I never was good at following the rules everyone expected me to, so this wouldn’t be the first time I got myself into trouble.
You watching me, Fraser?
His reply came instantly. My pulse skittered at knowing he was waiting for my responses the way I was waiting for his.
Callum
You have no idea.
Oh.Oh, Jesus.
A quiet, shaky exhale left me. My heart pounded against my ribs, something molten unfurling inside me.
I was alone.
I was horny.
And the only thing in my head was him.
My skin felt too sensitive against the sheets, tightening my nipples and sending little waves of desire through me.
Maybe I do.
I tossed my phone onto the nightstand before I could embarrass myself further, before I could see his response. But it didn’t change anything.
Not the tension in my limbs. Not the heat in my core. And certainly not the fact that, for the second time that week, I was falling asleep thinking about Callum Fraser.
Shanghai was going to be an absolute disaster.
The next morning,the estate came alive. The scent of fresh bread and strong French roast coffee drifted through the air, mingling with the earthy aroma of the vineyard waking up to a new day.
I should have felt at home, but I didn’t.
My father’s booming congratulations, my younger sister’s excited chatter about how proud she was, and finallyÉtienne—pulling me into a careful hug, his brace pressing lightly against my back—felt like a scene I was watching from the outside.
“You were incredible,Ari,”Étiennesaid, his voice full of pride. “P-fucking-4 on your debut weekend? I’m in awe.”
I forced a small smile. “Thanks,Étienne. But it’s not the podium.”
I expected him to argue, but instead, his brows furrowed. “Still. You did what no one thought you would.”
Whatno one thought I would.I wasn’t sure if that was meant to be comforting, but it wasn’t.
I’d spent my whole life proving myself, pushing, climbing, fighting. I wasn’t justhissister. I wasn’t just the replacement.And yet—this was what they saw. They were proud, but they weren’tworriedthe way I was. They weren’t dissecting every turn, every pit stop, every second.
Because they had never had to fight to be taken seriously in this sport.
The day passed in a blur of encouragement and back-pats, but my mind remained elsewhere. I’d fallen asleep the night before watching the race replay, analyzing every single second, pinpointing where I could have shaved off time, where I should have defended harder, where I should have taken a risk.
If I didn’t do better in Shanghai, it wouldn’t matter. OneP4didn’t mean job security.
Later that afternoon, my mother found me on the terrace, her presence as calming as the lavender fields below us. She handed me a cup of coffee and motioned for me to join her for a walk through the vineyard.
I exhaled slowly, following her. The long golden waves of her hair swayed against her lower back, brushing my arm every so often, and for the first time in months, I felt like her daughter instead of a driver.
We walked in comfortable silence for a while, the grapevines stretching toward the horizon, shadows long in the late afternoon sun.
Then, she spoke. “You’re not happy, are you?”
