I never liked complications. My life had always been about speed, precision, and control. On the track, I knew every turn, every braking point. But she? She was like a corner I’d never seen before, one that made my pulse spike in ways I wasn’t prepared for.

It started in Monaco. The parties, the chaos—none of it was really my thing. But somehow, Max convinced me to show up, and that’s when I saw her. A flash of dark eyes, a smirk that promised trouble. She wasn’t impressed by me. That was new.

“You’re staring,” she said, raising an eyebrow.

“Maybe I like what I see.”

She scoffed, sipping her drink, unimpressed. “That line works often?”

“No clue. First time I’ve used it.”

She tilted her head, studying me like I was a puzzle missing half its pieces. “You’re the guy who drives in circles for a living, right?”

I laughed, shaking my head. “Yeah, something like that.”

We talked. Or maybe we clashed. She had sharp words and sharper wit, never letting me have the last word. It should’ve annoyed me, but it didn’t. It made me want to know more. To see if she’d let me past whatever walls she had up.

Weeks passed, and somehow, she became a constant in my life. Late-night calls. Showing up at races. Stealing my hoodies and pretending she didn’t. I should’ve been focused on the championship, but instead, my mind drifted to her—how she laughed, how she looked at me when she thought I wasn’t watching.

Then, one night, she pulled away. “You’re not the kind of guy who stays, Lando.”

The words hit harder than any crash I’d ever had. “You don’t get to decide that.”

She exhaled, shaking her head. “You live in a world that moves too fast. I don’t know if I can keep up.”

I stepped closer, my fingers brushing hers. “Then let me slow down for you.”

Silence stretched between us, heavy with everything we weren’t saying. Then, just like on the track, I took the risk—I kissed her. And for the first time in my life, I didn’t care about the next turn. Just the moment right in front of me.