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CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

ABU DHABI GRAND PRIX | WEDNESDAY

Reece steps onto the balcony of their hotel suite, coffee in hand. The sun is rising, purple and gold gleaming over Abu Dhabi’s skyline, but he’s been up for an hour and a half, stirred from sleep by the haunting sound of Fajr carrying across the city.

His phone buzzes. Sheyna appears on the screen, and he answers immediately. “Mum.”

“No hellos this morning?” Her voice is brisk, but there’s warmth under the edge.

“Didn’t think this was a social call.”

“It isn’t. This video shit has Graham’s stink all over it.”

Reece exhales. She’s seen the footage and the media outrage. “Yeah. I know.”

“The fact that Baby Betterton dropped his clip while you were in the air wasn’t an accident.”

He leans against the railing, watching the water shift below. “He was wearing a body cam, and edited the footage to make it look like she lashed out for no reason.”

“Of course he did. He’s a creep with too much family protection and not enough impulse control. But this is strategic, Reece. Someone handed him a match and said, ‘Light it.’ You and Maiken are the ones they’re trying to burn.”

“That’s not happening on my watch.”

“It damn well better not.” His mother’s seriously hacked off.

“Look, Mum, they want to come for her? They go through me first.”

“Good. But I’ve seen this pattern before, Reece. Tear the woman down, frame her as unstable or trashy or both, then let the man emerge looking like a saint for surviving the drama.”

He flinches, not because she's wrong, but because hearing it laid out so clinically makes him want to put his fist through the glass railing. It's what his father did to Sheyna, and it’s exactly what they're now doing to Maiken. How the hell has he missed the pattern?

“You okay?”

“I’m bloody furious, Mum.”

“You should be. But don’t let it cloud your head. Maiken needs you sharp, and not just on the track.”

“She’s blaming herself for the media storm. Thought she needed to apologize for 'bringing drama' into my world. Like she asked for any of this. Like she deserves it.”

“She shouldn’t and she didn’t.” She pauses. “Reece, I know what it’s like to be labeled the problem in your father’s narrative. I’ve been the bad mother, the unstable ex, the weak one. I took assignments in war zones because I wanted to prove I wasn’t fragile.”

He closes his eyes. “You were never fragile, Mum.”

“Well, as much as I needed you and your brother to see that, I had to prove it to myself more.” She lets that sink in. “Don’t let them do to Maiken what Graham did to me.”

“I won’t.”

“You stand next to her, Reece. Not in front, not behind. Next to her. Let the world see it.”

“I am,” he says, firmer now. “I will.”

“Good. And sweetheart?”

“Yeah?”

“I like her. I haven’t met her yet, but I like her. She’s the kind of woman who’ll set her own house on fire just to keep a man from walking through the door uninvited.”

He laughs. “Yeah. That’s pretty accurate.”

“Then she’s a keeper. So keep her.”

They chat a bit longer, but after his mother hangs up, Reece remains on the balcony.

Sheyna has a way of cutting straight to the bone of things, which is why his father punished her so harshly.

She’s just exposed exactly how much danger Maiken is in, not only from Junior's lies and Graham’s abuse, but from a system designed to chew up powerful women like her.

“Right then.”

He pockets his phone and heads back inside, sliding the glass door shut behind him. The room is still dim, curtains only partially drawn, letting in slivers of early light. Maiken stirs beneath the covers, one bare leg kicking free as she shifts to her side.

He crouches beside the bed. “Hey.”

She blinks, eyes heavy with sleep. “Mmm. Why are you up so early?”

He brushes her hair back from her face. “I got a call from my mum.”

Her brows lift. “Sheyna?”

“Yeah.” He smiles a little. “She called to say Junior’s an asshat and Graham smells like sulfur.”

Maiken snorts, then groans and flops onto her back. “God, can I frame that? I'm thinking cross-stitch with strawberries and little bunnies around the border.”

“I’ll consider it.” He grips her ankle. She’s equal parts delicate and dangerous. “Mum said not to let them drive a wedge between us. That it’s a pattern. Make the woman look like the problem so the man comes out clean.”

Maiken’s smile fades, but her gaze stays steady. “She would know.”

Reece nods. “She would. And she said something else.” He runs his hand up her calf. “That I need to stand next to you. Not in front. Not behind. Next to.”

Maiken sits up. “She really said that?”

“Word for word. And she’s absolutely right.”

Mai reaches for his hand. He grasps her fingers and lets her pulls him into bed beside her. She snuggles against him. “Your mom might be my new favorite person.”

He chuckles and kisses the top of her head as she nestles in. “You haven’t even met her yet.”

“Don’t need to. She gets it.”

“Yeah.” He tightens his arms around her. “Unfortunately, she does.”

They lie there for a moment.

“Today’s a long one,” she murmurs.

“True, but we’ll face it together.”

Maiken lifts her head and looks into his eyes. “Promise?”

“Side-by-side, Maiken. I promise.” He leans in and kisses her, slow and sure.

She stretches with a groan and sits up, sheet falling to her waist. “Okay. I’m awake. I’m up. I’m a functioning adult.”

Reece chuckles and climbs from the bed. “Your hair says otherwise.”

She flips him off without looking. “Bite me.”

He grins, pulling on a fresh team polo and a pair of trackies. “Don’t give me ideas. I’ve got time to kill.”

She eyes him with a lazy smirk. “Don’t you have, like, a million race things to do?”

“Later.” He tosses her one of the Nitro hoodies from the dresser. “Put that on and come eat.”

She tugs it over her head and follows him to the suite’s dining area, where breakfast has been set: fruit, sliced tomatoes, strong coffee, eggs, toast, and a little handwritten note from the hotel staff that reads: Good luck, Mr. and Mrs. Pritchard.

Maiken sips her coffee and eyes the spread. “So your mom called just to give Junior the middle finger?”

“Not just.” He sips his coffee and glances at her over the rim of his cup. “She also asked for your mum’s number.”

Maiken pauses mid-bite. “Frankie?”

He nods. “She said she wants to connect with the only other woman who’s successfully raised a functional adult Graham couldn’t fuck up.”

Maiken barks a laugh. “Oh my God, yes. That is the friendship I never knew I needed.”

“I asked if she planned to team up and take over the world.”

“And what did she say?”

“‘Absolutely.’”

They grin at each other, and for the first time in what feels like days, Maiken looks relaxed. She sets down her coffee.

“Tell her I’ll text her Frankie’s number.”

“Done.”

There’s a stretch of comfortable quiet as they eat. Then Reece sits back in his chair. “Are you coming with me today?”

Maiken lifts a brow. “You’re asking me if I want to stand in a room full of giant screens, over-caffeinated engineers, and enough high-octane fumes to give me a contact high?”

He just looks at her.

She smiles. “Hell yes, I’m coming.”

Reece sets down his coffee cup and studies her face. "You’re sure? Yesterday you were ready to fly back to Vegas."

"Yesterday I came under fire." She picks up a strawberry and pulls off its leaves, then meets his eyes. "Today I've got a flak jacket. And a few fully-armed allies."

He reaches across the table and takes her hand. "We're a team, Mai. Whatever they throw at us we’ll take together."

"I know." She squeezes his fingers. "I'm done letting them make me feel like I don't belong here, Reece."

"You belong everywhere I am, Maiken. You belong with me."

She smiles. "Good, because I'm not going anywhere.

If they wanted a fight, they're gonna learn what happens when you fuck around with a Vegas girl who gets naked for a living and who’s momma sticks band-aids on murderers.

" She pops the strawberry into her mouth and says, “FAFO, motherfuckers,” around it.

He grins. "Christ, I love you."

"I know. Love you, too." She steals a blueberry from his plate. "Now, what's the plan for today, speed demon? Besides you going dangerously fast in a car that costs more than most people's houses?"

"Actually, standard Wednesday. It’s rather boring. Sim work, meetings with engineers, probably some media obligations." He pauses. "Want to spend the day in the hospitality unit? You can meet the team as they come and go."

"You mean the people who worship you and will probably judge me for not knowing what a differential is?"

"The people who'll protect you like family because you're part of mine."

Her expression softens. "Yeah. I'd like that."

Two hours later, the familiar rhythm of race week settles over Reece like a second skin. Coffee becomes water becomes protein shakes. Casual conversation shifts to technical briefings. And through it all, Maiken watches, learns, and finds her place in the controlled chaos.

The paddock is quieter on Wednesdays — the calm before the storm. Still, there's movement everywhere. Teams hauling gear, engineers adjusting settings, mechanics installing upgrades. The hum of preparation is constant, but it hasn’t yet turned manic.

Reece steps away from the small sim, sweat on his brow, and data sheets clutched in one hand.

He aches after a hard workout with Ona that included boxing, her favorite way to make him burn away pissed-off energy.

Then he spent four hours running simulations.

But his mind aches more. Half his attention is locked on aero balance and tire degradation, the other half on the woman curled up in the Nitro hospitality unit.