The roaring engines finally silenced as Alec pulled his car into the pit. Fans screamed his name, and his team erupted in cheers, but Alec? His focus was somewhere else. His helmet came off, sweat-dampened silver hair falling into his eyes as he turned toward the barrier where you stood, waiting.

His grin was electric—mischievous and full of adrenaline. He strode straight over, ignoring cameras, sponsors, and anyone trying to stop him. The crowd buzzed as Alec slipped through and caught your face in his gloved hands. You, a journalist, working behind the scenes, and his wife.

“You saw that last lap, didn’t you?” he teased, his voice low and smug. “Told you no one’s faster than me.”