I wasn’t supposed to be here tonight. A quiet evening, maybe a movie, that was the plan. But somehow, here I was—standing in her hotel room, watching as she poured two glasses of champagne, the city lights reflecting in her eyes.

She turned to me with that knowing smile, the one that made my heart race on and off the track.

"You’re awfully quiet, Lando," she teased, handing me a glass.

I chuckled, taking a sip. "Just… taking it all in."

She tilted her head, stepping closer. "And what exactly are you taking in?"

Everything. The way her silk dress clung to her body, the way her perfume lingered in the air between us, the way my name sounded different when she said it—softer, warmer.

"You," I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper.

Her lips curled into a smirk, and she set her glass down, reaching for my tie. Slowly, deliberately, she loosened it, her fingers grazing my skin.

"Do you know what I think?" she murmured.

I swallowed hard. "Tell me."

She leaned in, her breath warm against my cheek. "I think you should stop overthinking."

And just like that, the world outside ceased to exist. The only thing that mattered was the way her hands slid down my chest, the way her dress slipped from her shoulders, pooling at our feet like golden silk.

The champagne, the music, the city lights—they all faded into the background.

The night was ours.

As she pulled me closer, her lips just inches from mine, I let out a breath I hadn't realized I was holding. My hands found her waist, fingers tracing soft, warm skin. The world outside, the races, the pressure—it all melted away.

I smiled, brushing a strand of hair from her face.

"You know," I murmured, my voice barely above a whisper, "winning you feels better than any trophy I’ve ever held."