Page 18

Still, years of being naked on stage have taught me how to hide insecurity behind a confident smile. So I straighten my shoulders, lift my chin, and give them the same charming grin I flash at audiences before I toss a glove or unfasten a stocking.

"Thanks for taking the time to meet me."

"Of course." Lina's smile softens. "I’m glad you’re joining us. We’ve reserved a private dining room."

We pass hushed lounges and an endless parade of designer luggage. As we walk, I pick up little details about my acquaintances.

Lina moves like a queen. She’s serene and poised, fielding quiet greetings from hotel staff with a nod.

Gudrun has the cool aloofness of someone who’s used to cameras flashing in her face but secretly hates it.

Maria? She's pure joy. Chatty, expressive, tossing her hands when she talks and laughing at her own jokes.

As we settle into a cozy private dining room, Lina studies me. She nods at my sweater set. “This is not you.”

“What?” Oh shit, here come the teeth.

“I saw what you wore off the plane from the States.” She gestures at my outfit. “This was chosen for you.”

Gudrun nods and echoes, “They’re not your clothes.”

Maria rolls her eyes. “Branca asked the concierge to select an appropriate wardrobe, right?”

I nod. “Yeah.”

Are they eviscerating me? I can’t tell.

Gudrun makes a dismissive gesture. “She means well, but she has more important things to do than educate Reece’s na?ve wife.”

Maria rests her hand on mine, reassuring. “That’s why we’re here.”

Lina smiles. “You looked amazing when you arrived at the airport.”

"Thank you." My cheeks heat up. I didn’t expect these glamorous women to admire retro freak.

"I love your vintage style," Gudrun adds. "It suits you and makes you unique."

"So charming," Lina agrees. "Owning your style is important in the paddock. We’re under a microscope and judged for everything we wear, say, and do. If you’re going to survive and thrive in this world, Maiken, you have to know who you are and not compromise."

Maria pipes up, "Definitely. People will talk shit anyway, so you might as well give them something fabulous to talk about."

I laugh, relaxing a little. Maybe I can survive this after all. “Considering what I do for a living? Shit talk is something I’m skilled at ignoring.”

They laugh, but Lina’s gaze narrows and she leans close. “You do know what’s being written about you, right?”

“Lemme guess. Gold digger. Stripper. Oh, and directly to my face from Graham Pritchard, ‘opportunistic whore.’”

Gudrun closes her eyes and looks like she could stab someone. “That man.”

Maria and Lina shake their heads.

“Be careful around your father-in-law,” Lina adds.

Maria hisses, “Ssssnake.”

I nod. “I kinda figured that one out.”

We order drinks — white wine for Gudrun, sparkling water for Lina, and something fruity and neon pink for Maria. I decide to try karak tea, which turns out to be a sweet chai and is amazing.

Then the questions start in earnest.

"So." Lina’s tone is gentle but unmistakably curious. "You met Reece... and got married... in the same night?"

"Yes." I swirl my tea. "It wasn't what I’d planned to do Sunday night."

Gudrun raises a perfectly arched brow. "You didn't even know who he was?"

"Nope. Had no idea he was famous." My smile feels brittle. "I knew there was an F1 race happening. That's about it."

Maria lets out a low whistle. “ Chica , you are either the bravest or the craziest woman I have ever met."

"Maybe a little of both." I shrug, trying to play it cool. Inside, though, I'm bracing for judgment.

Gudrun leans forward, her voice low but not unkind. "Do you understand what you've walked into? This world... it doesn't forget. And it doesn't forgive easily."

"I'm starting to get the picture. Especially after yesterday."

Lina tilts her head. "What happened?"

I sip my tea. "When I got home to my apartment, there were already reporters and photographers camped outside. They ambushed me on the stairs. Followed me to my door. Started shouting questions about whether I was pregnant, whether I'd tricked Reece into marrying me."

Maria’s mouth drops open. "Dios mio. Rude. "

I let out a humorless laugh. "It was a circus, and that was before I even realized how bad it was online."

Gudrun shakes her head slowly. "Once they get their teeth into you, they don't let go."

Lina is the embodiment of Zen. "Hence, why we're here. To help you survive it."

Maria bounces a little in her seat. "You'll be fine. You're already tougher than half the girls who show up thinking they can handle this life."

"You did not back down from Graham Pritchard.” Gudrun’s blue eyes gleam. "That is quite something."

The conversation eases a little after that.

We order salads, sandwiches, and small plates to share.

They tell me about life on the road: the good (and bad) hotels, the endless flights, the brutal schedules.

The unspoken alliances among the WAGs, long separations from their husbands, and whispered gossip that can destroy a reputation overnight.

They don't sugarcoat it, and I appreciate that. Better an ugly truth than a pretty lie.

"You don't have to be perfect." Lina selects a piece of melon from the plate we’re sharing. "But you do have to be smart. Pick your battles. Keep your private life private when you can. Remember, your relationship is yours. Not theirs."

"Got it." I nod, feeling a strange mix of dread and determination.

As we're finishing, the door to our private dining room swings open.

The woman in the doorway pulls focus like she has her own gravity.

She wears a pink jumpsuit that somehow looks both fashionable and ready for a fight, paired with scuffed combat boots.

Designer sunglasses perch atop her head, and hot pink streaks weave through her long dark hair.

Her whole vibe radiates zero-fucks energy and if I wasn't married, I might fall in love.

Maria leans close. "That's Petra Hayter. She's Nitro's other driver."

The women around me subtly straighten, and I get the feeling they respect the fuck outa this chick.

Petra drops into the empty chair beside me, and her attention is hella intense as she gives me a long, measuring look.

"Don't break Reece’s heart. That cow Peony already did. It means something that he gave you that ring, so if you don't want to be in this marriage, end it now. If you string him along, I'll run your arse over."

I blink. Then I laugh, because honestly, Petra’s bluntness is a relief.

"Fair enough. I'll keep that in mind."

She smirks. "Good."

Maria claps her hands. "Okay! Now that the death threats are out of the way, who wants dessert?"

Petra gives her a look. "Fuck you. You know I can't eat dessert until after Sunday."

The laughter that follows is genuine, and for the first time since landing in Qatar, I feel like I'm not totally alone in this madhouse.

“Are you staying?” Lina asks her.

“No. Got sponsor shit.” Petra rolls her eyes and stands, but she’s not quite done with me. “Treat him well and we’ll be besties, Maiken.” With that, she pivots and leaves the dining room.

I watch her go. “Is she always that intense?”

Lina refills my water glass. “Yes.”

Maria nods, and Gudrun adds, “Aigar says that’s what makes her the best driver on the circuit.”

“Damn.”

After dessert, the rest of us make our way back to the hotel elevators together, the easy banter between Lina, Gudrun, and Maria making me feel like I’ve stumbled into a group of sisters.

They remind me a bit of some of the dancers back home, which makes me miss Delilah and Yasmine.

I should text them. Let them know I’m okay and how weird all this shit is.

As the elevator doors part, Maria grins. "Same floor club!"

Apparently, most of the PNW Nitro people are clustered on this floor. Strength in numbers, maybe.

"When the whole team shares a floor, you have to be careful what you say and do." She stage whispers as we step into the hallway. "Walls have ears."

I laugh, picturing awkward encounters after nights of loud, enthusiastic sex. "Noted. I'll keep the volume down."

Maria's eyes widen before she bursts into giggles. "No, no! I mean the press! They bribe hotel staff for room numbers and plant listening devices." She glances around dramatically. "Sometimes they even book adjacent rooms."

"Oh." My cheeks flush. "That's much worse, actually."

Gudrun nods. "Anything for a story. Be mindful of what you discuss on your room phone."

"And do on balconies." Lina grimaces. "Trust me, they use telephoto lenses."

Great. Just what I need, paparazzi with spy gear.

We reach a junction in the hallway where we need to split up. "Rest well." Lina gives my arm a gentle squeeze. "We're just a text away if you need anything."

Gudrun offers a nod that feels more meaningful than a hug would from someone else. "You'll be fine."

"You're officially one of us now!" Maria gives me an enthusiastic embrace before bouncing down the hallway toward her room.

I watch them go, these glamorous, complicated women who've somehow decided I'm worth welcoming into their circle.

I swipe my key card and step into my room, the heavy door whispering shut behind me. Exhaustion clings to me like a second skin, jet lag pressing behind my eyes. Every muscle aches for sleep, but if I nap now, I’ll really screw up my sleep schedule. Gotta tough it out to reset my biological clock.

So I toe off my Mary Janes and cross to the dresser. I pull out a soft vintage tee that says "Sugar & Spice" in retro script on the front, and a pair of worn black leggings. God bless comfy dance clothes.

I pull my hair into a ponytail and cue up a playlist that’s half indie pop, half old-school soul. Something upbeat, something that reminds me who I am outside of all this F1 whatever.