stepped forward.

Lando climbed out of the car, raising his hand in triumph as the crowd erupted in cheers. He jumped down, his excitement radiating with every step. Pulling off his helmet, he made his way to Charles and Lewis, offering them firm handshakes and exchanging a few respectful words.

Afterward, he turned to his team, his grin widening as he stepped into their embrace. One by one, he hugged them, the shared joy reflecting the hard work that had led to this victory. His energy was infectious, his triumph undeniable, though his eyes continued to scan the crowd, searching for something—or someone.

When his gaze landed on Nina, surprise flickered across his face, quickly replaced by a brilliant smile that lit up his features. His eyes shone with exhilaration and warmth, sending her pulse racing. Without hesitation, he walked toward her, pulling her into a tight, lingering hug.

"I'm happy you're here," he murmured, his voice filled with gratitude.

The world seemed to fade around them, leaving only the charged energy of the moment and the strength of his arms around her. Nina held onto him, pride swelling in her chest and a deep sense of belonging settling over her.

When they broke apart, Lando stepped back, his eyes still locked on hers, the spark in them unmistakable. With a nod and a fleeting grin, he turned back to the whirlwind of post-race protocol: weighing in, removing his gear, and speaking with the press.

From the sidelines, Nina watched him, her heart still pounding as the warmth of his touch stayed with her.

Meanwhile, on a balcony overlooking the parc fermé, Mila and Luisinha observed the celebrations unfolding below. Their attention alternated between the live view and the TV broadcast playing on a screen nearby. The cameras zoomed in on Lando's every handshake and hug, capturing the dynamic atmosphere of the team's victory.

With the commotion all around, Luisinha leaned closer to Mila, her tone unusually serious. "Mila, can I ask you something?"

"Sure," Mila replied, her gaze flickering between the broadcast and the crowd below.

"When Lando talked about being interested in someone... do you think it's Nina?"

Mila hesitated, her thoughts swirling as she reflected on recent moments in her mind. Her gaze drifted back to the screen, where the broadcast replayed Lando's hug with Nina, highlighting the warmth in his expression. Letting out a soft breath, she said, "Probably, yes."

Luisinha nodded slowly, her expression thoughtful. "I see. Well, I'm not going to lie—they're cute together."

Mila managed a faint smile. "I think so too."

But as she spoke, something on the screen drew her attention, making her tilt her head in curiosity. The broadcast lingered on Nina's face as she stepped away after breaking her hug with Lando. Then, the shot shifted deliberately to Arthur Leclerc, standing rigidly among the Ferrari team on the opposite side of the parc fermé. His gaze was locked in Nina's direction, his expression taut with tension and something Mila couldn't quite place—jealousy, perhaps, or even hurt. It felt deliberate, as though the broadcast was subtly fueling speculation, crafting a story.

What truly froze Mila, though, wasn't the implied drama of a potential love triangle. It was the caption that flashed beneath Nina's image:

Nina Alexandra McLaren

Heir of the McLaren Foundation & Arthur Leclerc's Partner

The words were bold and stark, laying bare what Nina had fought so hard to keep hidden. Mila's eyes widened, her heart racing as the truth sank in—her best friend's closely guarded secret had been exposed to the world.

Luisinha glanced at Mila, catching her stunned expression. "What's wrong?" she asked, her voice tinged with concern.

Mila's grip on the balcony rail tightened, her mind racing. No matter what came next, she knew one thing for certain: Nina's life was about to be turned upside down, and Mila had to be ready to stand by her side—no matter what.

Chapter Text

The strains of "God Save the King" echoed across the Circuit de Monaco, a triumphant melody as Lando Norris stood atop the podium. The Union Jack waved proudly above him, the champagne bottle in his hand cool and weighty—a symbol of his dream realized: victory at the Monaco Grand Prix.

He let his gaze drift over the crowd, searching for the faces that mattered most. He saw his team, their cheers loud and unrestrained, and his family, beaming with pride. Then his eyes found Nina. Standing near the back, her radiant smile froze as their gazes met. For that brief moment, everything felt absolutely perfect.

After the podium celebrations, Lando navigated the media pen, answering a flurry of questions with an unshakable grin. When the final microphone was lowered, he made his way back to McLaren hospitality, where the air buzzed with laughter and joy.

His parents were waiting for him, their pride unmistakable. His mom pulled him into a warm embrace, her smile glowing as she planted a playful kiss on his neck.

"You smelly boy, I love you," she teased, brushing his arms affectionately. "Well done—you've made so many people happy today."

His dad stepped in next, his voice steady and filled with emotion. "We're so proud of you, son. We love you so much."

Lando deepened the hug, resting his chin briefly on his mom's shoulder. "Thanks, Mum. Thanks, Dad. I love you both."

As his mom stepped back, wiping away a happy tear, Zak Brown approached with Harry, Claire, and Sofia McLaren following close behind, all wearing proud, matching smiles.

"Phenomenal drive, Lando!" Zak said, clapping him on the shoulder with a grin. "You had everyone on the edge of their seats."

Harry nodded, his voice warm and steady. "Couldn't have asked for better. You've made the entire team proud."

Before Lando could respond, Sofia chimed in with a teasing grin. "And here I thought you only knew how to drive a golf cart! Who'd have guessed you could actually win Monaco?"

Laughter rippled through the group, Sofia's playful jab lightening the mood. Lando rolled his eyes with a smirk. "Careful, Sofia. I might just take you for a spin next time and show you how it's really done."

Sofia shot back with a mischievous grin. "I'd love that! Dad's terrible at spins—I bet I'd be better than him."

The group burst into even louder laughter, the atmosphere alive with joy and a sense of togetherness.

"Thanks, everyone," Lando said, his voice a mix of relief and gratitude. "It feels good to bring it home."

As his gaze swept the room, searching for Nina among the group, Zak's phone buzzed in his pocket. He glanced at the screen, his expression tightening slightly before he stepped aside to take the call.

"Fred, what's up?" Zak asked, his tone calm, though the slight furrow of his brow hinted at unease. Fred would never call unless it was urgent.

Lando, standing nearby, glanced at Zak. He noticed how his expression shifted, tension creeping in as the call continued.

Zak hung up abruptly, turning back to the group. "Harry, we need to go," he said quickly.

Harry frowned in confusion. "Go where?"

"To the Ferrari hospitality," Zak replied, his tone clipped.

Claire raised an eyebrow. "Ferrari hospitality? Why?"

Hearing the exchange, Lando's curiosity sharpened. He stepped closer, his concern evident. "What's going on?"

Zak's gaze flickered to Lando and Claire, hesitating before he finally said, "It's about Nina."

Lando's heart sank at the mention of her name. His thoughts immediately jumped to what Nina had told him earlier—that she was going to talk to Arthur after the race. Anxiety tightened in his chest as he pressed, "What about Nina?"

Zak shook his head, his tone final. "I'll explain later. We need to go now." Without another word, Zak and Harry left with hurried steps, their tension unmistakable.

Lando stood frozen, his chest tight with worry. "What's happening, love?" his mum asked gently, turning to him.

"I don't know, Mum," he replied, his voice barely above a whisper. "I don't know."

He rubbed a hand across his face, trying to steady himself, but then he spotted Mila and Luisinha in the corner of the hospitality. Without hesitation, he excused himself and made his way toward them.

The moment Mila saw him, her face lit up with recognition, but there was urgency in her tone. "Lando, have you seen Nina?"

Lando frowned, shaking his head. "I was about to ask you the same thing. I haven't. Why? What's going on? What do you know?"

Mila didn't waste a second. She quickly pulled out her phone, tapped the screen, and held it out to him. "It's everywhere," she said, her voice taut with concern.

The F1 live broadcast clip began, showing the hug between Lando and Nina before cutting to Arthur, his expression tense and unmistakably fixed on Nina. Finally, the caption appeared beneath Nina's face: her full name, followed by Heir of the McLaren Foundation & Arthur Leclerc's Partner.

Lando's stomach dropped as he stared at the screen, his breath catching in his throat. Panic flickered in his eyes, his mind racing to process what he was seeing.

"It's all over the internet," Mila said grimly, her voice heavy with concern. "Do you have any clue who might have leaked her name?"

Lando shook his head, his tone sharp with frustration. "No... I have no idea. I never expected it to come out like this." He gestured toward the phone, his irritation building. "And the way the camera cut from Nina and me to Arthur... this is a nightmare."

Mila frowned as she scrolled through the comments on her phone. "It's not just the video," she said grimly. "The comments are blowing up too. Listen to this: 'Is Nina secretly playing both sides? McLaren and Ferrari—what a scandal!'"

Her expression darkened as she continued reading. "'Arthur's face says it all—poor guy.' And this one: 'A McLaren heir dating a Ferrari driver? That's gotta make team meetings awkward.'"

Lando leaned in closer, his jaw tightening. "What else are they saying?"

Mila hesitated before continuing. "'Why did the cameras focus on her for so long? Looks like F1's stirring up drama on purpose.' And here's another: 'Nina's a McLaren. What's she doing with a Ferrari driver? Talk about betrayal.'"

Lando's stomach churned as he processed the comments, his hands clenching into fists. "This is ridiculous," he muttered. "They're twisting everything into a story."

Mila nodded, her eyes still scanning the screen. "It's like they're turning this into a reality show. People are already taking sides—'Team Lando' versus 'Team Arthur.' And it gets worse. Someone actually wrote, 'Is McLaren using this to distract from their car upgrades?' And this one: 'Ferrari should be worried about sabotage with a McLaren heir so close to their team.' The conspiracy theories are insane. It's a mess, Lando. A complete mess."

Luisinha placed a gentle hand on his arm. "It's going to be okay," she said softly.

Lando shook his head, his voice filled with frustration. "How? How is this going to be okay when everyone's making this into something it's not?"

Luisinha hesitated, her hand slipping away. "I'm just trying to help," she murmured, unsure of what else to say.

Realizing the sharpness in his tone, Lando exhaled deeply, dragging a hand down his face. "I'm sorry, Luisa," he said softly, his voice low.

She gave him a small nod, her hand slipping from his arm as he turned his attention back to the phone, dread sinking deeper into his chest. "This is bad," he muttered, his thoughts racing. Does Nina know about this?

Lando instinctively pulled up Nina's number and pressed call, but the moment he did, he remembered—she'd blocked him months ago. Frustration coursed through him as he let out a sharp sigh, dragging a hand through his hair.

He stared at the screen for a moment, the failed call only confirming what he already knew. Lowering the phone, he turned to Mila.

"Mila," he said urgently, his voice tight. "Can you call Nina for me, please?"

Mila nodded without hesitation, pulling out her phone and quickly finding Nina's contact. "I've got it," she said, pressing the call button.

The phone rang, the sound cutting through the tense silence around them, but no one picked up. Mila frowned, lowering the phone slightly. "It's ringing," she said, glancing at Lando. "But no answer."

Lando's jaw tightened,rippling through him as his mind spun with possibilities. What can i do? Desperate, he opened Instagram and decided to try calling her through the app.

The moment his feed loaded, his chest constricted even further. Posts featuring Nina, Arthur, and himself flooded the screen, their captions brimming with speculation about their connection. Ignoring the chaos, he quickly navigated to his conversation with Nina.

His heart faltered as her last message lingered on the screen: Can I ask you something about last night? It had been three months since she'd sent it. Though he'd read it, he never replied. Now, the weight of his silence pressed down on him, heavier than ever. He exhaled sharply, regret mixing with a sinking sense of foreboding as he stared at the screen.

Just as he was about to call her, a voice broke through his thoughts.

"Nina! Hey, Nina, are you alright?" Claire's concerned tone cut through the air. Lando's head snapped up, searching for the source.

He spotted her instantly. Nina had just entered the building, her face pale as a ghost. Her movements were hurried, almost robotic, as if she were unaware of her surroundings. Claire was rushing after her, but Nina didn't look at her—didn't look at anyone. Without a word, she disappeared into the guest room and slammed the door behind her.

Lando froze, his heart pounding. What was going on? He quickly made his way toward Claire, with Mila and Luisinha close behind, both visibly alarmed by the commotion. They gathered around Claire, whose worry was written all over her face.

"Is she alright?" Mila asked, her voice laced with concern.

"I don't know," Claire admitted, her expression tense. "She didn't say a word—just walked right past me and shut herself in."

Lando didn't wait any longer. Driven by instinct, he approached the guest room and knocked on the door.

Knock Knock

"Nina?" he called, his voice soft but urgent. No response.

Knock Knock

"Nina, it's Lando. Please, open the door." He knocked again, louder this time, but still no answer.

His heart raced. "Nina, I'm coming in."

Pushing the door open, he stepped inside—and stopped dead in his tracks. The sight before him turned his blood to ice.

Nina lay on the floor, pale and motionless, her chest rising and falling with faint, shallow breaths.

"NINA!" Lando shouted, dropping to his knees beside her. Panic flooded him as he gently cradled her head, her lifeless pallor sending a wave of fear through him.

Claire burst into the room, Mila, Luisinha and Sofia right on her heels, her voice trembling. "Nina! Is she okay?"

"She's unconscious!" Lando's voice broke with urgency. "We need help—right now!"

Claire immediately pulled out her radio. "This is Claire in hospitality. We have a medical emergency. Send the team immediately!"

Within moments, two members of the on-site medical team arrived, carrying a first aid kit and other emergency equipment. They quickly assessed Nina's condition, checking her pulse and breathing.

"She's breathing, but it's shallow," one of them said calmly. "Let's get her stabilized here before deciding if she needs to go to the medical center."

Lando stepped back, his fists clenched tightly at his sides, the helplessness gnawing at him with every passing second. Claire placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder, her voice steady but filled with concern. "They know what they're doing, Lando. She's in good hands."

Still, his eyes stayed fixed on Nina, her pale face etched into his mind. The icy fear in his chest refused to ease, his jaw tightening as he struggled to contain the rising anxiety that threatened to overwhelm him.

Behind him, Mila's trembling voice broke the silence, thick with emotion. Tears streamed down her face as she sobbed, "Why is she like this? What happened to her?"

One of the medic glanced up, his tone composed but serious. "It's severe exhaustion, compounded by high stress and likely extreme shock. Her body has essentially shut down to protect itself. We're stabilizing her, but she'll need immediate and extended rest."

Mila wiped at her tears, worry etched into every feature. "Rest? That's all? Are you sure she's going to be okay?"

"She'll be fine," the medic assured, carefully monitoring Nina's vitals. "But she's pushed herself too far. This can't be ignored. She needs to step back and recover."

Lando's hands curled into tight fists at his sides, guilt gnawing at him as he wondered if he'd unknowingly contributed to her collapse. His gaze rested on Nina's closed eyes, silently willing them to open.

"Will she wake up soon?" he asked, his voice rough but controlled.

"She should regain consciousness shortly," the medic replied. "But she'll need to avoid any further strain. We'll move her somewhere quiet where she can rest."

Without hesitation, Lando stepped forward. "Use my room," he said firmly, his tone unwavering despite the tension tightening his face. The room stilled, everyone turning to him in surprise. "It's close, and it's quiet. She'll be comfortable there."

The medic nodded. "That would work."

Mila lingered beside Lando, her fingers still trembling as she wiped her eyes. "That was kind of you," she said softly.

Lando shrugged. "I care about her more than you think."

Mila gave him a small, knowing smile.

The sound of hurried footsteps broke the tense silence. Harry and Zak entered the room, their faces lined with worry as they quickly took in the scene.

Zak's sharp gaze immediately fell on the medics crouched beside Nina. "What's going on?" he demanded, his tone clipped and urgent. When his eyes landed on Nina's still form, his expression darkened with concern. "Nina—what happened to her?"

Harry's face turned ashen as he stepped forward, his voice trembling. "Nina? Is she okay? What's wrong?" His worry was palpable, his protective instincts overriding everything else.

The medic glanced up briefly, calmly explaining the situation before returning to their work. Harry knelt beside Nina, his hand shaking as he gently brushed a strand of hair from her face. His voice faltered as he murmured, "Exhaustion? Stress? Shock?"

He turned to Zak, guilt clouding his expression. His voice was barely a whisper as he added, "Did I... is this my fault?"

Zak didn't respond right away, his gaze shifting between Harry and Nina's motionless form. His features were heavy, burdened with unspoken emotions. The weight of the moment hung over the room, tense and unrelenting, leaving everyone to wonder what he might be holding back.

As the medics began to carefully move Nina, the silence grew, each person caught in their own storm of thoughts and fears. Lando stood rooted to the spot, his fists still clenched, watching her fragile figure being taken away. He swallowed hard, a single thought anchoring him amidst the chaos.

Whatever had brought Nina to this breaking point, he vowed silently, his chest tightening with determination, that she wouldn't face it alone again.

Chapter Text

Champagne sprayed in all directions, drenching the victors on the podium as cheers erupted from the crowd. Nina stood with Zak, her parents, her sister, and Lando Norris's parents, all beaming with pride at McLaren's triumph. A familiar thrill bubbled in her chest, the excitement of the moment nearly infectious.

But something felt off. The cameras seemed to linger on her, their lenses fixed on her for just a moment too long, as if she were more than just another spectator in the crowd. Nina noticed the attention but quickly dismissed it, unwilling to let it distract her from the moment.

As the podium celebrations wrapped up and the crowd began to disperse, her thoughts shifted to Arthur. She hadn't seen him since she'd gone to his place two days ago, and a growing sense of urgency gnawed at her. She needed to talk to him—about Lando. 

Seeking a moment of solitude, she retreated to the VIP area, craving a quiet space to gather her thoughts and rest her weary body. After a short reprieve that felt all too fleeting, she set off toward Ferrari's hospitality. Her steps were calm and purposeful as she moved through the bustling paddock, careful to avoid drawing unnecessary attention.

When she reached the entrance, she heard a sharp voice behind her.

"Hey, hey, hey, wait!"

Turning around, Nina saw Fred Vasseur, Ferrari's team principal, hurrying toward her.

"I just wanted to see Arthur," Nina said quickly, hoping to avoid a lecture.

Fred's expression was serious, his usual warmth replaced by a stern concern. "Arthur isn't here at the moment, and this may not be the best time to see him, Nina. Are you unaware of the current situation?"

Nina's stomach tightened. "What situation?" she asked, her confusion evident.

Fred hesitated for a moment, his gaze darting around nervously, scanning for anyone who might overhear. "You need to go back to McLaren's hospitality. Now. And..." He paused, as if trying to find the right words, but didn't have the chance to finish before a small group of journalists swarmed toward them, cameras flashing and microphones thrust forward.

"Nina, we've been looking for you! This revelation has taken everyone by surprise," a journalist exclaimed, leaning in.

"What made you reveal your real last name and your connection to Bruce McLaren?"

"How is this affecting your relationship with Arthur Leclerc?"

"Isn't it risky for Ferrari and McLaren to be linked through a relationship?"

"How will you balance your golfing career with your responsibilities as a McLaren?"

"Is Hart your mother's last name?"

The questions came fast, one after another, merging into a chaotic storm that left Nina rooted to the spot. Her heart pounded as Fred's warning echoed in her mind, the weight of the situation crashing over her. The golden afternoon sun bathed the scene in an almost surreal glow, but its heat felt oppressive, magnifying the unyielding press of journalists crowding around her. Their overlapping voices blurred together, swelling into an unbearable roar.

Nina's breaths quickened, her chest tightening as she struggled to keep up with the rapid-fire questions. She stumbled back slightly, her wide, panicked eyes locking onto Fred, silently begging him to take control. She felt utterly exposed, trapped under the relentless flashes of cameras and the prying eyes of the crowd.

Fred stepped forward without hesitation. "No comment," he said firmly, positioning himself between Nina and the reporters. His tone was sharp, leaving no room for argument. "Please respect her privacy."

The reporters, undeterred, pushed closer. "Fred, does this mean Ferrari acknowledges the connection with McLaren?" one of them called out.

"Are you confirming her relationship with Arthur Leclerc?" another pressed, thrusting a microphone forward.

Fred raised a hand, his expression hard. "I said no comment." Lowering his voice, he turned slightly toward Nina and murmured, "We need to get inside. Now."

He placed a protective hand on her shoulder, steering her firmly toward the Ferrari hospitality building. The reporters followed, cameras clicking and voices shouting questions, until the doors finally closed behind them. The muffled sound of the crowd outside gave way to an uneasy silence inside, but Nina's heart continued to race, the weight of their scrutiny still pressing heavily on her.

Fred didn't waste a second. He pulled out his phone and dialed Zak Brown as they walked briskly to a private room.

"Zak," Fred said, his tone calm but firm. "We have a big problem."

Nina's heart sank. Her secret was out, and the fallout had already begun. Everything was about to change.

"How did they find out?" she asked, her voice trembling.

Fred sighed deeply as he ended the call. "It was in your name—broadcasted when the camera caught you." He opened the door and stepped aside, motioning for Nina to enter.

She moved sluggishly, her face pale and eyes shadowed from a sleepless night. Her hands trembled at her sides, and her unsteady breaths hinted at the panic bubbling beneath the surface.

"Take a seat," Fred said gently, though the worry in his tone was evident.

Nina sank into the chair, pressing her hands to her temples in a futile attempt to ease the pounding in her head. The tension in the room felt oppressive, the silence heavy as Fred exhaled deeply.

"We'll wait for Zak and your father," he said, his voice quieter now. "In the meantime, I'll call Arthur."

Nina gave a faint nod, closing her eyes for a moment. The weight of the situation bore down on her, suffocating, as if there was no escape. Calm felt like a distant memory.

When Arthur entered the room, he didn't meet her gaze. His usual warmth was replaced by a cold detachment that made her chest tighten. He walked to the window, standing with his back partially turned, the distance between them deliberate and cutting. It felt like a rejection, and it stung deeply, amplifying her already vulnerable state.

Moments later, Zak and her father arrived, their expressions marked by concern and tension. The room, already heavy with unease, seemed to shrink further.

"Nina," her father said softly, his tone calm yet strained as his eyes found hers.

She glanced at him briefly, her fingers tightening around her bag strap until her knuckles turned white. Her posture slumped, her breaths uneven, a visible sign of her fatigue and mounting stress.

Zak broke the silence first. "Alright, Fred. How bad is it?"

Fred shifted his stance, his expression grim. "It's everywhere. The footage made it clear—Nina Alexandra McLaren, heir of the McLaren Foundation..." He paused, glancing at Arthur before adding, "and Arthur Leclerc's partner. Can't be more obvious. We're both tied to this now."

Nina's eyes widened slightly at Fred's words, her mind racing, but her body remained motionless, too drained to react.

Fred hesitated before continuing. "And I think someone in McLaren asked the F1 broadcast to frame it that way. F1 doesn't broadcast baseless rumors."

Zak frowned, his tone clipped. "What's on your mind, Fred?"

Fred's voice dropped. "Only someone in a high position could make this happen. Not just anyone." He glanced meaningfully at Harry.

Harry shifted uncomfortably, his jaw tightening. Then he closed his eyes briefly, exhaling sharply before speaking. "I did it. I told them to use her full name and title—heir of the McLaren Foundation."

Nina's breath caught in her throat as the words sank in, a jarring collision of disbelief and betrayal. Her stomach twisted painfully, a heavy knot forming like lead in her core. A relentless buzzing filled her ears, and an unbearable weight bore down on her chest, leaving her gasping for air.

Zak's expression darkened. "What on earth were you thinking?"

Harry raised a hand to interject but couldn't before Zak pressed on. "We agreed to keep this low, to protect her. And now this?"

Harry's voice was sharp. "Until when, Zak? At some point, people need to know about Nina. About my daughter."

Fred stepped in, his tone cold. "Sure, but not like this, Harry. This isn't just your problem—it's all of ours. You can't make decisions like this without consulting us."

Zak nodded, his voice rising. "Fred's right. You've thrown her into the spotlight, and now she has to deal with the fallout. Did you think about that? About what this would do to her?"

Harry's tone hardened. "She needs to learn how to deal with this, even if it's the hard way. That's how she'll grow up."

Zak shook his head, his voice incredulous. "This isn't just about McLaren's legacy anymore. Now she's facing not only the pressure of her name but also the Tifosi, Arthur's fans—and maybe even Lando's. Do you realize how massive this is?"

Harry frowned, his confusion evident. "Lando's?"

Arthur, who had been silent until now, finally spoke, his tone flat. "Maybe she doesn't have to deal with it at all."

Zak frowned. "What do you mean, kid?"

Arthur turned around fully, his expression detached and emotionless. "We'll just break up. Then there's no more Ferrari in the equation, right?"

Fred's face twisted in disbelief. "What are you saying, Arthur?"

Arthur's tone didn't waver as he repeated himself. "I'm saying I want to break up with Nina."

The room plunged into stunned silence. Nina's stomach twisted as her fragile composure threatened to crumble. Her mind raced, but outwardly she remained still, staring at Arthur with a face drained of color. The disbelief and hurt that had lingered from the start now felt heavier, amplified by her mounting exhaustion.

Her father's concerned gaze rested on her, but his words didn't register. The room blurred around her—the voices, the arguments, the tension—all melting into an incomprehensible haze. Her hands shook as she clutched her chest, her breaths coming in shallow, ragged gasps. Her body teetered on the edge, on high alert, as if ready to shut down at any moment.

Without a word, Nina stood abruptly, the chair scraping loudly against the floor, cutting through the tense silence. She didn't glance at anyone as she stumbled toward the door, her legs shaky beneath her.

"Wait! Nina, where are you going?" her father called out, his voice sounding distant, as if from miles away.

She stumbled outside, the brightness of the late afternoon sun striking her like a blow, its golden rays casting long shadows across the paddock. The chaotic sounds around her faded into a disorienting hum. Her chest constricted as her heartbeat thundered with each labored breath. Moving forward felt like an impossible effort, the weight of the moment dragging her down.

Amid the haze, her phone vibrated in her bag—a faint, persistent buzz that barely registered in her muddled mind. The sound was distant, like an itch she couldn't reach, but she had no energy to act on it or even think clearly. All she could focus on was keeping her feet moving and her overwhelming need to escape.

She tried to focus, to ground herself, but her vision wavered and narrowed into a suffocating tunnel as she desperately searched for the McLaren hospitality building.

"Where is it?" she whispered to herself, barely audible. Spotting the familiar logo in the distance, she pushed forward, her steps faltering.

She finally reached the building, her trembling hand barely managing to push the door open. Ignoring the startled glances from those inside, she made her way to the first room she could find. Her fingers fumbled with the handle, shaking uncontrollably, before she finally slipped inside. Somewhere far behind her, she faintly heard her name being called, but the sound barely registered.

The door clicked shut behind her, and her legs gave out. She collapsed to the floor, her body crumpling as her vision faded to darkness. The last sensation was the cold surface against her cheek before everything disappeared into nothingness.

Is this what people called karma?

Chapter Text

The room in McLaren hospitality was oppressively quiet, broken only by the soft movements of the medics tending to Nina as she lay on Lando's bed. Her complexion had regained a hint of color, her breaths steadier now but still shallow, as though her body was slowly beginning to recover.

Zak stood near the door alongside Harry McLaren, both men tense, their concern etched deeply into their faces. Mila, Claire, Sofia, and Luisinha hovered nearby, their worry evident in every glance they exchanged and the quiet murmurs between them.

Lando kept his distance, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed tightly. His eyes flickered anxiously between Nina and the medics, his chest tightening with every second that passed. The weight of helplessness pressed down on him—an unfamiliar and unwelcome feeling he couldn't shake.

Finally, the lead medic spoke, breaking the oppressive silence. "She's stable," he said, addressing the group. "She'll wake up soon, but she needs rest and a completely stress-free environment."

Zak let out a sharp breath, running a hand through his hair. "Alright, Claire, I'll leave the rest to you," he said, his voice calm but resolute. Then he turned to Harry, his gaze intent, before shifting to Lando.

"You," he said, pointing to Harry. Then, his eyes locked on Lando. "And you. We need to talk. Now."

Lando's head jerked up, his brows furrowing. "Me too?" he asked, his voice tinged with surprise.

Zak gave a clipped nod. "Yes. You too. Let's go."

Harry followed without question, but Lando hesitated. His gaze lingered on Nina, uncertainty gnawing at him. Had she talked to Arthur? Did she know about the leak, the rumors—everything? He closed his eyes, wishing it were just a bad dream. But it wasn't—it was reality. With a heavy sigh, he opened his eyes, pushed off the wall, and trailed after Zak and Harry, his chest heavy with unease.

The door clicked shut behind them, cutting off the muffled sounds of the hospitality area. Zak leaned against his desk, his arms crossed, his expression hard. Harry stood by the window, his shoulders stiff, while Lando hovered near the door, shifting restlessly.

Zak was the first to speak, his tone taut with frustration. "So, what the fuck do we do now?"

Harry sighed heavily, rubbing his forehead. "We clean up the shit. Like always."

Zak's eyes narrowed, his voice cold and biting. "No, Harry, this isn't like always. This is a shitstorm you deliberately dragged us into. And I'm still trying to figure out why the hell you didn't bother telling me about your plan beforehand."

Harry crossed his arms, his tone defensive. "Because you wouldn't have agreed."

"Of course I wouldn't have agreed!" Zak snapped, his voice rising. "And now look where we are. The media is eating this up. We don't even have Ferrari's support on this anymore."

Harry sighed again, his tone flat. "True, but on the bright side, if they break up, that's one less problem to deal with."

Zak's eyes widened in disbelief. "Oh, you think the rumors will magically disappear if they break up?" His voice dripped with sarcasm. "You've just turned her into the center of the biggest scandal of the season. Breaking up isn't going to fix anything."

Harry shook his head, his voice hardening. "What do you want me to say, Zak? She's my daughter, and I'm not going to let her keep hiding who she is. The world deserves to know—"

Zak cut him off, his tone crisp. "The world doesn't need to know anything, Harry. This isn't about making a statement—it's about Nina."

Harry stayed silent, his jaw tightening as guilt flickered across his face.

Zak's voice softened but carried an edge. "You asked me if it was your fault Nina ended up like this. But I think you already know the answer to that, Harry."

Harry let out a heavy breath, his hand running over his face before settling on his head, his expression tight with concern.

Zak exhaled sharply, pinching the bridge of his nose as he fought to rein in his own emotions. "Sit down, both of you," he said firmly, gesturing toward the chairs in the room. "We need to go over everything."

Harry dropped heavily into a chair, one elbow resting on the armrest as he stared at the floor. Lando remained standing, his arms crossed tightly over his chest, frustration and confusion etched into every line of his posture.

"Zak—what the hell is going on?" Lando demanded, his voice edged with impatience.

Zak glanced between the two men, his expression weary but unwavering. "Sit down, Lando. I'll explain," he said, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Lando sank heavily into a chair, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, his hands clasped tightly. Zak, who had been leaning against his desk, pulled a chair over and sat directly in front of him, rubbing his temples before he began.

"Fred called me earlier," Zak began, his tone measured. "He asked me to come to Ferrari hospitality because of what happened during the F1 broadcast. Nina's full name was shown, and the cameras focused on her during the celebrations. It went viral almost immediately."

Lando frowned, his brows pulling together. "Yeah, I saw the footage. Do you know who leaked it?"

Zak's gaze shifted to Harry, who avoided his eyes, his posture rigid. "It was Harry," Zak said bluntly. "He's the one who gave the broadcast team her full name and title."

Lando's head snapped toward Harry, his eyes wide with shock, but he stayed silent. It didn't feel right to say anything, let alone lecture him.

Harry straightened, his tone defensive. "I thought it was time people knew the truth."

You thought? Did you even tell Nina? Did she agree to this? Lando swallowed the words, keeping them to himself. Instead, he looked at Harry with a simmering anger but kept his mouth shut.

Zak broke the tense silence, his tone collected but assertive. "The situation got worse when Nina went to Ferrari hospitality to talk to Arthur. She was ambushed by journalists asking about the rumors—about her relationship with Arthur, about you, and the McLaren-Ferrari connection. Fred had to step in and get her inside."

Lando's stomach churned as he listened, his fists tightening and his leg bouncing with restless energy. "And then what?"

Zak's expression darkened, the weight of the situation evident. "Fred called us to his office, so we went. Nina and Arthur were already there."

Lando leaned forward, his voice tense and urgent, his leg bouncing faster. "What happened next?"

Zak sighed. "Fred was furious about how it all came out. He knew it was Harry who gave her name to the broadcast. The conversation got heated, and then..." Zak hesitated, his eyes shifting to Harry.

Harry broke the silence, his tone heavy. "Arthur said he wanted to break up with Nina."

Lando froze, his chest tightening. "What?" he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "Why?"

"At first, he didn't say much, but I could tell something was off during the meeting. Then, when he mentioned ending the relationship, Nina got up and walked out. None of us realized she wasn't feeling well—we just kept talking like nothing had happened."

~~~~~~

"I'm saying I want to break up with Nina," Arthur said flatly, his voice void of any emotion.

Nina shot to her feet, the chair scraping loudly against the floor, cutting through the tense silence. Without looking at anyone, she walked out of the room.

"Wait! Nina, where are you going?" Harry called after her.

"Let her go, Harry," Zak said calmly before turning to Arthur. "Now, can you explain yourself?"

Arthur's eyes lingered on the door Nina had just exited before shifting back to Zak. "What exactly do you want me to explain? I just don't want to be part of this drama anymore."

Zak remained silent, his gaze sharp, as Arthur added, "Charles was right. She's not worth it."

Harry's expression darkened, his voice low and dangerous. "Are you saying my daughter isn't worth dating?"

Fred stepped in quickly. "What Arthur means is that this situation is affecting not just Nina's life but his career as well." He paused, carefully choosing his next words. "Right after the podium, Arthur, Charles, and I spoke with one of Ferrari's major sponsors. The sponsor made it clear he's unhappy about Arthur's involvement with Nina, the McLaren heir. He feels it creates a conflict of interest, especially since McLaren is sponsored by one of his competitors. The sponsor believes this relationship is bad for Ferrari's image."

Fred's words hung in the air like a heavy cloud. Zak's jaw tightened, his eyes narrowing as he turned his attention back to Arthur.

"So, you're letting a sponsor dictate your personal life now?" Zak asked, his tone restrained but tinged with disappointment.

Arthur squared his shoulders, his voice firm. "I'm just being rational. If I want to make it in Formula 1, I have to think about my career and make the good calls."

Harry scoffed, crossing his arms. "Yeah, well, I knew you'd hurt her eventually. It was a bad idea from the start."

Zak held up a hand, shooting Harry a pointed look. "Harry, you've done enough already. Let me handle this, alright? No more jumping in." He turned back to Arthur, his gaze steady and direct. "What makes you think this would stop you from making it?"

Arthur hesitated, glancing at Fred before answering. "I don't know. Ferrari wouldn't stand by me if their sponsors don't like me."

Fred interjected, his voice level but authoritative. "Arthur, you know that's not true. You're one of the best on our team, and we're not going to stop supporting you over this nonsense."

Zak leaned forward, his gaze intent. "This isn't really about the sponsors, is it?" He paused, studying Arthur closely. "Talk to us, Arthur. What's going on? Is this about Alpine? Or is it about L—"

"It's about everything," Arthur cut in, his tone tense. He shifted in his seat, running a hand over his face as the silence in the room grew heavier. Finally, he looked at Harry, his voice steady but edged with frustration. "You said I'd hurt Nina. But have you even considered that maybe Nina's the one who hurt me, not the other way around?"

Zak glanced at Harry, his expression puzzled, before turning back to Arthur, silently urging him to go on.

Arthur's jaw tightened, his frustration evident in his tone. "I was never enough for her. If he can give her what she wants, then fine—he can have her. I'm done pretending everything's going to work out. Now that I've accepted that, it's time for me to focus on my future in Formula 1."

Harry leaned toward Zak, frowning in confusion. "What's he talking about? Did this soap opera completely short-circuit his brain or what?"

Zak, fully grasping Arthur's meaning, straightened and clapped his hands together, cutting through the tension. "Alright, that's enough drama for one day. We'll handle this tomorrow. Let's not let it overshadow the podiums, okay?"

Fred nodded, a hint of relief crossing his face. "Agreed." He paused briefly before adding, "But if Arthur doesn't want to move forward, so be it. Ferrari will step back from this for now."

Zak inclined his head, his tone calm but firm. "Fair enough. Let's give them some time to sort it out." Turning to Harry, he placed a hand on his shoulder. "Come on, let's go."

Without another word, the group left the room, the air still thick with unresolved tension.

~~~~~~

After explaining the events, Zak turned to Lando with a knowing look. "You know who he was talking about when he said someone else could have her, right?"

Lando's jaw tightened, his neck rigid with tension. He pictured the meeting, imagining Nina's reaction—her shock, her pain. "He made a scene yesterday, telling me to watch my back, and now this?" His voice was sharp, dripping with contempt. "He didn't even put up a fight. What a coward."

Harry nodded grimly. "Exactly what I thought. The moment things got a little complicated, he ran and left her to deal with this mess on her own." He paused, frowning slightly. "Wait, why did he say that to you?"

Lando turned abruptly to Harry, his voice low but tinged with frustration. "That's not the point. And no disrespect, Harry, but you're in no position to talk about this—you're a big part of the problem."

Zak raised a hand, his tone firm but measured. "Alright, enough. I'm not here to assign blame or fuel arguments. I just want to find solutions."

Harry scowled, his tone defensive. "Why is he even here, Zak? This should be between us. Why involve a driver?"

Zak didn't hesitate, his voice steady. "Because he's part of the solution."

Lando looked between the two, tension etched across his face. "Tell me what you need me to do," he said, his voice calmer now.

Zak's gaze settled on Lando, his expression serious. "Nothing stupid," he said plainly. After a brief pause, he added with weight, "Just be yourself. Do what you need to—for her. And Lando... no more drama. Not this time."

Lando stared at Zak, determination flickering in his eyes. Before he could speak, a knock at the door interrupted him. Claire stepped inside, her expression hesitant. "Nina's awake," she said softly.

Zak straightened immediately, his tone firm and decisive. "Alright, let's check on her."

As Harry began to rise, Zak quickly gestured for him to stay seated. "You stay here. Remember? Stress-free environment."

Before Zak could even turn to face Lando, he was already moving toward the door, his steps quick and determined. "I need to see her," he said, his voice calm but edged with urgency.

Chapter Text

Friday morning at the Monaco Grand Prix, the Haas Hospitality Lounge carried an air of quiet sophistication. Team members and guests moved about with purpose, sipping coffee and reviewing schedules for the busy weekend ahead. Arthur Leclerc sat back on a sleek white sofa, his posture relaxed but his thoughts restless. Across from him, Oliver Bearman cradled a steaming coffee cup, his Haas-branded polo blending seamlessly with the polished surroundings.

"Why don't you go and see her?" Oliver asked, his tone teasing but curious.

"Because I don't want her to think I'm a stalker or obsessed," Arthur replied, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Which you are," Oliver quipped with a smirk.

Arthur glared at him, though the corners of his lips twitched. "Oh, shut up, Ollie."

"You're gonna go see her anyway," Oliver said, leaning back and crossing his arms confidently.

Arthur sighed, a reluctant smile breaking through. "Now that you're an F1 driver, you've taken on all this confidence, haven't you? How's it been, by the way, with Haas?"

Oliver's grin softened as he set his coffee cup down. "It's been good, actually. The car's better than I expected, and the team's been really supportive. I'm starting to feel more at home here." He paused, his expression shifting slightly, as if debating whether to continue.

"But, you know, not everyone's had it so easy," he added, his tone more serious now. "There are rumors about Jack over at Alpine. People are saying he might get kicked out of his seat. His first season's been a disaster... I feel bad for him."

Arthur raised an eyebrow but didn't interrupt. Oliver sighed and continued, "There's also talk that you might be taking his seat after the summer break."

Arthur's smile turned mischievous. "Maybe... or maybe not."

Oliver chuckled, shaking his head. "Good luck, man. I hope you get it. You deserve to be in Formula 1. And honestly, I want to compete against you again—not in Formula 2 this time, but in the real deal, like we promised."

Arthur reached out and gave Oliver's shoulder a playful shove. "Yeah, I want that too, mate."

Oliver grinned, but then his expression turned mock-serious. "Please don't kiss me, though. I'm not into you."

Arthur burst out laughing. "Don't worry, I'm gonna kiss Nina instead."

The two laughed as Arthur stood and made his way out of the lounge, leaving Oliver to his coffee and the steady hum of the paddock.

Arthur headed toward the Paddock Club to find Nina. He searched through the crowd, scanning for her familiar face, but she wasn't there.

Just as he turned to leave, he felt a light tap on his back. He turned around and saw a girl smiling at him. Her expression was warm, playful, and a little curious. Arthur smiled back.

"Do you want me to sign something for you?" he asked, assuming she was a fan.

Her smile faltered for a moment, then shifted into something mischievous. "Yeah, wait." She rummaged through her bag and pulled out a McLaren cap.

Arthur laughed. "I can't sign that."

She raised an eyebrow, her teasing grin widening. "Okay, so would you rather sign this or my ass? Your choice."

He laughed even harder, caught off guard by her boldness. "Alright, you've got a sense of humor. But I'm not signing either of those."

The girl tilted her head, her grin widening. "Oh, I thought maybe since your girlfriend is a McLaren, you'd make an exception."

Arthur froze, his smile dimming as surprise flickered across his face. It wasn't the fact that she knew he had a girlfriend—that wasn't hard to guess. The real issue was how she knew Nina was a McLaren. His brow knitted slightly as he asked, "Who are you?"

The girl burst out laughing, clutching her sides as she doubled over. "I scared you, didn't I? Relax, it's Mila, you dummy! I finally get to meet you."

Arthur's expression softened as realization dawned. "Mila? As in Nina's best friend, Mila?"

She straightened up, still laughing, and nodded. "The one and only."

Arthur let out a breath of relief, a grin spreading across his face. "You scared the shit out of me!"

Mila chuckled, her eyes sparkling with amusement. "Nice to meet you too, Arthur."

They chatted easily, laughter slipping into their conversation, before Mila tilted her head with a playful smirk. "So, Arthur, don't you have a friend at Ferrari you could introduce me to?"

Arthur laughed, shaking his head in amusement. "You're exactly how I pictured you."

Mila raised an eyebrow, leaning in closer with a grin. "Oh, really? And what exactly did you picture?"

"Bold, cheeky, and straight to the point," Arthur teased, his grin matching hers.

Mila tapped his shoulder with mock indignation. "I'll take that as a compliment. Now, be honest—do you have a friend for me or not?"

Arthur chuckled, holding up his hands in surrender. "Alright, alright. I do, but he's not with Ferrari anymore. He's at Haas now."

Mila's eyes sparkled with mischief. "Haas, Ferrari—same vibe, right? Works for me."

Arthur burst out laughing. "Deal. I'll introduce you after the race, I promise." He glanced around, suddenly thoughtful. "By the way, do you know where Nina is? I thought she'd be here."

Mila sighed, shaking her head. "Poor thing's been working nonstop with the team. She hasn't had a single moment to catch her breath."

Arthur's brow furrowed with concern. "She's been that busy? I bet she hasn't even eaten."

Mila smirked. "Probably not. She's running on adrenaline, I guess. But don't worry, Romeo, this is your chance to swoop in and save her."

He rolled his eyes but grinned. "Alright, I'll go check on her—and maybe bring her an energy bar or something. She must be starving."

Mila chuckled, leaning back. "Yeah, go play hero. Just try not to trip over your own charm on the way."

Arthur snorted. "Come on, Mila, give me some credit. I'm a professional charmer—I don't trip, I glide."

"Sure you do," Mila said with a sly smile, rolling her eyes dramatically.

He shook his head, laughing. "Anyway, are you staying here alone? That's gotta be boring."

"Alone? Me? Not a chance," Mila said with a playful shrug. "I'm here with a friend. She just stepped away to catch up with some people. She'll be back soon."

Arthur nodded. "Good. Alright, I'll go check on Nina, but I'll pop back in to say hi when I can."

"Okay," Mila said with a wink. "Now go. Your Juliet's waiting."

Arthur laughed, turning to leave, but then paused. "Do you know which garage she's in?"

"Lando's," Mila replied casually.

Arthur's smile faltered for a brief moment, but he recovered quickly, nodding. "Got it. Thanks, Mila. See you later."

"Later, Romeo," Mila called after him with a playful glint in her eye as he walked away. He waved over his shoulder before disappearing into the crowd.

Of course it's going to be Lando's garage.

Arthur made his way toward the McLaren garage, keeping a low profile. He didn't want to attract any unnecessary attention—he just wanted to see Nina. Standing just outside the garage, he scanned the space until his eyes landed on her.

She was at her station, headphones over her ears, completely focused on the screen in front of her. From the way she concentrated, it was clear she was in her element. Arthur felt a small pang of pride at how dedicated she was—but his thoughts were interrupted when he spotted Lando.

Lando strolled up behind her slowly, a playful grin spreading across his face. Arthur watched as he stopped just behind her, leaned in close, and gently blew on the back of her neck.

Nina's shoulders instantly shot up, startled. She turned around quickly, pulling her headphones off. She said something to Lando, and he laughed, leaning in to respond with an easygoing charm. Arthur couldn't hear their words from where he was standing, but he could see the lighthearted exchange.

What the actual fuck is he doing?

When Nina turned back to her screen, a faint smile lingered on her face, her expression soft, almost amused.

Arthur's stomach twisted as his gaze fell to the energy bar in his hand. He let out a quiet sigh, turning away and walking back the way he came.

I need to trust her, he told himself, trying to push the unease away. They're just working together. That's all.

But no matter how much Arthur tried to convince himself, the lingering feeling of unease wouldn't fade. The scene he'd witnessed didn't feel like something purely professional—not the way Lando leaned in, nor the way Nina smiled afterward. It didn't look like something between just coworkers.

The rest of the day dragged by painfully slowly. When Arthur finally got home, he received a call from Nina. She asked if she could sleep over, and the request filled him with unexpected happiness. He quickly prepared dinner for her, eager to make the evening special.

When Nina arrived, she looked utterly exhausted and a little distant. Arthur tried his best to cheer her up, but no matter what he said or did, it didn't seem to lift her spirits this time. Eventually, they went to bed. When Arthur woke the next morning, Nina was already gone.

It was qualifying day—a hectic and important one for Arthur. The final practice session had gone well for Charles and Lewis, leaving Arthur with a bit of downtime before qualifying. Determined to finally give Nina the energy bar he'd been carrying around, he decided to check on her in Lando's garage.

When he got there, she wasn't in the same spot as yesterday. He approached one of the mechanics, who was sipping on a Monster energy drink, and asked, "Excuse me, do you know where Nina is?"

The mechanic hesitated, looking a little uncertain. "Uh... Lando wanted to talk to her."

Arthur's stomach dropped. Lando again. He forced himself to stay calm and asked, "Where?"

The mechanic shifted uncomfortably. "I think... they're in his room."

Arthur froze. His blood ran hot, and his heart pounded in his chest. "Did you say his room?" he asked, his voice sharp.

The mechanic looked flustered, fumbling for words. "I'm not sure though... I think so."

Arthur clenched his jaw, the anger simmering just beneath the surface. Without saying another word, he stormed out of the garage. He pulled out the energy bar, unwrapped it angrily, and bit into it as he walked away. I need to talk to her... No. I need to talk to him.

After qualifying, Arthur made his way back to Lando's garage, determined to confront him. He spotted Lando deep in conversation with Zak and Andrea Stella, McLaren's team principal. Without hesitation, Arthur strode over and interrupted.

Lando turned to him, surprised by the sudden intrusion. "If you're looking for Nina, she's in the VIP area with her friends," Lando said casually.

Arthur shook his head. "Actually, I'm looking for you. Can we talk, please?"

Lando raised an eyebrow. "I'm in the middle of a conversation right now," he replied, but the intensity in Arthur's gaze caught his attention.

Zak, sensing the tension, quickly intervened. "We'll revisit this tomorrow morning, okay?" he said, looking between the two drivers.

Lando nodded. "Alright." Zak and Andrea exchanged glances before walking away, leaving Lando and Arthur alone.

Lando crossed his arms, his expression composed but intrigued. "So? What is it?"

Arthur didn't waste a second. "I saw how you were with Nina," he said, his voice low and tight. "I don't know what you're playing at, mate, but I'm telling you to leave her alone."

Lando blinked, surprised by Arthur's directness. But instead of backing off, he held his ground. "Or what?"

Arthur's jaw tightened, momentarily thrown by Lando's resistance. "So, you're seriously messing with her?"

Lando didn't answer right away, holding Arthur's stare with a hard, defiant look, his eyes saying everything Arthur didn't want to believe.

Arthur's frustration boiled over, his hands clenching into fists at his sides as he stepped closer. "Don't play games with me, Lando. You know I respect you, but this isn't a joke."

Lando didn't flinch, his voice calm but unwavering. "I'm not playing games, Arthur. I'm just being honest with you."

Arthur's posture stiffened, his voice low and sharp. "Honest about what?" He already knew what Lando meant, but he couldn't bring himself to accept it.

Lando held his gaze, steady and unflinching. "I'm not going to lie to you, Arthur," he said, his tone controlled but intense. "I have feelings for Nina, and I'm not hiding them anymore."

Arthur stared at him, disbelief flashing into anger as his voice rose. "Feelings for Nina? Are you serious, Lando? What the hell? When did this even happen? When could you possibly have seen her enough to have feelings for her?"

Lando broke eye contact, his gaze shifting briefly as the tension hung heavy between them. "We... we had a moment," he admitted, his voice quieter now. "It was before you two started dating, and—"

"I don't want to hear it," Arthur snapped, cutting him off sharply. His tone was filled with anger and hurt as he glared at Lando, his jaw clenched. "I don't want to know anything!"

Lando squared his shoulders, his expression calm but resolute. "I need her to know how I feel," he said firmly. "I'm not running from this, Arthur. It's her choice—whether to turn me away or—"

Arthur took a step closer, his temper flaring, but there was a flash of something raw in his eyes. "Or what? She's my girlfriend, Lando! My girlfriend for god's sake... do you even get what that means?"

Lando's expression remained unchanged. "I know what that means. But feelings don't just vanish because she's with you. And I'm not going to pretend I don't care about her."

Arthur's features hardened, his voice tense and deliberate. "Caring about her doesn't give you the right to go after her. You're crossing the line here."

Lando let out a short, sarcastic laugh, his tone tight but cutting. "Crossing the line? You have no idea how much I've been holding back."

Arthur's eyes narrowed, his voice laced with disgust. "You call this holding back? Pathetic. No wonder you can't keep anyone around—you don't even know what self-respect looks like."

Lando smirked, his tone biting and aggressive. "Oh, cut the crap, Arthur. Say whatever helps you sleep at night—it won't change a damn thing. I'm not backing down, and you know it."

Before he could stop himself, Arthur grabbed Lando by the front of his race suit, his voice low and razor-sharp. "Don't fucking test me, Lando. You'll regret it if you keep pushing me."

Lando's eyes narrowed, the calm facade slipping as his hands shot up, ripping Arthur's grip off his suit. His voice was venomous as he spat, "Hey!" With a sharp shove, he pushed Arthur's hands away, straightening his suit and locking eyes with him. "Back off, Arthur. You don't get to tell me what to do—not about her, not about anything."

Arthur stared him down, his voice cold as he took a step back. "You better watch your back, Lando." he said sharply before turning and walking away, leaving Lando standing there, his expression hard to read, though a flicker of something—anger, frustration, or guilt—lingered in his eyes.

The next day was race day—Lando won the Monaco Grand Prix, and as the celebration unfolded, Arthur stood among the Ferrari team congratulating Charles and Lewis on their P2 and P3 finishes. But his attention kept drifting, pulled to the other side of the parc fermé. There, Lando was hugging Nina.

From where Arthur stood, he couldn't make out their expressions clearly, but he didn't need to. The way they stood close, the ease between them—it was enough to tell him something was going on. His muscles tensed as his thoughts spiraled. What now, Norris? Aiming for a kiss maybe?

Tension gripped his body, his shoulders taut with restrained anger. All he wanted was to march over, shove Lando away, and remind him exactly who Nina belonged to. But then his eyes caught the color on her cap—the same papaya he wore. The color that now tied her to him.

Why is she letting him in? Why is she so receptive to him? Doesn't she see the way he looks at her?

Arthur forced himself to look away, his gaze darting anywhere but in their direction. He couldn't watch anymore; the sight was unbearable. The celebration roared on around him, a whirlwind of sound and energy, but for him, the world had gone silent once again.

After the podium ceremony, Fred pulled him aside, accompanied by one of their key sponsors. Charles joined them shortly after. The sponsor wasted no time, bringing up the leak of Nina's name and the dramatic F1 broadcast shot of Arthur and Lando. Their displeasure was evident as they emphasized the need for the situation to be resolved quickly.

Fred, ever composed, reassured them with a calm and measured tone. "Everything will be brought under control," he promised. Once the sponsor left, Fred turned to Arthur, his voice assertive. "This won't affect your contracts with Ferrari. There's nothing to worry about." He gave Arthur a reassuring nod before excusing himself, mentioning he had to head to the hospitality area.

Arthur was left standing with Charles, whose expression was serious, concern etched across his face.

"It's not affecting your contracts now," Charles began cautiously, "but what about your future ones? What do you think Alpine will make of this?" He paused, lowering his voice. "You're on track to take Jack's seat in a few months, and the discussions have been going well. But this... this could complicate things."

Arthur felt his stomach tighten as the weight of the situation settled over him.

Charles met his gaze, his voice calm but direct. "I'll ask you again, Arthur—do you really think she's worth all this trouble?" He paused, choosing his words carefully. "I know you want to do the right thing. I know you care about her. But is this fair to you? To your dreams?"

With that, Charles gave him a lingering glance before walking away. "Just take some time to think about it, Arthur."

For a moment, Arthur stood frozen, his thoughts a chaotic mess. Finally, he pulled out his phone and opened Instagram, searching for the video the sponsor had mentioned. What he found was far worse than he had expected—photos of Lando and Nina were everywhere.

One showed them together on a golf course. Another was unmistakably taken at the McLaren Technology Center. A blurred photo from a restaurant caught his attention—the back of a girl he immediately recognized as Nina. She was sitting close to Lando, who was smiling at her. This had to be one of those moments he was talking about.

Then there was a shadowy photo of Lando carrying a girl in his arms, almost like a princess, as he walked toward a building. Behind him, his car was parked, and the scene was clearly set in London, with the iconic silhouette of The Shard in the background.

Is it Nina? Where was this? When was this?

Arthur's mind raced, his chest tightening. Where do I fit into all of this? Why didn't I see this coming?  Why didn't she tell me about this...whatever it is with Lando, when I asked her about him? Questions swirled through his mind, each one hitting him harder than the last.

As he scrolled further, reading the comments on one of the photos, his phone buzzed. Fred's voice came through, calm but firm. "I need you in my office. Can you come now? Nina's here." He hung up, still staring at the photo on Instagram.

Can I really trust her, or am I putting everything I've worked for at risk?

When he reached the office, anger burned in his chest. He couldn't bring himself to look at her, let alone speak. All he wanted was for the pain to stop. Before he knew it, the words escaped his lips. "I want to break up with her."

As soon as he said it, regret hit him hard. But the words were out now, and he couldn't take them back—or stop himself from going further. He hadn't given her a chance to explain, to say anything. He knew it wasn't fair, and a part of him despised himself for it. Yet, in that moment, voicing the thing that had been eating away at him seemed to lift part of the weight from his chest. The pain, though still there, began to ease.

Chapter Text

Arthur walked briskly away from the Ferrari hospitality, his chest tight and his thoughts in turmoil. The weekend had been long, demanding, and emotionally draining. He needed air—space to process everything and figure out how to move forward.

As he made his way toward the parking lot, his path brought him uncomfortably close to the McLaren hospitality. His chest tightened further as the events of the day replayed in his mind. He knew he had acted impulsively, letting anger and frustration get the better of him. Still, his emotions were too raw to think clearly, and he didn't want to risk making things worse.

He thought briefly of Nina, likely inside the McLaren building now, resting after everything. For a moment, he hesitated. Should I go see her? His heart tugged at the thought, but he quickly shook his head. No, not now. It's better this way.

As he turned the corner, a voice called out from behind him.

"Arthur! Arthur, wait! Oh my God, I've been looking for you!"

He stopped and turned around to see Mila approaching him quickly. Her face was tight with concern, her tone urgent.

"Mila?" he said, confused. "What's wrong?"

"I need to talk to you," she said breathlessly, stopping just a few feet away. Her chest rose and fell as though she'd been running.

Arthur's first thought was that she knew. Nina must have told her everything, and now Mila was here to intervene, maybe even to help. His voice hardened instinctively. "Mila, I really don't want to talk about it right now."

Mila's brows knit together in confusion. "Talk about what?"

Arthur exhaled heavily, his frustration rising. "I just need time to think, Mila. It's a mess in my head right now."

Her expression twisted further in confusion. "Arthur, I have no idea what you're talking about. I came to tell you—Nina collapsed. She passed out, and I thought you should know."

Arthur's stomach dropped, the air seeming to leave his lungs. "What?" he choked out, his voice cracking.

Mila nodded quickly. "Don't worry, she's stable now. We're just waiting for her to wake up, and I'm sure she'd want you by her side when she does."

Arthur's heart pounded, guilt tightening his chest. He muttered to himself, I'm not so sure about that. After a brief pause, he looked at Mila and asked, "Where is she?"

"She's in McLaren's hospitality," Mila said, gesturing to the building behind her. "Come on, I'll take you to her." She motioned for him to follow.

Arthur fell into step beside her, his mind racing. "What exactly happened?"

"She's exhausted," Mila said, her voice heavy with concern. "Her body couldn't handle the pressure and all the expectations. She's been pushing herself way too hard, Arthur—physically and emotionally." As she opened the door to the building, she added, "Did you see the clip from the F1 broadcast"

Arthur's irritation flared, his jaw tightening. "Yeah, I saw it," he replied curtly.

"I'm sorry about that," Mila said gently as they moved through the quiet corridor of McLaren hospitality. Her tone was soft but carried an edge of understanding. "But don't worry. I might not know exactly what's happening between you two right now, but I do know Nina cares about you."

Arthur didn't respond. Her words stirred something uneasy in him, and doubt began creeping in. Had I been wrong about this all along? The thought gnawed at him, unsettling and relentless.

Before he could dwell on it further, Mila cut into his thoughts. "We're almost there," she said, her voice breaking the silence as they rounded a corner.

They stepped into an open space lined with several doors, the quiet hum of activity filling the air. Mila pointed toward one of the rooms at the far end. "It's that one," she said, her tone soft but resolute.

They kept walking, the air thick with tension, now only a few meters from the door. A nameplate on it read Lando Norris.

Arthur let out a bitter, sarcastic laugh. Unbelievable, he thought. His room. Again.

Suddenly, a figure appeared from the corridor on their left. Arthur's steps faltered as Lando came into view, turning his head and locking eyes with Arthur and Mila.

For a moment, Lando's expression was unreadable. Then, recognition flashed across his face, and his features darkened with fury. Without hesitation, he strode forward, his steps deliberate, until he stopped directly in front of the door that was clearly everyone's destination. His arms crossed tightly over his chest, his posture rigid and unyielding. His eyes burned with rage, his entire stance radiating protective anger—territorial and uncompromising.

Arthur felt annoyance prick at him as he watched Lando position himself like a guard dog, but before he could speak, the tension between them became suffocating. Mila glanced nervously between the two, the weight of the moment pressing down on her.

"What the fuck is he doing here?" Lando demanded, his voice low and sharp, each word dripping with venom.

Mila blinked, momentarily caught off guard. "He's here to see Nina, obviously. Why else would he be here?"

"Get out," Lando snapped, his tone icy and commanding, his glare boring into Arthur like a blade.

Mila stared at him, stunned. "He's not going anywhere, Lando. What the hell is wrong with you? He's her boyfriend, even if this is McLaren hospitality!"

Lando's jaw tightened, and his gaze flicked to Mila, cold and unrelenting. "Mila," he growled, "Arthur broke up with Nina."

Mila's mouth fell open in shock. She spun to face Arthur, her voice rising with disbelief. "What? You broke up with her?"

Arthur dropped his gaze, unable to meet her eyes.

Lando stepped closer, his resentment barely contained, his voice harsh and cutting. "You don't deserve her."

Arthur's head shot up, his expression hardening. "You don't know anything about me."

Lando let out a bitter, humorless laugh, his eyes narrowing. "I know enough. You left her when she needed you the most. When her life was falling apart, you walked away. That tells me everything I need to know about you."

Arthur's fists clenched at his sides. "You are the fucking problem, Lando. If you—"

"I would never let her down like you did. No matter what, I wouldn't." Lando's voice grew louder, his anger spilling over as he closed the gap between them. His finger jabbed toward Arthur's chest. "She's like this because of you. Do you get that? It's on you."

"Stop it, you two!" Mila cut in, her voice firm as she tried to defuse the fight.

But Arthur didn't even glance at her. His voice cracked with frustration as he shouted back, "You don't fucking know what's going on in my life! You're a McLaren F1 driver—everything's smooth sailing for you. It's easy for you to sit there and talk!"

Lando's lip curled in disgust, his voice sharp and dripping with contempt. "Easy for me? Is that what you fucking think? That everything's just handed to me on a silver platter without a fight? Fuck that. I push, I claw, I bleed for what I want. But you? You're just full of excuses, trying to cover up the fact that you don't have the balls to fucking fight for her."

Their faces were mere centimeters apart now, his words hitting like a goddamn punch. "The truth is, my friend, you're a fucking coward. When shit got tough, you folded. You didn't fight, you didn't even fucking try. That's who you are."

Arthur held his ground, so close he could see hostility burning in the dark depths of Lando's pupils—the flaring nostrils, the tension in his jaw. His voice was low, trembling with restrained anger. "Lando, you don't know what the fuck you're talking about. You don't know half the story." His gaze remained unflinching. "Now get the hell out of my way. I'm going to see her, awake or not. I need to know she's okay."

Lando sneered, his fists tightening at his sides. "She's awake—and she's perfectly fine without you. So do us all a favor and leave."

Arthur's breath hitched, but his tone was firm, unwavering. "I'm going to talk to her, Lando. Whether you like it or not."

Lando leaned in, their foreheads almost touching, his body blocking the doorway, unyielding. His voice dropped to a deadly calm, each word slicing like a razor. "Over my dead body." He raised a hand, gesturing toward the exit. "Now get the fuck out of here."

Arthur's jaw tightened, frustration boiling over as he moved to push past Lando. But before he could, Lando shoved him hard with both hands against his chest, sending him stumbling backward and nearly off balance.

"I said, fuck off!" Lando roared, his voice booming down the corridor, his anger erupting like a storm.

Arthur steadied himself, his hands flexing at his sides, his entire body tense as if ready to retaliate. He took a step forward, his eyes blazing with defiance, but Lando didn't flinch. His stance was unshakable, his glare like steel. The intensity in Lando's presence was enough to freeze Arthur in place, his confidence wavering.

The commotion caught the attention of everyone in the hospitality. Conversations ceased as heads turned toward the escalating scene. Zak Brown appeared from around the corner, his expression thunderous, followed closely by Claire.

"Enough!" Zak barked, his voice sharp and commanding as he stepped between the two men, firmly pushing them apart. He turned to Lando first, his tone steady but authoritative. "I told you—no fucking drama."

Lando's neck muscles tensed, his body still rigid with fury. "Then tell him to leave," he snapped. "She needs to rest. Him being here won't help her."

Zak turned to Arthur, his tone softening slightly, though his gaze remained firm. "Arthur, I'm sorry, but this isn't the time. I just told her father the same thing. She needs peace, not this."

Arthur's shoulders sagged, the weight of guilt pressing down on him like a tidal wave. His anger dissolved into shame as he stood there, speechless. Without a word, he turned and began walking away, his head hanging low.

"Arthur!" Mila called after him, rushing to catch up. "Wait!"

As they disappeared around the corner, the tension in the open space lingered, heavy and unrelenting. Lando exhaled sharply, his chest heaving as the adrenaline coursing through him began to subside. He stared at the door, the weight of his own emotions sinking in. Slowly, he placed his hand on the handle, his heart pounding with a mix of fear and resolve. Taking a deep breath, he braced himself, then opened the door and stepped inside.

Chapter Text

Nina stirred, her eyelids fluttering open to the soft light filtering into the room. Her body felt heavy, her head throbbing slightly as if her thoughts were trying to push through a thick fog. She blinked a few times, letting her eyes adjust, and frowned at her surroundings.

The room was unfamiliar yet strangely comforting. The faint scent of cologne lingered in the air, and the soft orange and gray tones of the furniture added warmth to the space. She was certain she'd never been here before, yet there was something about the room that felt vaguely familiar.

"Nina," her mother's gentle voice drew her attention, and she turned her head slowly to see her mother sitting at her side, worry etched across her face. Her little sister, Sofia, stood nearby, her arms crossed but her expression concerned. Beside her was Luisinha, offering a small, reassuring smile.

Her mother leaned closer, brushing a strand of hair away from Nina's forehead. "Sweetheart, how are you feeling? Does your head hurt? Are you dizzy?"

Nina swallowed, her throat dry, and croaked, "I'm... okay, I think. Just... tired."

Her mother let out a relieved sigh and gently squeezed Nina's hand. "That's good. Just rest now—you gave us quite a scare." She turned to Luisinha. "Stay with her for a bit while I go let the others know she's awake." Then, turning to Sofia, she added, "Keep Tata company, okay? I'll be right back."

Luisinha and Sofia nodded quietly, settling into chairs beside the bed as their mother slipped out of the room. The silence stretched for a moment, filled only by the faint murmur of sounds from outside.

Nina stirred, her eyes fluttering open as she pushed herself upright, determined to sit straight in the bed despite the lingering heaviness in her body.

"Hey, take it easy," Luisinha said gently, placing a steadying hand on Nina's shoulder as she sat up. After a brief pause, she added softly, "You collapsed, Nina. Stress and exhaustion. You've been pushing yourself too hard."

Nina furrowed her brow, trying to piece everything together. Her mind felt sluggish, but she managed to whisper, "Mila's not with you?"

Luisinha shook her head. "No, she went to find Arthur."

At the mention of his name, a sharp pain flared in Nina's head. She winced, her hand flying up to her temple.

Luisinha immediately leaned forward, concern flooding her face. "Hey, are you alright?"

Nina rested her head back against the pillow, closing her eyes for a moment. "Yeah, yeah, I'm alright. Just... a headache."

"Are you sure?" Luisinha asked, her tone soft but firm.

Nina opened her eyes again and nodded. "I'm fine. I promise." She glanced around the room, the faint familiarity gnawing at her. "Where am I?"

Luisinha hesitated for a second before answering. "You're in Lando's room. McLaren's hospitality. You're safe here, Nina."

Before Nina could fully process what Luisinha had said, a noise from outside the room caught their attention. Muffled voices filtered through the door, the tone tense and heated.

Sofia turned toward the door, frowning. "What's happening?"

Luisinha stood, her posture cautious. "I don't know."

A moment later, a sharp, unmistakable voice rang out: "I said, fuck off!"

Nina's eyes widened, recognition flickering instantly. "That's Lando," she murmured, turning to Luisinha, surprise etched on her face.

Luisinha hesitated, momentarily startled, before quickly regaining her composure. "I'll check," she said, turning toward the door. Just as she reached for the handle, it swung open, revealing Lando in the doorway, his face tense with anger.

Caught off guard, Luisinha froze. "Lando, what was that?"

He looked at her, brushing it off casually. "Nothing to worry about," he said, his voice calm now, though his body was still tense. Then his gaze shifted past her, landing on Nina.

His expression softened instantly. Relief washed over his face as he stepped inside, his smile warm and genuine. "Hey there," he said, walking to her bedside, his voice lighter. "You're awake. Are you alright?"

Nina couldn't help but smile back, a wave of comfort settling in her chest. "Yes, I'm alright," she said softly.

Luisinha glanced at Sofia and motioned for her to follow. "Come on, let's give them some space," she whispered.

Sofia nodded, and the two slipped out quietly, leaving Nina and Lando alone.

Lando dragged a chair closer to her bedside, his movements careful, almost hesitant, as if he might shatter the fragile stillness in the room. He sank into the seat, leaning forward slightly with his hands resting on his knees. For a moment, he stayed still, his eyes fixed on her face, as though needing to reassure himself she was truly there.

"You scared me," he admitted in a low voice, his tone lacking its usual confidence. It was gentler now, almost uncertain. "I thought... I don't know what I thought. Just seeing you like that... it really messed with me."

Nina blinked, momentarily thrown by the vulnerability in his tone. "I didn't mean to—"

"I know," he cut her off gently, his gaze dropping to his hands before lifting back to hers. "I'm just glad you're okay now."

Silence hung heavy between them, the air charged with unspoken emotions. Nina broke it first, her voice soft, almost hesitant. "I went to see Arthur."

Lando's eyes locked onto hers, searching, unreadable at first. She hesitated, the words catching in her throat before spilling out. "I wanted to talk to him... about you, about how I feel, about everything swirling in my mind." Her voice faltered, and she paused, her gaze shifting to the ceiling. When she finally looked back at him, her eyes shimmered with unshed tears. "But then... he just..." She swallowed hard, her words momentarily lost.

"Zak told me everything," Lando said lowly, his voice steady but weighted with meaning.

A tear slid down her cheek as she shook her head, her emotions teetering on the edge of control. "I need to talk to him... this whole situation feels impossible," she whispered, her voice trembling. "No matter what I do or say, it feels like I'm only hurting someone—or myself." Her voice cracked under the weight of her feelings, and she drew a shaky breath, the words spilling out as she lifted her hands to cover her face. "I don't know how to make it right."

"Nina." Lando's voice broke through, firm but gentle, cutting through her spiraling thoughts. She froze, her words fading away as his calming tone anchored her. "Look at me," he urged softly, his voice insistent.

Slowly, she lowered her hands, lifting her tear-streaked face to meet his gaze. For a moment, the storm inside her seemed to settle. His eyes locked onto hers, offering a strength she hadn't realized she needed.

"You need to stop," he said evenly, his voice firm yet filled with care as he took her hands in his. "Not because your feelings don't matter, but because you need to find a way to calm the storm inside you. Think about yourself, Nina—your well-being. You can't carry the weight of everything on your shoulders."

"Lando..." she began, her voice faltering. "I'm... I'm sorry. I promised I'd talk to him—"

Before she could continue, he gave her hands a gentle squeeze. "I already told you," he murmured, his tone unwavering. "I'll wait. As long as it takes."

He released one hand and gently brushed her tears away with his thumb, his touch tender and soothing.

"Bet the media's having a field day with all this drama," she said, her voice quiet but edged with bitterness. She hesitated for a moment, then added, "What do people think of me now?"

He shook his head, his voice firm. "Don't pay attention to what people say about you. Don't let it mess with your head. I know it's tough—I've been there. People will judge, they'll twist things to fit their own narrative, and the media will spin it all into a story that isn't true. But none of that matters. You can't let them have that kind of power over you. You have to stay strong, Nina. Promise me you won't let them get to you."

She nodded faintly, her voice too fragile to speak, but her agreement was clear in the way she leaned into him. He leaned closer, resting his forehead delicately against hers—a simple gesture, yet overflowing with reassurance. She closed her eyes, letting herself exhale the weight of her worries, if only for a moment, as the endless noise in her mind began to fade.

"I'm so scared," she whispered, her voice barely audible.

"I know," he said softly, his tone determined. "But I'm here, Nina. I'm with you, every step of the way. Whatever happens, you don't have to face it alone. I won't let you."

A faint smile tugged at her lips, the smallest flicker of light breaking through her darkness. He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close and holding her tightly. His embrace was warm, a silent promise that she wasn't alone. No words were needed—she already knew he would be there, protecting her no matter what lay ahead.

As she buried her face in his chest, her hands clutched at his shirt, gripping firmly as if he were the only thing keeping her grounded. With Lando, she felt safe enough to be vulnerable. She knew, without a doubt, that he would catch her if she fell.

"I've got you, Nina," he murmured, his voice steady and reassuring. "I've got you. I promise."

She didn't say a word, only nodded once more, her muffled sobs quiet against him as she clung desperately. Wrapped in his arms, she discovered a spark of strength she hadn't known remained within her, as if letting him share her burden had eased it in ways she never thought possible.

A small knock at the door broke the moment, and they hesitantly pulled apart, turning toward the sound. The door opened, and Mila stepped in, followed by Zak.

"Nina," Zak said with a teasing smirk. "Good to see you're still alive."

Nina managed a weak smile. "Glad to know you had your doubts, Zak."

Before Zak could respond, Mila rushed over, throwing her arms around Nina dramatically. "You scared the hell out of me! Do you know how hard it is to find a replacement best friend? And one who tolerates me?"

Nina laughed softly, squeezing Mila back. "Oh, please. You'd have someone lined up within the hour—probably bribing them with snacks."

Mila pulled back, shaking her head with a grin. "You know better than that. I'd never trade you for anyone else."

Lando's voice broke into the moment, his tone tinged with curiosity and a hint of annoyance. "Mila, what on earth made you think it was a good idea to bring Arthur here?"

Nina blinked in surprise. "Wait... Arthur was here?"

Mila nodded hesitantly. "Yes, he was. And, well... Lando kind of stormed at him like an angry dog."

Lando crossed his arms, his jaw tightening. "Mila, he hurt your best friend," he said sharply, his tone defensive.

Mila sighed, raising a hand in a placating gesture. "Look, I didn't have all the details at the time," she admitted. "I thought bringing him here was the right thing to do—that he'd want to be by Nina's side." She shot Nina an apologetic glance. "I'm sorry, I misread the situation."

She paused before turning her gaze to Lando, her expression firm. "But, Lando, let's not pretend you're entirely innocent in all of this. Don't act like it's all his fault. I had a conversation with Arthur, and, honestly, I think both of you have your part to play in what happened."

Lando opened his mouth to argue but stopped himself, his expression shifting as her words sank in.

Mila softened her tone, shifting her attention back to Nina. "Anyway, what's important right now is Nina. Her healing has to come first. Everything else can wait."

Zak nodded in agreement. "You're right, Mila. Nina comes first. Let's give her some time to rest."

Nina hesitated for a moment, then turned to Zak. "Can I talk to Papa?" she asked softly.

Zak studied her for a moment, his expression cautious. "Are you sure, Nina? Do you want to talk to him now?"

"Yes," she said with quiet determination.

Zak nodded but added gently, "Alright, but I'll need to stay here, just in case."

She smiled faintly, appreciating his concern. "Thanks, Zak," she said, her voice carrying a note of gratitude.

Moments later, her father, Harry, entered the room, his expression heavy with emotion. What followed was a long, heartfelt conversation. Harry broke down, tears streaming down his face as he hugged her tightly, asking for her forgiveness. Claire, her mother, was there too, her presence adding to the emotional weight of the moment. It was a raw, deeply moving family gathering, one that left everyone drained yet somehow lighter.

Later, Nina sat in the passenger seat of the car, Mila driving, focused on the road, while Luisinha sat silently in the back. The hum of the engine filled the space as Nina watched the F1 broadcast video for the first time.

"Nina, we agreed—no social media for at least a week," Mila said, glancing over.

Nina sighed, her eyes still on the screen. "This looks so bad..." She paused, then added, "But you're right. No socials."

She closed Instagram, then, after a moment of hesitation, glanced at her home screen before finally opening her messages and typing one out.

Nina:  Tomorrow, 10 a.m. The café where we first met. I'll be waiting.

She hit send, her heart pounding as the message to Arthur disappeared into the digital void. Leaning back against the seat, she let out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding.

Her thoughts drifted back to earlier, just before she left the hospitality suite. Lando had stopped her, his voice calm but laced with playful intent. "I tried to reach you earlier this afternoon, but it seems you blocked my number," he said, a hint of teasing in his tone. Nina felt heat rising to her cheeks, a flush of embarrassment she couldn't quite hide. Before she could come up with a response, Lando flashed a small, knowing smile and added, "Don't you think it's about time you unblock me?"

Now, sitting with her phone in hand, Nina stared at the screen, his contact name—Dickhead—taunting her. She let out a small laugh, changed it back to Lando, and hesitated over Unblock, her heart racing. One deep breath, one tap.

A moment later, she typed a simple message:

Nina:   Done.

The response came almost immediately:

Lando:  Good.

She stared at the reply, her thumb hovering over the screen when another message appeared.

Lando:  Rest well, Nina.

Her lips parted slightly as she read it, her heart filled with warm and comfort. She began typing out a response—I will—but before she could hit send, another bubble popped up.

Lando: ❤️

She gazed at the emoji—simple, yet heavy with meaning. The words she had typed vanished with a flick of her thumb. I'm sorry, Lando. You'll have to wait a little longer.

With a resigned sigh, Nina locked her phone and leaned back, her gaze drifting to the city lights outside. They blurred into streaks of color, serene and indifferent to the storm raging inside her.

She wanted this—wanted him. But first, she needed to take the right step and be honest with Arthur.

Chapter Text

The soft murmur of voices and the gentle clatter of cups greeted Nina as she stepped into the kitchen. Mila and Luisinha were already seated at the counter, steaming mugs in hand, deep in conversation.

"He was so mad, you should've seen his face, Lu—it was crazy!" Mila said, her voice animated. "I swear, all his veins were popping out like this," she gestured dramatically, then gave a little shiver. "For a second, I really thought he was going to throw a punch."

Hearing footsteps, both Mila and Luisinha turned toward the doorway. Nina stood there, her hair slightly tousled, her expression softer than usual.

"Morning," Luisinha greeted warmly. "Are you feeling any better?"

Nina nodded, managing a faint smile as she stepped closer. "Yeah, I'm fine now. Just needed some rest." She glanced between the two of them, a hint of curiosity in her gaze. "Who was going to throw a punch?"

"No one," Luisinha reassured her gently, her tone soft and comforting. "We were just worried about you last night. Don't push yourself so hard, okay?"

"I won't," Nina assured her, settling into a seat and wrapping her hands around a mug. She hesitated for a moment, her gaze flicking between the two women. "I'm going to see Arthur this morning."

Luisinha frowned, concern etched across her face. "Are you sure, Nina? I think you should just let everything go for now and focus on recovering."

Nina shook her head firmly. "I'm fine. I just... I need to talk to him."

Mila, who had been quietly observing the conversation, suddenly spoke up, her voice calm but carrying a sharp edge. "Be honest with Arthur, Nina."

Mila's remark cut through the air, leaving Nina momentarily stunned as she gripped her mug tightly.

Mila leaned forward, her gaze steady, though her tone softened slightly. "You know I'm on your side, right? I'll always support you. But lately..." She trailed off, hesitating.

Nina's brow furrowed. "Go on, Mila. If you have something to say, then say it."

Mila glanced down at her hands before meeting Nina's gaze again. "Nina, I just don't get you anymore. You keep saying you've chosen Arthur, that it's always been him, but then I hear about you and Lando—about the two of you flirting in his garage when I thought you were there focusing on work."

"What?" Nina's voice rose slightly, her confusion clear.

Mila's expression was firm but still gentle. "I talked to Arthur after that episode with Lando in the McLaren hospitality. He told me what he saw and how it made him feel. Nina, I thought you cared about him."

"Of course I care about Arthur," Nina shot back, her voice tight with frustration.

"Then why is he this hurt?" Mila asked softly, her question slicing through the silence like a blade.

Nina hesitated, her breath catching as she struggled to find the right response.

Mila sighed, her tone softening. "Look, I've been the first to tease you about the whole thing with Lando and Arthur from the start, but this... this isn't a joke anymore, Nina. It's serious now. You need to figure out what you really want—for yourself, for Arthur, for Lando. Honestly, I told you back in London after that little 'incident' with Lando that someone was going to get hurt. And now, that's exactly what's happened."

Nina stayed silent, her hands resting on her lap as she absentmindedly fiddled with the drawstring of her pajama pants. She knew Mila was right, but hearing it said aloud made it even harder to confront.

Mila leaned forward, her tone steady but gentle. "Nina, it's time to make a decision." She paused, her tone carefully measured. "Arthur's already dealing with so much in his career. Please don't make it harder for him."

Frustration surged through Nina as she fought against the reality Mila was pointing out. "Why are you so concerned about him, Mila? I thought you were on my side."

Mila sighed, her voice steady but weighed down with emotion. "Of course I'm on your side, Nina. You're my sister, and you mean the world to me." She hesitated, her tone softening. "But I'm not going to lie—when I saw him like that..." She paused, her voice faltering before continuing. "It reminded me of myself. Of what happened with Anthony. And honestly, I couldn't bear it."

She took a deep breath before adding softly, "He doesn't deserve this, Nina. He's given you his heart, his trust—he truly loves you. Just... be kind to him. Please."

The room fell into an uneasy silence, the tension hanging heavily as Nina lowered her gaze, her chest tightening with guilt under the weight of Mila's words. She knew what Mila had been through with Anthony—and perhaps that was why Mila still found it so hard to open herself up to love and trust.

After a moment, Nina finally broke the silence. "I've already made my choice, Mila."

Mila's eyes softened as she studied her. "I hope this time, you listened to your heart—and were honest with yourself."

Nina managed a small, uncertain smile. "I did. I'm just scared to say it out loud."

Without hesitation, Mila pulled Nina into a warm hug. "Be brave, Nina. You have to face it sooner or later."

Nina tightened the embrace, her voice quiet but determined. "Yeah... there's no escaping it this time."

After a moment, Nina stepped back and headed to her room. She quickly showered and changed, grabbing her things before leaving the apartment. The door clicked shut behind her, leaving Mila and Luisinha in a calm, reflective silence.

Luisinha glanced over at Mila, curiosity flickering in her eyes. "Mila, can I ask... who's Anthony?"

Mila leaned back on the couch, a faint smile playing on her lips. "Looks like you're not the only one who's kept their past and their ex under wraps," she said with a light, teasing tone, though there was no malice behind her words.

Luisinha's cheeks flushed slightly, but she nodded knowingly. "I suppose I can't argue with that," she said with a small laugh. "But tell me about him."

Mila exhaled deeply, running her fingers through her hair as she gathered her thoughts. "I met Anthony at a club four years ago—super original, right?" she said with a little laugh, shaking her head. "He walked up with this confident grin, like he already knew I'd say yes if he asked for my number. And, well... I did. He had this way of making you feel like you were the only person in the room. I fell for him so fast it was ridiculous."

She paused, her smile fading slightly. "At first, everything felt perfect. Like, this is it, this is my forever. But then... I don't know. There were things that didn't quite add up, things I told myself weren't a big deal. Especially when it came to his best friend. Something about the way they were around each other... it just felt off, you know?" She sighed, her fingers tracing the edge of her mug as her words lingered in the air.

Luisinha frowned. "What do you mean?"

"I started noticing little things," Mila said, her gaze drifting as she spoke. "The way he looked at her, how different he acted when she was around. It didn't feel right. I tried to bring it up, you know, just to talk about it, but he'd brush it off—say I was imagining things or overthinking." She paused, her fingers tightening slightly around her mug. "And then one day, after three years together... he finally admitted it. He'd been in love with her the entire time."

Her voice cracked slightly, but she quickly swallowed the emotion, shaking her head as if to clear it. "Looking back, I should've trusted my gut. But I just... I didn't want to see it."

Luisinha gasped softly. "Mila... that's awful."

"It broke me," Mila said whispered, her voice trembling just a little. "I loved him so much, and I really thought I was enough. But when it all fell apart, it wasn't just him I lost—I lost my confidence too. I started thinking... maybe I'll never be enough for anyone. Like, no matter how much I give, it's never going to matter." She let out a shaky breath, her eyes fixed on the table as if grounding herself.

She paused, her gaze dropping for a moment before she spoke again. "Nina was there. She saw everything—the way it completely tore me apart. That's probably why I felt like I needed to bring up Anthony and what it did to me. I just don't want her to go through anything like that, you know? Or end up in a situation where someone else gets hurt the way I did."

Luisinha shifted closer, resting a comforting hand on Mila's arm. "Nina's smart—she'll figure it out," she said gently. "And Mila, I'm so sorry you went through that. But you need to know something: Anthony wasn't enough for you, not the other way around. You're amazing, and any guy would be lucky to have you in their life."

Mila smiled faintly, her eyes glistening. "Thanks, Luisinha." Then, as a thought crossed her mind, she sighed and let out a small laugh.

Luisinha tilted her head, a hint of amusement in her eyes. "What is it? You just remembered something, didn't you?"

Mila chuckled, shaking her head. "Arthur promised to introduce me to one of his friends after the race. Yeah... I don't think that's happening anymore."

Luisinha burst out laughing. "Yeah, I think matchmaking is the last thing on his mind right now."

Mila laughed along, shrugging. "You're probably right."

Luisinha smirked, her tone playful. "Honestly, you don't need Arthur to introduce you to anyone. Every guy in that VIP area was acting like you were the main event."

Mila raised an eyebrow, a grin tugging at her lips. "Oh, please. You're exaggerating."

"I'm not!" Luisinha insisted, holding up her hands in mock defense. "I swear, half of them probably forgot there was even a race going on."

Mila laughed, the tension in the room finally lifting. "Well, maybe next time I'll make them work a little harder. No more easy introductions."

"Exactly," Luisinha said with a wink. "Let them earn it."

The two burst into laughter, the earlier heaviness fading away as the mood shifted to one of lighthearted ease.

Chapter Text

Nina left the apartment, a knot tightening in her stomach. She dreaded the conversation she was about to have with Arthur. Would he even show up? she wondered. She had messaged him yesterday, but there had been no reply.

Stepping outside, she walked to her car parked by the building, and the first thing she noticed was how badly it was parked. She sighed, shaking her head. I'm never giving Mila the keys again—even if I'm on my deathbed. But as she got closer, something else caught her attention.

Her tires were completely flat. Not just one, not two—all of them. Seriously? Why now? She walked around the car in disbelief, her frustration mounting. She didn't have time to call for roadside assistance or figure out what had happened.

Glancing at her watch, she tried calling a taxi, but the wait time was too long. With no other choice, she decided to walk to the café, picking up her pace as she went.

By the time she arrived, slightly out of breath, she spotted a man in a black cap sitting at the same table where they had first met. His head was down, focused on his phone, but she immediately recognized the jacket—the one she had borrowed once. It was Arthur, already waiting for her. She hurried through the door, and as he looked up, a small smile softened his face.

Rising to his feet, he gently placed a black cap on her head. "We need to be careful," he murmured, his gaze sweeping the nearly empty café. The gentle buzz of a Monday morning lent a fragile sense of calm. She gave a small nod, and they settled back into their seats, facing each other. The table between them felt both intimate and burdened, heavy with the weight of the unresolved situation hanging between them.

"You said you'd be waiting," he teased lightly. "Didn't think I'd be the one waiting for you instead."

Nina caught her breath, her expression apologetic. "I'm so sorry. All my tires were flat this morning—every single one. I had to walk here."

His smile faded, a flicker of concern crossing his face. "Flat tires? All of them? That's... odd. Are you okay?"

She nodded quickly, brushing it off. "Yeah, I'm fine. It's just been... a morning." She hesitated, then added, "Thanks for waiting."

Arthur leaned back slightly, studying her face. "Well, at least you made it. And looking surprisingly good for someone who passed out yesterday." His tone softened as he added, "I'm glad you're okay, Nina."

Nina offered a faint, hesitant smile, her fingers nervously adjusting the brim of her cap. "Arthur, I—"

He cut her off gently. "Let me start, Nina."

She blinked, surprised, and met his gaze.

Arthur took a deep breath. "First off, I'm sorry about what happened in Fred's office." He paused, his gaze dropping briefly before continuing. "I just... I reacted without thinking. It was all so much at once, and I panicked. I was scared—scared for what comes next. Lando was right... I acted like a coward. I let my fear take over and didn't think about you or us. I only thought about myself."

Nina reached out, gently taking his hand. "No, Arthur, no. I was the one—"

"Please, Nina," he said, cutting her off but keeping his tone firm and calm. "Let me finish."

She fell silent, her eyes fixed on him as he continued. "Alpine approached me recently," he said, his tone heavy with emotion. "They want me to take Jack's seat starting from Spa."

Arthur's eyes lit up, and Nina could see the stars in them, the excitement radiating from him. "This is the opportunity of a lifetime, Nina," he went on. "My dream of becoming an F1 driver is finally happening."

She nodded slightly, already grasping just how important this was to him.

"I didn't tell you before because it wasn't certain. I didn't want to get your hopes up—or mine—until it was real," Arthur admitted, his voice faltering. "There were so many factors in play. When I left your apartment on Thursday and said I was going to see the team... I was actually meeting with Oliver Oakes, Alpine's team principal. He told me they wanted me."

Arthur's expression softened, a mix of excitement and hesitation in his eyes. "Nina, I was so happy. Even though it's not official yet and I haven't signed the contract, I couldn't wait to tell you. I was planning to share the news after the race—I'm going to be an F1 driver starting at the end of July. Maybe even sooner, if they need me."

He hesitated, his voice trailing off. "But... with everything going on in the press—your identity being revealed, the rumors, the potential scandal of McLaren and Ferrari being linked because of us—it freaked me out. Without a signed contract, anything could go wrong. I was terrified I wasn't making the right choices for my career, that the deal could fall apart. Maybe Alpine wouldn't want that kind of attention right now. You know how this world works, how quickly things can change. It's all about money, politics, and optics."

Arthur's voice softened, raw and filled with emotion. "And then, when I saw you with Lando in his garage, how... close you two seemed, it completely broke me. I didn't know what to think, Nina. I even went to talk to Lando, hoping it would give me some clarity, but it only made things worse. It amplified every fear, every doubt I had—about us, about myself. I couldn't shake the thought that maybe I was risking everything—throwing it all away—for something that wasn't even real."

He looked at her, his expression a mix of hurt and confusion. "I need to know, Nina. Please, tell me where I stand, because right now... I feel completely lost."

Nina's chest tightened as she saw the pain in his eyes. He looked so hurt, so conflicted, and it made her feel even worse. She finally understood what Mila had meant earlier. She had let things spiral out of control, and now the weight of it all was crashing down on her.

Tears welled up in her eyes as she realized how much Arthur had been holding in, how unfair she had been to him. She struggled to find the words, her voice wavering as she began. "Arthur, I don't even know where to start." She wiped at her face, trying to hold herself together. "I hate that I've made you feel like this. You don't deserve it—not any of this. But I can't lie to you anymore, and I can't keep lying to myself about how I feel."

She paused, her hands trembling as she reached for his. Her gaze met his, steady yet filled with emotion. She knew she had to be truthful, to end his pain, even if it would break both their hearts in the process.

"I care about you so much, Arthur," she said softly. "You've made me feel so loved, so safe, so special in a way no one else ever has. And I can't tell you how much that's meant to me." Her voice broke slightly, but she kept going. "But... I have to be honest with you. I haven't been fair—not to you, and not to myself."

Arthur's expression tightened, but he stayed silent, waiting for her to continue.

Her voice dropped, barely above a whisper. "I haven't been able to let go of Lando. From the moment we met at that charity golf tournament last year, there was this connection—something I can't explain. It's been there from the start, and no matter how much I tried to fight it, I couldn't ignore it."

She took a deep, shaky breath, her fingers lightly brushing his hand. "These past few months, I kept choosing you, Arthur, because I wanted so badly to believe I could move on, that I could build something real with you. You made me feel cared for in a way I've never felt before, and I'll always treasure that. But deep down, I knew I wasn't being completely genuine—with you or with myself."

She paused, her gaze dropping as tears began to fall, splashing softly onto the table. Her voice wavered as she continued, "The truth is, things are different now. Lando's been more open about his feelings, about whatever it is between us, and I can't keep pretending I don't feel it too. I tried, Arthur—I really did. I pushed him away over and over, but he kept coming back, and it just got impossible to ignore. The more I tried to fight it, the more it hurt."

She lifted her gaze, searching his face, her heart breaking as she saw the pain in his expression. "I never wanted to hurt you, Arthur. I swear I didn't. You mean so much to me, and the last thing I wanted was to cause you pain. But I can't keep living this lie, and I can't let you keep loving someone who can't give you everything you deserve."

Her voice broke completely as she whispered, "I am so, so sorry, Arthur. I hope one day you can forgive me."

Arthur pulled his hands away from hers, his movements slow and deliberate, as if he was trying to steady himself. He reached up, removed his cap, and ran a hand through his hair before lowering his face into his palms. For a moment, he stayed like that, silent, his shoulders rising and falling with his uneven breaths.

"I am stupid... I am stupid," he muttered, his voice heavy with frustration.

"Don't say that, Arthur, please," Nina said softly, her voice breaking. "Please, you—"

He cut her off, his hands dropping to the table as he looked up, his eyes meeting hers. His blue eyes, usually so bright, now shimmered with unfallen tears, the redness around them making the pain in his expression even more vivid. "I thought I was prepared," he said, his voice unsteady. "I came here knowing how this was probably going to go, but... hearing it—hearing you say it—it hurts so much more than I imagined. It's killing me, Nina."

Nina's lips parted as if to respond, but the words wouldn't come. She could only sit there, her chest tightening as his pain and vulnerability unfolded in front of her.

"I really wanted us to work," he continued, his voice breaking. "I truly thought we were building something real together. But... I never realized I was competing from the very beginning—competing with someone you've never let go of. It's just so unfair, Nina."

"Arthur, I—" Nina began, her voice thick with emotion.

"If I'd known..." he said, cutting her off again, his voice rising slightly before softening, "I would've fought harder. From the very beginning."

Nina reached across the table, taking his hand gently, her own trembling. "It's not your fault, Arthur. It's mine. All of it."

Arthur's expression shifted, a heartbreaking mix of pain, disappointment, and something else—maybe relief. He held her gaze for a moment, his lips pressing into a thin line as he nodded slowly. He took a deep, shaky breath, exhaling as if letting go of something heavy. "I'm glad we had this conversation, Nina," he said softly, his tone resigned. "I guess... it's really over this time, isn't it?"

Nina looked at him, her face flushed and streaked with tears, her red cheeks damp from crying, unable to speak. Arthur reached out and gently brushed the tears from her face with his thumb, his voice soft. "Please, you know I hate seeing you like this."

She placed her hand over his, pressing it against her tear-soaked face, her voice uneven. "I just wish I'd met you before that charity event. Before... everything with him."

Arthur gave her a small, bittersweet smile. "I wish that too," he said quietly. He brushed her cheek again, his touch lingering for a moment.

Nina sniffled, trying to steady herself. "I know you're going to crush it at Alpine, Arthur. You're going to do amazing."

His smile grew, though it was tinged with sadness. "Let's hope nothing changes before my meeting with Oliver tomorrow, but I'm working on it. And hey, tell Norris to watch his back."

She let out a small laugh, wiping at her face. "You tell him yourself."

Arthur chuckled softly. "Well, he already knows."

Nina hesitated before adding, "And... I'm sorry about my father. He did whatever he wanted without really considering your situation."

Arthur shook his head lightly. "Well, I guess I should apologize for my mum too."

Nina blinked in surprise. "Your mum? Why?"

Arthur sighed, leaning back in his chair. "She got caught up in it. One of her clients at the hair salon asked about us, and she started talking about you and me, not realizing the person was... well..."

"Let me guess," Nina interjected, raising an eyebrow. "An F1 journalist?"

Arthur nodded, rubbing the back of his neck. "Yeah. I didn't tell her we were trying to keep things quiet. I didn't even consider that people might try to get to her for information. I should've known better. I'm sorry."

Nina gave him a small, reassuring smile. "It's fine, Arthur. You don't need to apologize."

Arthur gave a faint smile, a hint of teasing in his voice. "I guess our parents didn't exactly make things easier for us, huh?"

Nina returned the smile. "They mean well. They still love us."

The two sat in silence for a moment, the weight of their conversation settling between them. Finally, Arthur stood and looked at her with genuine warmth. "Thank you for being honest, Nina. I'll always care about you, and I want you to be happy."

Nina nodded, her voice low but rich with sincerity. "And I want the same for you, Arthur. You deserve the best."

They exchanged a sad, understanding smile before Arthur leaned down, took the cap he had given her, and gently brushed a stray lock of her hair. "I'll take this with me—no souvenir from this conversation," he said softly.

Nina laughed quietly, playfully swatting at her hair. "Stop messing with my hair."

Arthur smiled, then pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead. "Take care of yourself, Nina."

"You too," she whispered.

As he walked away, Nina watched him go, feeling a mixture of sorrow and gratitude. Despite everything, they had ended things with respect and care for each other, and she knew deep down that this was the closure they both needed.

She stayed seated for a while longer, reflecting on her moments with Arthur—the happiness they had shared, the way he had made her feel. But it was time to close that chapter. With a deep breath, she stood up and left, reminding herself of the next task at hand. The tire issue needed to be resolved; she had to get the car ready to take the girls to the airport this afternoon.

Chapter Text

Nina walked home from the café, her steps slow and deliberate as the weight of the conversation with Arthur lingered. When she finally reached her building, she stopped in front of her car, parked just outside.

Her eyes fell on it, and for a moment, she simply stood there, taking in the sight. The tires were still flat—all four of them. A sigh escaped her lips, the earlier frustration bubbling back to the surface.

What now? she thought, brushing a stray strand of hair away from her face as she crouched to inspect the damage again. The quiet street offered no answers, only the distant hum of passing cars and the faint rustle of leaves in the wind.

Taking a deep breath, she stood back up and pulled out her phone. I don't have time for this, she thought, dialing for roadside assistance. She glanced at her watch. The girls needed to get to the airport later that afternoon, and she had no idea how long this would take to fix.

As she waited for the call to connect, her eyes wandered back to the car. Something caught her attention—a scrap of paper tucked beneath the windshield wiper. Frowning, she walked over, muttering to herself, "How did I miss this this morning?"

She plucked the note from the glass and unfolded it. The words stared back at her, sharp and venomous:

"Leave them alone, you bitch."

A chill ran down her spine, her stomach twisting as she read the words again. Anger and unease churned within her. A hater, she thought bitterly, but the note felt far more personal.

Her eyes darted around the empty street, half-expecting someone to be lurking nearby, but it was still as quiet as ever. She crumpled the note in her hand and shoved it into her pocket, her mind racing.

Back in her apartment, the silence felt oppressive. With Mila and Luisinha out enjoying their last day in Monaco, the emptiness amplified her unease. She paced the room, her mind circling back to the note. Did they know where I live?

Her phone buzzed, snapping her out of her thoughts. Roadside assistance. Focus on the car, she told herself, pushing the unsettling questions aside—for now.

The assistance arrived quicker than she expected, and she hurried downstairs, her nerves still raw. One of the workers crouched by the tires, inspecting the damage with a furrowed brow.

"This wasn't an accident," he said, standing and wiping his hands on a rag. "Someone definitely did this on purpose."

Nina gave a wry smile, her tone edged with frustration. "Yeah, I figured. They even left me a thoughtful little note to go with it."

Her eyes flicked over the other parked cars lining the street—completely untouched.

Her chest tightened. I'm definitely the target, she concluded, a sense of dread creeping over her. She glanced back at the worker, who gave her a sympathetic shrug before returning to the repairs.

The roadside team worked quickly, fixing the tires and leaving her car functional again, but her thoughts were far from settled. She thanked them quietly and headed back upstairs, the weight of the day pressing on her shoulders.

Once inside, she collapsed onto the couch, her phone heavy in her hand. She had promised Mila—and herself—that she wouldn't check social media, but the temptation gnawed at her. Against her better judgment, she opened Instagram.

Her feed was a flood of speculation, gossip, and cruel comments, each one cutting deeper than the last. As she scrolled through the comments under Arthur's posts, a heavy weight pressed down on her chest.

❤️ 534k      💬 21k      🔄 1k

Arthur Leclerc: My new obsessions ⛳️🏌🏻‍♀️

COMMENTS 💬

@obsessedfanln4: obsessions? is he talking abt golf or that girl? Maybe both?? 👀
↳ @tracksidequeen: lol fr he's so distracted and we all KNOW why 🙄
↳ @maguihater23: she has no biz being there tbh. like girl, stay in ur lane
↳ @arthurleclerc14: omg facts, she's messing w both Arthur AND Lando 🚩

@luisafanaccount: can we talk abt how Lando has trash taste?? he went from cute Luisa to... recycling bin Nina 💀😭
↳ @melindaber: not even recycling, she's straight landfill material 💅
↳ @enchante_danny3: apparently Luisa was at Monaco too?? awkward af
↳ @futurewag4: Lando needs to detox his taste, this is tragic 🤦

@looksqueen: not even gonna lie she's not cute. both Arthur n Lando could do WAY better
↳ @fastlane_girl: right?? so basic it hurts. like why is she even there? 🤔
↳ @speedster89: downgrade for BOTH. embarrassing tbh 😤
↳ @gabitumanelli: she's legit just killing their vibe. like gurl bye

@lanfan4: ngl I feel bad for Lando AND Arthur. she's playing both smh
↳ @f1gossip: they rlly just need to walk away lol 🚶‍♂️
↳ @jamespattioni: clout chaser energy. it's so obvious 😒

@gridfollower16: does anyone know her ig? 👀
↳ @arthurleclerc14: yeah, it's @ninaahart lol
↳ @tracksidequeen: ugh, why did I even check it? So boring 🙄
↳ @papayafan: she should just change her ig to @ninaalexandramclaren, no? 🧡

@ln4_forever: guys, calm down. She's not even with Lando
↳ @f1gossip: lol, did you see how she hugged him?
↳ @ln4_forever: maybe they're just friends?
↳ @arthurleclerc14: she's with Arthur, right? Remember in the broadcast 'Arthur Leclerc's Partner'

She locked her phone, her heart pounding so hard it felt like it might burst from her chest. Her breaths quickened, shallow and uneven. Can I handle all this hate?

For a moment, she froze, her finger hovering over the screen before unlocking her phone again. Her trembling fingers opened Lando's contact. She stared at his name, hesitating, her mind racing.

Finally, she pressed call. The phone rang, each tone dragging endlessly in her ears, before going to voicemail. With a frustrated sigh, she tossed her phone onto the couch, rubbing her temples as a dull ache began to creep into her head. Suddenly, her phone buzzed, startling her. She grabbed it quickly—it was Lando.

"Hey, sorry," he said, his voice slightly breathless. "I was passing through airport security."

"You're already at the airport?" she asked, trying to keep the disappointment out of her voice.

"Yeah," he replied. "I'm on the tarmac, heading to the jet now."

Nina hesitated, her tone dropping. "Next stop, Spain, right?"

"Yeah," Lando said. "But I'll be back next week. Got a week off before Canada."

"Hang on a sec," he added abruptly. His voice faded for a moment, muffled as he spoke to someone—probably the pilot or crew. When he returned, it was clearer, more focused. "Sorry about that. Anyway, how was your day? Feeling any better now?"

Nina paused, her voice hesitant. "Yes... kinda."

"Kinda?" he echoed, his tone gently teasing but curious.

"I, uh... I talked to Arthur this morning," she admitted softly.

There was a moment of silence on the line before Lando's voice returned, quieter, more serious. "And?"

Nina swallowed, trying to steady herself. "And... it's over."

Lando didn't respond right away, and she could feel the weight of his silence through the phone. When he finally spoke, his voice was low and careful. "How do you feel about it?"

She let out a shaky breath. "I don't know. Relieved? Sad? Guilty? A mix of everything, I guess."

There was a pause before Lando said, his tone light but honest, "Not gonna lie, Nina, I'm really happy about that."

She let out a soft laugh, the first hint of levity in what felt like forever. "You could at least pretend to feel bad for him, you know."

"I'm not great at pretending," Lando teased back. "You should know that by now."

Her smile softened but didn't last long. "I'm sorry, Lando, but I need to ask you to wait a little longer. I just... need time—to process everything and to let Arthur move on."

Lando's tone softened. "I get it, Nina. Really, I do. Take all the time you need. And anyway, I won't even be around for the next week or two, so..." He paused, his voice steady but sincere. "I'll wait. Just... promise me you won't shut me out, okay?"

"I won't," she promised, her voice soft.

Lando's tone lightened. "So, what's the plan for today?"

She sighed, glancing around the apartment. "I'll probably meet up with the girls later. They're at Le Louis XV, that fancy restaurant by the marina. You know, enjoying Monaco in style."

"Sounds nice," he replied.

"By the way," she added casually, "something happened with my car this morning..." She trailed off, instantly regretting bringing it up.

"What happened?" Lando asked, concern creeping into his voice.

"Oh, nothing," she said quickly, trying to brush it off. "Mila parked it like a maniac last night. Honestly, I'm never letting her near my keys again. Ever. It was a total disaster."

Lando chuckled. "Yeah, I can definitely see that." He paused for a moment before adding, "I need to go, Nina. We're about to take off. I'll call you when I land, okay?"

"Okay," she said, a small smile tugging at her lips. "I'll wait for your call."

"Enjoy your day," he said warmly. "Bye, Nina."

"Bye, Lando," she replied, her voice soft as the line went quiet.

As the call ended, Nina sat back, letting out a sigh. She didn't want to worry Lando, especially with everything else going on. The car situation wasn't a big deal—it was just one more thing to add to the pile. Yet, despite her best efforts to brush it off, the uneasy feeling refused to fade.

Chapter Text

It was late in the afternoon when Nina began the drive to Nice, the sky painted in shades of orange and pink as the day slowly turned to evening. The car's engine hummed steadily as she navigated the coastal road, the shimmering Mediterranean Sea peeking through the bends like a glimmering postcard. Mila sat beside her, staring out at the water, lost in thought, while Luisinha was in the back seat, laughing at some Portuguese video on her phone. Her carefree chuckles filled the car, a lightness that Nina envied but couldn't quite feel herself.

Nina's hands tightened on the steering wheel as her mind strayed back to the strange incident that morning. The flat tires had left her rattled—especially because of how unexpected and deliberate it had been. The memory sent a shiver down her spine. Should i bring it up? The thought lingered for a moment, but she quickly pushed it aside. This drive was supposed to be their time—her last few hours with her friends before they left. The last thing she wanted was to burden them with her unease. Yet, despite her best efforts to shake it off, the doubt clung to her like an extra passenger, making her stomach twist.

She forced herself to focus on the road ahead, the beauty of the coastline grounding her. The airport wasn't far now, and with each passing mile, the reality of saying goodbye to Mila and Luisinha grew heavier. After the whirlwind of the past few days, this farewell felt far too final, as though a chapter of her life was closing.

Mila's gentle voice broke through Nina's thoughts. "So, what's next for you now that it's really over with Arthur?" she asked, turning to Nina with a tone softer than usual, fully aware of the significance of the moment.

She had already shared the details of her conversation with Arthur at Le Louis XV—the difficult words, the pain of it all.

Luisinha, who had been scrolling on her phone until now, finally looked up with a smirk. "Mila, you already know what's next. Don't play dumb."

Mila laughed, her tone light. "Well, I know what's next, but I don't know when."

Nina shook her head with a small smile. "I need time to process everything and sort out the other things in my life before starting anything... new."

Mila's smile faded slightly as she glanced at Nina. "Don't make him wait too long, or he'll lose his mind."

Luisinha chuckled from the backseat.

Nina sighed. "Yeah, I don't want to make him wait too much longer either, honestly."

As they arrived at the airport, Nina pulled into the drop-off zone and parked the car. The three of them stepped out, sharing a long hug beside the trunk. Saying goodbye wasn't easy, even though they knew they'd talk again soon.

"You better keep us updated, okay?" Mila said, squeezing Nina's arm with a warm smile.

Luisinha nodded. "And please, take care of yourself. I know we keep saying it, but we truly mean it."

Nina forced a small smile. "I will. I promise. Have a safe flight, you two."

Mila and Luisinha grabbed their bags and walked toward the terminal, waving one last time before vanishing into the bustling crowd. Nina lingered by her car, her gaze fixed on the planes in the distance, a strange heaviness settling over her. It wasn't just the ache of saying goodbye—it was something deeper, an inexplicable bad feeling she couldn't quite shake.

Finally, she got back into the car and started the drive home. As she pulled out of the airport and merged onto the main road, her eyes caught something in the rearview mirror.

A black Audi A6 was behind her.

At first, she didn't think much of it. Leaving the airport, it wasn't uncommon for cars to head in the same direction—especially toward Monaco. She brushed it off as coincidence, focusing instead on the coastal road ahead.

But as the drive stretched on and the scenery changed, the car remained. Nina took a few casual glances in the mirror, hoping to shake the uneasy feeling stirring in her core. She turned onto the winding road that followed the coast toward Monaco, expecting the car to break away at some point.

But it didn't.

Her hands tightened on the steering wheel as she started to notice the pattern. Every turn she made, the Audi made too.

Her pulse quickened. It's nothing, she tried to tell herself. Just someone else heading toward Monaco.

But as she took a longer route—one that cut through smaller, quieter streets—the car stayed behind her, its headlights a constant in her mirror.

By the time she crossed into Monaco, the weight in her chest had turned to full-blown dread. The Audi wasn't just heading in the same direction anymore—it was following her.

I can't go home. They'll know where I live. But where do I go? Arthur's? She let out a shaky breath, her thoughts spiraling. Am I stupid? Let them figure out where he lives? And we broke up, remember, Nina?

Her heart pounded as the panic took hold. What should I do?

Were they the ones who slashed my tires this morning? Do they already know where I live? How did they know I was at the airport? Have they been following me, and I didn't notice? Are they waiting for the right moment to act when I'm alone? Fans? Haters? Or... something worse?

A million questions buzzed in her head as she drove past her building without slowing down, her eyes darting to the rearview mirror. The Audi remained behind her, its unwavering presence  twisting the knot in her stomach. Her hands locked on the wheel as she drove aimlessly across Monaco, searching for any idea of what to do.

Her gaze dropped to the dashboard screen, her mind scrambling for options. Call someone. Anyone. She hesitated, her finger hovering over Lando's name in her contact list.

He lives here. He'd know what to do. He probably has people who could help... She frowned, shaking her head. No, no, no, Nina. Don't freak him out. He's got the race coming up—he needs to stay focused.

She scrolled down further and stopped at a familiar name: Papa.

Her hand shook slightly as she pressed the call button, her ribs felt constricted as the dial tone echoed through the car.

"Hey, love," her father's warm voice greeted her, filled with delight. "What a lovely surprise! I wasn't expecting a call from you so soo—"

"Papa..." Nina interrupted, her voice trembling as she swallowed hard, tears blurring her vision. His tone shifted instantly, concern replacing his earlier cheerfulness. "Nina? What's wrong? Is everything alright?"

Her voice cracked, her expression crumbling. "No, everything's not okay."

"What happened? Where are you?" His voice sharpened with urgency.

"I'm driving through Monaco," she said, her voice uneven as her breath hitched. "Someone's following me, Papa. A black Audi."

There was a brief pause before he responded, his tone calm but firm. "Nina, is Mila still with you?"

"No," she admitted, her breathing quickening. "I just dropped her off at the airport, and they've been following me ever since." She hesitated before adding, "I don't know why they're after me, Papa."

Her father exhaled sharply, frustration edged with alarm. "I should have reinforced security around you. That's my mistake." His tone grew firmer. "But right now, we need to focus on getting you somewhere safe. Just keep driving, Nina."

"I am," she said quickly, glancing at the headlights in her rearview mirror. "But, Papa, who could it even be? What do they want?"

"It's hard to say, Nina," he replied, his tone steady but cautious. "You've been in the spotlight lately. People talk, people obsess... maybe it's just someone trying to intimidate you."

Her grip tightened on the wheel, unease twisting in her chest. "Could it be haters?" she asked hesitantly, her voice barely audible.

There was a pause, and when her father answered, his tone carried a hint of hesitation. "It's possible."

"But you don't think it's just haters, do you?" she pressed, her heart beating faster.

"I can't say for sure," he admitted, his voice calm but laced with concern. "Now that people know you're connected to me, it could be something else entirely. But listen to me—you'll be fine as long as you follow what I say. Keep driving, stay on the phone with me, and avoid stopping anywhere isolated. Can you do that for me?"

"Okay," she whispered, her voice shaky as she worked to control her breathing. "Papa... I'm... I'm scared."

"I know, love," he said gently, his tone softening. "But you're strong, and you're not alone in this. I'm here, and we're going to make sure nothing happens to you. Just focus on driving for now."

The knot in her stomach twisted as the red light ahead came into view. Her instincts screamed at her not to stop. She hesitated for a split second before pressing the accelerator, speeding through the intersection.

"I just ran a red light," she said shakily, her shoulders stiffening with tension. "I didn't want to stop. What if they catch up to me?" Her eyes flicked to the rearview mirror, heart sinking as she saw the black Audi barrel through the red light as well, still on her tail.

"They won't," her father responded confidently, his voice unwavering. "I'll make some calls right now. We have friends in Monaco, powerful ones. I'll alert them, and they'll get someone to intercept you before it gets to that point."

Nina nodded, though he couldn't see her. "Okay," she said again, more to convince herself.

"Where are you now?" he asked.

"I'm heading toward the port," she replied, her voice still unsteady. "I thought it might be safer near the waterfront with more people around."

"Good thinking," he said, his approval offering her a small sense of comfort. "Stay on that path. I'll be with you in a second."

Though he stayed on the call with her, she could hear him speaking to someone else, his voice low and indistinct. Unable to make out what he was saying, she kept her focus on the road, her eyes flicking to the rearview mirror.

The car behind her was so close it felt suffocating. She squinted, trying to make out the passengers, but the darkness obscured everything. Her heart pounded as she tightened her grip on the wheel, determined to keep control.

Her father's voice returned, composed but firm. "They're on their way, Nina. Just hang on a little longer. You're doing great, darling."

She exhaled shakily, her fingers uncurling slightlys she tried to collect herself. "Okay. How much longer?"

"Not long," he reassured her. "Just stay calm, stick to the main roads, and don't engage with anyone. You're doing everything right."

Moments later, two black SUVs appeared—one approaching from the front, the other closing in behind the Audi. The driver of the Audi seemed to notice and began to panic, swerving wildly as they tried to avoid being trapped.

"They're making a move," Nina said, her voice tight with fear.

"Stay calm," her father instructed through the speakers. "Focus on your driving. The security team will handle it."

Nina gripped the wheel tightly, her heart pounding as she navigated the winding coastal road. The SUVs were trying to box the Audi in, but the driver was desperate, darting left and right, searching for an escape. As the road narrowed toward Monaco's famous hairpin curve, the Audi suddenly accelerated, pulling up dangerously close to Nina's car.

Her pulse raced as she glanced in the rearview mirror, then turned her head, catching a glimpse of the car now leveling with hers. Its windows were darkly tinted, concealing whoever was inside. A wave of panic surged through her as the black SUV behind the Audi mirrored its erratic movements, the chase spiraling into desperation and chaos.

Everything happened in a blur. A car appeared ahead, coming from the opposite direction, forcing the Audi's driver into a split-second decision. They reacted hastily, swerving hard to avoid the oncoming vehicle but misjudged the move. With nowhere else to go, the Audi veered directly into Nina's car, slamming into its side with a deafening crunch.

The impact sent Nina's car spinning, tires screeching as the world outside her windows dissolved into a chaotic blur. Her heart thundered as she gripped the wheel, trying desperately to regain control, but the momentum carried her straight into a concrete barrier—a leftover remnant from yesterday's race—with a bone-jarring crash.

The airbags exploded, slamming into her chest and face with brutal force, knocking the breath out of her. Glass shattered, metal groaned, and then, silence—broken only by the ringing in her ears. Everything had come to a sudden, shuddering halt.

"Nina! Nina!" her father's voice roared through the speakers, panicked and desperate. "What happened? Are you okay? Nina, answer me!"

She gasped for air, her lungs felt constricted, and her head pounded. She reached up to her forehead, wincing as her fingers touched the source of the pain. Warm blood trickled down her temple, and while every part of her body ached, she was still conscious.

"I'm fine, Papa," she managed to whisper, her voice trembling as she tried to catch her breath. "I'm... I'm okay."

"Nina, talk to me!" Harry shouted, his voice frantic. "Are you hurt? Are you okay? Tell me, love!"

"I'm fine," she said softly, swallowing hard. "Just bleeding a little."

"Bleeding?" His voice sharpened. "Nina, you're bleeding? Where? How bad is it?"

"It's nothing, Papa," she reassured him, though her voice wavered. "Don't worry. I'm really fine."

Tears streamed down her face as she leaned back against the headrest, her breath coming in shallow, uneven gasps.

The weight of exhaustion, fear, and frustration crashed over her all at once. "Why... why does my life have to be like this?" she murmured, her voice cracking. Then, with a sudden surge of despair, she screamed, "FUCK! FUCK! I'M FUCKING TIIIIRED!"

And then, as if the dam had finally shattered, she broke into uncontrollable sobs, her face crumpling under the weight of her anguish, every line etched with pain and the suffocating sense of enough. Her cries were loud and raw, escaping through the shattered windows into the empty air outside. "I can't do this anymore! I'm so tired of everything!" she wailed, her chest heaving as the tears streamed down unchecked, each sob echoing in the wreckage around her.

"Nina, love," Harry's voice came through the speakers, trembling with emotion, thick with helplessness. "Listen to me. You're going to be okay. I swear to you, you're going to be okay."

Her sobs only grew louder, raw and guttural, as if days of suppressed frustration were pouring out all at once.

"I know you're tired, sweetheart," he said, his tone soft but firm. "I know it feels like the world is against you right now, but you're strong. You've always been strong."

His voice cracked slightly, but he continued, desperate to calm her. "Just breathe, Nina. Focus on me. Help is on the way, love."

Her cries softened slightly, though tears still streamed down her face. "I'm just so tired, Papa," she whispered, her voice fragile. "So, so tired..."

"I know, darling," he said, his voice now thick with worry. "But you're safe now. We'll get through this together, I promise. Just hold on a little longer, okay? I'm coming to you."

Moments later, flashing lights illuminated the dark street, cutting through the chaos as the security SUVs and an ambulance arrived. One of the SUVs maneuvered swiftly, boxing in the Audi and forcing it to a complete stop, while another positioned itself beside Nina's car, shielding her from further danger.

A man in a suit approached her vehicle cautiously, tapping gently on the window. "Miss McLaren, it's okay. We're Prince Albert's security team. We're here to help," he said, his tone soothing and reassuring.

"Prince Albert?" she repeated softly, her mind struggling to process his words. Her body trembled as she nodded weakly. "Papa... they're here," she spoke faintly, her voice breaking.

"Good," Harry said, his voice filled with relief. "Let them take care of you, love. I'm already on my way to the airport. I'm coming, darling. Just hold on."

The paramedics carefully opened her door, their voices kind and comforting. "You've got a deep cut on your head, and there's a chance of a concussion. Let's get you checked out."

Blood streaked down the side of her face, dried in uneven lines. One of the paramedics gently cleaned the wound, their movements careful, before wrapping a thick bandage securely around her head. The stark white stood out against her pale, shaken complexion.

They draped a blanket over her shoulders, their words steady as they continued assessing her injuries. She clung to the blanket tightly, her hands trembling as the adrenaline began to wear off and the shock started to take hold. The weight of what had just happened pressed down on her, leaving her feeling small and fragile despite their calm reassurances.

Inside the ambulance, as the paramedics worked, she stared out at the wreckage of her car and the now-detained Audi. Tears slid silently down her cheeks, exhaustion and relief battling within her. For now, at least, she was safe.

Chapter Text

Harry McLaren sat in the Hilton hotel lobby in Barcelona, his fingers drumming restlessly against the arm of his chair as he listened to the voice on the other end of the phone. His voice was sharp, his frustration barely contained.

"So, what's the story here? Was this blackmail? Extortion? Some attempt at leverage over the family or the foundation?" he asked, his mind running through every possibility.

The voice on the other end hesitated before replying. "No, sir. It wasn't anything like that."

Harry leaned forward, his tone hardening. "Then what was it? Who are these people?"

There was a pause before the answer came. "Fans, Mr. McLaren. They're fans."

Harry froze, disbelief written all over his face. "Fans?" he repeated, his voice low and incredulous. "You're telling me these lunatics were just angry fans?"

"Yes, sir," the voice replied cautiously. "From what they've told us, their anger was fueled by a broadcast and some footage they misinterpreted. They followed Miss McLaren because they wanted to confront her."

Harry let out a sharp breath, his hand gripping the edge of the table as his frustration boiled over. "They chased her down like that because they were mad? Mad about what, exactly?"

The person on the line explained further, outlining how the fans had reacted emotionally and irrationally after seeing the broadcast, believing Nina had betrayed one driver while leading on another.

"So, they thought taking justice into their own hands was a good idea?" Harry said, his voice heavy with sarcasm. "Cornering her in Monaco, of all places—do they even realize how dangerous that was? She's lucky to get away with just a cut and a concussion. They could've killed her!" His tone sharpened, his anger barely restrained.

The voice on the other end continued, detailing how the fans had panicked when they realized Prince Albert's security team was involved, their recklessness spiraling into the crash.

Harry exhaled slowly, his tone turning icy. "Let me make this perfectly clear: I don't care what they thought or what they felt. They put my daughter's life in danger because of their delusions. I want every single one of them held accountable. No excuses."

The voice assured him the individuals were in custody and would face legal consequences.

"Good," Harry said firmly. "Make sure they understand that if they come near her again—or anyone in my family—it won't end with a phone call. And make it very clear to everyone else that this kind of behavior will not be tolerated."

He ended the call with a sharp press of the button, leaning back in his chair and running a hand over his face. For a moment, he'd feared this was something bigger—blackmail, organized harassment, or worse. But knowing it was all because of angry, irrational fans didn't make him feel any better.

"Fans," he muttered bitterly under his breath. "They think they own the people they watch. And now my daughter nearly paid the price."

Harry let out a slow, deep breath, still gripping the phone as if it would somehow ground him. Before he could collect his thoughts, a familiar voice broke through his haze.

"Ah, Harry! There you are," Zak Brown said, approaching with his usual enthusiasm. "I've been looking for you. Wanted to go over the updated proposal for the new partnership deal with Vodafone." He paused, noticing Harry's tense expression. "Something's wrong?"

Harry nodded, letting out a heavy sigh as he stood, ready to leave. "Yeah. Can you cover for me, please? I need to head to Monaco right now."

Zak frowned, his voice laced with concern. "Monaco? Why? What's going on?"

"Nina..." Harry started, his voice strained. "She just had an accident."

Zak's eyes widened. "What? Is she okay?"

"She's fine," Harry said, though his voice carried the weight of the situation. "But it was serious. She was being followed—fans, haters, I don't even know who. They panicked and made a reckless move, crashing into her. I was on the phone with her when it happened."

"Where is she now?" Zak asked, his tone sharp with concern.

"I've been in touch with the security manager," Harry replied. "He assured me she's safe and has been taken care of."

Zak nodded, a hint of relief crossing his face. "Good. That's good."

Harry let out a heavy sigh, his shoulders slumping under the strain. "But the situation's out of control. I need to figure out how to protect her. This can't happen again."

Zak paused before asking, "Should we say something publicly? Maybe put out a statement to stop people from going after her?"

Harry shook his head, his expression grim. "I don't think that would be enough."

Zak's eyes lit up as an idea struck him, his expression shifting from concern to determination. He snapped his fingers and stepped closer to Harry. "What about this—she comes with us to the races? She'll be surrounded by the team, and you'll be there to keep an eye on her."

Harry met Zak's gaze, his expression serious. "I'll try to convince her, but you know how she is. She'll find a reason to say no. But you're right—I need her close. I can't be miles away, knowing she's a target for this kind of madness. She crashed, Zak. That's how bad it got, even with Prince Albert's protection."

Zak blinked, taken aback. "Wait—you went that far?"

Harry's tone hardened, his intensity impossible to miss. "Of course I went that far. It's Nina we're talking about. My little Nina." His voice cracked at the end, the weight of his emotions spilling through again. "For a moment, I thought it was worse—like a kidnapping. I was sure someone was trying to get to me through my family again." He swallowed hard, his expression dark. "My mind went to some very dark places."

He paused, his breath shuddering as he tried to steady himself. "And I'm glad I did," he said, his voice breaking under the weight of his guilt. "She was terrified, Zak. I can still hear it—her voice, her screams, her sobs... It's burned into my head." His hands trembled as he ran them through his hair, his eyes clouded with anguish. "I failed her. I should've protected her, should've had security around her from the start. How could I have been so blind? So careless?" His voice cracked completely, raw with regret.

Zak stepped closer, resting a firm hand on Harry's shoulder. "Harry, you're doing everything you can, and she's safe now. That's what matters. She knows you've got her back, so let's just focus on keeping her protected from here on out." He paused, his tone softening. "Honestly, I got so caught up with the team and the race that I didn't realize just how vulnerable Nina is right now with all this attention. I'm sorry for that—I should've warned you or done more to help."

Harry shook his head firmly. "No, no, Zak. It's not your job to worry about Nina—it's mine. I'm her father. I should've protected her, and I didn't."

Zak held his gaze, his voice soft but sincere. "Harry, I'm not talking as McLaren's CEO right now. I'm speaking as someone who cares about her—as if she were my own daughter."

Harry nodded faintly, his expression still riddled with guilt, but there was a flicker of relief in his eyes. He shook his head, frustration evident. "Thankfully, Prince Albert stepped in. He's always been an ally, and over the years we've built a strong relationship with Monaco's royalty. I knew I could count on him. But this wasn't just about getting her help—it was about sending a message. People need to understand that Nina McLaren isn't an easy target. With the Prince's protection, anyone thinking about trying this again will know they're playing a dangerous game."

As he finished speaking, his phone buzzed, cutting through the tension. He glanced down at the screen, then straightened, his tone firm. "The jet's ready. I have to go."

Zak nodded, his expression resolute. "Okay, but just so you know, I'm not telling the team about this. And definitely not Lando. They need to stay focused on the race."

Harry gave a tight nod. "Yeah, don't tell Lando about this. Last thing we need is him getting distracted."

"Don't tell me what?"

Both men turned, startled, as Lando Norris appeared out of nowhere, hands stuffed casually in his pockets.

Harry sighed, already feeling a headache coming on. "Weren't you supposed to be going over race strategy with Andrea?"

Lando shrugged, a faint grin tugging at his lips. "I was. Took a break and saw Zak over here, so I figured I'd come check in." He glanced between the two of them, his grin fading slightly. "What's going on? Don't tell me what?"

Zak opened his mouth to respond, but Harry cut him off, his tone sharp. "It's nothing you need to worry about, Lando. Go focus on the car."

Lando frowned, his gaze darting between them. "If it's nothing, why not just tell me? Is it about Nina?"

Harry raised his hands in surrender before turning to Zak with a pointed look. "I'll let you handle this. I need to get to the airport."

Zak watched as Harry grabbed his coat and took a step back. With a sigh and a faint smirk, he said, "Ah, classic Harry—always leaving me to handle the messy conversations." His tone was light, but the teasing was unmistakable.

Harry smirked faintly over his shoulder. "You're better at it." And with that, he strode off, leaving Zak alone to deal with Lando's growing curiosity.

Zak turned back to Lando, who was already narrowing his eyes. "You'll find out soon enough, so I might as well tell you now," Zak said, pausing for a moment before adding, "But before I say anything else, I want you to know, Nina is fine."

Lando's heart sank, a knot tightening in his chest. "What do you mean, 'Nina is fine'?" he asked, his voice sharp. He didn't like the way Zak had started this—it felt like a setup for something bad.

Zak held up his hand, trying to calm him. "She had a accident."

"What kind of accident?" Lando demanded, his voice rising as he took a step closer.

"Lando, calm down," Zak said firmly. "Some crazy fans followed her in Monaco, acted recklessly, and caused a crash. She's fine, and Harry's taking care of it. That's all I know for now, and honestly, that's all you need to know."

Lando stared at Zak, his jaw tightening as the words sank in. His pulse was racing, his mind already filling with worst-case scenarios. "She crashed because of fans?" he said slowly, the disbelief clear in his tone.

Zak nodded. "Yeah, but like I said, she's okay. Harry's flying out to be with her, and she's got protection now. What you need to do is focus on the weekend. Let Harry handle it."

Lando's hands clenched at his sides. "How am I supposed to focus when you drop something like this on me?"

Zak sighed, placing a steady hand on Lando's shoulder. "You wanted to know, and now you do. But listen to me—there's nothing you can do for her from here. Harry's on top of it, and Nina is safe. Right now, the best thing you can do is focus on the race. That's where you're needed. Do you understand?"

Lando exhaled sharply, his jaw tight, but he nodded reluctantly.

Zak gave him a firm pat on the back. "Good. Now, get back to the conference room. The team needs you out there."

Without another word, Lando turned and walked away, his mind racing. He couldn't stop himself, though. As soon as he was out of Zak's sight, he pulled out his phone and scrolled to her name. His thumb hovered over the call button for a moment before he pressed it.

The line rang, but there was no answer. Not that he was surprised—she probably had enough going on without taking his call. Still, the knot in his chest tightened as he stared at the unanswered screen.

With a sharp exhale, Lando scrolled through his contacts and started calling anyone who might be in Monaco or able to help. One went straight to voicemail, the silence on the other end gnawing at his nerves. Another answered but quickly dismissed him, saying they weren't in Monaco and couldn't help. Someone else promised to call around and check, but their vague reassurance only made his chest tighten further. Every dead end felt like another door slamming shut, leaving him more helpless with each passing second.

"Funny," he muttered sarcastically, sliding his phone into his pocket. "When it's about money, they're all over me. But when it really matters? Nothing."

He let out a hollow laugh, shaking his head. "I've got you, Nina." Yeah, great job, Lando, he thought grimly. Some protector I am—she's out there dealing with this alone, and I can't do a damn thing to help.

Frustration boiled over as Lando leaned back against the wall, rubbing his face with both hands. His phone was suddenly in his grip again before he realized it. He scrolled through his contacts, his thumb hovering over one particular name, hesitation gripping him.

He stared at the screen, his heart pounding. What am I doing? He didn't want to make this call—he wasn't even sure what he'd say. But Nina needed someone. Someone she could trust. Someone who truly cared. Even if it killed him to rely on him instead of being the one there for her.

He released a heavy sigh, battling the tension between his pride and his concern. This is for her, he told himself.

After a long pause, he pressed the call button. The name flashed across the screen, bold and challenging him like a dare:

Arthur Leclerc

Chapter Text

Arthur lay in bed, staring blankly at the ceiling of his dimly lit Monaco apartment. No matter how hard he tried, sleep wouldn't come. His flight to Barcelona was early tomorrow, and Charles was already there, likely deep into preparations for the weekend.

But Arthur's mind wasn't on the race.

This morning's breakup with Nina still sat heavy on his chest, lingering like an ache he couldn't quite shake. He knew it was the right decision—for both of them. Or at least, that's what he kept telling himself. Dwelling on it wouldn't change anything, yet he couldn't stop the thoughts from circling back.

Then there was Alpine. The conversation waiting for him this week. Was the deal still on, or had things shifted? More uncertainty, more unanswered questions. It was easier to focus on that than everything else weighing on him.

With a sigh, he turned onto his side, pressing the phone to his ear. His mother's voice filled the quiet, grounding him.

"Chéri, your hair must be a mess," she teased. "You should have come to the salon today."

Arthur ran a hand through his unruly hair, exhaling. "Yeah, sorry. I was... busy."

"Busy, huh?" she said knowingly. "Nina-busy, I assume? Well, next time, bring her too."

Arthur's stomach twisted, his heart dropping at the mention of her name. His grip on the phone tightened. "I don't think Nina will be coming with me next time," he admitted.

"Why?" His mother's voice softened. "I'd love to see her again."

Arthur opened his mouth to respond, but before he could, a sharp beep signaled an incoming second call. He frowned, glancing at the screen.

Lando Norris

What the fuck?

Surprise flickered across his face before his expression darkened. Lando was the last person on earth he wanted to talk to. Without hesitation, he declined the call.

"Arthur?" His mother's voice pulled him back. "Are you still there?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm here, Maman," he said quickly. "What was I saying? Ah, right. Nina's not coming because... we broke up."

A stunned silence hung on the line before his mother gasped. "Oh non, Arthur, what happened? You seemed so happy with her. Is this because I told that journalist about your relationship?"

"What? Non, Maman, it's not—"

His phone beeped again—another incoming call. Same name. Same caller.

Arthur clenched his jaw, exhaling sharply. His patience was wearing thin.

"Maman, can I call you later?"

"But, Arthur, I want the full story—what happened?"

"I'll call you later," he repeated, his tone firm as he ended the call.

Without missing a beat, he snatched his phone and answered the persistent caller.

"What the fuck do you want from me?"

"Are you still in Monaco?" Lando's voice was tight, urgent.

Arthur frowned, already on edge. "Yeah. Why? If this is just to call me a coward or crack jokes, then I—"

"Just shut up and listen, muppet," Lando interrupted, his tone tense, almost desperate. "This isn't about you or me. It's about Nina."

At her name, Arthur's heart dropped again. He sat up straighter, his annoyance vanishing in an instant. "What about Nina? What's going on?"

Lando's voice softened, but there was an edge of urgency that sent chills down Arthur's spine. "She had an accident. I just heard from her father. Fans chased her... made her crash."

Arthur stiffened. "Fans?" His voice tensed. "Is she okay?"

"Harry says she's fine," Lando said, his voice cracking slightly. "But I'm not there, Arthur. I don't know what's really going on, and it's driving me crazy. I can't be with her—"

Arthur cut him off, his tone sharp. "Why are you telling me this? Why not call someone else?"

Lando let out a bitter laugh, his irritation unmistakable. "You think I want to call you? Trust me, I wouldn't if I wasn't this desperate," he snapped, his voice tight. "I can't be there, Arthur—I'm already in Barcelona. I just need to know Nina isn't alone right now, at least until her father gets there."

Arthur sighed, his jaw tightening as he absorbed Lando's words. "And you're trusting me with this?"

"No," Lando said bluntly. "But Nina trusts you, and as much as I hate to admit it, I know you care about her. That's enough for me."

The line fell silent for a moment, the weight of the situation pressing down. Arthur's mind raced, doubt and questions flooding his thoughts, but one thing was clear—Nina needed him, and there was no room for hesitation.

"Where is she?" Arthur asked at last, his voice low but steady.

"I don't know exactly," Lando admitted, frustration threading through his tone. "All I know is she's dealing with this alone, and I can't do anything from here. I wouldn't be calling if it wasn't important. Just... be there, Arthur."

Arthur stood, already pulling on a shirt, his movements sharp with purpose. "Fine," he said firmly. "I'll find her."

In that moment, there was no rivalry, no bitterness. Just two men, united by their care for the same person.

Lando exhaled audibly, relief clear in his tone. "Thank you."

"This isn't for you," Arthur said sharply, grabbing his jacket from the chair. "So don't thank me."

There was a brief pause on the other end, but Lando didn't argue. Finally, his voice softened. "Just... take care of her, okay? And let me know what's—"

Arthur didn't let him finish. He ended the call with a firm press of his thumb.

Now how am I gonna find her? The thought raced through Arthur's mind. A crash in Monaco? There had to be something online—a video, a photo, anything.

He opened Instagram and started scrolling, searching for clues. The first thing he came across was the usual flood of hateful comments. He bit his lip, frustration flaring, but forced himself to keep looking. Then he saw it—a nighttime photo of her car, crumpled against a barrier.

Arthur recognized the location instantly. Fairmont Hairpin. "Found it," he muttered, grabbing his keys. Without hesitation, he drove to the scene.

When he arrived, the area was barricaded, with security standing watch. He parked his car further away and walked over, his heart pounding. As he approached, he tried asking a guard what had happened, but they refused to answer at first, brushing him off.

Arthur clenched his jaw, exhaling sharply before saying, "I'm Arthur Leclerc. I'm Nina's boyfr—" he hesitated, correcting himself quickly, "Nina's friend. Her family and friends are worried about her, and I need to know where she is and what happened."

Before the guard could respond, a voice called out from behind. "Arthur?"

He turned sharply, his chest tightening when he saw her. Nina was sitting in the back of an ambulance, a bandage wrapped around her head. She looked pale, and there was a distant, dazed expression in her eyes.

The security guard glanced at her, then back at him. "Do you know him?"

"Yes, yes!" Nina said urgently, her voice weak but insistent. "Let him through, please."

Arthur didn't wait for further permission. He stepped past the barricade, his focus solely on her. She looked fragile, like a shadow of the strong woman he knew, and it made his heart ache.

"Nina," he said softly, kneeling beside her. "What happened? Are you okay?"

She managed a faint smile, though her voice trembled. "Arthur... I'm fine, really. Just a concussion, they said." She touched the bandage as if just remembering it. "Oh yeah, and this."

His jaw clenched. Carefully, he brushed a strand of hair from her face, mindful of the bandage. "You don't look fine."

"I'm fine," she repeated, though her voice cracked.

Arthur leaned closer, his tone steady and reassuring. "Your father's on his way. You're safe now, Nina. You don't need to worry about anything, okay?"

She met his gaze, her eyes glistening with unshed tears, and gave a small, almost hesitant nod.

Without thinking, he closed the space between them, wrapping his arms around her carefully, as if afraid she might break. She clung to him instantly, fingers twisting into the fabric of his jacket, holding on like he was the only thing keeping her grounded.

"I'm so happy you're here, Arthur," she whispered, her voice fragile, barely there. "Thank you for coming."

His throat tightened.

"Of course, Nina," he murmured, his voice raw, filled with something he couldn't quite name. "Always."

Arthur's phone buzzed in his jacket pocket, shattering the fragile moment between them. His fingers curled into a fist, resisting reality's pull, but the vibration was relentless. He fought the urge to pull away, to stay in this fleeting moment, but instinct won, forcing him to break the hug. Slowly, reluctantly, he let go and fished out the phone.

The moment he saw the name on the screen, his chest squeezed, caught in an invisible grip that made it hard to breathe. A sharp exhale slipped past his lips.

Nina noticed. Of course, she did. Her brow creased, concern flickering in her tired eyes. "What is it?" she asked, her voice soft but hesitant.

Arthur stared at the name, his grip tightening around the device. A war raged inside him—one he didn't want to fight. His selfish side, the part of him that wanted to keep her here, just for a little longer, screamed at him to lie. Say it's nothing. Hang up. Don't let him in. Don't let her go.

But then he made the mistake of looking at her again.

And he saw it.

Saw the way her expression shifted, the way the light in her eyes dimmed—just slightly—like she had been hoping it was him. Like she had been waiting for this call. For him.

Arthur wasn't the one she wanted to see or hear right now. He never had been.

A sharp ache twisted in his chest, bitter and undeniable. He could still lie. He could still keep this moment for himself, steal just a few more seconds.

But he wasn't that kind of man.

Even when it hurt like hell.

Jaw tight, stomach sinking, he held out the phone. Wordlessly.

Nina hesitated, her gaze flicking between Arthur's face and the phone in his hand, trying to understand why he was giving it to her. "Who is it?" she asked, her tone laced with knowing curiosity. After a moment, she reached out and took it.

The instant her eyes met the screen, a soft smile flickered across her lips—brief, almost instinctive, like relief. But when she looked back at Arthur, that warmth faltered, her smile dimming into something quieter, something apologetic.

And in that moment, Arthur knew—really knew—he had already lost.

She was already gone.

"I should take this," she murmured, her voice soft but steady.

Arthur gave a small nod, his expression unreadable. "Go ahead."

As she answered the call, he turned away, heading toward the guards—determined to understand what had happened, what was going to happen next. Anything to keep moving. Anything to keep from looking back.

Chapter Text

Lando sat in the conference room of the Hilton hotel, surrounded by Andrea, his team principal, Will, his race engineer, and a handful of other key staff. They were deep in discussions about race strategy for the upcoming weekend, with diagrams and data filling the screen in front of them. But his mind was somewhere else entirely.

The strategy sheet in front of him blurred, Andrea's voice fading into the background. The numbers meant nothing. His thoughts kept drifting back to Monaco—to Arthur, and most of all, to Nina.

"Lando, what's your take on the alternate tire strategy for the second stint?" Andrea asked, his tone expectant.

Was she wounded?

"Lando?" Andrea's voice was calm, patient.

Did Arthur find her?

"Lando."

What did those fans want from her?

"Lando!" Andrea's voice sharpened, cutting through the murmur of the room.

Lando blinked, his head snapping up. "Huh? What?"

Andrea frowned, clearly annoyed. "You're not with us, are you?"

"No, no, I am," Lando said quickly, sitting up straighter. "I'm with you. I'm just—"

One of the engineers smirked and muttered, "Distracted?"

Lando sighed. I have to focus, he told himself. With a sharp motion, he clapped both hands against his face, leaving faint red marks on his skin. He closed his eyes for a brief moment, exhaling slowly, trying to reset.

"Sorry, sorry," he muttered, shaking off the distraction. "I'm here. Let's go back—what was that last part about the tire strategy?"

Andrea gave him a look but continued, moving past the interruption.

By the end of the meeting, Lando was scribbling notes, nodding along as Andrea wrapped things up. As soon as the meeting ended and the others began packing up, he pulled out his phone. Still no calls from Arthur.

His jaw tightened as he stared at the blank screen, the conversation with him replaying in his head. That wanker. He really hung up on me.

Without a second thought, Lando tapped on Arthur's contact and hit call. The line rang endlessly, and just as he thought it would go unanswered, a voice finally picked up.

"Lando?"

His heart stopped. It wasn't Arthur—it was Nina.

"Nina?" Lando said, his voice a sharp mix of relief and urgency. "Are you okay? Are you hurt? What happened?"

"I'm fine," she said softly, her tone calm but tired. "I still don't really know what happened. A car was following me from the airport, and it crashed into me. Arthur just got here—he's trying to figure everything out."

"Are you sure you're okay?" Lando pressed, his concern evident.

"Yeah," she reassured him softly, her voice calm and soothing. "Just a cut on my head and a concussion—nothing too serious. I promise, I'm okay."

Lando leaned back in his chair, closing his eyes as relief washed over him. He stayed quiet for a moment, his steady breathing the only sound on the line. Finally, he exhaled, his voice barely above a whisper. "I've been worried sick."

"Lando," she said, her voice both gentle and firm. "I'm okay. Don't worry about me, please."

But Lando wasn't convinced. His grip tightened around the phone, his jaw clenching. "How can I not? Nina, you were attacked. And I wasn't there—I couldn't do anything."

"You don't have to do anything," she murmured. "I'm safe now. It's over." She hesitated, then added, "What you do need to do is focus on your job, alright? Arthur's here with me, and Papa's on his way. I'll be fine, I promise."

Lando hesitated, his voice quiet but weighted. "Yeah, Arthur's with you... but it should've been me." He swallowed hard. "I hate that I'm not there for you."

Nina's voice softened, barely more than a whisper. "But you are here for me, Lando. And... don't worry about Arthur."

"Of course I'm going to worry about him," Lando admitted, his frustration seeping through. "Knowing how he feels about you, I can't just ignore it. Even though I'm grateful he's with you right now, it still eats at me." He sighed deeply, running a hand through his hair. "I'm sorry... I shouldn't be saying this right now. I should be focused on you."

Nina let out a quiet, knowing laugh. "Oh, aren't we a little jealous, Mr. Norris?"

"Yeah, well, I am fucking jealous, Nina," Lando admitted, irritation laced in his voice. "I'm sitting here, talking to you through his damn phone, for fuck's sake, and it's kill—"

"Lando," she interrupted gently, but firmly, cutting through his spiraling thoughts. "Listen to me" Nina sensed the hesitation in his voice, the insecurity beneath his frustration. She wouldn't let it linger.

He fell silent.

She took a slow breath, her voice steady, unwavering. "You are the only person I want by my side. Not him. Not anyone else. You."

She let the words settle, wanting them to sink in, to reach the part of him that doubted.

"Did you hear me?" she asked, softer now, as if willing him to believe it.

Another pause, this time more intimate, almost fragile. "I said, you're the only one I want. Only you, Lando."

"Okay?" she whispered, as if sealing a promise.

Lando exhaled, a soft smile tugging at his lips even as his heart pounded. "God, i just want to hold you. To have you in my arms." He swallowed, his voice quieter now.

"Alright then," she said playfully. "Close your eyes."

Lando huffed a quiet laugh. "Nina—"

"Just do it," she urged, her voice warm, coaxing. "Picture me—bandage on my head, pale face, red, puffy eyes—but still smiling at you like an idiot."

Lando exhaled sharply, shaking his head even as he shut his eyes.

"Then," she continued, softer now, "I open my arms, pull you in, and hold on tight. I rest my head on your shoulder, my breath warm against your neck..." She let the words settle before adding, "I start tracing little circles on your back, just so you know I'm comfortable. And then I just melt into you—because, honestly? There's nowhere else I'd rather be."

Lando swallowed, shifting slightly in his seat.

"And then," her voice dipped into something more teasing, "I nuzzle into your neck, letting my nose brush against your skin. You smell like you—warm, familiar, safe. So, I just breathe you in and let it calm me down."

She let the silence stretch for a beat before continuing, her tone playful now.

"And then, I pull back, just enough to look at you. My hands rest on your shoulders, and my fingers find their way into your hair—playing with the ends, because I can't help it."

Lando huffed out a breath, running a hand down his face as he leaned back.

"I love the mullet on you," she added, a smile in her voice.

He chuckled, soft and airy, but he didn't say anything.

"And then," she went on, voice quiet, intimate, "I glance at your lips, just for a second—maybe a little too long. And when I smile, you know what's coming before I even move."

Lando's fingers curled against his knee, his jaw tightening slightly.

"I close the distance." A pause. "Soft, unhurried. Just a whisper of a kiss."

Lando exhaled sharply, his eyes still shut, lost in the image she painted.

"Can you picture it?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Silence.

Then, after a beat, his voice came, rougher than before. "Yeah."

She smiled to herself, knowing she had him right where she wanted. "Good."

There was another pause, the kind that felt heavier than words. Nina could hear his breathing over the line, slower, deeper, as if he was trying to ground himself.

"You okay there, Lando?" she teased, her voice light, knowing exactly what she was doing.

A sharp inhale. A quiet curse slipped from his lips. Then finally—

"Nina... What the fuck are you doing to me?"

She laughed softly, full of mischief. "Making you blush, obviously."

Lando let out a breathy chuckle before dropping his forehead onto the table, eyes closed. Her words lingered on his skin, her touch still a phantom sensation in his mind—the warmth of her imaginary lips brushing his. His fingers twitched against the phone as he tried to shake it off, but his body had already betrayed him.

"You're evil, you know that?" he muttered.

"Well," she teased, "if I can mess with your head like that, then that proves I'm completely fine."

He laughed again, straightening up and shaking his head. "Yeah, yeah, you sound fine, but I still hate that I'm not there."

"Lando," she said, her tone softer now. "Really, I'm okay. Just focus on your weekend, alright? I want you to crush it like you always do. Can you do that for me?"

Lando smiled, his chest swelling with emotion. "Yeah. I'll make you proud."

"That's the Lando I know. You've got this," Nina said, her voice filled with quiet encouragement. She hesitated before adding, "Arthur's back. I should go, Lando. I'll call you when things are more settled, okay?"

"Wait, wait, wait!" Lando blurted. "Give me Arthur—I want to talk to him."

Nina glanced at Arthur, who was now standing in front of her. With a sigh, she handed him the phone. "Lando wants to talk to you," she said softly.

Arthur took the phone, raising an eyebrow as he brought it to his ear. "What is it this time?"

Lando's tone was firm. "I just want to make sure you'll leave once her father arrives. Thanks for being there, but after that, you can go."

Arthur paused for a moment, smirking as he locked eyes with Nina.

"Or what?"

The words were sharp, calculated—too calculated.

Lando's anger ignited the second he recognized them. "You motherfucker, or I'll—"

Arthur didn't let him finish. Keeping his expression calm and smug, he ended the call with a click, leaving Lando seething on the other end.

Nina raised an eyebrow. "Are you messing with him?"

Arthur glanced at the call he'd just declined, a flicker of amusement in his eyes. "A little, yeah."

She sighed. "Don't be too hard on him."

Arthur looked at her then, noticing the concern in her eyes—not for herself, but for Lando. Yeah, he thought, it's really over.

Lando's calls started coming in almost immediately, one after another. But each time Arthur saw his name flash on the screen, he ignored it, a small, bitter smirk tugging at his lips. He had no illusions about where he stood—things with Nina were done. There was no going back.

But if Lando wanted to be with her, Arthur wasn't going to make it easy.

While Lando kept calling, Arthur turned his attention to Nina, his voice calm but steady as he explained what had happened. "It was fans," he said gently. "They followed you from the airport and caused the crash. You'll be moved to a secure, guarded location soon—everything's been arranged."

Arthur looked back at the security guards before turning to Nina. "Prince Albert, huh? McLaren's connections are no joke. I thought you'd call the police."

Nina let out a bitter scoff. "The police? If I'd called them, I'd probably be dead by now." Her jaw tightened as she forced herself to continue. "Last time I was in a situation like this and went to them, I ended up in a van with three masked men. So I called Papa instead," she added, "just like I promised him I would."

Arthur's eyes widened. "What?"

Nina exhaled sharply, shaking her head. "Long story." She brushed the memory aside, unwilling to relive it.

But even as she pushed it away, another realization crept in—when the panic had set in, when she needed someone, her first thought hadn't been her father. It had been Lando.

The moment the danger hit, his name was the first to flash through her mind.

The thought sent warmth rushing to her cheeks, and before she could stop it, a faint blush bloomed.

Determined to shake it off, she cleared her throat, forcing her voice to steady. "Anyway... how did you know? That I had an accident? That I was here?"

Arthur hesitated for half a second before answering. "Lando called me," he admitted. "He asked me to find you."

Nina's tired eyes flickered with surprise. "Lando?" she echoed, a quiet laugh escaping as she pictured him—jaw clenched, hating every second of that call, but making it anyway. He must have been really worried.

"Yeah," Arthur nodded. "I found the crash location online and got there as fast as I could."

Before she could properly thank him again, security stepped forward. "We have to go."

Without hesitation, they escorted her to a guarded vehicle, ready to transport her to a secure location. Arthur didn't join her inside; instead, he got into his own car, following closely behind, unwilling to be too far away.

Once they arrived, Arthur stayed by her side for hours, his quiet presence steadying her. To pass the time, they talked—about Alpine, about golf, and how, despite himself, he had grown to love the sport she cared about so much. That made her smile, a soft, genuine curve of her lips despite the exhaustion weighing on her.

Eventually, her eyelids grew heavy, and before she could fight it, sleep pulled her under.

When her father arrived, Arthur stood to greet him, his weariness evident but his tone composed. He gave Harry a brief update, assuring him that Nina was fine and had been resting.

"Thank you for taking care of her," Harry said, his voice filled with gratitude. "I appreciate everything you've done, especially after what happened yesterday. I'm sorry if things were... tense after the race."

Arthur shook his head, offering a small, tired smile. "No need to apologize. I'm just glad she's okay. That's all that matters."

Harry nodded, his expression softening. "Still, it means a lot to me—and to her."

With a final glance at Nina, peacefully asleep, Arthur excused himself, leaving her in her father's care. As much as he wanted to stay, the weight of the long day was pulling him under.

Back at his apartment, he couldn't shake the thoughts running through his head. What had happened tonight was serious—too serious. And he knew exactly why. This was because of them. He and Lando might not have intended it, but they had played a part in this.

Exhaustion gnawed at him, but he refused to sleep just yet. Pulling out his phone, he opened Instagram and started typing.

A black background. White text. No frills. Just the truth.

Hello everyone,

After careful consideration, Nina and I have decided to part ways. We remain good friends, and I care for her deeply. I will always support and respect her, both personally and professionally.

But what happened today is not just unacceptable. It's dangerous. No one should have to fear for their safety due to speculation or obsession. Nina deserves peace, respect, and the freedom to live without being put in harm's way.

Please respect her privacy and allow her to move forward without intrusion.

Thank you for your understanding 🙏

He hit post, knowing it would make waves. It had to. Enough was enough.

Phone in hand, Arthur barely made it to his bed before collapsing onto the mattress. His eyes shut the moment his head hit the pillow. Only a few hours remained before his flight to Barcelona, but for now, fatigue took over.

He had done his part. It was time for someone else to take care of her, to do right by her.

And with that, Arthur closed the chapter on Nina.

Chapter Text

Three days had passed since the crash. It was Thursday, and Nina was on her way to Barcelona. The doctors hadn't allowed her to fly immediately, insisting she rest before traveling.

After Arthur posted that story on Instagram, the wave of hate began to fade. Some fans were shocked by how extreme things had gotten, and soon, messages of support started pouring in. Many called out the toxicity, while others simply reached out with kindness.

Through it all, Lando had called her every day. No matter how packed his schedule was, he always found a moment to check in.

Mila had called too. When Nina didn't answer, she turned to Arthur, who picked up and reassured her after she saw his post.

Now, she settled into the plush leather seat, the quiet hum of the private jet filling the space between her and the man seated across from her. Her father. Harry McLaren.

He had always carried an air of quiet authority, a presence that made people stand straighter, speak with a little more reverence. Even now, as he flipped through a file, his expression unreadable, he exuded that same calm intensity.

But when he sensed her gaze and looked at her, that air of authority disappeared, replaced by something far more vulnerable.

The only reason she had agreed to follow him after the crash was because of that look—the worry in his eyes, the weight of guilt pressing down on him. He had been wrong to give her name to the world, especially without her consent, and he knew it. But after the accident, after nearly losing her, the gravity of that mistake felt even heavier.

The fear he felt that night pulled them both back to a time they never talked about—when she was still just a little girl, Nina McLaren, before she became Nina Hart. The night she was kidnapped. That chapter of their lives had left deep scars, ones that never truly faded.

Harry cleared his throat, his voice quieter than usual. "Thank you for coming with me, Nina. I know you didn't want to."

She offered him a small smile, hoping to lighten the mood. "It's okay, Papa. I wanted to come. And besides, I thought it'd be fun to surprise Lando—I didn't tell him I was coming."

Harry studied her for a moment before shifting slightly. "What about Arthur? I didn't expect to see him with you that night. I thought you two had broken up."

Nina sighed. "We did. But he was there when I needed help, and I respect him for that."

Harry nodded, his expression softening. "He's a good kid."

Nina arched a brow. "Oh, hold on—now he's a good kid? I thought you didn't like him, Papa."

Harry exhaled, shaking his head. "Yeah, well... I didn't like his red suit. I'm sure papaya would work better on him."

Nina laughed. "We already have our best papaya suit model, don't we?"

Harry smirked. "That we do." Then, after a brief pause, he gave her a knowing look. "So... what's going on with Lando? You two have a thing?"

Nina felt her cheeks warm. "Right now? Nothing."

Harry arched a brow, his tone light but teasing. "Nothing?"

Her blush deepened. "Papa."

He chuckled, clearly amused. "Alright, alright. Just checking."

When they landed, a chauffeur was already waiting to take them to the Hilton hotel. As Nina settled into the car, she let out a deep breath, the exhaustion from the past few days still clinging to her.

After arriving, she took a moment to unpack before a knock at her door pulled her from her thoughts.

"Want to come to the circuit?" her father asked. "You're not here to work, just to be with the team—and with me."

Of course, she wanted to go.

Six months ago, she might have preferred to stay in the hotel, counting down the hours until she could return to Monaco. But so much had changed since then. Everything she had been through had only strengthened her connection to the sport. Now, she wanted to be there.

At the McLaren hospitality suite, Nina stepped inside, her gaze sweeping over the space until it landed on Lando.

He was stretched out on a divan in the lounge, his head tilted forward, chin almost touching his chest, arms folded loosely across his stomach. His breathing was slow and steady, completely lost in sleep.

She hesitated for a moment before quietly lowering herself onto the seat beside him, resting her arm along the back of the divan. Her eyes lingered on his face, taking in the rare stillness of it. He looked peaceful—so unlike the lively, ever-moving Lando she was used to. A small smile touched her lips.

Without thinking, she leaned in, resting her head against his shoulder. The warmth of him, the steady rhythm of his breathing—it was soothing. Sleep found her easily.

She woke to a familiar scent, one that wrapped around her like a memory—his cologne, warm and unmistakably him.

A comforting heat enveloped her, strong arms pulling her close. She could feel his slow, steady breaths against her neck, sending a soft shiver down her spine.

She didn't need to open her eyes to know who it was.

A quiet sigh escaped her, and without hesitation, she slipped her arms around him, pulling him closer, holding on just a little tighter.

They stayed like that for a while, neither of them in a hurry to move.

"Lando, don't you have a race to prepare for?" Nina murmured.

He let out a soft sigh. "Let's stay like this a little longer." His arms tightened around her.

She didn't argue. They remained just as they were, wrapped in quiet comfort, the world outside fading away. Eventually, Lando shifted, pulling back slightly. His gaze swept over her face, searching for any sign of discomfort—anything that might worry him.

Gently, he brushed a stray strand of hair from her forehead, his fingers grazing the small pad covering the cut on her head. His touch lingered for a moment before he asked softly, "Does it hurt?"

She shook her head. "No."

He let out a slow breath, his shoulders easing as relief settled over him. "I'm just glad you're okay," he said.

She gave him a pointed look. "But I told you I was fine."

Lando's lips curled into a soft, boyish smile. "Yeah... but seeing it for myself makes it real."

She loved seeing this side of Lando—not the confident racer, not the flirty charmer, not the focused competitor or the frustrated driver, but the soft, unguarded version of him. The one who cared without hesitation, who worried without hiding it, who looked at her as if she were something rare and irreplaceable.

She wanted to know every part of him, to see every expression, every unspoken thought—to witness every shade of who he was.

A playful grin tugged at her lips as she reached out, gently squeezing his cheeks. "I came all this way, so you better put on a show, Norris."

Lando, never one to back down from a challenge, smirked. "You won't be disappointed, Hart."

He glanced down at his Richard Mille watch before flashing her a lopsided grin. "Time to go."

Before she could react, he leaned in and pressed a quick kiss to her cheek. "See you later," he murmured before heading off toward the paddock.

Nina stayed frozen for a moment, her fingers drifting to the spot where his lips had just been. Warmth spread through her cheeks as she stared after him.

Why am I blushing?

She let out a small, incredulous laugh, shaking her head at herself.

We've had sex. We've kissed so many times.

So why did it feel like that was the first time he had ever kissed her?

Chapter Text

Lando stood atop the podium, the roar of the Barcelona crowd echoing in his ears. The Spanish Grand Prix was his, a victory earned through grit and skill, but as the champagne sprayed around him, his mind wasn't entirely on the celebration. His eyes instinctively searched for her.

Later that night, the team celebrated, the energy electric with triumph. Lando basked in the euphoria, letting himself enjoy the moment, but no matter how much he laughed or toasted with the team, a part of him remained attuned to Nina—watching her, making sure she was okay after everything that had happened.

As the night stretched on, Harry McLaren pulled Nina aside, his voice gentle yet firm. "Your mother and Sofia are waiting for you in Surrey. We'd love to have you home, love. If you're not comfortable being alone, come back with me."

Nina hesitated. He was right—the thought of returning to an empty apartment in Monaco, even with reinforced security, made her stomach twist.

"Yeah... I should come with you, Papa," she murmured, though the words felt heavier than she expected.

Before Harry could respond, another voice cut in.

"Or..."

Both she and Harry turned to find Lando watching her intently, something unreadable flickering behind his eyes.

"You come with me," he said.

Nina blinked, caught off guard. "Huh?"

His gaze didn't waver. "Please say yes. Don't make me worry about you." He shifted slightly, his voice softer now. "I have extra rooms, and I promise you'll feel at home."

Harry's eyes moved between them, taking in the quiet tension, the way Lando's focus never left his daughter. Something was cooking between them—he could see it, even if they weren't ready to cross that line just yet.

"If you'd rather go with Lando, that's fine," he said after a moment.

Nina's lips parted in surprise. She glanced at her father, then back at Lando. The thought of staying with him in Monaco should have felt reckless, overwhelming—but instead, it was the first thing that didn't make her stomach twist.

A slow smirk tugged at her lips. "Okay... I'll come—on one condition."

Lando raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"

"You make me breakfast every day," she said, playful but firm.

His lips twitched. "Every day?"

"Every single day," she confirmed, tilting her head challengingly.

Lando let out a soft chuckle, shaking his head. "Deal."

His shoulders relaxed just slightly, but there was something else in his expression—something warm, something protective. He wasn't just offering her a home. He was offering her safety, comfort, and a place where she wouldn't have to be alone.

Harry watched the exchange, a knowing look crossing his face before he nodded. "If that's what you want, Nina, then it's settled."

As the celebrations wound down, people began making their way back to the hotel. Exhausted, Nina excused herself and headed straight to her room, while Harry lingered in the lounge, lost in thought.

When Lando walked in and saw him sitting alone, he knew. This conversation was inevitable. He wasn't surprised—he had been expecting it.

Without preamble, Harry spoke. "Take care of her, Lando." His voice was calm, but there was an unmistakable weight behind it. "She's stronger than she looks, but that doesn't mean she's not a target. Fans, the media... and people worse than that."

Lando didn't flinch. "I know."

Harry studied him, his sharp gaze assessing. "Thanks to Arthur, I think she's starting to get some support. But you and I both know things can change fast. You need to be aware of that."

Lando nodded, his expression serious. "I will. I'll make sure she's okay."

Harry held his gaze for a long moment before exhaling. "And if you ever hurt her, I—"

"I won't," Lando cut in firmly, his voice leaving no room for doubt. "I swear to you, I won't."

Harry's gaze lingered on him for a moment, as if weighing his words. Then, with a small nod, his expression softened—like he had been testing Lando and had finally gotten his answer. He clapped Lando's shoulder, firm but approving, before turning to leave.

The next morning, Lando and Nina boarded the chartered jet to Monaco. As they settled in, the gentle hum of the engines filled the cabin, stretching the silence between them—until Lando finally broke it.

He turned to her with a smirk. "So, roommate, do you snore?"

Nina scoffed, rolling her eyes. "Seriously? We've slept together, what, four times now? And you still haven't figured that out?" She crossed her arms. "And for the record, I'm not your roommate."

Lando smirked, his eyes gleaming with amusement. "So, you've been counting."

Heat crept up Nina's neck as she shot him a glare. "Ugh, shut up."

He chuckled, leaning back, arms crossed. "Yeah, well, I'm a deep sleeper. Once I'm out, I'm out. So if you do snore, I wouldn't know." He tilted his head, smirk still in place. "And, technically, you're staying at my place. That makes you my roommate."

"That doesn't make me your roommate," she argued.

"Sounds pretty roommate-ish to me," he shot back.

She narrowed her eyes. "Fine. But if I'm the roommate, I get the bigger room."

"Absolutely not," Lando said, grinning. "But... we could share if you want. You know I'd be more than happy to. And that would bring us to five, right?" His eyes sparkled with mischief, teasing her just to get a reaction.

Nina felt her face flush and huffed. "We're sticking to four, Norris. Don't get ahead of yourself." She crossed her arms, smirking. "And you owe me breakfast first—then we'll talk."

Lando laughed, shaking his head. "Ah, so I've got to earn my privileges, huh?"

"And cereals don't count," Nina added, pointing a finger at him.

He gasped, clutching his chest dramatically. "Wow. Setting the bar high already."

"Basic standards, Norris," she teased.

Lando smirked. "Alright, alright. Full English breakfast it is."

Their playful back-and-forth carried on for most of the flight, easy and effortless. The tension of the past few days gradually faded into the background, replaced by something light. Something familiar. Something that felt like them.

When they finally arrived in Monaco, Nina stepped into Lando's apartment and immediately stopped in her tracks. She turned slowly, taking in the clean lines, the muted colors, the subtle yet undeniable air of comfort. It was almost identical to his apartment in Woking.

She turned to him, arms crossed. "Seriously? You just copied and pasted Woking into Monaco?"

Lando shrugged, dropping his bag onto the couch. "What can I say? I like consistency."

"More like lack of originality," she teased, shaking her head.

"Ridiculously consistent," he corrected with a grin, tossing her a bottle of water from the fridge.

She caught it with ease, lips curving slightly. Maybe, just maybe, staying here wouldn't be so bad after all.

As she looked around, her mind drifted back to his apartment in Woking. She didn't remember everything that had happened there, but one thing was certain—a lot had. Her eyes landed on the sleek DJ setup in the corner, and without thinking, she reached out, running her fingers over it, just like she had that night... even if the details remained hazy.

Lando, watching her closely, smirked. "Flashbacks hitting you?"

She quickly pulled her hand away. "I don't know what you're talking about," she said dismissively before changing the subject. "Where's my room? I want to take a shower."

Lando chuckled but pointed her toward the hallway. "Last door on the right."

After showering, the night settled into an easy rhythm. They both ended up in Lando's gaming room—his usual setup for streaming. Nina lounged on the bed, laptop propped on her legs as she watched the final episode of the latest Drive to Survive season, the same one she had started with the Leclercs.

Lando, meanwhile, was live, playing with Max and a few other friends, their laughter echoing through the room. Nina liked the energy—it was comforting, familiar—but she had to be discreet. No one knew she was staying at Lando's for the week, and the last thing she needed was for someone to overhear something suspicious in the background.

As she continued watching the episode, a memory surfaced—Charles had abruptly turned off the TV when McLaren's championship win was being highlighted. She recalled the frustration on his face, the way he had been visibly annoyed that Ferrari hadn't taken the title.

She kept watching as Lando hugged his teammate, greeted the crew, and exchanged a few words with her father.

Then, she saw it.

Her own face.

There, in the background of the McLaren celebrations, clapping, smiling—happy about the win.

Her stomach dropped. Oh. My. God.

If they had kept watching at the Leclercs' place, she would have been in big trouble. So, so embarrassing.

But none of that mattered anymore.

Meanwhile, Lando burst into uncontrollable laughter at something happening in his game, his amusement echoing through the room. Nina, still focused on her laptop, couldn't hear Max through Lando's JBL headphones, but she couldn't help being entertained by Lando's laughter in the background.

Max groaned. "That's enough for me. How do we get out of this?"

Lando was still cracking up.

"Okay, disconnect from that," Max said.

Lando gasped in annoyance. "What? Why?" He shook his head, grinning. "Mate, that was the best thing ever! Woohoo!"

Max chuckled. "Chat, he's had to do that just so he can go to bed all happy."

Lando quickly blurted out, "I don't wanna go to bed. I don't wanna go to bed."

Then, his gaze flickered toward Nina, who remained focused on her laptop. Clearing his throat, he smirked. "But anyway, GG. I'm the champ. On top. Thank you very much."

Max scoffed. "No, you're not the champ, mate."

Lando ignored him. "Bye chat, bye everyone, cheers!" And with that, he disconnected.

Shutting his laptop, he turned his attention to Nina, who hadn't moved from her spot. Her brows were slightly furrowed, still staring at the screen.

Curious, he walked over and plopped down next to her. Without warning, he started tickling her sides.

Nina yelped, twisting away with a laugh. "Lando, stop!"

He grinned, amused. "What are you watching?"

Still catching her breath, she glanced at him and smirked. "I'm watching you."

Lando chuckled, but as his eyes drifted to her screen, he noticed the podium ceremony playing. There he was, standing beside Zak, the McLaren team celebrating in the background. A small smile tugged at his lips.

He smirked and teased, "Don't fangirl too much over me."

Nina let out a laugh. "Why would I?"

Leaning in slightly, he shot her a knowing look. "Because you can't take your eyes off me."

She rolled her eyes, playfully tapping his shoulder. "Lando," she protested with a little laugh.

He laughed too, then stretched with a yawn. "I'm starving. Gonna make some food."

Nina closed her laptop and sat up. "I'll come with you."

Lando raised an eyebrow. "What, to supervise?"

"To make sure you don't burn the place down," she teased, following him toward the kitchen.

They made pasta—simple and foolproof, yet Lando still managed to turn it into chaos. He snuck bites when she wasn't looking, earning a playful smack with a wooden spoon. Laughter filled the kitchen as they bumped into each other, stole tastes of the sauce, and debated seasoning.

By the time they sat down, the meal was warm, the lights soft, and the moment naturally comfortable.

After dinner, Lando leaned back in his chair, stretching. "Alright, time for a little music."

Nina watched as he made his way to the DJ setup in the corner, flicking on the equipment with practiced ease. The soft hum of the speakers came to life, and within seconds, deep, melodic beats filled the room.

She leaned against the counter, watching him work, effortlessly moving between controls, adjusting levels, completely lost in his own world. The deep bass pulsed through the speakers, the dim glow of the equipment reflecting off his focused expression. His fingers moved with precision, sliding knobs, twisting dials, layering beats like it was second nature.

Déjà vu washed over her. The last time she had watched him like this, there had been a Jägerbomb in her hand, the warmth of alcohol buzzing through her veins. Tonight, it was just water. But the effect? Almost the same.

Her gaze lingered on him—his tousled curls, the way his mullet framed his sharp features, the subtle clench of his jaw as he concentrated. The LED lights carved deep shadows across his face, sharpening the intensity in his expression.

There was an intense, almost reckless kind of sex appeal about him, a raw magnetism that made it impossible to look away. He was completely in his element.

He wore a black tank top, the loose fabric doing nothing to hide the toned definition of his arms and shoulders. His tanned skin caught the soft glow of the room, highlighting every line, every muscle that flexed as he moved. A few strands of hair fell over his forehead, and he absentmindedly ran a hand through them, completely focused, lips slightly parted as he nodded in sync with the beat.

She swallowed hard, biting her lip.

How much longer can I hold out?

She was going to be living with him for a week. Every day, it would be this—his presence, his teasing, the way he looked at her like he already knew. Like he was waiting for her to break.

So why keep resisting?

With that thought, she pushed off the counter and stepped closer, moving silently until she was right beside him. He was still locked into his mix, adjusting something on his palette, completely unaware of her presence.

A playful smirk tugged at her lips as she leaned in just slightly, her voice laced with mischief.

"Can I try?" Nina teased, inching closer.

She knew exactly where she was going with that.

Chapter Text

Lando froze, her words echoing in his mind. Can I try? The same words she had said that night in Woking.

His gaze flickered to her, brows lifting slightly as the memory played in his head, the tension between them thickening.

For a moment, neither of them moved, the air between them charged with something unspoken. Then, without hesitation, Nina stepped forward, closing the space between them.

Instinctively, Lando stepped back, giving her room as she positioned herself in front of the DJ setup. Her hands hovered over the controls, fingertips grazing the buttons and sliders, testing the waters.

He stood just behind her, close enough to feel the warmth radiating from her, yet unsure if he should go further. He knew exactly what this meant. He had been here before.

She glanced over her shoulder, a teasing glint in her eyes. "You won't let me mess up your set, right?"

Lando smirked. "I thought I already taught you a few tips."

She chuckled, tilting her head. "Well, I don't remember any of it. Teach me again."

He leaned in, his breath warm against her ear. "You sure you want me to?" His voice was low, deliberate. "I can be very hard on you."

Nina inhaled sharply, her fingers pausing over the controls.

He was playing her game. And they both knew exactly where this was heading.

Who was going to break first?

Nina angled her head just enough, her voice dropping to make her intentions clear. "I want you to be hard on me."

Lando let out a low laugh at her boldness, shaking his head. That was what he liked about her-fearless, unapologetic, always willing to push the limits. She never backed down, never shied away from the tension between them. It was intoxicating.

Still smirking, he placed his hands over hers, his touch barely there, yet enough to send a shiver up her spine. Slowly, he guided her fingers across the controls, his voice low and steady. "This adjusts the tempo... this one layers the effects... and this-"

But Nina wasn't listening.

She wasn't absorbing a single thing he was saying.

Her entire focus was on him-his voice, his touch, the warmth of his skin against hers, the way his breath brushed her neck as he inched closer. Every little sensation crashed over her, drowning her in the heat between them.

Niagara Falls would be jealous right now.

She leaned back just enough for him to catch the scent of her hair before turning fully to face him. Her eyes met his, holding them for a moment before they slowly drifted downward-lower, lower-until they settled on his pants. With a teasing glint in her eyes, she asked, "And what about that one? What does it do?"

Lando froze for half a second, caught completely off guard. His breath hitched, and for the first time that night, she had him speechless. A flush crept onto his cheeks, and he blinked, processing what she had just said-what she had just implied.

Then, slowly, his lips curled into a smirk, his confidence flickering back into place. He met her gaze, voice dropping slightly as he leaned in.

"This?" He pointed at his pants, where something was already making itself known. His voice stayed smooth, but there was a spark of amusement in his eyes.

"This one..." He let the pause linger, watching her reaction, his gaze locked onto hers. Then, with a smirk, he finished, "It fills the holes."

Nina's smirk deepened, delight flashing in her eyes. "Oh," she mused, tilting her head just a fraction. "Interesting."

Lando swallowed, pulse quickening.

She was playing with fire. And he wasn't sure how much longer he could keep playing along.

Then, with the same teasing glint in her eyes, she shifted closer and murmured, "I think I have a hole that needs to be filled right now."

Lando's mind short-circuited.

Nina, Nina, Nina... what are you doiiiing?

This woman was going to drive him insane.

He let out a nervous laugh, dragging his fingers to his temples and rubbing them as if that would somehow help him think straight. "You know what you're doing, right?" His voice came out lower than he expected.

She didn't answer.

She just looked at him.

And that was even worse.

Lando felt his breath falter as he took her in-the way her lips curled into the faintest smirk, her eyes locked onto his with unwavering confidence. Those damn eyes, deep and full of something dark and dangerous. Desire. Amusement. A challenge.

The soft glow of the room highlighted the delicate angles of her face, the way her skin almost glowed under the ambient lights. The rise and fall of her chest, slow and controlled, contrasted with the erratic pounding of his heart. She wasn't just playing with him-she was completely unraveling him.

She was mesmerizing.

A walking temptation, knowing exactly what she was doing to him. And yet, she didn't need to say a single word. Her eyes alone dared him to make the next move.

But he didn't.

Seeing his hesitation, Nina took control. Her hand landed on his chest, fingertips barely grazing the fabric of his tank top before she started moving downward-slow, deliberate, torturous. Lower. Lower. Until she touched him.

His cock twitched at the contact, already straining against his sweats, aching for relief.

And then, the final blow.

"Just fuck me already."

Lando exhaled sharply, his hands clenching into fists at his sides. "Nina, I want to do this right for you. If this is too fast, I don't want to-"

She cut him off, gripping him more firmly through his pants. "You told me you'd follow my commands," she reminded him, her voice dangerously smooth. "Then show me."

She paused, her gaze searing into his. "I'm asking you." Her voice dropped, deliberate. "Fuck me, Lando."

A slow smirk curved her lips. "As hard as you can."

That was it.

Lando snapped.

"I'm not holding back this time, Nina."

His hands flew to her waist, yanking her against him with a force that made her gasp. And then his mouth crashed onto hers, deep, desperate, starving. His grip was possessive, fingers digging into her hips as if he couldn't get her close enough. Nina barely had time to register the aggression before she melted into it, kissing him back just as fiercely, her nails scraping down his back.

Without breaking the kiss, Lando grabbed her thighs and hoisted her up effortlessly, forcing her legs to wrap around his waist. He carried her with ease, his lips never leaving hers, his tongue sweeping into her mouth with raw hunger. She moaned against him, and he groaned in response, the sound vibrating deep in his chest.

Reaching the bedroom, he all but threw her onto the bed, his breath ragged as he looked down at her. Nina, flushed and breathless, smirked up at him, legs spread slightly in invitation.

"Take your clothes off," she commanded.

His jaw tightened, his eyes dark with lust. "You first."

Nina held his gaze as she peeled her top off, letting it drop to the floor before sliding her shorts down, leaving her in nothing but her underwear. Lando's breath hitched as his eyes raked over her.

"Fucking hell," he muttered, yanking his tank top off and tossing it aside. His sweats followed, and within seconds, he was kneeling over her, his body pressing her into the mattress.

His hand slipped beneath the lace of her panties, fingers sliding through her wetness. He groaned. "So wet for me already."

Nina arched into his touch, a whimper slipping from her lips. "Lando-"

"You asked for it," he growled, pulling her panties off in one swift motion.

Without warning, he thrust two fingers inside her, curling them just right, making her cry out. He moved them fast, relentless, watching her fall apart beneath him.

"Fuck, Lando," she moaned, gripping his arms.

"That's it," he murmured, his thumb circling her clit, sending waves of pleasure through her. "Gonna come for me already?"

She bit her lip, her body tightening around his fingers, so close it was almost painful.

But before she could, he pulled away.

"Lando!" she protested, panting.

He just smirked, positioning himself between her legs. "I told you. You asked for it."

Then, without hesitation, he pushed inside her in one deep, hard stroke.

Nina screamed, her fingers digging into his back as he filled her completely.

"Fuck, you feel so good," Lando groaned, his head dropping to her shoulder. He gave her no time to adjust, pulling out only to slam back in, setting a brutal, punishing pace.

Nina clung to him, every thrust sending electric pleasure through her, making her body shake beneath him.

"Harder," she gasped, nails raking down his back.

Lando growled, gripping her thighs and pushing them higher, deeper, hitting a spot that made her see stars.

"You're gonna make me lose my fucking mind," he gritted out, slamming into her harder, faster, the headboard banging against the wall with every thrust.

Nina could barely breathe, pleasure consuming her entirely. "Lando-"

"Come for me," he commanded, his hand slipping between them to rub her clit.

That was all it took. Her body tensed, back arching off the bed as her orgasm tore through her, leaving her gasping his name.

Lando wasn't far behind. With a few more brutal thrusts, he groaned, burying himself deep inside her as he came, his body trembling above her.

They stayed like that, breathless and spent, tangled together in the aftermath. Neither of them spoke, only the sound of their slowing breaths filling the room. Lando's fingers traced lazy circles along her hip, grounding himself in the warmth of her body.

Pressing a lazy kiss to her shoulder, he smirked against her skin. "So... I take it you liked your lesson?"

A soft hum of satisfaction escaped her lips, but before she could answer, he shifted slightly, his weight pressing into her just enough to remind them both that this wasn't over.

Because he wasn't done.

Even as he caught his breath, the last waves of pleasure still humming through him, he could feel Nina trembling beneath him-sensitive, overwhelmed, yet still responding to his touch.

Not even close to satisfied, he let his lips trail down her shoulder, over the swell of her breast, before capturing a hardened nipple between his lips, sucking just enough to make her gasp. She shuddered beneath him, her body already stirring again, and Lando could only grin.

"Guess that means you want another one," he murmured, his voice low and teasing.

She let out a breathless laugh, fingers threading through his hair. "Mmm... I think I need a refresher."

Lando grinned against her skin. "Lucky for you," he murmured, "I'm a very dedicated teacher."

Before she could respond, his hand slid between her thighs, fingers slipping through the wetness he had already created. She jolted at the touch, still oversensitive from her last orgasm, but Lando didn't stop-he just smirked, enjoying the way she twitched beneath him.

"Too much?" he teased, his fingers moving slow, barely grazing her clit before dipping back inside her.

She let out a broken moan, shaking her head. "No... I want more."

That was all the permission he needed.

Lando shifted lower, his mouth trailing kisses down her stomach, his hands gripping her thighs to keep her still as he settled between them. Without hesitation, his tongue flicked over her clit, the sensation making her arch off the bed.

"Fuck, Lando-"

He groaned against her, the vibration sending another wave of pleasure through her. His tongue worked her mercilessly, alternating between slow, teasing strokes and deep, deliberate pressure. One of his hands slipped beneath her, gripping her ass and pulling her closer to his mouth, keeping her exactly where he wanted.

She was writhing now, lost in the sensation, her hands clutching at the sheets. "I-I'm gonna-"

"Go on," he murmured against her, tongue circling her clit. "Come for me again."

Her body tensed, legs shaking as she shattered beneath him, her moans filling the room.

But Lando still wasn't done.

As she was still coming down, he climbed back over her, his cock already hard again. He smirked down at her, pressing a kiss to her parted lips.

"You can give me one more," he whispered, positioning himself at her entrance.

Nina barely had time to catch her breath before he pushed inside her again, filling her completely.

"Lando-" she gasped, nails digging into his back.

He groaned at the feeling of her still pulsing around him, thrusting slow but deep, making sure she felt every inch of him.

"One more," he whispered against her lips, rocking into her with precision. "I know you can."

And with the way he was fucking her, she knew she would. No one else made her feel like this. Only Lando.

Chapter Text

Nina woke with a rare sense of peace, a quiet serenity wrapping around her like the lingering warmth of a dying fire. Yet beneath it, a slow, delicious ache pulsed through her muscles—a reminder of the night before. Her limbs felt heavy, spent in the best way, her skin still tingling where his hands had been. Every subtle shift sent a dull throb through her thighs, a testament to just how hard he had taken her. It wasn't an unpleasant ache—if anything, it was intoxicating, a lingering echo of pleasure tangled with exhaustion.

She stretched languidly, rolling onto her side—only to find the space beside her empty.

She exhaled, pressing her face into the pillow. Ugh, he has to stop doing this.

It wasn't the first time she had woken up alone after a night like that, and at this point, she wasn't sure if he did it intentionally or if he was just naturally an early riser. Either way, it was annoying.

Rolling out of bed, she padded to the bathroom, letting the hot water of the shower wake her up properly. Once she was done, she reached for something to wear but paused when she spotted his oversized t-shirt draped over the chair.

A small smirk tugged at her lips.

First, she loved the print on it—Lando's merch, celebrating his first victory, with a triumphant image of him plastered across the front. The bold "We Did It" and "P1 Miami 2024" beneath his raised arms made it impossible to ignore what the moment meant. Second, she knew that guys loved seeing their girls in their clothes. And right now? She was fully prepared to play into that, slipping the white tee over her head, letting the fabric drape loosely against her frame—his name, his victory, his moment now resting against her skin.

Slipping it on, she ran her fingers through her damp hair and followed the distant clatter of kitchen sounds.

The smell hit her first—crispy bacon, eggs, something buttery.

She stepped into the kitchen and found Lando standing at the stove, flipping what looked like sausages onto a plate. The entire counter was already set—toast, beans, eggs, mushrooms, tomatoes—the full British breakfast spread.

"You actually did it," she mused, leaning against the doorway, arms crossed.

Lando turned his head, taking her in—the messy hair, the bare legs, his shirt hanging loosely on her frame. His smirk was immediate.

"Of course I did," he said, flipping off the stove. "I always keep my promises."

Nina stepped forward, eyeing the spread with suspicion. "This looks suspiciously well done. Are you sure you didn't order it and just plate it like it's yours?"

Lando scoffed, feigning offense. "Excuse me? I'll have you know I'm a man of many talents."

She arched a brow, teasing. "Well, let's hope one of them comes in handy."

Stepping closer, her stomach rumbled, betraying her hunger. She smirked. "It better taste as good as it looks, because I'm starving."

Lando smirked, closing the space between them in an instant. Before she could react, his hands were on the counter, caging her in against it.

"Well," he murmured, his voice low, playful, "after last night, I mean... of course you're starving."

She barely had a second to process his words before he leaned in, his lips brushing against the shell of her ear as he added, "And I'm starving too... if you know what I mean."

Nina let out a laugh, placing her hands on his chest and pushing him back—gently but firmly. "No, I don't know what you mean," she quipped, playing along.

She tried to slip away, but Lando was quicker. In one swift motion, he caught her wrist, spun her smoothly, and pulled her flush against him, his hands slipping beneath his t-shirt on her waist, warm against her skin.

"Nina, I..." He shook his head, his smirk softening into something deeper, something real. His hands tightened slightly on her waist, thumbs tracing slow, absentminded circles over her hips. When he spoke again, his voice was quieter, steadier—certain.

"I want to be with you, Nina." His gaze held hers, unwavering. "I don't want to wait any longer. I want you." A beat passed, his hold on her waist firming just slightly as he exhaled. "So much."

Her breath hitched, but she didn't look away. The weight of his words settled between them, heavy yet effortless at the same time.

She had known—of course she had—but hearing him say it, feeling the depth of it in the way he touched her, in the way he looked at her, made her heart race in a way she wasn't expecting.

Nina let her fingers glide up his arms, over his shoulders, finally resting at the back of his neck as she pulled him closer. "Then don't leave the bed next time," she murmured, her lips ghosting over his. "I want you there when I wake up."

Lando's smirk returned, but there was something softer about it now, something tender. "I promise," he said, voice low, intimate. "Next time, I'll be right there."

She smiled against his lips before pressing a kiss—soft, featherlight, a whisper of a touch. Lando hummed, deepening it, his hands gliding up her back, drawing her in until not even a breath separated them. Heat sparked between them instantly, everything else melting away.

Lando's lips moved to her jaw, trailing down to her neck, pressing soft, lingering kisses as his hands roamed her body. "You know," he murmured against her skin, "we could just go back to bed now and make sure I don't leave again."

Nina laughed softly, threading her fingers through his curls, tilting her head slightly to give him more access. "Tempting," she admitted, feeling the heat coil low in her stomach again.

He pulled back slightly, his nose brushing against hers, a lazy smirk playing on his lips. "Is that a yes?"

She bit her lip, pretending to think about it before stepping out of his grip. "After breakfast," she teased, grabbing a plate. "You owe me food first."

Lando groaned, rolling his eyes. "Ugh, okay."

They ended up eating together, the morning slipping into an easy rhythm, filled with light conversation and playful teasing.

And so the week began—mornings started with breakfast, followed by Lando heading off to training while Nina stayed back. She spent her days resting, working out in his home gym, or practicing her golf techniques in whatever space she could manage inside the apartment. For now, going out wasn't an option—she knew she was a target, and more importantly, she and Lando couldn't be seen together yet.

Evenings were theirs.

Lando would return, and they'd have dinner together, conversation unfolding naturally. Then, without fail, the best sex of her life before falling asleep tangled in each other. Every night. For a week.

They had agreed to keep things quiet—for now. It had only been a week since she broke up with Arthur, and it was too soon for the world to know about them. For now, this was just theirs.

By Monday, it was race week in Canada.

As planned, Nina traveled with Lando, following the McLaren team as her father had asked her to. She had agreed to stay with them until the summer break—after that, her focus would shift entirely to preparing for her upcoming golf tournaments.

For now, though, life was good.

Lando was in high spirits, and everyone around him could feel it. The team thrived off his energy, relieved to see him so focused and at ease. His recent performances had been outstanding—Canada was no exception—and McLaren was edging closer to securing the Constructors' Championship. With him and Oscar consistently dominating race after race, team morale had never been higher.

And while Nina remained in the background, she wasn't completely invisible.

The broadcast cameras occasionally caught glimpses of her in Lando's garage, stirring speculation online. This time, however, the narrative had shifted. The label "Arthur Leclerc's Partner" had faded, but "Heir of the McLaren Foundation" remained. It irritated her—she wanted to be recognized for her golf, not her last name. But deep down, she knew that standing where she stood, embedded in the inner circle of a top F1 team, meant she would never be seen as just a simple golfer in their eyes.

After Canada came Austria, then Silverstone—Lando's home race.

This year, the stands were awash in neon green, his dedicated grandstand a vibrant wave of color, roaring his name. The energy was electric, Silverstone alive with expectation. Lando had dreamt of this moment since he was a kid, but dreams didn't come easy here—not with the competition he was facing.

It was a war on track. A relentless fight between Lando Norris and a legend—Lewis Hamilton, draped in Ferrari red, as ruthless as ever. They battled fiercely, their cars inches apart, neither willing to yield. The crowd held its breath with every daring overtake, every razor-sharp defense. Lap after lap, the tension climbed, the grandstands a blur of flashing colors, roaring engines, and pounding hearts.

And then, the final lap.

Lando had broken free—three seconds ahead. The checkered flag waved. He had won Silverstone.

Nina stood in parc fermé, her pulse racing, the weight of the moment pressing against her ribs. She had watched every second, barely breathing, her fingers gripping whatever she could for support. And now, as Lando climbed out of the car, fists in the air, the grandstand erupting in deafening cheers, she wanted nothing more than to reach him. To throw her arms around him, to kiss him, to tell him how proud she was.

But she couldn't.

Their eyes met in the chaos, a heartbeat suspended in time. No words, no touch—just the silent ache of everything they couldn't have, not here, not now. And then, because he had to, because there was no other choice, he moved past her, arms wrapping around his team. Them, not her.

It shattered something inside them both.

The festivities stretched long into the night—champagne showers, podium speeches, an endless tide of cheers and admiration. The world was celebrating Lando Norris.

And yet, when the noise finally faded, when the cameras turned away, he found her.

In the quiet of his room, away from prying eyes, she curled into him, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breath beneath her fingertips.

"I'm so proud of you," she whispered, the words carrying everything she hadn't been able to say before.

No cameras. No expectations. No restraint. Just them—savoring the moment the only way they could, where no one else could see. In quiet solitude.

Chapter Text

After Silverstone, heading back to Monaco with Lando felt natural—like slipping into something easy, something familiar. Without even realizing it, she had started living with him. There was no conversation, no decision to make—it just happened. She woke up in his bed, cooked in his kitchen, left her things scattered around his apartment as if it had always been hers too. And it felt right. As if she was exactly where she was supposed to be.

For two weeks, life was simple. Lazy mornings spent in bed, Lando groaning when she refused to get up, only for her to smirk and burrow deeper into the covers. Afternoons filled with coastal drives, long lunches where their knees brushed under the table, and, of course, golf—where she took every opportunity to remind him she was better.

"You're just jealous," he muttered after yet another one of her smug grins.

"Oh, incredibly jealous," she teased, watching him line up his shot. "It must be exhausting being this bad."

He let out a slow exhale, shaking his head. "One day, I'm gonna destroy you at this."

She hummed, utterly unconvinced. "Keep dreaming, baby. That day's never coming."

He missed. She laughed. He kissed her to shut her up.

Monaco, with all its flashing cameras and endless whispers, had always been his playground. But with her, it felt different. They learned how to exist in the gaps—the dimly lit corners of clubs, the measured distance on late-night walks, the stolen glances in places where touching wasn't an option.

"I think we're getting too good at this," she mused one evening, watching the way he instinctively stepped a little further away when someone walked past.

He smirked. "You saying you wanna get caught?"

She rolled her eyes. "I'm saying you almost flinched when I looked at you."

"Dramatic," he murmured, sipping his drink.

Their days were a mix of teasing and training, of hiding and holding back, of learning the smaller pieces of each other. Late-night gaming sessions where he'd groan every time she got better. Balcony conversations that didn't need words. The way she stole his t-shirts like they were hers, and the way he let her, just smirking when she pretended he hadn't noticed.

She still went back to her apartment sometimes, but it didn't feel the same. It felt... empty.

She never said it out loud, but she knew the truth.

Home wasn't a place anymore. It was him.

And now, their time in Monaco was coming to an end. Spa was waiting—for both of them, but especially for him.

"Last day," Lando said, stretching as they stepped onto the course.

She smirked. "One last chance for me to crush you?"

He rolled his eyes. "One last chance for you to pray I don't finally win."

She laughed. "Professional golfer versus professional racer in golf? I doubt you stand a chance."

He tsked. "You left out an important title."

She raised a brow. "Mm, let me guess... expert charmer? King of excuses?"

He stepped closer, lowering his voice as he leaned in. "Holes' specialist."

Nina burst out laughing. "Oh, right. Because missing the hole every time makes you an expert?"

Lando smirked, grabbing his club as they headed to the first hole. "You know I never miss, darling. Never the holes."

The Royal Mougins Golf Club. Where it all began.

They played through the course, savoring every moment—laughing, teasing, and challenging each other like they always did. Lando, of course, took every opportunity to distract her—pressing a quick kiss to her cheek before a swing, throwing out ridiculous comments just as she was about to hit, and occasionally slipping his hands onto her hips under the pretense of adjusting her stance.

As they walked toward the next hole, he smirked. "We first met here, right?"

Nina glanced at him and nodded. "Yep."

His smirk deepened. "I remember it well. You were incredibly attractive, and I couldn't take my eyes off you."

She felt heat rise to her cheeks but played it cool. "Oh yeah?" She raised an eyebrow, feigning skepticism before a small smile tugged at her lips. "Well, to be honest... I felt the same."

Their laughter filled the quiet stretch of the course, the memory of that first meeting hanging between them.

As the moment settled, Nina hesitated before speaking. "Lando... I think I want to go public." She glanced at him, her voice steady. "I want to officialize our relationship."

Lando's playful expression faltered, replaced with something more serious. He exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck. "Nina... I don't know if that's the best idea right now."

Her brows furrowed. "Why not?"

"You know how this world is," he said gently. "The scrutiny, the headlines, the pressure... the second we go public, it stops being just ours."

She sighed. "But Lando, it's exhausting. Always hiding, always looking over our shoulders. I don't want to live like this forever."

He looked at her, the conflict evident in his eyes. He understood—of course he did. But part of him wasn't ready. Not yet.

She hesitated, then admitted, "When you won at Silverstone... I—"

"I know, Nina." His voice was quiet, certain. "I felt it too."

He reached for her hand, squeezing it lightly. "Can we talk about this another time?" His tone was soft, almost pleading. "Let's just focus on today."

She didn't want to let it go, but then he gave her that look—the one that always got to her. His eyes wide, his lips slightly pouted, pure mischief and charm rolled into one.

"Please?"

She sighed, shaking her head with a small laugh. "Okay. Another time. But we will have this conversation."

He nodded. "We will, I promise."

By the time they reached the green of the 18th hole, Nina had pushed the conversation aside, focusing on the game. She lined up her final putt, narrowing her eyes at the ball.

"This is the last hole," she said, determination in her voice.

Lando, watching her with a lazy grin, leaned in slightly. "Mmm, you know," he mused, voice dripping with mischief, "the only hole I want to fill right now is yours."

Caught completely off guard, Nina let out a loud laugh, shaking her head as she turned to him. "Ugh, can you stop being a dickhead and try being romantic for once?"

Lando took a step closer, his hands sliding around her waist, pulling her in. His playful smirk softened into something more tender, more real.

"Romantic, huh?" he murmured, his nose almost brushing hers. His eyes locked onto hers, voice quieter now, something deeper laced within it.

A beat passed.

"I love you, Nina."

Her breath hitched for a second, the teasing fading instantly. There was no hesitation, no second-guessing—just pure, unfiltered honesty. And it was the first time he had said it.

She stared at him, eyes shining, warmth spreading through her chest.

"Is that romantic enough for you?" he asked, a small smile playing at his lips.

Instead of answering, she kissed him—slow and deep, savoring the moment, letting it sink in.

When she pulled back just slightly, her voice was barely above a whisper. "More than enough."

She kissed him again, resting her forehead against his.

"I love you more, Lando."

They chuckled, the weight of the moment perfectly balanced with the ease they always shared.

As they finished the course, their minds drifted to what lay ahead—making plans for summer break, for sun-drenched days and laughter-filled nights, for stolen moments that were theirs alone.

Right now, everything felt real—imperfect, yet effortless. Flawed, yet full of happiness.

They had each other, and in this moment, that was all that mattered.

For now.

To be continued... ⛳

Chapter Text

The 2nd tome of the Holes series is currently in the works! 

Filled Holes will pick up where Empty Holes left off, following Nina and Lando as they finally come together. But their story is far from over—love is never simple, and their journey will be filled with challenges, emotions, and the people who shape their lives in unexpected ways. 

New faces will come into play, shaking things up and making the road ahead more unpredictable than ever. Passion, heartbreak, betrayal, and drama will weave through the story, bringing unexpected twists that will put Nina and Lando's relationship to the ultimate test. There's so much more to uncover, and I can't wait to share it with you.

I hope many of you will be there to read it. See you soon for the next book!