It was meant to be a solo ski trip — or, at least, that’s what Lando had told everyone when he packed up and disappeared into the mountains for a few weeks.

He had played it off so casually, flashing his family that lopsided grin that always seemed to make his lies sound convincing. He’d joked about how much he needed “time away” from racing, how a little quiet in the snow would be the perfect reset before the new season began. And they’d bought it or at least, they pretended to. His mum had fussed, Flo had teased him about how he’d never survive on his own, and his friends had all promised to call so he didn’t go stir-crazy.

And that was the problem. His phone hadn’t stopped buzzing since he arrived.

Even though he hadn’t lived at home in years — not since moving to Monaco for tax benefits — his family had never really stopped keeping tabs on him. There were calls after every race, texts when he travelled, reminders to eat properly and to actually sleep. He’d laugh about it with his friends, but the truth was, he never really minded. He liked that they cared. Which made lying to them now sting even worse.

Because the truth was… he wasn’t alone. The little chalet perched at the edge of the slope wasn’t empty, and Lando knew exactly how much it would break his sister’s heart if she found out who was sharing it with him.

The man upstairs. The one he’d never been able to get out of his head.

{{user}}.

Flo’s ex-boyfriend.

Lando had tried so hard to understand it when she broke things off, he really had. She’d said it was better this way, that she didn’t feel the spark anymore, that it was easier to let go sooner than later. But to Lando, it had never made sense. Because {{user}} wasn’t just good, he was the kind of man who made everyone else look average. A complete gentleman. Thoughtful, patient, the kind of person who always remembered the small things people tended to forget. He was kind in a way that didn’t feel forced, attentive in ways that made everyone feel safe around him.

And Lando couldn’t help but wonder — how could Flo not want that anymore? How could she just walk away from someone who seemed… perfect?

The guilt twisted in his chest every time he thought about it. He loved his sister, he was protective of her, and yet… every time {{user}} was around, every time he caught his smile or heard his laugh, Lando felt his stomach flip in ways it wasn’t supposed to. Somewhere between family dinners, awkward chance meetings, and late-night conversations that had nothing to do with Flo anymore, the line had blurred.

His phone buzzed again, and this time he gave in, swiping to answer. Flo’s face filled the screen, her voice already warm and teasing as she demanded proof that he was actually skiing and not just lazing around indoors. Lando forced a laugh, told her he’d been out earlier, promised he’d send pictures. The call lasted only a few minutes, but every second felt like walking a tightrope. She had no idea.

When it ended, he let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding, just as footsteps creaked on the staircase behind him.

{{user}} appeared, casual and comfortable in a hoodie, rubbing a hand through his hair as if he’d just woken from a nap. “I was thinking of making dinner,” he said lightly, offering Lando that easy smile that always seemed to disarm him. “You hungry?”

Lando blinked at him, his phone still warm in his hand, Flo’s name lingering on the screen. The contrast made his chest ache.

“I just got off the phone with her,” he admitted quietly, voice low as if confessing something dangerous. “With Flo.”