Page 31 of Hot Lap (Speed Dating #1)

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Inside the Nitro hospitality unit, the big screens loop qualifying highlights and commentary.

Reece watches with his arms crossed, jaw set.

"It's been a while, hasn't it, Bianca? He looked genuinely off the pace in that final sector. The question everyone's asking is whether this is a car setup issue or something else entirely."

"There's been quite a bit of chatter in the paddock, Marco. Some suggesting he's been distracted by recent personal developments."

"You're referring to his surprise marriage, presumably?"

"Indeed. Though others are saying it's not distraction, it's embarrassment. That he's struggling to focus with all the media attention on his private life."

"That's harsh, though. We've seen drivers handle far more scrutiny and still deliver on track."

"True, but Reece has always been intensely private. This level of tabloid coverage is new territory for him. Whether it's affecting his driving... well, the times suggest it might be."

"P7 certainly isn't where Nitro expected to find their second driver today. We'll see if he can bounce back tomorrow, but questions are definitely being asked about whether the off-track drama is bleeding into his performance."

The worst part? The photo they’re using shows Maiken in Vegas, laughing mid-dance. It’s out of context and cropped cruelly.

I did this. By omitting her from his work and remaining silent. He should’ve brought her. Should’ve shown her she belongs.

The commentary ends and Reece stands.

Claudia’s reviewing her notes across the room, but looks up the second she senses him coming.

“Can you get Luca Ricci for tomorrow?”

She raises an eyebrow. “Another interview?”

“Yeah. With Maiken. On record. Between the sprint and quali. Wherever you can make it work.”

“You’re sure?”

“I’m not letting Graham write our story.”

She nods. “I’ll make it happen.”

“Thanks.”

The post-quali debrief is tense, but short. No one yells because no one needs to. The telemetry speaks for itself. Reece knows he fucked up and no one on the team is inclined to shove his nose in it.

Asuka runs through tire performance and balance issues like she’s reading off a grocery list, but Reece hears the subtext in every clipped phrase: You weren’t there. Not really.

He nods when he’s supposed to. Says the right things. Keeps his face still.

The second the engineers disperse and the analysis screens go dark, he stands and heads for the shelter of his driver's room.

Once there, Reece spreads the telemetry printouts across his narrow desk. Numbers don't lie, and these tell a brutal truth. He was off the pace all day, distracted and unfocused.

Ona enters, his helmet bag in one hand and kit duffel in the other. She closes the door. "You sent the flowers?"

"This morning."

"Good."

He gathers the readouts and his clothes, shoving everything into his bag.

The rhythmic sounds of the paddock continue outside. Teams breaking down equipment, media wrapping final segments, the distant hum of generators powering down.

Ona passes him his helmet bag. "The mechanics are running a betting pool in the garage."

Reece slings it over his shoulder, then zips his smaller bag. "On what?"

"On whether Maiken shows up tomorrow." She leans back against the door, which means she’s not ready to let him leave. "Misho put fifty on yes."

"They're betting on my personal life now?"

“Hmm. Nothing's sacred."

"Did you join?"

Ona looks right at him, straight-faced as ever. "If she doesn't show, you owe me a hundred quid."

Reece snorts.

"Stop wrestling with yourself." Her voice is low and forceful. "You're not broken, Reece Pritchard. You're just feeling something real for once. This isn't the performative bullshit you had with Peony."

He blinks.

Ona's right. That's why this is hitting him so differently.

He chose Maiken and now remembers that Peony was Graham's selection.

There'd never been any spark between him and his ex because she'd been brought to him like a pair of shoes or a new suit.

She looked good on his arm. She had the right labels and price tag.

Peony had been "acceptable."

Maiken is not. According to Graham and a lot of other assholes.

But for Reece? She's perfect .

The overhead lights flicker as the circuit powers down for the night.

He nods. "I'm bringing her to the track tomorrow."

Ona smiles and opens the door. "Finally, he pulls his head out of his ass."

Reece laughs, but he's not feeling the humor. He's too busy worrying that Maiken will be too angry to say yes when he asks.