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CHAPTER TWENTY

QATAR GRAND PRIX | SATURDAY | SPRINT RACE AND RACE QUALIFYING

Maiken is still asleep when Reece wakes.

She's curled against him, one hand spread across his chest like she's holding his heart. Her corset and heels are long gone, but last night lingers in his veins.

He still can't believe that happened. The last time they woke together seems like ages ago, a distant dream that almost became a nightmare.

This time, the dream is real.

He kisses the top of her head and exhales, but doesn’t get out of bed.

It’s early, and pre-dawn darkness still holds the room.

Outside, the city stirs as the distant, haunting call to Fajr drifts across the desert.

It’s the first of five daily prayers that mark time in Qatar.

Inside, there's only Maiken’s steady breathing and the rhythm of his heart finding its pace beside hers.

Reece watches her breathe. He memorizes the softness of her mouth and revels in the warmth of her body mingling with his. Gratitude rises hard and fast in his throat.

I won't fuck this up again. That’s a promise, Mai.

He closes his eyes and drifts off, awakened two hours later by his phone vibrating on the nightstand. It’s probably Claudia with updates, or Ona reminding him about hydration protocols, but he ignores it. For once, the world can bloody well wait.

When Maiken finally stirs, stretching against him with a low, sleepy sound, he slides his hand down her body and wakes her with his fingers and his mouth. Her sighs and gasps echo off the hotel walls and that’s the morning prayer he wants to hear every day for the rest of his life.

Afterward, she presses her face to his neck and murmurs, "Morning." Her breath is warm against his skin.

"Morning, honeybee." He brushes hair from her face, then rests his fingers on her cheek.

She blinks up at him, still hazy with sleep and satisfaction. "What time is it?"

"Early enough." He feathers a kiss across her forehead. "Late enough."

"Helpful."

He grins. "Aren't I always?"

She laughs, and the sound spreads warmth through his chest. He could get used to waking to her laugh and her body against his, to the way she looks at him like he's both the complication and the solution.

"Sprint day." She’s not asking a question.

"Sprint day."

"Worried?"

Reece shakes his head. "Determined."

Maiken studies him, those blue eyes sharpening as the last hints of sleep disappear. "Yesterday?—"

"Today." He kisses her nose. "Yesterday's gone."

She smirks. "Is that your racing mantra? Very Zen."

"It's my everything mantra." He trails his hand down her arm, enjoying the goosebumps that follow. "Especially today."

"What's so special about today?"

"You'll be watching." He’s sure.

Her expression softens, and she traces a finger along his jaw. "Pressure or motivation?"

"Both." He nods. "Always both."

“Then I’d better start prepping my armor.”

He chuckles, kisses her again, then reluctantly disentangles himself from his wife. The day's obligations won’t wait. Reece leads the way to the bathroom, turning on the shower as Maiken brushes her teeth at the sink.

They shower together, laughing under the spray. She puts her mouth on his cock, and fuck, that’s the best way to start a race day. Afterward, Mai steals his towel and he lets her because what’s his is now hers, including his heart.

Steam clouds the bathroom mirrors and mutes all the sharp edges. Reece wraps his arms around her from behind as she smooths moisturizer over her face. He rests his chin on her shoulder and watches her through the fog.

Is this what normal couples do? Is this what he's been missing?

"Stop thinking so loud."

"Can't help it." He kisses her neck. "You married a professional overthinker."

She turns in his arms, pressing against him, all warm skin and lingering notes of hotel shampoo. "What does your schedule look like today?"

"Gym with Ona at nine hundred. Garage at twelve hundred. Sprint at seventeen hundred. Race quali three hours after." He traces the curve of her spine with his fingertips. "Media in between."

Her eyes narrow. "Media?"

"Always." He hesitates, then adds, "Do you want to be part of it?"

Her head tips, gaze dropping to the right. It’s her thinking pose. "That depends."

"On?"

"Whether you're asking me to hide in the shadows or stand in the spotlight."

He cups her face and holds her gaze steady. "No more shadows, Mai. No more leaving you behind. You decide where you want to be."

That earns him a soft smile. "Okay."

They eat breakfast in the room, then dress with the casual intimacy of people who’ve done this a hundred times, though it's all still new. Maiken hums as she sits and applies makeup, and Reece pulls on his team polo and watches her transform. She’s not becoming a different person, just enhancing the power she already has.

He finally reads his text messages. There’s one from Claudia.

Interview confirmed. 19:30. Luca and photog locked in.

The Doha skyline shimmers under the morning sun, glass towers reflecting cloudless blue sky.

Below, vehicles crawl along the highways like insects.

His world has always been movement, speed, and calculated trajectories.

Until Maiken crashed into it with glitter and velvet and this terrifying kind of clarity.

He turns toward her, this woman who’s both sin and sanctuary all at once.

"I asked Claudia to schedule an interview with both of us, so I can show the world I'm not bloody embarrassed by my brilliant wife and that the only people she's distracting are not part of my team."

Mai pauses in applying eyeliner, one eye perfectly outlined, the other waiting. "Seriously?"

"I want you beside me. Not as a statement. Not because the media's got a narrative. This is my life, and I want you in it."

Surprise flits across her face, followed by pleasure. “An interview? As your wife?”

“No, as my schoolteacher.”

Her lips curl into a sinful smile. “I can teach you a few things.”

He laughs. “You already have.”

Maiken turns back to her eyeliner. "Mrs. Pritchard will be joining her husband at the track today."

He crosses the room and stands behind her, hands resting lightly on her shoulders. When she finishes lining her eye, he kisses her neck, right behind her ear in the spot he learned all about last night. As he’d hoped, she softens and presses against him.

He hums. He loves this spot.

With a giggle, Maiken shakes him off. “Stop that, if you want to get out of here on time.”

Reece laughs. He doesn’t want to stop, but he will, because he has a job to do.

Their preparation moves with the efficiency of race day. Reece answers emails while Maiken finishes getting ready. This time, she's not the Cherry Bomb from last night or the casual, tousled woman from breakfast. She's elegant, poised, and still absolutely herself.

She's chosen the dark blue caftan again.

Reece likes how it swirls around her body in a way that's both modest and sensual.

Her hair is styled in a sixties-inspired updo, complete with a scarf she's fashioned into a wide headband and knotted with a bow at the top, and her makeup echoes the era with winged liner and nude lips.

Nothing flashy or revealing, but undeniably Maiken.

He picks up his helmet bag and duffel. "Ready?"

"As I'll ever be."

They head down to the lobby where Ona already waits, scrolling through her tablet. She looks up as they approach, her sharp eyes taking in Mai's appearance with approval.

"Good morning." She tucks the tablet into her bag, then trades a water bottle for Reece’s helmet bag.

"Ona," he says, "this is Maiken. Officially."

Ona extends her hand. "About time. You've been all he can think about."

Maiken grasps it with a smile. "Good."

Ona laughs. "I like you."

A valet brings the SUV around. Reece slides behind the wheel and Maiken takes the passenger seat.

Ona settles in the back. "You finally look rested.”

“I finally slept well.”

“Surprising.” Maiken glances over her shoulder. "We were up late."

Ona snorts. "I bet you were." She pauses. “I saw that picture.”

Maiken faces forward. “I’m not sorry.”

They head toward Lusail, leaving Doha's urban sprawl behind for stretches of desert punctuated by new construction. The November morning is surprisingly pleasant, with clear skies and comfortable temperatures that make it easy to forget this is still the desert.

Reece's phone buzzes. The caller ID reads: Sheyna .

He exchanges a quick glance with Maiken before answering and putting it on speaker. "Morning, Mum."

"Don't you 'morning Mum' me, Reece Ayrton Pritchard. I had to find out about your wife from damned social media? What kind of son doesn't call his mother when he gets married?" Sheyna's voice fills the car, honey-coated steel. Her accent matches Maiken's laid-back West Coast tone.

Reece winces. "It wasn't exactly planned?—"

"Oh, I know all about your Vegas adventure, child. What I don't know is why you didn't think to mention it to your own mother."

Ona snorts from the back seat. "She's got a point, mate."

Reece glares at his physio in the rearview mirror. "Not helping, Ona."

“Good morning, Ona!” Sheyna calls. “Be a dear and flog my errant child for me?”

“With pleasure.”

Reece ignores the traitor in the back seat. "Mum, I'd like you to meet Maiken Lange Pritchard. Maiken, this is my terrifying mother, Sheyna Williams."

Mai leans toward the phone, clearly trying not to laugh. "Hi, Sheyna. Nice to finally meet you."

"Well now, there's a voice I've been dying to hear." Sheyna's tone warms considerably. "You've got a strong jaw, Maiken. I like that. Just know strong jaws attract sharp teeth around the paddock."

Maiken nods. "I’ve noticed."

"Ohh. So Graham's already circling, huh? That man can smell happiness from three states away and has to poison it."

"He's made his presence known," Reece says.

Ona pipes up again. "Your son failed to latch his hotel door. Graham barged in to call his new wife a whore."