Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

*****Max******

Everytime I scrolled through my phone there were posts and photos of Charles and Irina, taken either by others or by Charles himself.
And if that wasn't enough, each and everytime I saw them around the paddock I could barely suppress my jealousy.
I have never been this frustrated in my entire life, because I know she was suppose to be mine and only mine.
Even more, I know her true feelings.
Irina was trying to hide them for everybody, especially hiding from herself.
But I know...

Everytime I saw her there was a glimpse of hope in her eyes, a glimpse that probably things will turn out to be fine between us.
As much as I wanted to let her go and move on with my life and as much as she tried to push me away, i'd always found a way to hang on to every little detail her body language conveyed.
Call me a fucking masochist.
But I just can't let her go.

I wanted so badly to know if she was ok after what happened in her medical office yesterday. Because I saw the look on Charles’ eyes when he catched us together. Hopefully he wasn’t stupid enough to lay his hands of her.
I truly don’t want to believe he is capable of that.

When I finished the drivers parade I went straight to the medical center to see her.
My PR wasn't happy, saying some bullshit I’ll have to do before the race. And to not be late for the anthem of the country.
As if I care.

So, with the excuse of finding out how the blood test of my mechanic came out, I knocked on the door of her office.
It's not like I didn't care about Chris, fuck no!
He is one of the best mechanics I've ever worked with.
And, I've called him already.
First thing in the morning and the little bastard was healthy as a bull.

Irina's office was empty.

"Good afternoon" I knocked on the other office. "is dr Stan around here?" I asked shyly the other doctor and her collegue, doctor Peter "Hello Max, no, she's not here and i haven't seen her today at all" dr Peter replied "can i help you with something?"

It was weird that she wasn't there since the race will be starting in an half of hour.
She always arrives early at the paddocks.
Never late.
But soon my thoughts drifted in the direction that she was probably with Charles, doing something I didn't want to think about anymore. "Thank you" I muttered and left the medical center.

Eventually I let those thoughts slip away from my mind and begin preparing for the race.
As soon as the race started my main focus was on arriving first at the chequered flag.
Like a robot, I performed flowlesly in all 70 laps of the Canadian grandprix.
Even without being able to communicate with GP due to a radio issue.
Well they couldn't hear me, i could hear them. Fucking awesome.

" that is the checkquered flag Max, what an end, well done mate!" GP said over the radio while I was waving to the people that came to see the race "brilliant, brilliant drive Max". Christian intervened over the radio as well to praise me.

I jumped from my car and went to my pit crew members that were waiting for me at Parc Ferme.

Also Christian and Helmut who were there congratulating me, something I was already used to but still made me fucking proud of myself.
I was talking with Carlos who took the second place up until we'll have to take the little interview before the podium.

I saw Charles getting out of his car and approaching us.
He came to congratulate his teammate and ignored me.
I laughed at the comic of situation and of course I didn't care about his attiude.
But I could already foresee the journalists speculations and big drama.

Of course he was upset finishing the race on 5th place and slowly getting out from our battle for the championship.
He turned his gaze towards me and finally extended his hand to mine. I did the same.

"You don't deserve her" he said to me in disgust, making me almost choke on my bottle of water.

"What the fuck is that suppose to mean?"
I shouted ignoring the fact there were video cameras all over me.
Soon after Jensen placed the microphone on my hand and the post-race interview started asking me the usual questions.
I replied with an awkward smile on my face and couldn't wait to be done.

My PR forbade me to go after Charles to demand some explanation.
She kept telling me about the penalties if I miss media pen, or the press conference.
Fuck them with their rules.

After the podium celebrations and media pen I was heading to the post race press conference when a sudden voice stopped me from walking "where is she?" it was Alex, Ferrari engineer, friend of Irina. "Where is who?" I asked
confused "Irina" Alex said with a trace of concern in his voice.

"Mate, you are asking the wrong person. Better turn your attention over to your own garage" I scoffed angrly and continued my way "if i'm asking you isn't it clear that i did not find the answear elsewhere?" Alex countered.

I stood in place for a moment trying to take in the information "nobody heard from her all day, nobody saw her and she doesn't even answear the phone. My wife is her bestfriend and she is really worried. It was her idea to ask you" my heart started to race and my mind ran all the worse possibilities.

"i saw her last night, she was with Charles and probably left with him" it wasn't something I like to think about nor even to talk about "obviously I spoke to Charles first. They parted ways last night, at least that is what he told me"

Wait. What?
Is this real?
Or is my mind playing tricks on me.
I couldn't believe what I was hearing.
She was no longer with Charles...

But that was a matter I will have to deal and process later, firstly the big concern was to find her.
At least when she was with Charles I somehow knew she was safe "Could you please give me your wife's phone number? I want to speak with her" Alex nodded and gave me the phone number.

I was struggling to keep my voice steady when I called Alex's wife but clearly all the information I have just recieved had a major contribution to the condition I was in.
Diana, on the other hand, was managing to keep her calm in this situation.
Although surely she was at the same level of stressing out as I was.
We decided to wait for the end of the day to see if Irina will eventualy reach someone.
Of course she wouldn't reach me but i begged Diana to let me know she was safe.
We thought she could probably be on a plane as we were speaking and of course she wouldn't have any phone reception.

I went to the press conference with this heavy concern hanging of my mind and heart.

Chapter Text

When finally all my duties were done, I was on my way out of the paddock.
Almost running making my way through the crowd.
I stopped when I saw Charles with his phone in his hand texting and making calls like an insane man.
The moment we looked at each other, Charles almost shot arrows out of his eyes in my direction.
What the fuck is this guy's problem?
Is he blaming me for Irina's dissaperence?

I wanted to go and confront his shitty attitude but for once I didn't act impulsively.
Not giving the media any more drama from my part.
My main concern was Irina.
Only Irina.

My initial plan was to head back to Monaco that evening, but I decided to stay one more night in Montreal.
Maybe she was still around here.
Or if Diana will call with some news, i'll be able to speak and to take some action.

Meanwhile I tried to occupy my time with basically anything in that point, some video games, racing my simulator and calling her from time to time.
But without any succes.

The exhausting of the whole day seized me eventually.
Not even the doses of red bull did not stop me to fall asleep dressed on the couch.
I woke up suddenly at 6 in the morning and quickly checked my phone .
Around 4 o'clock Diana texted letting me know she went at Irina's home in their country but there was no trace she had been over there.

I paced back and forth through the hotel room, my mind racing with different scenarios.
I just can not stay and do nothing.
I wanted to search on my own but where to begin?

I tried to keep it together but inside I was falling apart.
Gathering my luggages, I rushed out of the hotel, determined to act in any way possible.
I remembered she also has an apartment in London rented by the FIA.
Therefore, I changed my plane's destination.

Well, I didn't know where exactly her apartment was located and it will be strange for me to ask the FIA for her address.
Not when I have another option on finding out. Putting my pride aside, I called Lewis.

At least it was something we had in common, the fact that we both cared about Irina.
Fortunately, Lewis responded positively to my initiative and, with much luck, he was already in the Europe.
Unfortunately for me, I'll have to wait for another two hours for my plane to be ready.

Just before I was about to board the plane, Lewis wrote a message informing me that he had found Irina.
I felt that I could finally breathe normally.
But immediately after another message in which Lewis told me not to come because Irina did not want to see me.
I immediately called Lewis back, but he did not answer the call.
Fucker.
Obviously I didn't care what Lewis had said to me and boarded the flight with the destination - London

If I'll have to hunt Lewis down and force him to tell me where she is, I'll do it.
Without thinking it twice.
I kept my promise by informing Diana that Lewis had found Irina.

——————

The moment I got off the plane and my phone finally had a reception on British soil, I started calling her non-stop.

Me: Irina, please talk with me
Me: I'm in London, give me your
address please
Me: Please Irina, I just want to talk

Not even Diana knew exactly where Irina's apartament was, only Lewis.
And he was still not answearing his phone, making me angry as fuck.
I instantly regretted calling him because now he was behaving like a piece of shit.
My blood boiling under pressure in my veins.

I booked a room on a hotel in the center of London and decided to stay there until the British Grand Prix.

Once again, I felt I hit rock bottom.
I resorted to anything that was in my powers. Called too many people in order to find something. Anything.
One thing was certain.
I will fucking kill Lewis next time I'll see him.

For the days ahead the race, I decided not to stew in my own juice and to go at the race simulator at Milton Keynes.

—————————

On Thursday evening, Christian had invited me to his house in Oxfordshire for a dinner and mostly to spend some time together.
He lives in a lavish countryside farm-yard home.

While Christian's lovely wife prepared the food, we were talking in the living room about cars of course.
We were very confident about the fact that our car is the strongest and fastest of the grid.
Hence, we were leading both drivers and constructors championship.
And for the near future, pretty comfortable wins ahead.

Right after dinner was over and we were drinking  some fine wine, I felt my phone vibrating into my pocket.
A text message from Lewis.
No words only a pined location.
He must be fucking joking.

I excused myself to Christian and Geri and jumped in my car driving and exceding the speed limits towards the location that Lewis sent.
Oxfordshire was one hour and 20 minutes away from London.
I made it in 45 minutes.

Arriving in front of the building and soon finding out that was an exclusive night club.
Luckly Lewis left a word at the bouncers to let me in when I arrive.
At least now he was nice.
Prick.
But, probably the bouncers would have let me in anyways.

I saw Lewis on the VIP area and made my way through the crowd how had recognized me and started to corner me.
Absolutely perfect.
Some bodyguards helped me to get safe at the VIP area.

"where is she?" I asked Lewis with a calm voice although I was boiling inside and wanted to punch his fucking face.
Lewis pointed towards the dancefloor.
Countless men were staring at her and some were dancing too close.
She was barely dressed.
A short white dress exposing and revealling her curvy body.
One of the straps hanging on her arm.
The shape of her breasts a little too visible through the dress.
I will rip that dress and set it on fire.

Little by little feeling the fury closing in "Over these days i tried my best to help her" Lewis said with a trace of resignation in his voice. He was out of his depth "she kept drinking and smoking and taking some pills saying that it will help her sanity aflot. I reached the end of my power" I grinted my teeth for the fact that Lewis didn't call me sooner.
It wasn't like I was the saviour of the situation, but at least i could have tried to.

I saw a guy who started touching her inappropriately and almost ran towards the dancefloor.
My fists clenched at my sides as I pushed through the crowd. The bass thumped in my chest, matching the rage building inside me.
She was moving her body like liquid fire under the flashing lights, while that guy was basically dry humping her.

I grabbed her wrist maybe a little harder than I should've and pulled her toward me.

"Hei dude, what is your problem?" he said puzzled.
Clearly unware of my state or being too stupid to care.
"you are" i replied full of rage ignoring all the cameras from around us and that Irina could not stay on both of her feet.
She probably didn't even who I am.
"i suggest you to fuck off"
Without thinking it twice, I punched hardly the guy in his face.
If people are searching for drama.
There you have!

I took Irina by her arm and basically dragged her outside.
I was so damn furious with her, with Lewis and everything that happened
"let go of me, you are hurrr...fing me"
Jesus fuck.
She could barely speak properly.

"What the hell is wrong with you??"
I shouted out of the crowd and the staring faces.
"Dancing...hafing fuuun" she begun another demonstration of lustful dance.
Being so near I could see her little areolas and hard nipples through the fabric.

"Not like this!" Pointing to her body "you're almost naked"
Irina stoped and stepped even closer. Her scent burning my nostrils.
She was smirking at me like everything was ok.

"That is what's bothering you?" She teased "or that others are looking too"
Now my nostrils were burning because of the flames coming out.
" get it the car"  I demanded and opened the car door for her.

"Noppe" she said popping the p on the word and pouting her lips.
I was expecting a tantrum in every moment considering the way she was behaving.
She tried to walk away but of course she could barely walk and stumbled on her on feet.
I grabbed her and pulled her back up

"GET IN THE FUCKING CAR NOW" I shouted making her flinch.

Chapter Text

Eventually she climbed on the right seat and I started driving.
The drive was tense.
Silent.
My hands gripping the wheel so tight, my knuckles turning white.
Every time I looked at her,sitting there with her arms crossed, her dress riding up her thighs to the point where her lenjerie could be seen.
I felt my blood boil over and over.

"Where is your apartament?" I asked her but she ignored the question "i love this song" turning on the volume and started to sing the lyrics.
She fully opened the car window and leaned her back over the edge, letting her hair blow in the wind.

As much as I was amazed by her, by how beautiful she was I disliked the drunken state she was in.

"Irina answear me" I barked, slamming my hand against the steering wheel.
She jumped at the sound, shrinking into her seat. She looked so small, so vulnerable, it made my chest ache.

Finally she told me the street name and soon after I parked the car in front of the building.
She stumbled her way on the steps from the hallway almost crawling on the walls, laughing uncontrollably.

In front of her apartment she pressed her back on the door and put a finger on her mouth trying to be sexy and seductive but there was nothing sexy being so intoxicated with alchool and I was too angry with her.
"Open the door Irina" I said with a demanding voice.
I was already so tired of this situation.

"or give me those fucking keys" I shouldn't loose my temper but seeing how she struggling to even open her purse made me reach out of my patience.
Irina frowned at me "Max, Max, Max, super Max" giggling on my face "is this funny to you?" I asked between gritted teeth.

"Oh chill out Verstappen, what is the big deal?" she scoffed in my face and rolled her eyes while still struggling to open that goddamn purse making me go mad.

"OPEN THE FUCKING DOOR " I shouted so loud and punched the door right across her head.
She opened her mouth but closed it immediately, her lip trembling.
There was a look of fear in her eyes and tears began to fill her blue eyes.
She turned and finally opened the door.
If though love is what she wants, that is what she'll recieve.

She stumbled inside, wiping her eyes quickly, like she didn't want me to see her crying. I followed, slamming the door shut behind me harder that I intended.
The sound echoing through the hallway.
She kicked off her high heels clumsily and made her way toward the sofa in the living room.
She plopped down, her dress riding even higher up her thighs.
Yet, this time I wasn't looking at her like that.
All I saw was the chaos.
And didn't have a clue what was the reason behind all of this.

"Come on" I muttered, reaching out to pull her up "let's take a shower"

She didn't resist when I guided her toward the bathroom.
I turned on the water, letting it warm up until I helped her undress that hideous dress.
I swear. I' ll burn it.
Carefully, she stepped into the shower, wincing when the hot water hit her skin.
I gently cleaned her, running my hands on her body and hair.
But when I turned her, I froze.
My blood turned ice cold.

A big bruise.
Along the soft curve of her back.

No. This is impossible.
"What the fuck Irina...??" I breathed without thinking, brushing my fingertips lightly over the mark.

My stomach twisted.
I don't want to imagine who did this to her.
Because I will not be able to compose myself.

"Who did this?" I asked, my voice sounding like a dangerous growl.
She shook her head.
I forced her to turn again, facing me.
"No one. I fell in the house"

Yeah. Sure.
Am I am 14 years old.
"Irina..." I said firmly.
She leaned into me, her forehead pressing my chest and I wrapped my arms around her.

I will leave the subject aside, for now!
But God forbid, if I'll find who did it...and I will!
I'll beat the living shit out of him.

I wrapped her into a towel and carried her in my arms toward the bedroom
"this is how i numb the pain to stop thinking about you"
she mumbled against the pillow while I was removing my wet jeans and got into bed next to her.
I pulled her into my arms
"don't leave me" she said softly.

I held her tightly and just like that all the anger subsided.
"i won't" kissing her gently on the hair.

—————————————

I woke up first in the morning but remained motionless in bed carresing her hair.
It was so soothing to hear her breathing so peaceful.
I almost couldn't believe that I was finally holding her my arms.

Yet, my mind was still wrapped on the fact that she and Charles had broken up and wondered if maybe the real reason she was drinking and smooking was because of him.
Because she is heart broken.

Irina lifted her head from my chest and widened her eyes when she saw me.
" goodmorning doc, not feeling so great in the morning?" I said ironically seeing her having a bit of trouble putting herself in time and space.

"what are you doing here?"  trying to get away from me and out of bed.
She fell back on the bed in the moment she stood up
"Irina, take it easy. You are not feeling good " I said as I was trying to help her.

"don't tell me how I feel, I know very well what I have. My blood pressure suddenly dropped because I got out of bed too quickly" she snapped at me throwing medical condition into the discussion.
Smart.
She moved away from my touch.
"probably the aftermath of a night of drinking too much" maybe it sounded like I was making fun. But I was dead serious.
This is not who she is.

"you don't remember what happend last night?" she started moving around the room in a search for something.
"did we fuck?" I froze and arched my eyebrow.
Irina said it so easily.
She really doesn't have any clue about last night. "There they are!!" She exclaimed when she found the cigarettes and some pills.
I think is going to be harder then i've expected .
"No" i replied dryly.
Now that I think better, I should've lie to see her reaction.
She put three pills in her mouth and left the beedroom.

I followed her into the kitchen where she sat on  barstool at the island and lit a cigarette while I went to the fridge "so many options" I said sarcastically since the fridge had only some bottles of water and an opened bottle of wine. "Should i go and buy something for the breakfast?" i turned and asked her

"oh just fuck off Max, i don't need you to take care of me. I am a fully grown woman"
I forced a laugh and scoffed "yeah i see..."
I went to the island and sat on the other chair next to her.

"Lewis told me you are taking some kind of pills, may i see them?" Irina started to laugh in my face, rolling her eyes " are you a doctor now?" She said putting out the cigarette into the ashtray "and since when you two became such good friends?"
"Since you apparentely. What is going on with you?" I asked seriously concerned.

Irina turned on the coffee machine and put her coffee mug under to spill her morning poison "have i told you i am not a morning person?" changing the subject with this kind of topics.
Very mature.
She opened the fridge and closing it right after. Then she opened a wall cabinet and grabbed a bottle of whisky "it s 12 o'clock, morning was when i woke up" I replied and watch carefully what where her plans with that bottle.

Chapter Text

She connected her phone to a portable speaker, and played some random song, humming while she poured whisky straight into her coffee.
“Well, it’s someone’s birthday somewhere. Cheers to that!” she said to herself, lifting the mug like she was toasting the world.

Before she could even take a sip, I stood up, marched across the island, and yanked the mug out of her hand, dumping it into the sink.

“What the fuck, Max?!” she shouted, stumbling back a step.
God, she looked so goddamn cute when she was pissed — normally, I would’ve shoved something in her smart little mouth just to shut her up.
But not now.
Not when this was serious.

I grabbed her wrists and pinned her hands against her sides, holding her still.
She struggled against me, her body small and furious.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” I barked, shaking her a little, my patience hanging by a fucking thread.

“You, Max! You’re what’s wrong with me!” she screamed, her face flushed, her chest heaving. “Standing here like an angry God and judging my sins” she was trying hardly to remove herself from my grip.
Ha.ha.ha.
Again. Cute.
A little smile forming at the corner of my mouth.

“You fucking ruined my…”
She stopped, her breathing ragged, the words stuck somewhere between her ribs.
“My… something beautiful with Charles,” she finally spat out, tears slipping down her cheeks.

It hit harder than any punch to the gut.

I stood there, frozen.
God, I wanted to kiss her — to erase every stupid memory of him, of me.
To tell her she means everything to me.

But I kept quiet.
She wasn’t crying for me.
She was mourning him.
And I was just the wrecking ball that had smashed everything.

“You, Max…”
“You…”
Whispering it like a broken record, pounding her little fists weakly against my chest.

“You want me to leave?” I asked, my voice low, already knowing the answer but praying to whatever shitty god was out there she’d say no, just like she said the night before.

“Yes, Max. I don’t want you here” she said without hesitation.

It cut.
Deep.

I let go of her.
“Fine,” I said sharply, my voice cold, detached — a lie.
“I’ll leave you alone.”

I turned on my heel and stormed out, slamming the door hard enough to make the walls shake.
Behind me, I heard her break — loud, ugly sobs tearing from her chest.

Heart. Fucking. Breaking.

And for the first time in my life, walking away felt worse than staying.

I called Diana, filling her in on Irina’s condition.
Luckily, she was already in the airport boarding into the plane.
God, I hoped her best friend could knock some sense into her — because it sure as hell wasn’t going to be me.
Not when I was the last person Irina wanted around.

Stupid.
Fucking stupid of me to think that just because she and Charles were over, she’d fall into my arms like it was written in the stars.
I even caught myself considering calling Charles — because at the end of the day, it wasn’t about pride.
It was about her.
She needed help.

The thought made me crave a drink so badly it hurt, but I forced it down.
If I couldn’t even keep myself together, what good would I be to her?

Diana texted me the time she would land.
I waited for her at the airport, pacing like an idiot until I spotted her rushing through the terminal.
Without much talking, I drove her straight to Irina’s apartment, the ride thick with tension.

When I parked the car outside, Diana let out a long sigh, staring up at the building.

“It’s not the first time she’s had a breakdown like this” she said quietly, more to herself than to me.

“You’ll get her back on her feet” I said, trying to sound more confident than I felt.

She grabbed the door handle but paused, turning back to look at me.

“Hey, Max…”
Her voice was softer now, more real.
“Thank you. For everything you’re doing for her.”

I gave a small, tired smile.
“Just because I made a mistake doesn’t mean I stopped caring about her.”

She held my gaze for a second longer, like she understood more than she let on, then nodded and stepped out of the car.
I watched her walk into the building, a part of me wanting so badly to follow — but knowing that for now, distance was the only way I could love her right.

Chapter Text

There were some days left until the Silverstone Grand Prix when my mom and sister surprised me with a visit.
My mom told me she will show up on Sunday for the race, but instead, they arrived days before to spend some time together.
My heart swelled the moment I saw them.
It had been too long.

We spent real quality time together, exploring parts of London, laughing too loudly in cafés, and, of course, being dragged into what felt like every single shop on Oxford Street.
I missed this.
Missed them.
Growing up the way I did, with a life split between racing, different cities, and divorced parents, moments like these were rare.
Now, with how crazy my schedule was, they felt even more precious.

During dinner, while we were lazily picking at dessert, Vic suddenly hit me with a question that made me almost choke on my food.

"So... you and Kristina are back together?"
I coughed, reaching for my glass of water.
Personal matters weren't something I usually discussed with them unless it was serious.
Really serious.
"No! Where the hell did you get that idea?" I asked, trying to keep my voice even.
Vic briefly glanced at our mom, who looked suspiciously guilty.

"There were... rumors online" my mom said.
"Godverdomme, moeder" I muttered, setting down my fork.
Of course.
She is spending way too much time reading all the bullshit media tends to write about me online.

"Please, stop reading that nonsense" I added, trying to sound calm, though my irritation slipped through.
"I hate the internet. I hate social media. If I could, I'd delete everything, but my PR team insists I need to keep a 'human face.'"
Mom gave a small shrug and leaned over to kiss my cheek.
"Okay, Max."

I thought that would be the end of it.
I was wrong.

"So... no other girl?" Vic pressed, smiling sweetly and all innocent.

God.
This topic wasn't going away anytime soon.
I rolled my eyes and dug back into my plate of beef, hoping she'd take the hint.
No chance.

"What? I can't ask my big brother about his love life? You've asked me some pretty awkward questions over the years" she teased, nudging my arm.
I couldn't help but chuckle at that.
Ever since the divorce split us between our parents — me with Dad, Vic with Mom — I'd always had that big-brother instinct to look out for her.

"That's different" I said, sitting up straighter. "I'm entitled to know who's getting close to my little sister."
She laughed loudly.
"Yeah, yeah. Better answer my question, Maxie."

God help me.
I shrugged, playing it off.
"Not really..." I said, keeping my voice casual.

But the second the words left my mouth, my mind drifted.
To her.
To Irina.
To the way she had fallen asleep against my chest just a few nights ago, the small frown on her face even in sleep.
To the way she fought against the world — and sometimes against herself — so fiercely.
If they knew what she meant to me, they wouldn't even need to ask.
But it wasn't that simple.
It was never that simple with Irina.

"So there is someone" Vic added quickly, grinning like she'd just won something.
I sighed, running a hand through my hair.
"It's complicated. No need to talk about it" I said firmly, cutting the conversation off.
Some things were better kept just for myself.
For now, at least.

While my girls went to the bathroom, I took the chance to pull my phone out of my pocket.

There it was — a message from Diana, sent half an hour ago.

Diana: Can you come over?

Without thinking twice, I typed a quick reply.

Me: I'll be there in an hour.

A wave of relief rushed over me the second I hit send.
Finally — something.
Some kind of sign that maybe Irina wasn't slipping further away from me.

After I dropped my mom and Vic back at the hotel, I didn't waste any time.
I drove straight to Irina's apartment.

Diana opened the door almost immediately, stepping aside to let me in.
The place felt quiet, heavier than usual.
She offered me something to drink, but I shook my head.
"Just water" I said, my voice low, the tension in my chest tightening.
While she poured the glass, I lowered my voice even more, feeling strangely like an intruder in my own life.

"Does she know I'm here?" I asked quietly.
Diana glanced over her shoulder. "No" she answered simply.
"She fell asleep a while ago."
I took a sip of water.
"Then why am I here?"
My curiosity — no, my need to understand — clawed at me. That question was more to myself, instead I spoke up.
There had to be a reason.
And right now, I was damn desperate to hear it.

Chapter Text

"I managed to keep her away from the drinking and the pills. I even made her eat something" Diana said as she sat down next to me.
I nodded, relieved but still unsatisfied.
There was a bigger question burning inside me. One I couldn't ignore.
"Why did she even resort to such things?"
That was the answer I needed.

Diana caught my gaze and gave me a long, meaningful look.She sighed, as if she already knew what I was about to ask.

"Don't get close to her if you can't give her everything" she said, her voice calm but sharp like a knife.
"It will hurt her... and you'll feel guilty for furrowing her soul with wounds and her cheeks with tears.
If you can't give yourself madly to her. Show her both the beautiful and the ugly inside you — if you're not man enough to leave behind the games you played to conquer women so far... better stay away."

She delivered the entire monologue without stopping to breath, leaving me completely speechless.
Then Diana stood up, smiled faintly at me, grabbed her purse, and left the apartment.
Just like that.

What the hell just happened?

I sat there, frozen, my mind a storm of wild thoughts.
Why do girls always make things so complicated? It was far beyond my capacity to understand.
Maybe I really needed a translator to make sense of all this.

Quietly, I made my way to Irina's bedroom, slowly pushing the door open.
I stood in the doorway for a long moment, watching her.
She was beautiful.
Even in the middle of all this chaos she created, even in sleep, when the weight of the world seemed to finally leave her alone.

"Don't be a stalker" she said, her voice muffled against the pillow.
"Sorry" I whispered, stepping in. "I didn't mean to wake you up."
"I wasn't sleeping" she replied.

I laid down beside her, turning onto my side to face her.
Pain shimmered in her eyes, exhaustion etched into her delicate face.
It shattered something inside me.
"I'm sorry" I said, my voice cutting through the heavy silence. Don't know for what exactly, but it was the only thing that came out.

She reached out her hand, a small offering.
I grabbed it instantly, squeezing gently before pulling her into my arms.
She tilted her face up toward mine, leaning closer until her lips almost brushed against mine.

"Kiss me" she whispered, capturing my lips with hers.
I didn't hesitate to kiss her back.
But this kiss... this kiss wasn't like the others we used to share.
It wasn't rushed or filled with lust.
It was slow, tender. Like a thousand silent apologies, like releasing every pent-up emotion we'd locked away for months.
This kiss meant something.

At one point she removed her oversized t-shirt, her curvy body cutting through the strand of the moonlight shining through the curtains from the window.
Her beauty was blinding.
Passion radiating from her every pore, turning me into ashes under her.
She slowly reached down into my pants and placed her hand around my already hard cock, making me moan slightly.

She took down my jeans while I was trying to fight past the delirium her close proximity was causing.
Climbing on top of me and started rubbing her folds onto my pelvis, eliciting a sharp pleasure from my hard throbbing erection.

"Irina, don't" I managed to rasp, grabbing her hips to stop her to move any further.

Of course I wanted to have her.
If this were any other night, I would have flipped her into her knees and fucked her senseless. Nevertheless, I know that she was not in a good place right now and didn't want to take any advantage on the situation.

A wicked smile came across her face, ignoring my protest and probably focusing on what my body was betraying.
And God knows, my body was indeed betraying me.
With a swift move Irina took out my cock from the boxers and before I could form any other sentence she sank down onto on my full erection.
Slow, devastating move.

I groaned at the overwhelming sensation of my cock being enveloped by the heat inside her.
My head falling back on the pillow while my hands gripped her hips tighter than I meant to. Does she know how much of a power she has over me?

Slowly and tortuosly she moved up and down twisting her hips on my lap driving me absolutely insane.
Every breathless little puff from her parted lips, every little tremor of her body agaisnt mine, pushed me closer to the edge.
In the end I was too weak to fight his undeniable desire to be with her.

It felt like we have finally reconnected.
Like the past months were completely erased.
It didn't matter that she had been with Charles.
All that matter was this-us-and the way we fit together, like two pieces of something sacred.

I missed her in a way I didn't even want to admit.
It was like nothing I had experienced before, and I was almost scared for the intensity of my feelings.

"Fuuuck" I growled as I came hard, holding Irina in place as I spill inside her.
Her soft moans of my name sending electric shocks through every nerve in my entire body.

I hissed at the sensation of her sliding off my cock, a strange feeling of incompleteness settling inside me.
She threw herself onto the bed beside me, her breaths still uneven, trying to find some normal rhythm again.

"You got what you wanted" she said dryly, not even looking at me.
"You can leave now."

What the actual fuck.

Shock flashed across my face.
"Irina..." I said quietly, propping myself up on one hand to look at her directly.
"I'm fucking confused right now" I added, forcing myself to keep my voice calm, my eyes locked on hers.
"I didn't come here for sex."

"For what then?" she snapped, her voice sharp.
"For you. All of you" I said, pausing deliberately. "Don't shut me out again."
Her eyes glistened with unshed tears, her body tense like a coiled spring.
"You don't want a fucking mess in your life" she whispered, a sob catching in her throat.
"I'm a mess."

I reached out and cupped her face gently, forcing her to look at me.
"Like I said" I murmured, pressing my forehead against hers, "All of you. Your mess is my mess too."

I meant every damn word.
And I made myself a silent promise right there: Never again.
I would never be the reason she cried.
Unless it was crying my name when she came undone in my arms.

She didn't reply.
Instead, she slowly pushed herself up, leaning against the headboard, her hands trembling slightly as she rubbed them along her thighs — probably craving a cigarette, a drink, something to quiet the chaos inside her.

Before she could reach for anything destructive, I pulled her back into my arms.
Tight. Secure. Protective

To my relief, she didn't fight me.
Within minutes, I felt her breathing slow against my chest, her small body finally relaxing as sleep pulled her under.
I stayed like that, holding her long after she drifted off, listening to the steady beat of her heart against mine.
And I realized something terrifyingly simple:

I didn't just want her.
I needed her.

Chapter Text

I moved into her little apartment and did everything in my power to help her, keeping her away from those ugly habits.
Irina told me Diana found a therapist and booked her an appointment.
The next morning, I drove her there and waited in the car until she finished the session.
It made me damn happy to see her aware of her problems.
And even happier that she was strong enough to accept professional help.

From the outside, she was a beautiful package of a woman.Even though she was way more slimmer than before.
Yet, inside, I knew she was a mosaic of vulnerability and voids.

But the nights were the worst.
Nightmares tore through her sleep, waking her up screaming, panic painting her face.
Those were the moments when she was desperate to anesthetize herself with pills. Those were the moments when I was there, arms steady around her, refusing to let her fall.

——————

I couldn't be with her 24/7  because I was still fighting for my second world championship, but sure as hell, I was 100% involved in us.

Thursday's media day kept me stuck at the paddock a lot longer than expected, making me irritable as hell.
Sometimes I feel sorry for my PR people, but truth be told, my temper was a lot better than the years before.
My mind wasn't on media obligations. Nor into being a menance for my PR team.
It was at home.
With her.
I was texting and calling her about every hour, and every time, to my relief, she answered.

Dr. Roberts gave Irina the permission to skip the media day, and as much as I wanted her near, it was better she stayed away — one more day to rest her mind and body.

After much convincing on her part, I agreed to keep things strictly professional at the track — no looks, no secret touches, no hints we were anything more.
It killed me inside to pretend, but if it gave her peace of mind, I'd do it.

Every time Charles' name came up, I saw the way her eyes glistened.
And every time that happened, I felt my jaw clench tight with nerves.
I didn't know what exactly had happened between them, but I will find out.
When she will be ready to tell me.
And about those bruises too.
Because I haven't forgotten.

⸻

When I finally got home late that night, exhaustion clawed at every muscle.
The apartment was in shadows except for the TV screen casting a dull blue light.
There, on the couch, curled into a tight ball, was Irina.
I turned off the TV and turned on a lamp.
Apparenttly she has been watchin something related to Formula 1.

She wasn't drunk.
No empty bottles, no pill containers.
But her face was wet with tears.
And her hands were shaking incontrolably.

"Irina" I said softly, kneeling in front of her.
She blinked at me, disoriented, mascara smudged around her beautiful blue eyes.
"I'm fine" she lied, her voice a broken whisper.

"Yeah?" I murmured, reaching out to brush a strand of hair from her cheek.
"Because you don't look fine."
She sniffed, hugging her knees tighter to her chest.
"I didn't... I didn't take anything. I swear."

"I know" I said immediately, my voice low and sure.
I could see that.
I could feel that.
Without a word, I scooped her up into my arms and carried her to bed.
She clung to me the entire time, like she was afraid I'd disappear if she let go.

Once I tucked her under the covers, she stayed curled against my chest, her breathing uneven, her fingers gripping the fabric of my shirt.
I just held her.
No questions. No pressure.
Only quiet reassurance until sleep finally claimed both of us.

———————

After a strong qualifying, I was set to start the race from P2, with Carlos ahead of me.
As expected for the UK, the sky was a heavy, brooding grey, but the broadcast reassured there was no rain in sight.

Pit crews circling around their cars, making final adjustments, while journalists weaved between them, hunting for last-minute interviews.
I blocked out the noise.
Especially the boos from the stands.
They weren't few.

Lewis was a God here.
I was the villain.
Well, I was seen as the villain pretty much everywhere.
I'd learned to live with it.
Mostly.

Except Netherlands and Belgium.
Where the orange army serves a spectacular show in the grandstands.
Shaking the ground with their roars.

I closed my visor and everything else faded away.

When the lights went out, I got a clean start, snatching the lead from Carlos before the first corner.
Lewis launched well too, moving up into third.

After a few laps, a crash further back triggered the safety car, bunching the field together again and wiping out my lead.
We lined up once more for a standing restart.
This time, the tension was thicker — the tires colder, the track dirtier.
When the lights went out again, chaos exploded behind me.

At Abbey, one of the fastest corners on the track, I felt it — a nudge from behind.
A car clipped my rear wheel.
The balance was gone in an instant.

I fought the wheel, heart hammering in my chest, but the car was already spinning, skidding helplessly across the gravel.

For a second, just one raw, splintering second I closed my eyes hoping it will end soon.

Then everything went black.

Chapter Text

******Irina*******
• days before the present•

Right after Charles left the hotel room back in Montreal, everything became a big blur in my head.
I was broken into too many pieces and mostly tired.
Not the kind of tiredness I had after 24 hours on call at the hospital.
I liked that kind.
It had a mixture of adrenaline and the satisfaction of helping people in need.
This was the kind of tiredness that shredded me little by little.
Like the magma of a volcano steaming, waiting for the perfect moment to erupt.
And when it did, it wasn't lava that broke through, only my pent-up emotions.
How I had complicated everything and dragged Charles into my madness, even though my heart belonged to someone else.

I couldn't return to my home country because Diana would have been all over me.
And although I loved her deeply, I didn't want anyone now.
I needed time. Time for myself.

It was stressful enough for me, trying to understand what the hell was going on inside my head.
But, explaining it to others would've been impossible.
My only companions became my three best friends: alcohol, pills, and cigarettes.
Let's not forget the little fuckers of demons who had a tea party in my mind every night.

Every time I swallowed the pills and the numbness crept in, the pain would fade for a while.
But I knew deep down it was only a temporary fix.

So the safest option was London.
Nobody really knew where my apartment was, except Lewis.
And I thought nobody would think asking him.
I couldn't have been more wrong.

To my big surprise Charles was staying in the door frame on my apartment when I opened it.
Hands shoved in the pockets of his jeans, hair dropping wet, eyes fiery. Not with the familiar warmth I knew, but something colder.
Angrier.

Probably Lewis said my address.
Even though I specifically told him I didn't want to see anyone. Neither Charles or Max.

"Can I come in?" Charles asked.
I opened my mouth to respond, but nothing came out. Instead I stepped aside and let him in.
Flashbacks of us coming in my mind.
And always that pressing question.
Why?
Why I couldn't remove Max out of my system, when things with Charles had been so easy.
And always my heart answeard.

Charles walked into my apartment, taking in the space "cute little place to hide"
I crossed my arms over my chest, trying to keep it together.
Because I knew.
After all, after everything, I know he was right with what he said about us.
It was best for both of us to end things.

"What do you want Charles?"
He turned to me, anger simmering beneath his skin. Very different attitude than the one in Montreal.
"I want to fix this" he took a few steps closer.
" We can get through this. Leaving behind everything and just focus on us" he said with a trembling voice "mon Dieu Irina..we had something. Still have it. You can't deny it. And my feelings for you are bigger and stronger. And real..."

This was confusing as hell.
And I really couldn't understand why this sudden change in his behaviour.
His mouth was moving, saying words meant to soothe, but his body language betraying him completely. "You could just drop the job at the medical center and move with me in Monaco, away of everything"

There it was.
He didn't even bother to hide it. His solution was to tuck me away.
I won't lie, I thought about it for a couple of times, but always realized that this will not solve any problems.
And moreover, it will not remove Max from my heart.

I shook my head "Charles that's not the solution. We both know it" I swallowed and took a deep breath "It's better this way. You were right with everything you said"
Charles' jaw tightened his breathing escalading.
"I was confused. I was pissed. I love you..."

"Charles..." I whispered, feeling the ache behind my ribs. "I'm sorry. I am. But let's move on"

The words barely left my mouth when I saw his expression change.
Gone was the desperate hope and replaced by something darker, something I seen in him before. Just once.
He shook his head slowly, laughing bitterly. "You never even gave us a chance."

He can not be serious.
"Please, just leave" I said, stepping back toward the kitchen.
But he followed.
"You used me" he said through gritted teeth. "You used me to get over him. And when that didn't work, you ran right back to him."

"That's not true!" I snapped, feeling my own anger rising. "I tried, Charles. I tried to love you the way you deserved. But you can't force feelings!"

His hands balled into fists at his sides.
He stepped closer again, and instinctively, I stepped back until I hit the kitchen island.
"You never even fucking tried" he hissed.

Before I could react, his hands grabbed my arms tightly, pushing me back against the hard edge of the island.
The sharp corner jabbed into my lower back, making me gasp out in pain.
"Charles— stop!" I cried, struggling against his hold.

For a moment, he seemed to snap out of it, his grip loosening.
His chest heaved with heavy breaths, realization flashing across his face.
He let go completely, stumbling back a few steps like he was horrified by what he had just done.

"I'm—jesus Irina. I'm so sorry" he started and tried to kiss me. I shook my head, tears welling up in my eyes.
No. Not again!
This is not a normal.
"Get. Out" I said, voice trembling but firm. "Get the fuck out, Charles."

He hesitated at the door, guilt written all over him, but eventually turned and left, slamming it shut behind him.

————————

I struggled to keep my composure in my own bedroom, feeling like the walls might cave in at any moment.
Of course, my absence hadn't gone unnoticed, and my phone didn't stop ringing.
Diana.
Alex.
My mom.
Charles with his constant appologies.
And ...Max.

Lewis had good intentions.
He tried to drag me out of it, take me out clubbing, act like my own personal bodyguard.
Much appreciation for him, honestly.
At least he didn't leave me completely alone.
God knows what I would have done if he wasn’t around.

But imagine my utter shock when Max made his appearance in the scenario.
Even though he looked like he was ready to kill someone with his bare hands, he was still devastatingly handsome.
And again, I pushed him away.

"Love is just fucking painful" I kept shouting to Diana, confessing all my struggles when she arrived in London.

"Sweetie, I love you with all my heart, and what I'm about to say, I hope you can fully understand" Diana said.
"Yes, you shouldn't have gotten Charles involved. It was a mistake, made impulsively because of Max's cheating. I don't know why he did it but honestly, I don't even care at this point. Do you know why?"
I shook my head.

"Because seeing how he acted when we couldn't find you made me realize he would tear everything and everyone apart just to be with you. And remember, he witnessed what you did with Charles. He saw it. And he still came back for you."

My breathing increasing, and my heart slammed so hard against my chest it physically hurt.

"Stop blaming yourself for how you feel, and for the mistake of involving Charles. You're not perfect. Max isn't perfect. But maybe... just maybe, you two are perfect for each other."

It would definitely take some time to come to terms with my issues.
But Max was here.
Almost every hour.
Even agreeing to keep this — whatever this was now — between us, hidden.
I couldn't be so cruel as to shove it in Charles' face that I ran straight into Max's arms right after he left.
Even though that's exactly what it looked like.
And even if he deserved it.

Chapter Text

*******Irina********
•present•

When the British Grand Prix started, I was stationed near the pitlane with Dr. Roberts.
Standard procedure.
Usually, he was a man of few words.
Thank God for that!
But today he was a little more chatty. Of course topics regarding medicine.

In the blink of an eye, everything changed.
I saw Max's car rolling upside down.
Skidding across the track at terrifying speed, sparks flying as it tore through the long gravel trap.
It slammed into the catch fencing sideways, the force of the impact bending steel like paper, before landing awkwardly in the narrow gap between the barriers and the fence.

"Come on, Dr. Stan, let's go!" Roberts shouted next to me.

I didn't move.
I couldn't.

Everything around me slowed, the world around blurring into a mess of muffled sounds and frozen images.
Dr Roberts' voice was just noise, distant and unimportant.

Move, Irina, move!
But my feet were rooted to the ground, my lungs refusing to fill properly.

"Dr. Stan!!"
This time, he shouted my name with enough force to crack through the fog around me.

I blinked, air rushing back into my chest like a punch.
Suddenly, the noise of the world returned.
Everything being too loud. Frantic voices in the speakers, gasps from the pitlane, terrified murmurs of the crowd.

I snapped my gaze to the big screens, desperate to see him move, to see any sign that he was okay.
Nothing.
No movement.
No close-up.
No replay.
The fact that the broadcast wasn't showing him could only mean one thing.
It was serious.

Dr. Roberts rushed me into the safety car alongside him.
The second he pulled me in, I knew it was bad.
He wouldn't have insisted otherwise.
He never wanted me or Peter to go with him.

The safety car sped through the track like a bullet, but I barely noticed.
My breathing was shallow, my chest tight with panic.

"Max, Max, can you hear me?" I called out.
With pure willpower, I forced myself to switch off the personal feelings and focus on what I knew best. Providing medical support.
Max wasn't responsive. His body slumped awkwardly in the wreckage.

"Nobody touches him until I check for a pulse!" I shouted at the stewards gathering around.
Luck was on our side — there was a pulse. A week one.
But he was alive.

Meanwhile, Dr. Roberts was already calling for an ambulance.
This wasn't something we could handle at the track's medical center.
He needed a hospital. Fast.

The stewards worked quickly but carefully, removing Max from the cockpit and placing him on the medical trolley.

"I'm going with him!" I ordered, already climbing into the ambulance.
"Give me an IV line, connect him to a monitor, now!"

"BP is 90 over 50" a nurse called out, "heart rate 42 bpm, sinus rhythm, but dropping!"

"Push 1 mg of atropine!" I ordered. "Hang a bag of saline and let it run at maximum"

Max's eyes fluttered open and I grabbed his hand tightly.
"Stay with me, Max" I whispered, pressing on his hand.
Fighting the tears burning behind my eyes.

The doctor riding in the ambulance shot me a suspicious look.
"Doctor, what is your relationship to the patient?"
I ignored him, focusing on finding a stethoscope to check Max's lungs and heart.

"Doctor" he pressed, louder this time, "are you personally involved with the patient?"
"Yes!" I snapped finally. "But I'm also a doctor, so let me fucking do my job!"

When we arrived at the hospital, the emergency team rushed over, lifting Max out.
"Sorry, you can't come with us" one of the trauma doctors said, blocking my way.
"I'm a doctor too! I work for Formula 1, I'm a cardiologist. I can help!" I argued desperately, trying to follow them inside.

"And she's personally involved with the patient" the ambulance doctor added smugly, earning an internal fuck you from me.
I rolled my eyes, defeated.
"Please stay in the waiting room" the trauma doctor said firmly.

I hated this.
I hated every second of it.
I was used to being inside the trauma room, being the one who fought to save a life.
Not sitting helplessly outside.
Minutes stretched into hours.
I couldn't sit still, pacing back and forth in the waiting room, my mind running with every worst-case scenario imaginable.

Suddenly, Daniel and Lando burst in, two women trailing anxiously behind them.

"How is he?" Daniel asked breathlessly.

"I have no fucking idea," I said, frustrated, throwing my hands up. "They wouldn't let me in. Fucking british doctors..."
"Uh, Irina, meet Max's mother and sister" Daniel added awkwardly, motioning toward the two women.

I swallowed the lump in my throat and quickly extended a hand.
Not exactly the way I imagined meeting Max's family.
Not like this.

Their faces were etched with worry and grief.
"Nobody came out to say anything?" Max's mother asked, her voice trembling from crying.
"Not yet, no," I replied quietly.

Max's sister clung to her mother, breaking down into tears.
Lando had a suspicios look in his face. Probably he wasn't aware about me and Max. Thinking I'm there just because I'm a doctor.
"I'll go see if I can find anything out" Lando offered, stepping forward. "Maybe they'll talk to me if I pull the 'I'm British' card." I rolled my eyes.

Before he could move, the door opened.
All our heads turned toward the doctor stepping into the waiting room.
"Sorry for keeping you waiting" he said. "We had to run more tests."

"Is he stable?" I asked immediately, my voice sharp but full of inside worries.

"He is" the doctor said with a reassuring nod. "But we'll keep him under observation tonight."

A collective sigh of relief filled the room.

"Did you perform an X-ray or CT? Any internal injuries?" I fired off questions automatically, while Max's family looked between us nervously, unsure whether to interrupt.
The doctor smiled patiently.
"Fortunately, no internal injuries."

"Can we see him?" Max's mother asked softly.
The doctor nodded.
"He's still in the recovery room for now, but soon we'll move him into a private room. You'll be able to see him shortly."

Chapter Text

Obviously, I knew my place in this situation.
It was far from my thoughts to get in the way of his family.
And clearly didn't want for them to think anything more.
Also, Dr Roberts called me, and I filled in all the information about Max's condition.

While Max's mother and sister went in to see him, I slipped outside, needing a moment to breathe. The second the hospital doors swung shut behind me, all the pent-up tears streamed down my face.
Relief flooded through me so violently that my legs almost gave out.
I had kept it together for so long, but in the end, I was still just... human. Vulnerable. And everything that had happened lately had simply been too much.

Daniel found me a few minutes later.
Without a word, he pulled me into his arms, letting me cry it out.
"Hey, hey. He's going to be okay" he said softly, his hand running in calming strokes down my back. "He's a tough guy."

Before I dared to go see Max, I stopped at the bathroom to fix my face, trying to hide the storm I had just gone through.
When I returned, his mother and sister were preparing to leave for the hotel. Lando left with them, giving me a quiet look before disappearing down the hall.
I smiled back politely.
Profesionally.

Now it was just me.
Alone.
Standing at the door of his hospital room, my heart pounding chaotically in my chest.

I found Max sleeping, looking so fragile and pale it hurt to see him like that.
Usually, is the other way around.
I'm the one fragile, the one who is a completely mess. Not him!
Carefully, I sat down next to his bed, taking his hand into mine. Feeling the warmth of his skin.

I closed my eyes and leaned my forehead against his hand.
"Max..." I whispered, my voice trembling. "I have to be honest with you."
I took a deep, shaky breath, somehow finding a trace of courage. Maybe because, in that moment, it felt like he couldn't hear me.
Maybe that made it easier.

"It's you, Max. It was always you" I said, barely more than a breath. "You're my first thought when I wake up, and my last before I fall asleep. And you're in every thought I have in between."
A single tear slipped down my cheek.
That's when I felt it. Max squeezing my hand, weak but unmistakable.
I looked up instantly, locking eyes with him.
Even with the machines around him, even after everything he'd been through, his gaze was steady.

Quickly, I wiped my face and gave him a soft, broken smile.
"How are you feeling?" I asked, my voice tender.
"In semi-agony" he said, clearing his throat.
I couldn't help but let out a small, choked laugh.
Leaning down, I kissed his forehead gently.
"Rest now. You need to recover."
I didn't know if he truly heard me.
But somehow, deep in my heart, I knew it wasn't the right time to talk about everything.

————————————-

They released Max on Monday afternoon, already feeling much better. Fortunately, all his tests and investigations came back clear, but of course, I would still keep a close eye on him, monitoring his vital signs.
It may have seemed serious considering the way his car looked, but luckily, nothing bad happened.

"You really didn't need to buy all this medication. I'm feeling good, strong even. Already looking forward to the race in Austria" Max said enthusiastically as we entered my apartment.
"You're not serious right now. Don't tell me you want to race at the Austrian Grand Prix" I said, frowning. The race was in just a few days, and in my naïveté, I thought he might skip this one.
Silly me.

"Of course I will! Why shouldn't I?" he replied nonchalantly, as if he hadn't been involved in a massive crash just days ago. "And I'll have the best doctor in the field there with me"he added, flashing a grin.
Verstappen charm.
He then pulled me into his arms and sighed. "You have no idea how much it killed me not having you around. Literally. It almost killed me" he said, laughing.
"So you're blaming me for your accident now?" I raised an eyebrow at him.
"Of course not. But I wanted to make it sound more dramatic" he said with a smirk before kissing me.

"Ha ha, very funny, Verstappen" I mumbled against his lips.

I retreated to the kitchen to prepare a chicken soup for him, while Max was constantly speaking on his phone, which seemed to ring non-stop. With everything that had happened, I no longer felt the desperate need to take pills or drink.
Just the occasional cigarette, although I had considerably cut back.
Still, I was committed to continuing therapy. I wasn't ashamed to admit I have a problem.
But I was determined to fix it, one way or another.

"My mother wants to come for a visit" Max said when he joined me in the kitchen.
During the day he was hospitalized, I had spent a few moments with his mother in the corridors, but I had deliberately avoided telling her about my deeper involvement in her son's life.
She probably thought I was just deeply invested in taking care of the Formula 1 drivers.

"Okay. Food will be ready soon" I said, trying to act as normal as possible, even though a slow panic was starting to build inside me.
What if she thinks I'm not good enough for her son?
What if she thinks I'm not famous enough?
Smart enough?
Pretty enough...?!

I started pacing nervously around the apartment, straightening pillows, rearranging candles, wiping down invisible dust spots.
Suddenly, the pillows didn't match the throw blanket anymore, and the candles smelled too strong.

"I think someone's nervous" Max teased, leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed, watching me act like a maniac with a huge smirk.
I flipped him off "great sense of observation".
Causing him to laugh lauder.

When the doorbell rang, my heart skipped a beat and then started pounding wildly. I took a deep breath, trying to compose myself.
Max went to open the door and invited her in. "Mom, I think you already met Irina" he said.

His mother smiled warmly. "Yes. Under not exactly pleasant circumstances. But it seems you had to go through something horrible for me and your sister to find out you've met such a wonderful lady."
She walked toward me and hugged me warmly.
I breathed out a sigh of relief.

We all sat down at the dining table and started eating the soup I had prepared. His mother complimented my cooking, and I felt my cheeks flush with embarrassment. From Max's point of view, it all seemed absolutely hilarious.
He was laughing into his chin.

"Thank you very much, but honestly, I'm not that skilled" I said shyly. "I can make the food taste good, but I don't know too many recipes."
I was far from the typical housewife who could whip up fantastic meals. There were just a few recipes I knew well, and somehow they always turned out right.

As the day wore on, my nerves began to fade. Max's mother was warm, welcoming, and genuinely curious about me, which was perfectly understandable.
"So, you two met in the paddocks?" she asked after taking a sip of her coffee.
"Kind of" Max replied with a mischievous grin that made his mother look slightly confused.
I threw him a frowning look, warning him not to take the conversation in that direction.
"Yes" I answered quickly, sticking to the safe version of the story.

Luckily, his mother didn't press for more details.

"Have you talked with your father?" his mother asked him and I saw Max shifting in the chair.
"Yes. I did" he answeard dryly quickly and coldly.
I could feel some akaward tension coming from both of them. Max didn't continue with the topic and neither his mom.

After spending a few hours together, Max left with his mother to pick up her luggage from the hotel and drive her to the airport.
Meanwhile, I cleaned up the kitchen and called Diana to catch up on everything.
I also called my mother.
My parents would be at the next race, and I couldn't wait to see them.

Chapter Text

On Wednesday late afternoon, we left for Austria. We decided, or better said, it was more my idea, to book separate rooms at the hotel to avoid dragging attention or starting any unwanted rumors.
Things were still fresh between me and Charles, and the last thing I wanted was to look like I was jumping from one driver's bed to another, even though that was far from the truth.

I went to Alex's room while Max had some meetings with his team.
"That was a serious accident. I thought Max would skip this race" Alex said as we headed to the hotel restaurant for a drink.
"I thought so too, but apparently nothing is more important than racing. Not even his own health" I said, pausing for a moment. "Yeah, but he's good now. I've been monitoring his vitals. I think he just got scared by the impact and lost consciousness. Other than that, all his investigations came back perfect. Thank God for that thingy over their heads... the 'h' something?"
Alex laughed at my awkward description.
"The halo" he corrected.
Yeah... I would probably forget that again soon.

When we reached the restaurant, I spotted Charles and Carlos sitting with a few Ferrari team members at a table, and my face dropped.
I froze for a second, unsure what to do.
"Come on, let's at least say hello to them" Alex nudged me.

Although we had crossed paths recently in London. Better said, he came to my apartment.
Seeing Charles felt like a punch to the gut. I had a sudden urge to throw up—or swallow some pills with a vodka shot.

"Congratulations on your first win, Carlos" I snapped out of my thoughts and looked directly at Carlos, avoiding Charles.
"Gracias, señorita" he replied with a charming smile and winked at me.
"Come, sit with us"  Carlos said, pulling out two chairs.

The sudden craving for pills turned into a full-blown emergency. I silently begged Alex with my eyes to decline, but he didn't catch the message or chose to ignore it.

No one at the table really knew about my mental breakdown.
Not even Alex. I had made Diana swear not to tell anyone.
Thus, no one questioned me when I pulled some pills out of my hidden pocket of my purse and ordered one cocktail after another.

Charles barely looked at me the entire evening, and I felt like the most miserable person on earth. But truthfully, I avoided looking at him too.
At one point, overwhelmed by everything, I stood up and made my way to the bathroom, already feeling the alcohol crawling through my body.

"Hi" a soft voice said from behind, sending goosebumps across my skin.
I caught Charles's reflection in the mirror.
"Charles... you can't be here" I muttered, the words coming out clumsily.

He didn't answer right away. Instead, he locked the door and stepped closer, his expression unreadable.I turned to face him, my heart pounding painfully in my chest.
"I've missed you"  he finally said, his voice raw.
Is he serious now? Or what the hell is happening with him…
"You have a funny way of showing it" I said with bitterness, accusatory tone.
But considering what happened between us in London, can I be blamed?

Charles's eyes darkened.
"You're the one who kicked me out" he shot back. "You didn't even give me another chance."
I staggered slightly, the alcohol mixing with the flood of emotions. "... I couldn't handle it, Charles"
"Handle what?!" he snapped, his voice low but trembling. "Handle us? Or handle that you had someone else already lined up?"

He grabbed my waist suddenly, pulling me against him.
My breath hitched, not from desire, but out of fear.
His touch wasn't gentle. It was desperate, frustrated, angry.

"Charles, let me go..." I tried to push him back, but he held firm.
"You think you can just erase me that easily?" he hissed, his forehead pressing against mine. His hands gripped my hips tighter, hurting me. "Do you know what you did to me?"

I squeezed my eyes shut, tears burning the edges.
"I never wanted to hurt you"  I whispered brokenly.
"But you did" he said, voice cracking, his thumb brushing roughly against my jawline.

Before I could say anything else, my phone vibrated on the sink. Max's name lit up on the screen.
Charles saw it.

He scoffed bitterly, stepping back like he had been burned.
"Exactly what I thought" he spat. "I was just a backup plan. And the second you got bored, you ran straight to him."
The panic set in, cold and sharp. I couldn't even form words.
"You're unbelievable" he said, disgust and heartbreak mixing in his eyes, before he stormed out, slamming the door behind him so hard the mirror trembled.

I crashed onto the cold floor, sobs ripping out of me uncontrollably.
My body was shaking, the panic attack digging its claws deep into me.
Everything around me blurred.
The lights, the sounds, even the air felt heavy and toxic in my lungs.
I barely registered the door slamming open against the wall with a loud bang.

"Fuck, Irina!"
I recognized Max's voice.
I forced my eyes open and saw two figures rushing toward me. Max dropped to his knees instantly, gathering me into his arms like I was made of glass about to shatter.
Alex hovered anxiously behind him.

"Hey, sweetie, what happened? Are you sick?" Alex asked me. Unaware of anything, while Max was brushing my hair out of my face.
"Did she drank something? Took any pills?" Max's voice urgent. Panicked.
"Yes... I think so" Alex stammered, answering Max's questions "I don't know. I wasn't paying too much attention. Was I supposed to?" Alex added helplessly.
Max barely restrained a snarl.

"She was fine" Alex rushed to explain. "We were having a nice time with Carlos, Charles, and other Ferrari boys. She went to the bathroom and never came out."
Max's jaw tightened dangerously.
"With Charles?!" he barked through gritted teeth.

Max scooped me into his arms and carried me out like I weighed nothing.
I buried my face in his chest, letting his familiar scent and warmth to heal me.
I wasn't sure whose hotel room we entered, Max's or mine, and he laid me gently on the bed.

Alex lingered awkwardly in the doorway. "Are you going to stay with her?"
"Of course" Max said immediately, his voice leaving no room for argument.
Alex nodded and quietly left.

Max helped undress me first, carefully, like he was scared to hurt me more.
Then he stripped off his own clothes and slipped into bed beside me, pulling the covers over us.

"Max?" I croaked, my throat sore and raw.

"I'm here" he murmured, pulling me close, stroking my hair in slow, calming movements. "Every time I leave you alone, trouble seems to find you" he sighed heavily, half in frustration, half in amusment.

I pushed myself up slightly, sitting back against the headboard, feeling drained and small.
"Charles came after me into the bathroom..." I whispered, not looking into his eyes.
Max's body tensed immediately. His hands fisted the sheets.
"He fucking did what?!"
His voice exploded in the small space, furious.
He shot up, reaching for his clothes.
Panic rose sharply through me.
"Max, stop, please!" I grabbed the clothes from his hands, yanking them away.

"He's hurt. I—we hurt him” I said desperately, tears spilling again. "Please, Max... don't do anything. Please."
My hands framed his face, forcing him to look at me.
"Promise me you'll behave. Let time do its thing. Please."
Max stared into my eyes, breathing heavily, his whole body vibrating with the effort to stay still.
I kissed him softly.
"I'll do my best" he muttered, voice low and tight with anger.

But I didn't believe him.

And that’s when I knew I’ll never be able to talk with Max about Charles. Not now, or ever.

Chapter Text

The next day, Max insisted that I join him at the press conference.
Not necesarlily for us to go together, but just to be there.
He had told me plenty of times how much he hated the media part of motorsport.
The constant annoying questions, the cameras everywhere, the marketing, everyone desperate for a glimpse into his private life.
The series from the well known platform portraying him as some sort of villain didn't help either.
Though Max barely even bothered to correct the image. It was just that unimportant to him.

I found a hidden spot behind the journalists and cameras, praying no one would notice me.
Unfortunately, Charles was there too.
Which meant it was even more important to stay invisible.
So help me God.

"Max, thanks for waiting. We wanted to leave you last so we could talk a bit more about your accident" the moderator said. "We're beyond glad you're here with us, safe and sound. Could you talk us through what went through your mind in that moment?"

Max took the microphone, his tone steady.
"First, I just want to remind everyone how dangerous this sport can be, and how important the halo is in the setup of the car. For sure, it was horrible to be in that position. I just closed my eyes and waited for the car to stop. Next memory I have... I woke up in the hospital. Luckily, we have amazing doctors working here, and I'm forever grateful Dr. Stan took such good care of me after the impact and in the days after."

"And moving forward to this weekend" another journalist chimed in. "There's a lot of orange out there. How big is this race for you?"

Max cracked a small smile.
"Yeah, it's always a really enjoyable weekend, having so much support from the Netherlands. But of course, it's the home Grand Prix for us, Redbull team, and we've had good results here in the past. I really enjoy the layout too . Fast corners, a few technical low-speed ones. It suits us."

The other questions started to fade into background for me.
Instead, I felt all the eyes in the room shift — judging, whispering, gossiping.
Suddenly, I was suffocating under invisible scrutiny.
They probably figured it out.
Of course, Charles reacted too. His gaze cut through me. Pain and disgust swirling together.
I was going to be sick.

I wanted nothing more but to leave that place. But something on the stage caught my attention.
I frowned.
Charles leaned over to Max, whispering something in his ear.
Max tensed instantly.
But kept his composure, barely cracking his neck to the side and forcing a fake smile.
Fortunately the moderator ended the session.

I was the first to storm out, heading straight for the medical center.
My emotions boiled inside me.
Frustration.
Max had stood there talking about my involvment and dragging all the attention upon myself.
And right in front of Charles.

I lit a cigarette outside the medical center, taking a few desperate puffs before I saw Max coming toward me.
I put it out quickly and hurried into my office, trying to slam the door in his face, but he was faster.
He shoved the door closed behind him, hard.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" I snapped at him, my voice shaking with rage. "Was it really necessary to mention my name in front of everyone?"
Max casually perched on the medical bed, sipping from his Red Bull like he had all the time in the world.
Watching me pacing like a maniac.

"And what the fuck did Charles say to you?"
Of course I was damn curious what Charles said to him and judging by Max's reaction it wasn't some random racing thing or whatever they usually talk about.
I stormed over, yanking the Red Bull out of his hand.
"Nothing to say, huh?"
A slow, wicked smirk played on his lips as he stood up.
"Has anyone told you how sexy you are when you're angry?"

I rolled my eyes hard, trying to step away, but Max grabbed my arm and pulled me right back into him.
His hand slid under my hair, resting at the base of my neck, and he kissed me. Hard and intense...

We pulled back, breathing unevenly, eyes locked.
Then crashed into another kiss, fiercer, more desperate...needy.
My hands gripped around his neck, pulling him closer, needing to feel him pressed against me.
Max's mouth trailed down my neck, and he slowly pushed my medical robe off my shoulders, letting it fall to the floor.

"You have no idea how badly I want you" he whispered against my skin, his teeth grazing lightly, sending shivers down my spine.
It was the first time we'd been this close again since that night in London.
"How badly I want to fuck you the way you deserve to be fucked."

Oh. My. God.

My mouth watered and my walls throbbed with a desperate need to feel him.
On top of me, beneath me, on my mouth, all over me.
Nothing, absolutely nothing, compares to what he awakens in me when we are together.

Anxiously, I pulled his T-shirt over his head and threw it aside. I began tracing kisses down his bare chest and slowly lower to his abdomen.
With a swift move, he pulled me back up.
"No time for this" he hissed.

I could feel how hard he was against me, and a wave of lust washed over me.
Luckily I was wearing a summer dress instead of my usual pants and skirt outfit, and Max easily slid his hand under it, pulling down my panties.
His fingers trailed slowly between my thighs, finding my core.
It was no surprise I was already wetter than a pool. He spread the wetness, rubbing my clit with two fingers.

A moan slipped from my mouth, and Max placed his other hand over it.
"Shh, baby, be quiet."

My eyes widened — he had never called me "baby" before, but somehow it made everything even hotter considering what we were doing.
He worked his fingers with precision, increasing the speed, the pressure.
I could already feel the knot in my stomach tightening.
Another muffled moan escaped as my orgasm built to its peak. I gripped his shoulders, holding on as the waves of pleasure ripped through me, convulsing around his fingers.

Max pulled his fingers away and pressed them to my lips, running his thumb over them.
Without thinking, I took his fingers into my mouth, licking and sucking them clean.
He let out a low groan at the sight, and with his free hand, he unbuttoned his jeans, palming his erection.

"Bend over" he demanded.

Chapter Text

I obeyed immediately, leaning over the medical bed on my elbows.
Max spread my legs wider and lifted my dress out of the way.
He grabbed his cock, aligning it at my entrance.
Luckily, I was wearing some high heels, otherwise, it would have been difficult with our height difference.

"Fuuuck" I gasped loudly when he slammed into me in one deep thrust.
It was a different angle, and his size was by no means small.
Quite the opposite.

"Irina, I can't cover your mouth. Do you want someone to walk in while I'm railing you?" he asked roughly.
I shook my head desperately and pressed my own hand over my mouth, knowing there were many more moans to come.
"Good girl" he rasped.

Max gave me a few seconds to adjust before he started thrusting with incredible delirious pace.
His hands gripped my hips tightly, controlling every movement, both of us struggling to stay quiet.
The only sounds was made by the medical bed creaking against the wall and Max's ragged breathing.
Yeah... kinda obvious.
Anyone outside would know exactly what was happening inside.
Hopefully no one cared.

I started pushing my hips back against him, matching his pace, fueling the fire burning inside me.
My legs shook with every deep thrust, and Max slowed just enough to go deeper, making me whimper against my hand.
I urged him — faster, harder — and he delivered.

He was fucking me like there was no tomorrow.
He was fucking me to compensate for the absence of the past months.

I clenched around him as my orgasm shattered through me, my hands gripping the bed frame for dear life.
With a few more deep thrusts, he found his release too, spilling himself inside me with a deep groan.
We stayed like that for a few moments, hearts pounding, bodies trembling with the aftershocks.

Max slowly pulled out and grabbed some paper towels to clean us both up.
He cupped my pussy gently in his hand, possessively.

"You're mine. Only mine! And this..." he said, his fingers pressing firmly against my core, "this belongs only to me."

Normally, I would hate that kind of possessiveness.
But with him, everything was different.
I was different.

He was making me feel things I never thought I was capable of feeling.
And right now, I was entirely at his mercy, ready to let him mold me into whatever he wanted.

—————————

Max was repeatedly telling me he wanted our relationship to be public.
Or better said, to let other people see us.
I always turned off the idea.
I wanted to keep it private , at least for a while. Because I knew it will eventually be under the radar of everyone.
In the end, he agreed with my idea.
Maybe he even started to enjoy it, sneaking into my medical office or me slipping into his driver's room like a pair of reckless teenagers.

The whole sneaking around with Max made me feel like I was back in high school when I used to snunk my boyfriend into my room at night.
Back then, I had to hide everything from my strict military father.
No one was good enough for his daughter.
No one was smart enough.
He didn't agree with Aron in first place, but Aron had his own personal charm and won my father's eventually.
My mother was way more flexible, always indulging the idea that I was old enough to be making out with boys.
To have sex with them.

"Please drive carefully" I said in Max's room after yet another sex encounter, watching him pull on his race suit before the sprint race.
Flashbacks from the last race popping in my mind. The images of him unconscious in the ambulance still vivid.
I shook my head in an attempt to remove them.
I was used to seeing people in that condition every day at the hospital, but nothing compared to the feeling I had seeing him like that.

"Don't worry, you won't get rid of me that easily" he smirked.
I rolled my eyes. His calmness, his complete lack of worry, annoyed me just a little.

"Max, I mean it. Please, drive safe" I said again, my voice dead serious.
I stopped halfway through dressing up.
Max dropped the cold ice vest over his fireproof blouse and stepped in front of me, taking my face between his hands.
I stared into his beautiful blue eyes.

"I will" he promised gently, and leaned down to kiss me.
"But it's reassuring knowing you'll save me if anything happens" he teased, running his fingers through my hair with a slight smile.
I took a deep breath.
"You have no idea how hard it was for me... even though I'm a doctor... to be in that position. To see the person I..."
I froze.

Now wasn't the time to confess my love.
Stupid me, still thinking it was a sign of weakness to say it out loud, even though everything I did already screamed what I felt.

"A person you... what?" Max prompted, that infuriatingly sexy smirk tugging at his lips, making my knees weak.
Is it normal to want to have sex over and over again?

"Nevermind" I muttered. "Just — keep that in your mind and drive carefully, okay?"
I stood on my tiptoes and kissed him again.
I could never get enough of his kisses.
"So... will you introduce me to your parents tomorrow?" Max mumbled against my lips.
"Maybe" I teased, looping my arms around his neck.

"And how should I be introduced?" he asked with a playful glint in his eye.
"Hmm..." I tapped my chin thoughtfully, pretending to consider it.
"Boyfriend sounds really nice" he offered.

I twitched my lips and widened my eyes dramatically as if coming up with a better idea.
"My paramour" I said, making him laugh.

Chapter Text

Max won the sprint race without any problems and secured pole position for Sunday's Grand Prix.
And having a good chance to win the main race too.
I couldn't wait to have my parents there at the podium celebration. To see Max up there and finally introduce him properly.
At the same level, knowing my father, I was a little scared of his reaction.
Considering what a big Ferrari fan he is.
But I’m sure Max will be amazing.

I spoke with my mom and dad on saturday night to finalize the last details.
Their plane would land four hours before the start of the Grand Prix, and a taxi would be waiting at the arrival gate to bring them directly to Red Bull Ring.

————

On Sunday, while Max was at the drivers' parade, I was waiting anxiously for my mother to call and let me know they had arrived.
I saw on the flight tracker that their plane had landed, but neither she nor my father called me or answered their phones.
The race was about to start, and with every passing minute, I grew more and more worried.

I asked Peter to cover for me for a few minutes and headed out to search the paddock.
Maybe they had arrived and gotten carried away by the craziness here, forgetting about their phones.
But when the security guards at the paddock entrance told me their badges hadn't even been scanned at the turnstiles, my mind immediately spiraled to worst-case scenarios.
I kept calling them. Over and over.
Each time, there was nothing but empty rings on the other end.

The race had already been on for about half an hour by the time I returned to my post, my nerves frayed.
On track, the Ferrari drivers were leading, Charles ahead, Max sitting in P5.
I haven’t even seen when Charles took the first place away from Max.

There were a few tense overtakes between Charles and Max, depending on who pitted first.
Despite the off-track tension because of me…mostly, they kept it clean on track, and normally, that would have made me proud.
But I couldn't focus and really enjoy the race, not when I had no idea where my parents were.
And why they are not here with me.

An incident on lap 57 snapped me out of my spiraling thoughts.
Carlos's power unit failed and, moments later, his car burst into flames.
Luckily, he escaped and got off his car unharmed.
But of course he had to be checked at the medical center.
Peter handled it, leaving me on my post with my 100 worried thoughts.

Charles ended up winning the Austrian Grand Prix, Max finishing second.
But he managed to snatch that extra point for the fastest lap.

While Max was stuck doing the thing he hated most, post-race interviews and press conferences, I paced like a caged lion, waiting for any chance to leave.
Even though I didn't even know where I should go searching.
But just standing still made me feel helpless.

I had even asked Diana to go to my parents' house.
She called back after a while with no news — no one was there.
That was worse than everything else.
My mind spun faster, fed by the silence.

Finally, my mother's name flashed across my phone screen.
I answered immediately, my fingers shaking.
Max had just returned and joined me from the media pen and noticed how my entire expression changed, how the tears spilled from my eyes.

"What's wrong?" he whispered, his voice sharp with worry, his hand on my arm.

I ignored him, speaking in my native language with my mother, probably making Max even more confused.
His frown deepening as he tried to catch any hint of what was happening.

Chapter Text

******Max*******

The Sunday GrandPrix was a lot tougher than Saturday's sprint race.
I struggled with pace on every compound of tire, which normally isn't a problem for us.
We'll definitely have to talk about it within the team soon.
Even so, I knew it would be a tough race for me, especially after what happened back in the UK, but once I was in the cockpit, those thoughts disappeared and my only focus was on winning this one.

P2 still comes with a good amount of points.
And honestly, the biggest win from the last weeks was that Irina and I sorted things out between us.
Finally, she is mine.
And damn sure I won't be losing her again.

As soon as I finished the media pen interviews and the post-race press conference, I rushed to find her and meet her parents.
I couldn't even describe the stress weighing on my shoulders for this encounter. I made fun of Irina when my mom came to her apartament, but now, being in her position, I totally understand.

I looked for Irina during the podium celebrations but didn't see her.
Maybe she didn't want to be there since Charles was too. I didn't blame her.

I frowned when I spotted her from a distance, pacing like something bad was happening, clutching her phone.
When she hung up, she was shaking uncontrollably, tears running down her face.
She couldn't speak to me.
And when she did, it was in her native language.
I didn't understand a fucking word.

She was desperately searching for something on her phone, ignoring me completely.
I grabbed her hand to stop her. "Irina, talk to me. Please."

"I have to go to my country urgently" she sobbed, barely managing to get the words out. "I'm looking for a plane ticket"  she cried, throwing her phone aside. "there's no fucking flights today" shouting loudly in frustrationz

She was starting to have a panic attack, and by now, I was too familiar with the signs.
I pulled her into my arms and she buried her head into my chest, trembling.

"Breathe..." I whispered gently, stroking her hair.
"My dad had a heart attack. I... I have to go, Max..." she broke down completely.
I kept myself steady for her, hugging her tightly.
"We'll go back to the hotel, grab our luggage, and I'll make a few calls. I'll arrange a flight with my jet. We'll be in your country soon" I said without even thinking.
Not only would I help her with the fligh, I will go with her as well.

At the hotel, Irina was throwing clothes into suitcases in a complete panic while I was on the phone, pulling every string I could to arrange a flight as fast as possible.
Her phone's display was shattered beyond repair, so while making arrangements, I started searching to buy her a new one.

During the flight, which wasn't long, Irina finally fell asleep on my shoulder.
I had stopped her from taking those damn pills she always reached for when things got bad.
Exhaustion and shock took over, and she passed out, flinching now and then in her sleep.
I kept stroking her back gently, trying to calm her even as she slept.

When the pilot announced we were about to land, I leaned down and spoke softly, not wanting to wake her yet.
"Irina, darling... you need to wake up. We're here."

It went through my mind the idea to keep the jet in the air a little longer just she could rest more
But I knew she'd be upset if she realized we delayed because I didn't want to wake her up.

Once we got off the plane, something in her switched.
It was like a defense mechanism and she started pulling her hand away every time I tried to hold it.

In the airport parking lot, she couldn't remember where she had left her car.
And started swearing like a crazy preson.
A wild mix of English and her own language.
After her outburst, she yanked the car keys out of her bag.

"Give them to me. I'll drive" I said, reaching for them.
She scoffed at me. "Do you even know how to drive a manual car? It's got three pedals, and a stick shift, in case you forgot."

Okay... I tried to stay calm.
Sure, she has a good point.
Is had been a while since I last drove a manual on the streets.
But come on.
I'm a fucking racing driver.
Driving is literally my job.

"And besides, I know the roads better" she added stubbornly.
Fine. I didn't want to argue.
Not now.

The second we pulled out of the parking lot, I regretted agreeing.
She was speeding like a maniac, barely ever taking her foot off the gas pedal.
The speedometer needle was way above the legal limit.

"Are there different traffic laws in this country or what?" I asked sarcastically.
She didn't even blink.
Didn't even acknowledge me.

"Hey, slow down. You're not helping anything by driving like this" I said again, but it was like talking to a wall.

The dashboard lit up — Mamma was calling.
Irina didn't hesitate for a second to answer.
They started speaking in their native language, and I sat there, trying to piece together the conversation just from Irina's body language.

"They've taken him now into the cardiac catheterization room" she said to me abruptly.
I blinked, feeling completely clueless.
I had no idea what that even meant.
"So... he's going into surgery?" I asked.

Irina didn't answer.
She was already scrolling through her phone, calling someone else.
The name David something popped up on the car's dashboard as the call connected.
Again, a flood of words came out of her mouth
Too fast, too foreign for me to catch even a hint of what was happening.
When she finally hung up, she glanced at me and said, "No. They believe they can fix his clogged artery with a stent."
I nodded like I understood, even though I had no idea what the hell a stent was or how it worked.
Medical stuff was totally outside my knowledge.

Chapter Text

Of course, I was happy about the positive outcome, but Irina's reactions did nothing to calm my thoughts.
And I still wanted to punch David's stupid smirk off his face.
She stayed stiff, like her mind and soul had just left her body.
More than that, she flinched when my hand reached for hers and dodged away from my touch.

What the actual fuck?!

"Will you keep him in the intensive care unit?" Irina asked David, who was now smiling even wider after seeing how she had reacted to me.
"Yes, only for tonight. Probably tomorrow or the day after, we'll release him” he answered.
"It's very late. Go get some sleep. I'll call you if anything changes in his condition."

Irina nodded in agreement — and David hugged her.
I turned my back and headed towards the car without saying goodbye, good riddance, or go fuck yourself, David.

⸻———

All three of us got into Irina's car, and the silence was oppressive.
First, we dropped her mother off at home.
Even though Irina insisted we sleep there too, her mother turned us down, saying it was better for us to be alone.
Irina promised we'd pick her up early in the morning to go back to the hospital.

I tried several times to open my mouth and speak to Irina, but each time the words died in my throat.
This situation was eating me alive, especially the way Irina was shutting me out.
She didn't have to say it aloud.
Her every move made it painfully clear.

⸻———

It was already past midnight when Irina parked in front of her house.
She let her head fall back against the seat and shut her eyes.
I got out of the car and went to open her door.
"Come, let's put you to bed” I said softly.
To my surprise, she accepted my help, leaning into my arms.

I sat down on the living room sofa while she disappeared into the bathroom.
I scanned her home quickly it felt warm.
Like her.
When she came out, she didn't even look at me.
"I want to sleep alone tonight" Irina said.
I froze, my hand still holding the remote, hovering over the TV.
She sat down on a dining chair, hugging her knees to her chest, and lit a cigarette.

I got up and pulled another chair next to her.

"This is all my fault" she said, a tear slipping down her cheek.
"This is all my fault" she repeated, over and over.

I frowned, feeling completely lost.
Carefully, I was trying to figure out how to pick up my words.

"If I had been at home, maybe this wouldn't have happened" she added, voice cracking.
"Irina, please... stop blaming yourself. There was nothing you could've done."

I reached out to take her hand, but she remained motionless, staring at the wall.
"NO!" she suddenly shouted, throwing me an icy cold stare.
"I would have been here! I would have consulted him more often! I would have done a diagnostic coronary angiography!"
She kept shouting, hitting the table with her finger for every word.
There weren't many words left for me.
Silence seemed safer.

"It's all a big mistake" she shook her head while putting out her cigarette.
"I should never have agreed to work for Formula 1. I should never have left my country. I was happy here. I was happy at my hospital. And look at me now —" she scoffed bitterly.
"All this pain, all because of this fucking job. Nothing but shitty things have happened to me since I left home, trying to play wanna-be-doctor in the paddocks."

I listened to her, barely blinking, even as her words stabbed me in the chest.
She wasn't just talking about work.
She was talking about me. About us too.

"Like me?" I asked directly.
"Am I a shitty thing too?"

She didn't answer.
She just stared at me, breathing deeply.
With a quick move, she got up from the chair.

"First door on the right is a spare bedroom. You'll find clean bed linen there. Good night" she said, before disappearing behind her bedroom door, slamming it shut.

I lay down on the bed, staring blankly at the ceiling.
Her words kept replaying in my mind, over and over, louder each time.

Where did we go wrong?
Again…

I didn't know what else to do.
I was almost at the end of my strength.
One minute it was all sunshine ,or at least, that's how I saw it, and in the blink of an eye, it was pouring rain.

Every time we got closer, something tore us apart.
Even so, giving up on her wasn't an option.
My feelings were too strong, too real, even with the madness swirling around her mind.

No.
I wouldn't make the same mistake twice.
Losing her... letting her escape me...
Not again.
I got out of bed several times but never made it further than the door.

Two voices battled inside me:
One was urging me to talk to her, to tell her how much I love her and how badly I want us to work.
The other said to let it cool down, to give her space, to hope that, eventually, she would come back to me.

I closed my eyes, trying to calm my racing thoughts, praying that some clarity would come.
Eventually.

Chapter Text

******Irina*******

The moment I shut the door behind me, I immediately regretted everything I'd said.
A wave of panic washed over me.
Fuck my life. Fuck my stupid mouth!
I tried to take deep breaths, but only wheezed as my lungs refused to work properly.
For almost an hour, I paced back and forth in my room, panic forcing my body into a malfunctioning state.

Shit, Irina, why the fuck are you so stupid?!
I kept having little conversations with myself, screaming inside to go to him, but fear kept turning me back around.
Pushing Max away with my callous words... the idea of losing him was too much to bear.

Tears welled up in my eyes as I replayed the argument over and over again, a deep sense of shame and guilt taking over me.
I instantly deflated when I realized how stupid I was, and how stupidly I had behaved.
Damn my big mouth!

How the fuck had I gone from blaming myself for my father's illness to blaming the one person who had done everything he could for me?
Max had gone above and beyond to bring me home as soon as possible.
He stayed with me through nights filled with panic attacks, and just by being there, I hadn't needed a single pill.

I opened the window wide trying to inhale some fresh air, but it felt like a metal wire was constricting my lungs and my heart, cutting off everything vital.
Finally, I came to my senses and raced towards the door, determined to set things right between us.

As I pressed down the door handle, I foolishly thought how romantic it would be, like in a soap opera, if he were standing there waiting for me. But of course, he wasn't.
He was probably making arrangements to leave.
Leave me behind for good.

With steady, quiet steps, I approached the door to his room and opened it slowly.
He was lying in bed, and I assumed he was asleep, until he lifted his head from the pillow and looked at me.
"Can't sleep?" he asked, lifting the blanket.
I almost ran to him, curling up into his arms.
"Max, I'm so sorry" I cried, tears streaming uncontrollably down my cheeks as I hugged him tightly. "I didn't mean a single word I said. You make everything better in my life. My life is better with you in it. I'm such an idiot and a psychotic bitch."

Max placed his hand under my chin and lifted it up to him.
"Stop talking like that about my girl" he said gently, making me cry even harder. He wiped my tears away tenderly.
"Please forgive me" I whispered between sobs.

"I love you, Irina" Max said, his voice barely above a whisper. "I know we haven't been together for long, but I really do."

My eyes widened in surprise, and I felt my heart start to beat faster.
I hadn't been expecting those words, not yet, at least.
And now I felt even worse about the way I'd acted all day.
But the truth was, I felt the same.
I had, ever since I saw him again after so many years.
Ever since we reconnected.
Ever since I realized I couldn't breathe without him.

"I love you too, Max" I said, and started kissing every spot on his face, repeating those three words over and over.

Funny how my life had taken such a sharp turn in such a short time.
How all the theories I had lived by, theories I once defended with every fiber of my being, were collapsing one by one.
Love had never been a priority for me, or something I thought I needed to survive.
But what I feel for Max changed all my rational principles.

The night passed peacefully. I didn't sleep soundly, but every time I stirred, I found Max still there, his presence a reassuring anchor I clunged tightly.

⸻———

In the morning, I woke up alone in the bed and immediately crawled to the kitchen to search for him.
His voice made my heart flutter with joy.

"Good morning" Max said as he was opening every kitchen cabinets. "Where do you keep your frying pan?"
I rubbed my eyes, still half-asleep.
"The cabinet next to the oven" I replied, my voice just as sleepy.

Max definitely didn't look in his element in the kitchen, but at least he was trying to do something.
I don't what, but still...
"Do you want me to help you with... whatever you're trying to do?" I asked as I started the coffee machine.

"I can manage to make an omelette, I guess..." he muttered, sounding adorably insecure.
I laughed and went to him, hugging him from behind.
He turned around to face me, lifting me easily onto the kitchen counter.
His lips found mine, and he kissed me passionately.
I wasn't about to complain.
I wish from now on every morning could start like this.

When one of his hands slid under my top, I stopped him with a gentle push.
"Max, we have to go to the hospital. And before that, to my mom's house" I said, glancing at the clock. "Besides, we have to finish and eat your omelette."
Max gave me a confident look and a bold smile.
"Baby, I'd rather eat something else than my wanna-be omelette. And you know I can make you come in under a minute."

I felt my insides throb with anticipation and my cheeks flush.
I loved this side of Max. Spontaneous, eager to have me anytime, anywhere.

He didn't waste any time pulling up my t-shirt and exposing my breasts.
"Perfection" he growled watching me.
I threw my head back as he trailed kisses down my neck and sank his teeth into my sensitive flesh.

There was definitely no time for a long foreplay, nor was it needed.
From the very first kiss, my underwear was already damp.
He pulled my ass to the edge of the counter and didn't even bother taking my panties off, just pulled them aside.
I think it was becoming a habit for us to have spontaneous sex anywhere.
Again, could not complain about this either.

Max spread my legs wide, pulling out his already hard length and sliding into me in one powerful thrust.
I cried out when his cock slammed deep inside.
Max moaned, picking up a fast, hard pace.
One hand wrapped around my neck, the other gripping my waist tightly.

Every time, I was shocked at how my body reacted to him.
Like nothing I had ever experienced before.
He knew exactly how to push me over the edge, whether in a few minutes or torturously slow.

It didn't take long before my walls clenched around him, making him hiss as I came, my whole body trembling.
A few more rough thrusts, and I felt him pulsing, coming inside me, filling me up with deep satisfaction noises vibrating from his chest.

Chapter Text

We went to my mother's house and then headed to the hospital.
While I was driving, Max kept talking on the phone, switching between English and Dutch.
He snorted and rolled his eyes a couple of times, finally hanging up and swearing under his breath.

"Is something wrong?" I asked curiously.

"Christian, Helmut, my personal trainer, my PR, my dad..." He shook his head, clearly frustrated about something I didn't quite understand, and started texting furiously.

"What about them?" I insisted, trying to connect the dots between all those names.

"Don't worry" he muttered. "But if we're staying here for the next few days, I'll have to fit in some training,"
I assumed those people weren't exactly thrilled that their little star was so far away from home during the season.
And probably asking themselves what is Max doing over here. And with whom...

—————————-

I rarely saw my father in such a vulnerable state. In fact, the only time I had was when his parents, my grandparents, passed away.
Now, seeing him lying in a hospital bed, connected to cardiac monitors and multiple IV lines, felt surreal.
Together with my mother, we approached his bed. He smiled faintly when he saw us.

"My beautiful girls" he said, his voice rough.
"Hey, Dad" I whispered, leaning down to kiss his forehead.
He kissed my hand in return.

"I looked over today's blood tests" I told him gently. "The cardiac markers are already decreasing. Your heart function is preserved, and your ECG has improved. All great news."
I paused, making sure he was listening.
"But from now on, it's crucial to take the prescribed medication religiously."
My father nodded in agreement. He was a man who had lived his entire life guided by strict discipline; I knew that taking five pills a day wouldn't be an obstacle for him.

Before he could answer, his gaze shifted toward the door.
Max was leaning casually against the doorframe.
I turned, smiled at Max, and extended my hand toward him.
"I didn't mean for you two to meet like this" I said, a little nervous, "but it is what it is. Dad, Max and I are together."
Max moved to stand beside me, smiling politely.
"Nice to meet you Mr Stan." Max said.

"Well, this is quite a surprise" my father said after clearing his throat. His eyes twinkled despite his condition.
"I never judged my daughter's decisions... but sorry, boy, I've been, and always will be, a Ferrari fan."
We all laughed.

"No problem" Max said easily, pulling me into his arms and kissing the top of my head.
"Everyone's a Ferrari fan" he added with a grin.

We were still chuckling about the Ferrari comment when a soft knock came from the door.

"Good afternoon” said a familiar voice.
I turned and saw David, stepping into the room. His white coat was open over his scrubs, and he smiled warmly when he saw me.
Max’s grip suddenly felt tighter.

"I’m glad everyone is in such a good mood" he said, coming closer. "I hope you had a goodnight rest, but knowing you, probably didn’t close an eye" he said directly to me.
I only smiled.

"How's my dad doing?" Quickly changing the subject.
"Better than expected. His troponin levels are dropping nicely, no arrhythmias on the last 12-hour ECG. If he continues like this, we could start discussing discharge tomorrow."

"Are you planning to initiate beta-blocker therapy today?"
David nodded. "Exactly. Low-dose to start, then titrate based on tolerance and heart rate."
We exchanged a few more technical words, speaking almost another language to everyone else in the room.

"You're really missed around here, you know" David added, his tone a little softer.
He said that yesterday too.
Why is he pushing with this matter…
"The cardio department, the ER, isn't the same without you running around making everyone's life hell and better at the same time"
I laughed lightly. "I'm sure you're all surviving just fine."

My father, who had been listening carefully, smiled and started talking.
Thank you very much dad.
"You saved my life, son. I'll never have enough words to thank you."
David shook his head modestly. "Just doing my job, Mr. Stan."

Throughout the conversation, I could feel Max's hand brushing along my lower back, not very gently, almost like a reminder he was there.
When I glanced at him, he was having a straight poker face.
And his eyes telling me he wasn't quite as comfortable.

Later, Max and I sat in the hospital cafeteria, tucked away in a quiet corner booth.
The smell of strong coffee and disinfectant hung heavily in the air.
Familiar smells for me.
An wave of nostalgia hit me.
Max sat relaxed next to me — or at least, he looked relaxed.
Under the table, however, his hand had slid onto my thigh again, fingertips lazily tracing small circles.

“Behave…I work here” I whispered, shifting slightly in my seat.
“No, you don’t” he smirked, his hand moving higher with an infuriating slowness. I bit the inside of my cheek, trying not to react.

“Mind if I join?” David asked, already pulling up a chair.
Jesus fuck…
Max’s hand instantly stilled under the table but didn’t move away. Instead, he adjusted his position slightly, his palm now resting scandalously high up on my inner thigh.
“Of course” I said quickly, my voice a little higher than usual.
David sat down, giving me an easy smile before glancing at Max.
I smiled back at him.

“Sorry for being so professional over there” he said, more to Max than to me. “I was shocked when I saw you here yesterday, in our country, in our hospital”
Max smiled politely, keeping his posture casual even while his fingers resumed slow, almost torturous movements under the table.
“I haven’t got the time to watch all the races. How is the championship going?

“Good” Max said simply. “It’s a long season, though.”
David nodded. “Next race is…?”

“Paul Ricard. In France. Two weeks from now” Max answered, his voice perfectly steady despite his wicked handwork.
“France” David repeated. “Beautiful country. I guess you’re hoping for another win?”
Max shrugged lightly, his fingertips now dangerously close to the edge of my underwear.
“If everything goes to plan,” he said, his tone calm, “but you never know in racing.”

The conversation dragged on, David casually asking questions, trying to seem genuinely interested, while Max continued teasing me mercilessly under the table.
Every time David looked away, Max’s thumb would press in slow, lazy circles driving me insane little by little.

“Still, you’ve got the dream job. Fast cars, adrenaline, fame… and beautiful company.”
He smiled directly at me.
Max’s hand stopped moving.
The air around us froze.
Max turned his head slowly, giving David a smile so sharp it could cut glass.
Then, his fingers pressed harder against me, not in a sweet way anymore . It was possessive, rough, claiming me without mercy.

Finally, David pushed back his chair. “I’ll leave you two alone. It was nice meeting you, Max.”

“Likewise” Max said smoothly, leaning back in his seat as if he hadn’t just driven me crazy.
As soon as David was out of earshot, I glared at Max, my cheeks burning.
“You are evil” I hissed.
He just grinned, completely unapologetic.
“And you love it.”

Chapter Text

Max stepped outside to deal with the dozens of missed calls that had piled up on his phone, while
I went back to my father's room.

"Hei" I said softly, coming to sit by his side.
He muted the TV and turned to me.
"I like that boy" he said after a moment.
Out of nowhere.
"He seems... respectful."

"But?" Of course it has to be a but, hearing the hesitation in his tone.
My dad sighed. "It's not about him. It's about the life he leads. Fast cars, constant travel, cameras everywhere. It's a world away from what you love. From who you are."
I lowered my eyes to my lap.

"You always said your place was here, in the hospital" he reminded me. "You said you'd go with the Formula 1 madness for a year. Just a year."

"I know" I said quietly.
"And now?"
I hesitated. "Now... I don't know."

He reached out, covering my hand with his.
"I just want you to be sure, Irina. Love is important. But so is building a life where you belong."
I nodded, my throat tightening with the weight of his words.
But for sure I'll have to talk with Max about the prospects of our relationship.

—————————————

We decided to stay in my country for two more days before returning to Monaco, where Max had his permanent residence, and from there head to France for the next Grand Prix.

In the meantime, Max kept in close touch with his personal trainer, who updated his training plans. Mornings were reserved for cardio, so he would wake up early for a run, and around noon he had to do some weight training.
He bought some dumbbells and other stuff he needed and exercise on the terrace.
He had specifically told me, several times, how much he hated the gym — and people in general.
Thus, even in Monaco, he is always training in his house.

"I think some national sports TV channels found out I'm here" Max said as he entered the house, after a visit to the grocery store.
"I came out of the store and saw cameras pointing at me" he added, annoyed.

I was in the kitchen, preparing lunch. Max had told me he needed to eat lighter , a demand from his trainer and I had kindly offered to prepare his meals.
"I hope people here aren't so crazy as to have followed me all the way to your house" he said, pulling the curtain slightly to peek outside.

I shrugged, amused. "They'd have to be seriously crazy to chase after a Formula 1 driver" I said, laughing quietly at the absurdity of it. "But do tell me, Mr. Verstappen — did you finally become friends with the manual stick of my car?"
Max rolled his eyes.
"Yeah, very funny. Of course I did" he grumbled, still glancing suspiciously out the window. "But you should really switch to an automatic... and maybe another car brand."

I smiled to myself. I loved my Mercedes and had no plans to change it anytime soon.
He came over and wrapped his arms around my waist, pressing small kisses to the side of my neck.

"Irina" he murmured, "I couldn't help but notice that little man cave upstairs... and some hockey skates and sticks. Do you have a hidden hobby you haven't told me about?"
I stilled for a second, feeling the slight shift in his tone. And where he wanted to go with the conversation.
In general, I didn't like discussing ex-boyfriends. I believed the past should stay exactly where it belonged — in the past.
I had never asked the men I dated about their previous relationships either.

"Hmm... someone did a little inspection around the house" I said, turning my head slightly to look at him.
Max flashed a guilty, boyish smile.
"Just a little" he admitted, pressing another kiss to my neck as I kept mixing the salad.

"Those things belong to my ex-boyfriend" I said casually. "He's a professional hockey player."
I felt Max's body tense slightly against mine.
Probably exactly what he had suspected.
I turned around in his arms, holding out a forkful of salad for him to taste.

"Do you want to know more about him?" I asked teasingly, a mischievous grin spreading across my face.
Max leaned back immediately, chewing.
"No, no, really, please no" he said with exaggerated horror.

"Thought so" I laughed.
I picked up the salad bowl and carried it over to the dining table, Max following close behind.

"I invited Diana and Alex over for dinner tonight" I announced to Max once we finished eating.
"Tomorrow I want to go to my parents' house to say goodbye, and after that we can head to Monaco."
He nodded, seeming to agree with the plans I had made, but there was a blank stare in his eyes, like his mind was elsewhere.

"I'm thinking of making steak for dinner tonight. Do you like steak?" I asked, trying to catch his attention again.
I realized I didn't actually know what Max usually preferred to eat. Not that I considered myself an amazing chef, but maybe he liked some specific pasta dish or something I should at least try to make sometimes.

"Or would you prefer something lighter? Some fish with vegetables on the side?" I offered.
I was just about to start doing the dishes when he suddenly stood up from his chair, his voice dropping into a playful, teasing tone.

"And how about me?" he said, smirking. "When are you going to do me?"

Chapter Text

"What?!" I was taken by surprise by his not-so-subtle way of asking for sex. That's what I thought he was implying.

"I keep hearing those words coming out of your pretty mouth" he said, "but I'd rather you use your mouth for another purpose."

Am I really that boring?
I wanted to answer him, but the words got stuck in my throat.
I kept a serious face even though I felt like either laughing or throwing something at him.
Letting the dishes down onto the kitchen counter, I walked towards him.
Max extended one hand, pulling me into his chest. He leaned his head closer and whispered into my ear, his voice raspy and commanding, "Get on your knees for me."

He pulled out a chair and sat down, waiting.
I followed his instruction and tied my hair into a ponytail kneeling down in front of him.
My hands immediately went to his pants and boxers, sliding them down and revealing his cocm — not fully erect yet.

I licked my lips at the sight of him and then licked my palm to make stroking easier.
Wrapping my hand around his cock, slowly moving up and down a few times to get him fully hard. Then I licked my lips again before taking him into my mouth.

Max wasn't the type of man who enjoyed being teased too much. At least, not when he was the one being teased.
I let him glide deep into my throat, keeping one hand wrapped around the base. My tongue pressed and licked against him, following the thick vein and swirling over the tip.

I quickened the pace, causing Max to moan deeply, sending shivers down my spine. I already felt my clit throbbing almost painfully, and my inner thighs getting wetter by the second. Slowly moved one hand toward myself, seeking some relief.

Max saw what I was trying to do and grabbed both my wrists, placing them on his abdomen in a firm grip.
"Baby, I'll take care of you after" he said.
I looked up at him and nodded, obediently — like the good girl that I am.
I probably resembled to a church lady praying — kneeling there, hands folded over his body
Maybe, at Max's mercy, I could become a religious person.

I ducked my head down and continued pleasuring him harder, taking him deep in my throat.
Max lifted his hips to meet my movements and pressed my head down firmly into his lap.
"Fuck, baby, you're so good at this" he groaned, letting his head fall back against the chair. It was killing me inside.

It didn't take long before I felt his cock throbbing against my lips. With a deep moan, Max came in my mouth, holding my head steady. I swallowed and wiped my mouth gently.
After a few seconds, Max stood up and threw me onto the dining table.
Impatiently, he removed the shorts I was wearing.

"Let's see if this..." he said, brushing his fingers torturously over my pussy, "...is as wet as your mouth."
I parted my lips to let out a small moan. I wasn't just wet.
I was soaked.
The effects Max had on me were completely out of control.

"Kiss me” I whimpered desperately.
He leaned in, kissing me savagely, his hand rubbing my folds.
"Mmm... much wetter" he mumbled against my lips.
Max spread my legs as wide as they would go and pushed me gently to lie flat on the table. He planted soft kisses along my inner thighs before sinking his face between my legs.
His tongue moved slowly up to my clit before he sucked on it hard.
Two fingers slid inside me, curling to hit that sweet spot that made me moan his name loudly.

The combination of his fingers curling and twisting inside me while his tongue flickered over my clit had me trembling and gasping.
Max was skilled.
Devastatingly.
And he knew exactly what he was doing, driving me to the edge.
He removed his fingers to tease between my folds, then slid three fingers inside at once.
I rolled my eyes back, almost seeing stars from the sheer pleasure.

"Oh my God, Max..." I cried out.

His fingers were replaced by his tongue, diving inside me, licking like a starving man while his hands slid under my ass, pulling me up to his mouth. I bucked my hips against him, desperate for more friction.
Moans escaped my throat uncontrollably as I trembled under the force of my orgasm. I think I blacked out a little, blinking to make sure I was still conscious.
Yep, still here, living my best sex life.

Max crawled up my body, kissing me all the way up while I was still delirious.
"You're so beautiful when you come all over my face" he said, his face smug and full of pride.

He didn't even give me time to recover. In one swift move, he lifted one of my legs onto his shoulder and guided his already hard cock inside of me.
I gasped, choking on my breath, feeling sensitive from the previous orgasm. Max pushed deep with a hard slam, making me cry out from the intensity.
He tilted his head back and let out a deep growl, his fingers digging into my hips as he withdrew to the tip, only to slam back in with force. I could barely breathe or think .
I was so full of him.

Max kept a hard, relentless pace, angling his hips to drive me insane. I desperately tried to grab onto something — anything — to hold on for dear life.
Growling deep in his chest, he asked, "Tell me, baby, have you ever been fucked so good?" His voice was smug again, so cocky and confident.

I shook my head, unable to form a coherent word, turning my moans into hoarse screams as Max fucked me so hard the dining table shook under us.
Thank God it was made of strong wood.

I arched my back unnaturally, crying out as another orgasm ripped through me. Max followed with a loud groan, spilling deep inside me.

Several minutes passed before Max lifted me into his arms and carried us both onto the couch.
Our bodies were so sweaty, but I couldn't care less.

"I love you, Max!" I mumbled into his chest, feeling completely blissed out.
"I love you too” he said, stroking my back.

I raised my head to check the time and panicked, realizing Diana and Alex would be arriving soon and I hadn't prepared anything yet. I tried to get up quickly from the couch, but my legs wouldn't cooperate, shaking uncontrollably. I stumbled on my own feet.

"Need a wheelchair, baby?" Max teased, mocking me.

"No" I scoffed, full of pride, before making my way toward the bathroom, trying my best to walk steadily.
My smile was all over my face as I caught my reflection in the mirror. I couldn't hide my happiness.
And why should I?
He had stolen my heart, my mind, my entire fucking self from the very beginning.

When I came back, Max had already cleaned up the dining area and gone to take a quick shower — a luxury I couldn't afford at that moment. I took the beef out of the fridge and started preparing it. For the sides, I decided on sautéed asparagus and honey-roasted baby carrots.

"Max, can you please set the table outside?" I asked him, before rushing into the dressing room to put on a loose dress. It was a warm July evening.
Perfect for serving dinner on the terrace.
Max was scrolling on his phone when I joined him outside, carrying two glasses and a bottle of wine.

"Next time we come to your country, I want us to visit more of it" he said as I sat on his lap and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek.

"It's lovely during the winter" I replied.
Max wrinkled his nose in protest. "I left the Netherlands and Belgium at the first opportunity because I hated the cold, and you want to bring me here in the winter?"

"Oh, Maxie, are you scared of a little cold?" I teased.
Immediately, he started tickling me, almost making me fall off his lap.

"Stop, Max!" I laughed, struggling against his hands — but of course, he didn't listen. His fingers kept running over my body while holding me firmly in his lap.
Somehow, I managed to slide away from him, and he raised his hands in surrender, promising not to tickle me anymore. He extended his hand again, inviting me back onto his lap.

"Will you sing that song from the Miami Grand Prix again?" he whispered in my ear, gently caressing the side of my breast.
Electric shivers raced down my spine.

I had almost forgotten about that evening. So much had happened since then. I had lived in these past few months as if I'd lived an entire lifetime.
"What makes you think that song was about you?" I asked, my eyes meeting his.

He didn't reply. He just smiled.
That breathtaking, specific smile of his.

Of course he knew the truth.
The little prick.

Chapter Text

When the doorbell rang, I ran toward the front door and jumped into my friends' arms, so, so happy to see them.
Diana also hugged Max when he came into the hallway to greet them.

We slowly eased into conversation while soft jazz music played in the background, covering up the heavy topics like my father's intervention and Max's car crash. Mostly, I was just happy that we all seemed to get along so well.
Max stood up to serve the wine Diana and Alex had brought.

"Any plans for the summer break?" Diana asked.
I shrugged. "I don't think so."
Max chimed in, "Of course we do."
I turned to him in surprise. "We do?" I asked curiously.
"Yes, baby. I rented a beach house in Ibiza for two weeks" he said, completely taking me by surprise.

"You're welcome to join us" Max added, turning toward Diana and Alex and pulling my chair closer to his.
"Ah... thank you, Max. That's very nice of you" Diana mumbled, smiling warmly.
Max smiled back and leaned in to kiss me.
It was incredibly generous of him.

But honestly, I was already looking forward to disconnecting from the Formula 1 chaos and just lying on a beach lounge under the sun.

"Maybe we can throw a little party over there for our birthday girl" Diana said, reaching out her hand to me and snapping me out of my daydream.
Max widened his eyes. "When's your birthday?" he quickly asked.

That's when it hit me — we didn't even know simple things about each other yet: birthdays, favorite foods, favorite colors, music tastes...
"August 8" I answered.

Alex ducked into the house and returned with a board game in his hands.

"Who's up for a game? Boys versus girls" he said.
I smiled broadly, happy to see Alex trying to create a bond with Max, even though he was closer friends with Charles.

"Oh, we are so gonna beat you!" Diana exclaimed.
"You guys set up the game while Diana and I load the dishwasher" I said, wanting a few minutes alone with my best friend.

As soon as we were in the kitchen, Diana glanced at me with a soft smile. "You seem happy, sweetie" she said tenderly.

"I am."

After all the craziness of the last month, things were finally heading in a good direction. At least, I hoped so.
"But I didn't give up on therapy. I still have a lot to overcome" I added. "The psychologist you found for me helps a lot."
It was obvious that snapping my fingers wouldn't just make all my struggles disappear. I'd experienced terrifying moments that had left me completely exhausted.

"And Max has been... incredible through all of it" I sighed, thinking about how much he had supported me.
Diana smiled affectionately and pulled me into a hug.

"Is he the one?" she whispered.
Of course, she still held onto her theories about eternal love.

"Oh... that's way too early" I shook my head, laughing softly. "Baby steps."
Max cleared his throat and called out from the other room, "Let's get this board game started. I'm feeling lucky tonight!"

We ended up winning without much difficulty.
But more than anything, we just had fun, laughing until we had tears in our eyes, especially at the guys' hilarious attempts to explain some female products during the game.
The evening passed in a flash.

After midnight, Alex and Diana left for their house, and Max and I cleaned up the terrace before finally crashing into bed.
I went in the bathroom for a quick shower and my night skin care routine while Max got himself under the sheets. When i finished he was already asleep "Max" I whispered, shaking his shoulder gently to wake him up.
There were a few things that got stuck in my mind and wanted to clearing them up.

He stirred, lifting his head from the pillow, voice thick with sleep and a little panic.
"What—what happened?"

"Sorry to wake you, but... when's your birthday?" I asked, trying not to smile too much.
He let out a low laugh and sank back into the pillow. "September 30."
"Favorite food?"

"Carpaccio and tomato soup" he mumbled, eyes still closed.
"And what—"
"Irina, I'm tired" he cut me off, chuckling softly. "But I'll gladly answer all your questions on the way tomorrow. Let's sleep now, hmm?"
Before I could push another one, he leaned in and kissed me lightly on the lips. I nodded, snuggling into his warm, strong arms as he pulled me close.

Just before sleep took us, I started singing quietly, almost like a lullaby — the same song I had sung at the Miami Grand Prix.
"Hold me, love me, touch me, hug me, be the first who ever did..."
I felt Max smile against my skin as I sang, tightening his embrace around me.

——————

The next morning, we packed our bags and loaded them into the trunk before heading to my parents' house.
We stayed for about an hour, just long enough for me to give my father a lighthearted but firm lecture on changing his lifestyle to avoid any future similar situations.
I promised I'd try to visit again during the summer break.
Or maybe, I suggested, they could join us at another European race.
Perhaps Monza, the pride and joy of the tifosi.

"Alright, bang me with your questions" Max said once we got into the car.

"But first" he added, "I want to tell you something I really like about you."

Intrigued, I turned to face him, silently praying it wasn't going to be something superficial about my looks.
"Oh?"

He kept his eyes on the GPS, navigating toward the highway. Naturally, I let him drive my car to the airport—I was lucid this time.

"It's the fact that you don't have social media. You're not chasing any of that attention. You keep your life private. I really admire that. I wish I had that choice." He reached for my hand and kissed it gently.

We settled into the rhythm of the road, and with every passing kilometer, we uncovered new pieces of each other.

"I started karting when I was four" Max said, eyes scanning the road ahead. "We had this old van, and my dad and I would drive mostly to Italy for races. He was everything—my mechanic, my engine tuner, my coach, my driver. It wasn't like for other kids. For us, this was war. It wasn't fun. We weren't there to smile and take pictures. We were there to win."
I leaned slightly forward, eyes fixed on him.

"My dad once left me behind at a gas station because I lost a championship. Made a mistake in the last race. Sounds awful, I know. But... I needed that. That's what shaped me into who I am. Into the driver I am today."

My eyes widened. I wanted to say something, but the words got tangled in my throat. He wasn't looking for pity. He was just... sharing.

"He was tough on me" Max continued. "I didn't get to play or hang out with kids my age. School? I hated it. But right after, we went straight to the track. Didn't matter if it was raining, snowing, thirty degrees below zero—my dad needed to test something, and I had to drive. That's all I remember from my childhood."

My heart squeezed.
I understand what it means to chase your dreams, the sacrifices you make for performance and success. But not like that. Not by having your childhood carved out of you by someone who was supposed to protect it.
"All heroes have their ugly battles" I said softly, offering a warm smile. "But the real ones rise and turn them into something extraordinary."

Max turned his head slightly, flashing a crooked, almost wicked smile.
"Baby" he said with a glint in his eyes, "I'm the villain in this story."

I hadn't known this part of him.
The lonely, hardened part.
The boy who wasn't allowed to be a boy.

But Max didn't speak about it with bitterness. That was the most heartbreaking part.
It was just... part of the story for him.
Necessary. Accepted.

Chapter Text

After a relatively short flight, we arrived in Monaco and pulled up to Max's apartment.
I exhaled a breath I didn't realize I'd been holding when I saw it wasn't in the same neighborhood as Charles'.
The relief was... stupid, maybe. But still real.

As we stepped inside, two furballs came sprinting toward us.
Max was a cat dad.
I burst into laughter.
Of all the things I expected from him, that wasn't one of them. But the way he knelt down to scratch their ears, murmuring something in Dutch, made my chest flutter in a new kind of way.

The following days blurred together in a haze of pleasure and exhaustion.
We barely left the apartment. We had sex nearly everywhere — against the windows, in the kitchen, on the couch, in the shower, in bed, again and again until our bodies felt boneless.

But Max's routine never wavered.
His trainer, Brad, I think, kept showing up way too early in the mornings, interrupting what were supposed to be slow, lazy starts with Max wrapped around me.
Or inside me.
For that, I kind of hated Brad. Just a little.

Brad would drag Max out for a run along the coast, then come back for strength training on the balcony where Max had his own mini gym setup. Sometimes I'd peek through the curtains and catch them mid-session, Max shirtless and focused while Brad gave corrections or stood with his arms crossed like a drill sergeant.
I stayed hidden in the bedroom, quiet, usually reading. I didn't want to be seen.
Not by him. Not by anyone.

When Max wasn't training, he was on his simulator.
Long hours, focused, quiet.
Obsessed. His world was all throttle, gears, data, and sweat.
But I understood it. I'd once been the same way with medicine — the hospital, the patients, the adrenaline.
I remembered my discussion with my father.
Wondering about my future on the professional side.

————————

Because the French GP was so close, we either drove to Paul Ricard or took short helicopter flights.
It should have been easy, even enjoyable.
But the closer we got to the race track everytime, the heavier my thoughts became.
My palms itched. My chest tightened.
The private bubble we'd been living in was about to burst.

"Hey" Max said, his tone soft as he looked at me. "You okay?"

I was staring out the window, my hands twisting together in my lap. "I like how quiet everything is here" I admitted. "Just us. No one watching."

He nodded but said nothing.

"I mean... once people see us together... once they know..." I trailed off. My voice caught in my throat. "They'll come for me."
Max stayed silent, eyes still on the road ahead.
I kept going, the words tumbling out in a desperate whisper.

"First Charles, now you... I know how it looks. I know what they'll say. And I can't—" I swallowed, hard. "Can we enter the paddock separately? Please. I'm not ready. Not yet."

He turned his head and reached out, gently tilting my chin so I'd meet his eyes. I didn't want to see disappointment or frustration, but I needed to look. His gaze wasn't angry — it was steady. Just steady.
But then, without warning, nausea hit me like a wave crashing over my chest. My hand flew to my mouth.

"I think I feel sick"  I whispered, panic blooming.

Max reacted immediately, telling the driver to pull over. The car screeched to a stop, and I barely made it out, vomiting into the grass.
My body was shaking. My throat burned. And Max was suddenly right there, one hand rubbing my back, the other holding my hair out of the way. He didn't say anything.
He just stayed beside me, calm and solid while I fell apart — again.

"Max, go. I'll be fine. Drivers parade will start soon"
"Fuck'em. I'm not leaving you"
His voice was sharp, defiant — full of that stubbornness I'd come to both love and loathe when it hit at the wrong moments.

"Please, Max." I tried to smile, but it came out as more of a grimace. "Look, we can even see the circuit from here. I'll walk over by myself."
It wasn't a lie. The fences, the parked F1 trucks, even the banners. All of it visible from where we'd stopped. The chaos of the paddock was just down the road.

Max reached into the car and pulled out a bottle of water, twisting the cap open before handing it to me. "You must be crazy if you think I'm just going to leave you here" he said, crouching down beside me, his jaw clenched.

I looked at him. Really looked at him.
His fire, his loyalty, his need to stay with me even when it wasn't convenient.
Even when the world was expecting him to be somewhere else.
But I couldn't let him miss it because of me.

"Please, Max" I repeated, firmer now, more desperate. "I'm fine. I'll go to the medical center. I'll ask the nurses to hook me up to an IV if I have to. Just go."
He still didn't move. So I shoved him gently, but enough to catch him off guard " You have a race to prepare for."

Max stared at me for a long second. A war waged behind his eyes — duty versus instinct.
He didn't like being ordered around, but eventually, he accepted.

And just like that, I was alone.
I leaned against the cool metal of a lamp post, letting the silence settle around me. My head was spinning, and my throat still burned, but I didn't cry.
Not yet.
I'd pushed him away, and I knew exactly why.
Not because I wanted to.
But because I needed to.

Because this life — this spotlight, this circus — wasn't just about fast cars and podiums.
It came with sacrifice, with pressure I wasn't sure I could handle yet.
And Max... Max was supposed to be untouchable today. Unshakeable.

Luckily, no one had seen our little breakdown.
No cameras. No fans. Just me, some gravel, and the distant sound of engines roaring in the background.

I took a deep breath, stood a little straighter, and started walking toward the medical center. One foot in front of the other.
Baby steps.

I went straight to the medical center.
The nurses gave me fluids and some medications. By the time the drivers' parade ended, I was feeling much better.

Still, I was a little concerned.
I hadn't taken proper care of my health. Skipping meals. Barely sleeping. Chain-smoking.
I didn't think Max knew—I hid it—but he must've smelled it on me.

I'd lost too much weight.
That might sound like a dream to most women, but I was starting to cross the line where weight loss wasn't flattering—it was alarming.
I thought I was fine. Or maybe I just told myself that so I wouldn't have to face the truth.

Before the race, Dr. Roberts called me and Peter in for a quick meeting.
On my way there, still in my thoughts, my phone vibrated.

Max: Where are you? How are you feeling?
Me: Like brand new
Me: FIA center. About to meet Dr. Roberts.
Me: Talk after the race. Good luck!

Texting, I wasn't watching where I was walking.

I didn't see, or feel, when a pair of hands grabbed me and dragged me between two metal containers near the Ferrari hospitality. Everything happened so fast I couldn't speak or even react.

"You blocked my number?"  I rolled my eyes and wanted to escape from there.
Not again.
He stopped me. Pressing his body on mine

"I thought I could stand watching you walk around with your little dress. Happy. Smiling. Beautiful, as always" Charles whispered. His mouth was so close to mine it made my skin crawl. "I'm not okay with you not being mine. And I hate you for what you did to me."

I tried to respond, but Charles kissed me.
Hard. I fought him, but I was too weak.
Especially today.

"Charles! No!" I sobbed, but he didn't stop. His hands were all over me. My breasts, between my legs.
"Charles, please... stop."
This wasn't the Charles I knew and cared for.
This was someone else entirely.

A sudden metallic clatter interrupted us, like keys hitting a container wall.
We both turned. Lando stood nearby accompanied by someone from his team.

"Oh, sorry mate" Lando said with a sly smile. "Didn't mean to interrupt your moment."
Charles straightened instantly, clearing his throat. "No worries" he muttered, clearly shaken.

As Lando walked off, I turned to leave, but Charles grabbed my arm.
"What happened here stays here. Don't go crying to Max. I don't want a fight with him because of..." he scanned me with disgust, "you."
"And now, with Lando here, I have a witness who saw you kissing me back. So don't even think about it."

I yanked my arm from his grip, stunned, shaken. This wasn't grief. This was cruelty.

I was late to the meeting, but Peter had already told Dr. Roberts I'd been unwell. I could've skipped it altogether—my head wasn't there. I couldn't focus on anything he said.
My brain kept replaying what had just happened. Normally I knew how to handle men like Charles. But today, I was too tired. Too caught up in trying to be "good." To not cause more trouble.

I kept my emotions buried. I refused to take any pills that day, knowing how fragile I was already. I made a decision right there—not to tell Max.
I didn't want more drama. More fighting. I just wanted the summer break to come.
I needed a reset.

I checked my phone. Max had messaged again, right before Charles grabbed me.

Max: Sure you don't want to go to the hospital in Monaco?

I didn't reply.

Chapter Text

*****Max*****

"Come on, Max, bring home another victory" GP said through the radio on the last lap of the French Grand Prix.

Charles had taken pole during quali and held the lead for 17 laps, but he made a mistake, spun, and hit the tyre barrier.
From there, it was smooth sailing and another win for me.
Lewis finished second. George, third.

"Hey man. How's Irina?" Lewis asked me quietly before the press conference.
"She's fine" I said a bit too sharply.
I knew Irina insisted she and Lewis were just friends. Still, I didn't like how close they were.
In fact, I didn't like her being close with any guy who wasn't me. Period.

"Tell her I miss her—and I'll call her next week. Maybe take her out for a coffee."
He was really starting to piss me off, but thankfully, the host started asking questions, saving me from snapping.

I had some media obligations and a quick debrief with the team afterward.
My new PR girl also wanted to talk about another sponsorship campaign I couldn't care less about. But my mind wasn't in it.
I'd already arranged for a car to take Irina back to my apartment in Monaco.
I was still stuck thinking about what happened this morning.
Her getting sick, pushing me away, refusing to let me help.
We'd definitely have to talk about it later. About her health. About everything.

Finally, when the media circus ended, I met up with Lando and we both took my jet back to Monaco.

Photo sent to Irina
Me: just picked up this little bastard and we're heading home

We had a few minutes before boarding.
I kept checking my phone obsessively, but like the last message, there was no reply.
I knew she'd made it home, the security alarm notified me when the door opened,
but the silence still driving me crazy.

"You'll never believe what I saw today" Lando said suddenly, leaning toward me like he was about to tell me state secrets.
Guy loved drama. While I couldn't care less.

"What?" I whispered back.
"Charles... making out with—"

"Mr. Verstappen," the pilot cut in over the speakers, "we're experiencing a radio failure and can't connect to the base. For safety, we'll be landing in Cannes."
Great. What was supposed to be a quick 15-minute flight to the Monaco heliport now turned into an hour-long drive.
Fucking great.

"Please get it fixed by next weekend. I've got Hungary coming up" I muttered. I didn't want to sound like a dick, but keeping this plane grounded cost a lot.
And if I'm paying for it, I expect it to work.
Safely.

Lando got a call from one of his many party friends and decided to stay in Cannes.
No complaints there.
He still didn't know about me and Irina—and I preferred to keep it that way for now.
It was already dark when I stepped out of the car in front of my building, completely wrecked from the day.
The apartment was quiet. Lights off.
But I could smell something warm coming from the kitchen.

Irina had left a plate of food on the counter and a note that made me laugh out loud:

•Even villains are hungry after setting the world on fire•

God, she was something else.

I walked into the bedroom. She was already asleep, a book resting on her chest, her hair cascading over the pillow, the cats curled up by her side.
She looked so peaceful, so beautiful, like nothing in the world had touched her.
And I knew that wasn't true though.

But, fuck her crazy ideas about not liking compliments.
For me, she was the most beautiful, smartest, strongest human being I'd ever met.
And I'd make sure she understood that—even if I had to tell her a hundred times a day.

I quietly walked over, brushed a strand of hair away from her face.

"Hey, beautiful" I whispered in her ear.
She stirred and buried her head deeper into the pillow.
I stripped down and slid under the covers beside her, wrapping my arms around her gently. She sighed and nestled into my chest, like she belonged there.

In that moment, everything stilled. The noise, the pressure, the questions.
God, how fucking lucky I am.

The first rays of sun slipped quietly through the curtains when I felt Irina crawl on top of me, her lips pressing softly to mine.

"Morning” she mumbled, her voice still hazy with sleep.

Her warm, naked body against mine sent a jolt of electricity through me.
I was already half-awake, full-hard—and that was enough.
"Now that's a proper way to wake up" I murmured against her lips.

With a swift move, I flipped her onto her back and settled above her.
My cock lined up at her entrance.
I pushed in slowly, savoring every second as her body welcomed mine. She arched her back, meeting me halfway, her eyes fluttering shut as my thrusts grew deeper.

"Look at me" I growled, pinching her cheek gently and holding her mouth open, my palm cradling her jaw. "You're so fucking beautiful."

She frowned, trying to pull my hand away.
I grinned at her resistance.
God, she was so damn cute like this. So sweet and wild beneath me.

I leaned down, brushing my lips across hers, before diving into a deeper kiss, tongue claiming hers. I kept thrusting harder now, the bed starting to slam against the wall.
My whole focus was on her.
Aware of her entirely.
On the way her breath hitched, how her moans vibrated against my mouth.

"Do you understand me?" My voice dropped lower, more commanding.
She nodded, almost desperately.
I pulled out until just the tip lingered inside her, then slammed back in, making her gasp.
"Good girl."

I knew I was teasing her, holding her right at the edge, and I fucking loved it.
Loved the way she squirmed beneath me, begging.
"Max... please" she whispered, breathless and trembling.

I shifted, rising onto my knees and pulling her legs over my shoulders. From this angle, I drove into her deeper, faster, making her cry out.
Her fingers clawed at the sheets, her mouth falling open in pure pleasure.
"Keep looking at me" I ordered.

Her eyes fluttered open, locking with mine.
We stayed like that.
Locked, raw, present—until I felt her body shudder beneath me, her orgasm crashing into her. Her voice, thick with pleasure, chanted my name as I followed her over the edge.
I collapsed over her, breath ragged, heart hammering.
She traced her fingers through my hair, her nails lightly grazing my scalp. Shivers ran down my spine.

Would it be too much if I repeated every minute how much I fucking love her?

Chapter Text

I was opening the racing simulator when Irina walked into the room, phone pressed to her ear. The way her brows pinched together and her tone sharpened, I could already tell she heard something she didn't like.
And then the side-eye she kept throwing at me? Yeah, I had a feeling I knew who was on the other end.
"No, he didn't tell me" she said, voice tight.

Shit. Busted.
I slid my headphones on, hoping to avoid whatever storm was brewing.
Maybe if I pretended to be deep in focus she'd let it go.

Yeah, not a chance.

She rolled her eyes and marched over, pulling the headset off with that no-bullshit look she's perfected. "That was Lewis on the phone."
I sighed. "Yeah, about that..." I knew I should've mentioned it earlier, but I'd crossed my fingers that Lewis might forget—or change his mind.

"I'm going out with him in an hour" she announced.
I didn't even realize my face had twisted until she pointed it out. "Don't throw that face at me. You've got your stream with your boys, and I'm just going for coffee. With a friend."
"I didn't say anything" I muttered defensively.
She grinned a little and wrapped her arms around my neck, her lips brushing mine. "I won't stay long, I promise."

Of course I trusted her. It was never about her.
It was everyone else I didn't trust.
And even more, the way she's been lately?
Tired, low energy, slipping away into her own head... I hated not knowing what was really going on inside her.

I followed her into the bedroom while she got dressed. Every damn time she's naked, I get hard like it's the first time seeing her. She slipped into a short, floral dress that made my jaw clench. Lewis better keep his eyes where they belong.

"You didn't reply to my text yesterday" I said casually, watching her in the mirror.
She paused for half a second, like she had to remember which one I meant. "Oh... which one?"

That hesitation? It wasn't like her. And her voice slightly off. Like she was choosing her words too carefully.
"The one where I asked if you wanted to get checked up at the hospital here..."

A small smile tugged at her lips, but I saw the way her hand trembled slightly as she zipped her bag. "No, Max. I'm a doctor, remember? I probably ate something bad. I'm fine now."
She did look better. More color in her cheeks.
But something still didn't sit right with me.
I'd been watching her lately. The skipped meals. The cigarettes she thinks I don't notice. The way she brushed off that IV like it was nothing.

"How's Lando? Everything good with him?" she asked suddenly.
I blinked. "Yeah. Why?"
She shrugged too quickly. "Just asking."
That was weird. Since when did she randomly ask about Lando? But she walked over and kissed me before I could press it.
Her lips were soft, warm.

"I love you" I said, my voice a little lower than usual.
"Love you too" she whispered, then was gone.

I watched the door for a few seconds after it closed, something tugging at me in the silence. Couldn't put my finger on it. Just a feeling. Something she wasn't saying.
But then again, maybe I was overthinking it.

I fired up the stream and settled into the simulator.
It wasn't breaking news that my whole life revolved around racing.
And when I wasn't in a real car, I was behind a virtual wheel. Streaming with the Redline boys, competing in long sim races, joining online endurance competitions that could last twenty-four hours.

I cracked open a Red Bull, checked the mini-fridge to make sure it was stocked, fed the cats, and locked into the race.

Being so focused, I didn't even realize how quickly the hours had passed. After I won the race, I grabbed my phone—still mid-stream—and texted Irina, who hadn't come back yet.
One of my teammates called me out over the stream, joking about my lack of excitement.
I ignored him. I ignored them all.
They kept talking, laughing, speculating in the background while my chest got tighter with each passing minute.

And then my head snapped toward the sound.
"I'm back!" Irina's voice rang from the hallway, light and joyful.

User1: uhh Max has company
User2: maybe the cats did something
User3: Max being totally unimpressed by the fact he won another race. He is a robot
User4: does Max have a new girlfriend???
User5: leave the man be, ffs. he has his own private life
User6: i've heard some rumors about him getting involved with a woman
User7: nah, don't think so. his main goal and focus is another WDC
User8: @user6 i've heard that too, but they're keeping it private
User9: who is she??? somebody give us a clue
User10: whoever she is, i bet she's not as beautiful as Kristina
User11: it is definitely a woman, I heard her voice
User12: @user10 maybe it's actually Kris

I didn't even say goodbye to the boys. Just disconnected.

She came into the room with that soft, stupidly beautiful smile on her face. "Hei, you" she said, leaning toward me for a kiss.

I stepped back. "Why didn't you text me back?" My voice was too sharp, too loud, even for me.
Her smile faltered. "Sorry... we were just catching up, and time passed quicker than I realized. I was already heading back when I got your message."

She bent to take off her shoes while I stood there, jaw clenched, fists balled.
She didn't even think to reply? I turned away, hands flying up in frustration.

"What's wrong?" She followed me into the living room.

"Were you ashamed to answer my text in front of Lewis? Am I that unimportant for you? "
The words came out before I could filter them. Stupid. But true.
Irina's face tensed. Her brows furrowed, lips parting like she couldn't believe I said it.

"Max... I'm sorry. Me and Lewis are just friends. Please try to understand that." She reached for my hand, placing hers gently over it. "In fact... while I was in London, he actually encouraged me to be honest with myself. With you. With how I feel."

My chest sank a little. Shit.
I sighed and let my shoulders fall.
Maybe Lewis isn't my favorite person.
Maybe he never will be.
But Irina... she's never given me a reason not to trust her.

I looked at her. There was warmth in her eyes, the kind that pulled me in no matter how defensive I felt. But there was something else too. Tiredness? Her smile seemed a little worn around the edges, even if she was trying to hide it.

"No... I'm sorry for how I reacted." I wrapped my hands around her face, brushing my thumbs over her cheeks. "I trust you."
I leaned in and kissed her, softly, gently, trying to make up for the edge in my voice, for the doubt I let slip through.
She melted into the kiss, her fingers sliding into my hair.
But as I held her close, part of me still held on to that small thread of unease I couldn't name. Maybe it was nothing.

Chapter Text

Between FP3 and qualifying at the Hungarian Grand Prix, Irina sneaked into my driver's room to give me a good luck kiss, which turned into a good luck quickie.
I made sure no one was near the door, just in case.
We weren't exactly subtle, and I knew how many eyes were always around.

Midway through fixing her hair, her phone rang. It was Dr. Peter.
They had to go for a situation with some medical consulations. She kissed me one more time and slipped out.

I closed the door behind her and leaned back, still trying to steady my breathing, when there was another knock.

"Do you want ano—" I started, and then froze.
Christian stood on the other side, arms crossed. "Hey, Max. I just saw the doctor leaving your room."

Fuck. Do we have cameras in the motorhome? Living, breathing, gossiping cameras?
I cleared my throat, dragging time out to come up with something plausible. "Ehm... no. I mean, yeah. I've had a bit of a sore throat the last few days. Slight fever too. Nothing serious" I said, faking a cough for effect. "Dr. Stan stopped by and gave me an anti-inflammatory pill."

Jesus, I'm such a terrible liar.
Hollywood, please don’t hire me.
But thank God he referred to her as 'doctor', because I took the opportunity and ran with it.
Christian raised one eyebrow in disbelief, but thankfully didn't push further. "Okay, Max. Let's keep pushing and fully send it on this last race before the summer break."
I nodded, trying to appear calm. "Of course."

Truth was, the pressure was mounting.
We still had to keep the Ferraris—Charles, in particular—behind us.
And they didn't like that I flew off to another country after Austria without giving a reason.
Not to the team, not even to my father.
Especially not to him.
He was probably the most pissed about it.
But I was no longer a little boy for him to manipulate.

During Q3, everything went sideways. The power unit started acting up, and I couldn't set a representative lap. I ended up P10 on the grid.
"FUCKING SHIT. This is unbelievable”
I shouted into the radio.
George Russell took pole for the Hungarian Grand Prix, and I was fuming.
In the media pen, the questions were the same recycled garbage.
But one reporter threw a curveball.

"Max, there are some rumors going around the paddock... and online. Don't mind me asking, but is there someone special in your life at the moment?"

I hate this shit.
Why is it anyone's business who I'm with?
If I ever go public with Irina, it sure as hell won't be here in the media pen, surrounded by microphones and fake smiles.

"No" I answered with a fake wide smile.
Keep it chill and unbothered.
"My main focus is on racing and winning as many races as possible. No need for distractions."

"That's so full of bullshit," a voice called out loudly from behind the pen.
Heads turned. I did too.

Charles.

He was being pulled away by the Ferrari PR, but the damage was done.
People heard it. Saw it.
The smirk on his face as he walked off said everything.
Maybe they didn’t know the reason, but the tension was crystal clear.

I clenched my jaw.
During the press conference before Austria’s Grand Prix, he'd leaned over and muttered,
"I get it, mate. She's incredible in bed. Enjoy it while it lasts."
I nearly punched him in front of everyone, but Irina had made me promise, several times, to keep my cool.

I promised I'd try.
I didn't promise for how long.

I clenched my fists. "I think we're done here" I barked to my PR, who immediately cut off the interview.
I didn't wait. I stormed away from the media pen, rage boiling in my chest, hunting down Charles. My temper had overridden every shred of logic—I wasn't thinking like a professional, I was thinking like a man pushed too far.
I should have done this the first time he was a dick.

"LECLERC!" I shouted.
But before I could go any further, a hand grabbed my arm.

"Max, stop. Calm down."
Irina's voice. Soft, but steady.
I looked down at her, my breathing ragged.
My jaw was tight, my nostrils flared, vision clouded with pure fury.
I didn't even register how many cameras were flashing or how many fans were filming us.
We were the main attraction now, whether we liked it or not.

"Shit" I muttered and grabbed her hand to get away from the eyes, away from the noise.
Once we were around the corner, I leaned my forehead against hers, grounding myself in her presence.

"Fuck, Irina. I'm so sorry" I whispered. I wasn't sure if I was apologizing for almost blowing up or for dragging her into the middle of it all. “But I really need to put Charles in his place. One way or another” I said still full of anger “No, you don’t!”

From the corner of my eye, I saw Christian Horner storming toward us with Alice, our PR lead, hot on his heels.
"This is just fucking great" I muttered under my breath.

Christian greeted Irina with a tight, forced smile, more politely than sincere. "Doctor Stan, hope you don't mind giving us a moment."

Irina nodded, offering Christian a quick smile before looking back at me.
She knew.
Without a word, she walked off, probably toward the medical center.
I kept watching her until she disappeared into the crowd, praying no one would corner her for questions.

Christian waited a beat before turning to me, arms crossed.

"Sore throat. Increased fever" he said, tone flat. "Those symptoms make you chase Charles Leclerc through the paddock like a maniac?"

I rubbed the back of my neck, adjusting my cap and said nothing.
What could I say?
For what reason to not drag other questions.

"Look, Max" he continued, keeping his voice level but stern. "I usually try not to stick my nose into my drivers' personal lives. I really do. But the second it starts interfering with your image, your performance, or the headlines—we have a problem."
I scoffed and rolled my eyes. "Charles started it. He's been provoking me nonstop."
Oh Jesus, I sounded like a kid on the playground.

"I don't care who started it” Christian snapped, stepping closer. "I care that my driver—my reigning world champion—was about to start a fistfight in the middle of the media pen over a random woman."
I felt something tighten in my chest.
My voice raised, defensive and sharp. "She's not just some random woman."
He stared at me.
I could see the gears turning.
Finally, I said it.

"We've been together for a while now."

Christian exhaled heavily and clapped a hand on my shoulder. "You think we don't know that already? Max, it's been obvious for months. Even a blind man could've seen it."
He paused, the weight of his next words thick in the silence between us.

"But don't make her your priority."

What the actual fuck?!
That one hit me like a punch to the gut.

"This is our season to prove the last championship wasn't a fluke" he added. "We can't afford slip-ups. Not now."

My jaw clenched. I was burning inside. Not with rage—but with the pressure of it all.
I lived and breathed this sport.
My entire life was shaped by circuits and time splits and the endless drive for more.
But for the first time... someone outside that world mattered too.
And she wasn't a distraction.

"I'm allowed to have a personal life, Christian" I said firmly.
He nodded, but the look in his eyes said something more.

"Come on, Alice" he said, turning to the PR lead. "We need to put out this fire before it explodes in our faces."
As they walked off, I glanced back in the direction Irina had gone.
I wasn't sure what storm was coming next.
But I’m starting to get tired of them.
I need a break.

Chapter Text

Even though I started in P10 on Sunday, I fought my way through and took the lead in the Hungarian GP from lap 51 until the checkered flag. It was one of those chaotic races—strategy, tire choices, and pure instinct.

Five different drivers held the lead at some point, but in the end, Ferrari did what Ferrari does best.
They completely botched Charles's race with a questionable call to switch him to hard tyres and served Mercedes their second double podium on a silver platter.

"Wow, man, what a fantastic drive. From P10 to P1. Amazing job!" GP said in his usual calm voice, which almost made it sound like it was no big deal.

"YEEEES!!" I shouted back. "What a race! We stayed calm, and we won it. Who the hell would've thought we'd wake up today and walk away with this?"

Honestly? I could barely believe it myself.
It wasn't impossible—just hard.
But that's what makes it sweet.

"Unbelievable, Max. Best way to go into the summer break!" Christian's voice came through the radio too, cheerful and proud.
I didn't answer him.
Still wasn't over our little chat from yesterday.

Climbing out of the car, I scanned the edge of the crowd, hoping to see Irina.
Just a glimpse.
But I know it wasn’t the case.
Especially now, after everything that happened yesterday.
But I had something to prove—not just to the paddock, but to Christian, to the media, hell, even to myself.
That no matter what drama played out off-track, when I was in the car, I was untouchable.

Irina wasn't a distraction. She was fuel.

I couldn't wait to celebrate with her.
This win extended my lead over Charles to 80 points.
I was exactly where I wanted to be, on and off the track.

After the podium, press conference, and quick shower, I made my way toward the medical center to find her.

But halfway through the paddock, my steps slowed.
There she was.
Smiling so brightly it stopped me in my tracks.

And then I saw him.

Some guy—tall, broad-shouldered, beard groomed to perfection, pulling her into a hug. And not just any hug.
The kind that said they are familiar to each other. Her hands rested on his shoulders like she'd done it a thousand times.
Like it was natural.

My stomach dropped. My jaw tightened so hard my teeth ached.
That's when I spotted Alex coming out of the Ferrari garage, heading toward them too. I caught up with him quickly.

"Hey, man" I said, not bothering with small talk. "Who the fuck is that guy?"

Alex looked up, saw who I was pointing at, and hesitated. "Oh. Uh... that's Aron."
He scratched the back of his neck awkwardly.
"Irina's ex-boyfriend."

I straightened up, trying not to react, but my whole body tensed.
Of course he was built like a Greek god.
Of course he had that effortless charm.

I fucking hate him already.

"He's a nice guy." Alex went on.
"Yeah," I muttered, eyes still on them. "Bet he is."
Alex smiled, oblivious. "Come on, let's go introduce you. He'll be cool with it."
He??
What about me?
"No thanks," I cut in, stepping back. "I've got a meeting with Christian and Helmut."
Total lie. Didn't even flinch when I said it.
Hei, probably Hollywood should hire me after all.

"Tell Irina I'll catch her later."
Before he could argue, I turned around and walked in the opposite direction.
I wasn't about to stand there and pretend to be happy to meet the guy who used to have everything I have now.
Watching her in his arms, too easy, too familiar,
just lit something ugly inside me.
The thrill of victory, the adrenaline of the race, all of it faded under the weight of jealousy.

I wasn't proud of it.
But right now?
I wanted to put my fist through Aron's perfect fucking jaw.

"Hey mate. Plans for tonight?" I called Daniel, knowing he'd be looped into whatever afterparty or informal gathering the grid had planned.
Now that we were officially in the summer break, there was no reason not to drink.
No training.
No need to pretend I wasn't spiraling.

A pub in the heart of Budapest sounded just right for drowning out the image of Irina smiling at her ex.

Except, not even alcohol could erase the way she'd looked at him.
Or how easily she'd slipped into his arms.
It was déjà vu—the same gut-wrenching feeling I had when she walked through the paddock beside Charles.
Laughing. Carefree. Like they belonged.
But this felt worse.

Because this guy, Aron, wasn't just a fling or a random dude.
He was her past. Her real past. Years of it. Feelings like that don't just vanish, they hibernate.
Waiting for the right moment to wake up again.

"FUUUCK" I yelled, slamming my fist into the table hard enough to make the glasses jump. Heads of my collegues turned.
"Jesus, what's got into you, Max?" Lando blinked, half-shocked, while Daniel dragged his chair closer to mine.

I downed my gin and tonic and waved the waiter over for another. "I really can't tell if you're drinking out of excitement or bitterness" Daniel said, eyeing me.
"Both” I answered flatly as my phone lit up again.

Irina.

Two missed calls.

I tossed the phone on the table face-down and drained another glass. Ordered a third without hesitation.
"Max" Lando said, glancing between us. "Care to share with the class?"

My brain was still functioning—barely—and in a twisted moment of self-sabotage, I grabbed my phone and opened Instagram.
If Aron had an account, I'd find it.
It didn't take long. Diana still had him on her friends list.
I tapped through his profile like I was digging for a wound.

And I found it.
The fucker hadn't deleted a single photo with her.
Them.
Smiling. Traveling. Kissing. Together.

"Fucking asshole" I muttered, louder than I meant to.
Daniel snatched the phone out of my hand. "What the hell, man?" He scrolled for a second. "You can't be serious."
He looked at me like I'd lost my mind.
Maybe I had.
"Max, these photos are from 2020. You're aware we're two years past that, right?"

Lando craned his neck. "Why are we looking at this guy's profile? Who even is this?"
Daniel gave me a glance. "This what's been eating you?" he asked, handing the phone back while Irina's name flashed on the screen again.

"I saw them today" I muttered, my voice tight, jaw clenched. "After the race. In the paddock. Way too close to each other."
The fourth gin and tonic hit fast.
Still didn't stop me from ordering the fifth.

Daniel leaned in so only I can hear him "Max, come on. She's with you. She loves you. Look—" He held up the phone. "She's calling. She's texting. She's trying to find you. Don't throw this away over your own damn insecurities. Go back to the hotel, man."
Lando, still out of the loop, blinked. "Okay seriously. Someone fill me in. Who loves you? What's happening?"

Daniel sighed. "I'll explain. But first—"
He started tapping on his phone. "I'm ordering you an Uber before you start swinging at shadows."

On the ride back to the hotel, I stared out the window, blurry lights slicing across my vision.
I should've gone to her.
Should've walked straight up and shown that hockey-playing bastard that she's with me now. That I'm the one she comes home to.

Instead, I ran. Like a coward.
I was acting like an idiot, and I knew it.
But that hug... the way she melted into him. It was branded into my memory.
I could admit it now—Aron was a good-looking guy. Built like a wall. Confident. Probably still in love with her, considering the shrine of old photos he'd left online.

And maybe—just maybe—she still had feelings too.
I remembered seeing some of his stuff still lying around her place.
My thoughts spiraled. Alcohol didn't help. Every scenario looked worse than the one before.
Just as I reached my hotel room, my phone rang again.
Lando this time.
Calling insistently.

I ignored it.
I had something more important to deal with now.

Chapter Text

*****Irina*****

"Max? Is that you?" I called out from the bathroom.

Well, I hoped it was him.
It was strange he hadn't answered my calls.
Alex told me he'd seen us—me and Aron—from a distance, and that Max had a meeting with Christian and the old man from his team.
I assumed it was about the aftermath of that media pen scene yesterday.
Still, it didn't sit right that he hadn't called or even sent a text.
But, maybe he was still caught up with the team, or celebrating in the garage.
They usually threw a mini-party after a win.
And this win was indeed one of a kind.

But I had actually hoped Max and Aron might meet.
It had been a pleasant surprise when Aron came to the Hungarian GP and sought me out.
We hadn't really kept in touch after the breakup, our relationship ended on good terms.
No harsh words, no drama, no tears.

While I was still under the hot water, I heard movement down the hallway.
Moments later, Max walked into the bathroom.

"Hey, you. Where have you been?" I asked from under the stream.
The way he looked at me, his posture, the way he swayed slightly—he'd clearly been drinking.
A little too much, if I had to guess.
But he didn't say a word.
Just pulled off his t-shirt, then rolled down his jeans and boxers.

Alright then.

He stepped into the shower like a man with a mission, desire burning in his eyes, intense and unmistakable.
There was something wild in the way he looked at me—like a lion about to devour his prey.

It reminded me of our first time, five years ago at that music festival.
I smiled remembering our very night together.
One strand of his longer hair had fallen in front of those piercing blue eyes as the water splashed against his skin.
I leaned in to kiss him, but he stopped me.

"Turn around" he growled.

I did as he asked.
He gently pressed me against the cold marble wall. My body shivered against the tiles, nipples hardening from the contrast of cold stone and hot water. I could feel his fully erect length pressing against my lower back, and I rose up on my toes, grinding myself against him, needy for more.

He grabbed the shower head and switched the water flow.
Then, with a deliberate move, he directed the strong spray right onto my clit.
I gasped at the sudden stimulation, flinching at first, then begging silently for more.

"Tell me who you belong to" Max growled, his hand in my hair pulling my head gently back.

"To you" I gasped, barely breathing.

"Yes, Irina. To me. You are mine" he growled under his breath.
"You don't look at other men. You don't smile at them. You don't even breathe near them."
I nodded frantically, my skin burning, my body already trembling from being held so close to the edge.
I liked his possesivness especially when we were having sex.

My eyes rolled back as I came hard, the orgasm crashing through me in relentless waves.

He switched the water back to the rainfall mode, and I turned to face him, catching his mouth in a kiss that was as desperate as it was possessive. Max lifted me effortlessly, my legs wrapped tight around his waist as he pinned me to the shower wall.
With one thrust, he was inside me.

I gasped loudly, my hands digging into his back for balance as he began to move, deep and rough and just the way we both liked.
The bathroom filled with the sound of skin slapping against skin, of water cascading over our tangled bodies, of Max's low grunts and my whimpers.

I clung to him, needing to feel him as close and deep as possible, like I could crawl inside him.
I wanted to be owned.
Like I had never belonged to anyone.
Max broke down all of my walls.
He made me question everything I'd ever known or believed about love, about possession, about devotion.

"You're mine, Irina. All mine. And I'll show the whole damn world that you belong to me." His words were fierce, animalistic, slamming into me as hard as his thrusts.

"Fuuuuck, Max!" I cried out as he hit that spot, my legs trembling with another climax.
I didn't dare close my eyes.
I wanted him to see how much I loved him.
How much I needed him.

He came soon after, with a final, shuddering growl.

——————

Later, while I dried my hair with a towel, Max sat on the bed, naked and frowning at his phone.

"So..." I said casually. "I called you a few times. I wanted you to meet someone."
He didn't look at me. His eyes stayed fixed on the screen.
Then he rolled them and muttered, "Who? Aron?" He said the name like it left a bad taste in his mouth.

I raised an eyebrow, still applying my body lotion.
Hmm, I understood now why those posessive words.
"He's a nice guy, you know..."

His face hardened instantly. "Oh really? You mean the same Aron who hasn't deleted the photos of you from his Instagram?"
I blinked. What the actual fuck?
He stood and handed me his phone. "Don't give me that look. Here, see for yourself."

I wasn't surprised the photos were still up because I didn't care.
What did shock me was the fact that Max had searched for Aron's profile.
And found it.
That meant he went out of his way to stalk him.
But why?

I sat down beside him, quietly watching the screen.
He scrolled, looking for something to validate his fury.
And then, as if the universe knew we needed another interruption, Lando's name popped up on Max's display.

"Unbelievable. Stop calling me" Max muttered, ignoring the call.

Seconds later, a text lit up the screen:

Lando: Max, call me back please. I really have to talk to you about something important!

Chapter Text

I think my blood stopped flowing in my veins for a brief moment.
If terror had a face, it would bear my name.
That's exactly how I felt when I read Lando's message.
A deep, primal panic.

I was almost certain I knew what he wanted to talk to Max about.

My heart had skipped several beats already the day Max sent me that photo—him and Lando, boarding his private jet.
A million scenarios played in my head.
What if Lando had told him what he saw at the French GP? What if Max already knew?
I had a hundred excuses ready for not telling him the truth right away.
But the truth is, I was scared.
Scared he wouldn't believe me.
And scared of his reaction.

I remember how relieved I felt when we had sex the next morning and everything seemed fine.
He looked at me the same way, touched me the same way.
Like I was still his.

Still, I wasn't sure if Lando even knew about our relationship. But that wouldn't have stopped him from gossiping, from mentioning casually what he'd seen that day.
Max once told me Lando liked to talk. A lot.

While Max kept scrolling through Aron's photos, showing me post after post, I just stared blankly—right through the screen.
I couldn't focus.
My mind was stuck on that message.

I wanted to ask about it. I wanted to ask why Lando was calling so insistently. But I held back, not wanting to seem too suspicious.

So instead, I got up from the bed, found a cigarette in my handbag, and stepped out onto the balcony.
The warm summer breeze brushed against my skin and for a moment, I let it soothe the storm in my mind.
Max followed me out.

He wrapped his arms around me from behind, pressing his lips to my hair. "I'm sorry. I know it's not your fault. And... I kind of understand him."
I turned to face him, confused.

"You're the kind of girl who's hard to forget" he said with a long sigh, eyes closing as he pulled me into a hug. "And I trust you."

It felt like a punch straight to my fucking soul.
Now, Irina. Now is the time to tell him.
He needs to know.
You're the victim.
You didn't do anything wrong. Just say it.

"Max, I—"

But instead, I pushed him down onto the balcony sofa, slipped off my towel robe, and climbed on top of him.

Stupid. Coward.

"I love you" I whispered, before kissing him and grinding against him.
Because, of course, I'm a world-class runner.
A gold-medal champion at avoiding confrontation and choosing sex over honesty.
If it were an Olympic sport, I'd take first, second, and third place.

—-————

The next day, we flew back to Monaco. We stayed at Max's apartment for a few more days before heading off to Spain, to that little island everyone talks about—Ibiza.

While Max was streaming I went for a quick shopping.
Some items and skincare products I was in need for the vacation.
On my way back, I saw him.

Charles.

He was crossing the street with a brunette hanging on his arm, both laughing at something he said.
He didn't see me.
Or if he did, he didn't show it.
I didn't flinch. Didn't feel a thing.
I just kept walking.
My skin burned when he walked pass me.

But that didn't stop my phone from lighting up with his name that night.
First a missed call. Then another.
Then three texts.

Charles: Can we talk?
Charles: Please. Just one minute.
Charles: Irina, I need to explain something.

He can not be serious right now.
I truly believe he knows that I'm staying at Max's home, why in the God's name is he calling me?!

Of course I didn't answear and I didn't reply.
Just tossed the phone onto the nightstand and went to take a long, slow shower.
I had no space in my life for ghosts who only wanted to haunt me when it was convenient for them.

When I came out of the shower, my phone buzzed again. One more message from Charles.

This one longer.

Charles:
"Ok then.
Glad to see you've kept your mouth shut.
I was half-expecting Max to show up at my door swinging after what happened in France. But you didn't tell him, did you? Of course you didn't.
Maybe it's guilt. Maybe it's fear. Or maybe you just know how it would look—Lando showing up, seeing you with your hands all over me.
So don't pretend you're the victim here. You were part of it.
You have your perfect life now with him. Just keep playing the good girlfriend. You took you master's degree with me before."

I stared at the screen, my chest hollow.
I didn't answer. I didn't even delete it.

The apartment was still, dim, the kind of silence that screams when you're left alone with your thoughts. Max was in the bedroom, the sound of his soft, steady breathing just barely audible. Safe. Trusting.
I opened one of my bags where I had put a small box I hadn't touched in over a month.
I'd promised him I wouldn't need it anymore. That I was fine. Stable. Stronger.

But right now, I wasn't any of those things.

I popped two pills into my palm, hesitating only for a second before washing them down with a half-glass of wine I found on the counter.
The ache in my chest dulled. My hands steadied. And soon, I was just floating again, detached from the guilt, the fear, the memory of Charles' hand clamped around my arm and the taste of panic in my throat.
Max had worked so hard to hold me together.

But tonight, just for tonight, I needed to fall apart.

Chapter Text

The next day, some of Max's friends came by to visit, and soon enough, we were all out on his yacht.
Silly me, thinking he'd just relax beside me under the sun, let his body breathe after the chaos of the season.
But no. That's not how Max works apparently.
He runs on high doses of adrenaline, and within minutes, he was on a jet ski with one of his friends—who also happened to be a well-known DJ—racing through the waves like he was still chasing a podium.
I watched them for a moment, shaking my head with a fond smirk, then took out my phone to snap a picture of the two of them laughing mid-ride.

I sent the photo to Diana.

Me: Jealous?

A few minutes later, she sent one back. Her view? A grey office cubicle and a half-eaten salad.

Diana: Very.
Diana: This is my view, so...
fuck you!

I laughed softly. Soon enough, we'd be together again, lying somewhere far from race tracks and everything else...
With nothing but time and sun between us.

Fortunately, Max's phone was everytime close to me.
I made sure of it.
If Lando insists with the phone calls or messages I should have be there.
Imediately to explain everything to Max.
But, wasn't the case.
He stopped calling Max.
For now.

Probably, him, as well went somewhere in his vacation. But i know that it will not be a permanent solution.
Maybe after my birthday party I'll work up the courage to tell Max what happened.

When the night had fallen over the Monaco harbour, everyone had left, the friends, the crew. Just the two of us, alone on the deck of Max's yacht, with nothing but the sound of waves and the soft thrum of the sea beneath us.

I laid back on the lounge cushion, the breeze brushing my damp skin, when Max returned with two glasses of wine.
But instead of handing me mine, he knelt between my legs, placing both glasses on the table behind me.

"You looked so fucking good today” he murmured, running a hand up my calf, hooking his fingers beneath the tie of my bikini bottom and slowly pulling it free. "I couldn't stop thinking about how you were watching me from the deck... legs open... mouth parted..."

My breath caught as he leaned in, kissed the inside of my thigh.
His tongue dragged lazily up until he reached the center of me.
He tasted me without hesitationx
Long, deep strokes that made me cry out and arch my hips.
His hands kept me in place, gripping me firmly, possessively.
His tongue moved like he already knew what my body needed, circling my clit in maddening patterns until I was writhing under him.

"Fuck, Max..." I whimpered, clutching his hair, pushing his face deeper into me.

He moaned against me, the vibration sending a wave of heat through my entire body.
My thighs trembled, body tightening, climax building fast like a storm.
I tried to warn him, but he didn't stop.
And when I came, it was with a sharp cry, back arching, thighs squeezing around his head.

But Max wasn't done.

He kissed up my stomach, licking his lips, cock already rock-hard as he pulled his swim shorts off, positioning himself above me.
I reached between us, wrapped my hand around him, stroking him slowly, feeling the veins pulsing against my palm.

"Turn around" he growled.

I did.
Face down, ass up, bracing myself against the soft cushion. Max's hand gripped my hip, the other sliding between my legs again, finding that same wet, swollen spot and rubbing it until I whimpered.
Then I felt him behind me, the thick head of his cock nudging at my entrance before pushing in slowly... deeply... all the way to the hilt.

"Fucking hell, Irina..." His voice was breathless, wrecked. "You feel like you were made for me."

He started moving, slow at first, dragging his cock out nearly all the way before slamming back in, making my breath catch with each thrust.
He gripped my waist tighter, pulling me back to meet his rhythm.
Each slap of our bodies echoed against the quiet sea.

Then his hand slid lower.
Not to my clit.
Further.

I froze for a second, heart skipping.
He kissed my spine, slowed his hips, and murmured against my skin, "Let me try something."

He oiled his fingers and his cock with the sun oil from the table and teased my arsehole gently, circling without pressure at first.
Then, as he continued fucking me, he withdrew himself and slowly pushed just the tip in.

I gasped at the unfamiliar stretch, but his rhythm never stopped.
He rubbed my clit again, keeping me on that edge between pain and overwhelming pleasure, until my body adjusted and all I felt was fire.

He fucked me harder, deeper, while his finger moved in sync, and I lost all control—moaning, trembling, soaking the cushion beneath me.
It was unlike anything I'd ever felt—more intense, more raw.

When I came again, it was brutal.
Loud. Shaking.
And Max came right after, groaning as he buried himself one last time inside me, every muscle in his body tensed as he spilled deep inside.

We stayed like that for a long moment—breathless, tangled, completely undone.
Then he pulled me onto his lap, cradling me against him, still naked, still pulsing with aftershocks.

It was the first time I really enjoyed having anal sex.
And it was all because of him.

Chapter Text

Max had rented a private villa—one unlike anything I'd ever seen before.

"Oh my God, Max" I breathed out, eyes wide as I stepped inside. "This is... incredible."
The place looked like something torn from a luxury magazine: floor-to-ceiling windows, a sweeping view of the Mediterranean, white walls glowing gold under the afternoon sun, and subtle, decadent elegance in every corner.
I twirled around in pure happiness, my sandals clicking softly on the marble floor.

Max smiled, clearly pleased with my reaction. "Come" he said, reaching out for my hand. "Let me show you our bedroom."

I followed him up the staircase, and when he pushed open the double doors, I gasped.

A king-sized bed dominated the room, draped in white linens and covered in a soft scattering of rose petals. A freestanding tub sat in the corner, perfectly positioned beneath a window overlooking the sea.
The sunlight danced across the water and into the room, casting reflections onto the walls like moving art.

On the nightstand, a chilled bottle of champagne awaited us, two flutes already set beside it.

Max popped the bottle, the sound echoing in the peaceful quiet, and poured the champagne, the fizzy liquid catching the light.
He handed me a glass with a smirk.
"We have the whole place to ourselves" he said, brushing his knuckles against mine as I took the drink. "At least until some of our friends show up in a couple of days."

I walked to the bed and fell backward onto it, rose petals flying up around me as I landed.
"Let's make the most of it, then" I said, grinning up at him.

—————

I was well aware of the consequences of lying under the sun for too long, but I'd fallen asleep anyway.
After all, these few days were just for us, and with the way our nights went, "a good night's sleep" wasn't exactly on the agenda.
Neither the daytime.

Max had gone for a quick swim while I tried to catch up on some reading.
Tried, being the key word.
It ended with me dozing off into a nap that was, frankly, better than expected.

Until it wasn't.
Abruptly, I was jolted awake by cold droplets of water splashing onto my body.

"Max!" I yelped, nearly leaping off the lounge bed in panic, only to be caught in his soaked, muscular arms.
I squinted up at him, half-asleep. "Put me down” I groaned.

But Max only grinned, lips puckering playfully. "Nope."
And with that, he took off running with me in his arms and toward the sea.
I wriggled and slapped at his chest, but it was no use.
He was much stronger, and far too determined.

By the time the water reached his chest, he let go.

"You are insufferable and I hate you"
I muttered as I came up sputtering, splashing him in the face in retaliation.
He laughed and pulled me back into his arms, lips crashing onto mine with a fierce, wet kiss.

I jumped into his lap, legs wrapping around his waist instinctively.

"Neh, you don't hate me," he murmured against my lips, his hands gripping my ass under the water. "You love me."

And I did.
So much it scared me sometimes.

His kisses trailed from my mouth to my jaw, down my neck, brushing over the tops of my breasts, the tips peeking above the waterline.
I gasped, tilting my head back to give him more space. Each kiss sent a pulse of heat through my body.
I could feel his erection pressing against me, urgent and unrelenting.

But then reality clawed its way back in. We were still in public. The beach was technically empty, but in the near distance, you could see other villas. Other eyes.
Cameras.
Tabloids.
Front-page photos.
Headlines.

My body throbbed, but my brain screamed danger.

"Max" I whispered, pulling slightly back. "Someone could see us."
He glanced around, barely fazed. "We're alone. And honestly? I really don't care if someone sees." His mouth returned to my collarbone, tongue flicking, lips teasing.

"Max" I insisted, breath hitching, "it's not exactly legal to have sex in public."
"No one knows what we're doing" he murmured, smirking against my skin. "We could just be cuddling."

With one quick move, he slid the fabric of my bikini to the side.
"Oh, how I love cuddling like this..." he added, and all my protests dissolved when his cock slid into me under the water.

I gasped, nails digging into his shoulders as my body welcomed him in.
The waves cradled us, their gentle motion matching the deep thrusts he gave.
It was maddening.
Sensational.
My body was melting into his, and I was drowning in the pleasure of it.

It should've felt wrong.
It didn't.

He thrusted into me harder, deeper, making me bite down on his shoulder in a desperate attempt to muffle my moans.
But Max—Max had no intention of letting me stay quiet.

"Admit it" he whispered, breath hot in my ear. "You like the risk. The thought of someone watching us. Catching us. It turns you on."
I whimpered, overwhelmed, helpless against the way my body clenched around him.
The words. The rhythm. The danger.
New kink unlocked.
And damn, did it feel good.

His words rippled down my spine like electricity. My orgasm surged fast and brutal, ripping through me with a loud cry of his name that echoed across the open sea.
At that point, I didn't care.
Let the world hear it.
Max followed with a loud groan.

Eventually, he pulled out, holding me close as we drifted toward shore.
He carried me back to the lounge bed like I weighed nothing, gently lowering me onto the soft cushions and wrapping a big towel around me with care.

Max sat beside me, his body still damp and warm, arm draped around my shoulder.

"How the fuck did I end up being so lucky?" he muttered, almost to himself, pressing a kiss to the side of my head.

Chapter Text

"I want to take you out this evening for a surprise" Max announced as we stepped inside the villa, some shopping bags in hand.
We went out for a walk in the city center of Ibiza, but we hadn't stayed long.
Some people started recognizing him, and although Max tried to keep a low profile with his cap pulled low and sunglasses, it was useless. There is always someone with a phone in their hands, taking a photo.
Sometimes I catch myself wondering if I want this in my life.
Like forever. Every day.
But then he smiles at me, and that look in his eyes silences every doubt trying to creep in.

Tomorrow is going to be my birthday. Diana and Alex will arrive, and later this week, Max's mother, his sister, and her family will join us.
Ask me how nervous I am.
Even though I've met them already, it still feels like the first time.
Like everything in my life is being measured and re-measured.

I kicked off my sandals by the door, about to head upstairs to get ready, when I heard Max's voice coming from the open terrace.

He was on his phone. Talking in Dutch.
I couldn't understand a word, but his tone wasn't sweet or soft. It was sharp. Clipped. Angry..

Silence. Then another harsh breath.
There was something in his voice I wasn't familiar with.
And I've heard my name several times.
A few seconds passed before I heard the phone disconnect. "Fuuuck"  Max screamed so loud making me turn around quickly into our room.

My heart racing but I kept pretending to be brushing my hair at the mirror when he walked in.
He didn't say a word. Just leaned against the doorframe, watching me with a tension around his jaw.
"You okay?" I asked, keeping my voice casual.
He nodded once. "Yeah. Just some family shit."

I didn't press. I wanted to.
But I didn't.
I sure in hell assumed it was his dad over the phone.
Max stormed out of the room while I went to search for a dress and then putting some light make-up on my face.

I chose a long, backless, fitted animal print dress. A little sheer but we were on an island on vacation.
It was the kind of dress you wear when you want someone to want you so badly they forget how to breathe.

I glanced at my reflection on the mirror, noticing my hips looked a little fuller than usual.
Even though I've lost some good kilos.
I frowned.
But before I could spiral into any unnecessary thoughts, my phone buzzed with a message:

Follow the candles.

I smirked.

When I opened the door, a glowing trail of candles greeted me.
The path took me from the hallway to the stairs, through the terrace, and down to the beach.
In the distance, a circle of candles surrounded a small table set for two.
Before putting my phone away for the evening, I snapped a quick photo.

My heartbeat quickened as I walked, the air smelling like salt and rose petals.
I felt like I was floating.
Like a teenager about to be asked to the prom by the guy every girl dreamed of.

And there he was.
My date.
Max appeared out of the shadows, holding a huge bucket of white peonies—my favorites.

"You look incredible" he said, his voice low and deep. He stepped behind me, breath grazing my ear. "I can't wait to take this dress off of you later."
I bit my lip and laughed nervously, butterflies doing flips in my stomach.
When did he even plan all of this? We'd barely been apart.
He pulled me into a tight hug, and I melted against his chest.

"Max... this is beautiful."
"Anything for my birthday girl" he murmured, handing me the flowers.

We sat down at the table, and a pair of waiters emerged from behind the palm trees with drinks and appetizers.
We toasted. We laughed. And yet... I could still feel the echo of his earlier anger lingering beneath the surface.
Halfway through dinner, between bites of grilled seabass, I finally caved.

"That phone call earlier" I said softly, "I assume it was your dad...."

Max looked up from his plate. His expression didn't shift, but his eyes frowned.

"It's nothing" he replied quickly, too quickly.
"Are you sure?"
"Yeah." A pause. "Just family stuff. Don't worry about it."

I didn't believe him. But I nodded anyway.
Moreover it made me a little upset that he didn't want me to know what was really going on.
But I smiled and reached for his hand across the table.

"Thank you again for this amazing night. You didn't have to go through all this trouble."
It was probably the most romantic thing anyone has done it for me. And I was really greatful.

He shrugged. "I wanted to make this special for you. You deserve it."
He pulled his chair closer to mine and kissed my hand.
"You mean everything to me, Irina. I wanted to show you just how much you're loved."
Tears prickled in my eyes. I wrapped my arms around him, sinking into the feeling of being seen, of being safe.

Our night passed too quickly. I nestled my head on his chest while he fell asleep before me.

Sometimes I couldn't help but see myself through the lens of Max's world—surrounded by women who were models, influencers, heiresses, daughters of champions.
Women who grew up backstage in paddocks, fluent in the language of press rooms and private jets.

And then there was me.

Just a normal woman. Five years older. No famous last name. No millions of followers.

Just me,with my scars and my shadows.
And yet... he chose me. He keeps choosing me.

Chapter Text

*****Max******

“Happy birthday, love” I whispered into Irina’s ear early in the morning.
Today was her actual birthday.
Her friends were arriving later today too.
That was the main reason I planned the romantic dinner last night. Because what she didn’t know was that Diana (mostly Diana, to be honest) and I had organized a surprise birthday party for tonight.

It hadn’t been easy to keep it a secret.
Irina was with me practically 24/7. Not that I minded.
But helping Diana plan anything behind her back took more sneaking around than qualifying on a wet track on sleek tyres.
I gave Diana a list of phone numbers, and today, while I distracted Irina with a boat trip, she’d be setting everything up at the villa.

“Morning” she murmured as she turned toward me, her lips brushing mine.
God, I’ll never get tired of waking up to that face.

“Let’s stay in bed all day long” she said with a sleepy smirk, climbing on top of me.
Yeah, as if I’d ever say no to that.
Especially when she looked at me like that.

Luckily, I woke up early and our boat wasn’t leaving until noon.
We had time. And to be honest, sex with her is the best possible way to start any day.
Or every moment of the day.

But of course, my phone wouldn’t shut up.
My dad kept calling and texting like he didn’t care I was on a vacation. Or maybe because he knew.
And whom I am with.
No. I wasn’t letting him ruin this vacation.
Or her birthday.
Yesterday’s phone call with him had been enough. More than enough.

He knew about my little “moment” in the media pen. He knew about Irina too, bits and pieces at least. But knowing my father, he wouldn’t stop until he dug up every single detail about her. And once he did… I wasn’t sure what he’d try to do with it.

⸻

With a few harmless lies and some mild coaxing, I finally got her out of bed and onto the boat.
I kept checking my phone to coordinate with Diana, trying not to be too obvious.
She was already at the villa by then, handling last-minute arrangements.

We were lounging on the deck, enjoying the sea breeze, when Irina suddenly said,
“I think I’m getting sick.”

She tried standing up a few times but couldn’t keep her balance—or even keep her eyes open.
Immediately, my mind shot back to France.
That terrifying weekend at the GP, when something similar had happened and she pushed me away like I was the enemy.

Not this time.

I caught her in my arms and held her close. We were on a boat in the middle of the water. She couldn’t push me away even if she wanted to.

“Tell me how I can help” I said softly, holding her tighter.

Frustration bubbled in my chest.
I’d asked her to get checked out after the GP too. Hospital, full workup, the works.
She’d said no.
“I’m a doctor, Max. I know my body.”
Yeah? Well, right now, her body was scaring the hell out of me.

Suddenly, she shot up and bolted for the cabin.
I followed quickly, just in time to see the bathroom door slam shut.
Then the unmistakable sounds of vomiting.

“Irina, please. Let me help you!” I called through the door, but she didn’t answer.
I know some people prefer privacy when they’re unwell. I get that. But standing outside that door, hands clenched, heart pounding—I was useless. Helpless.
And that’s a feeling I hate.

After what felt like forever, she came out.

To my surprise, she didn’t look like someone who just emptied her stomach.
“I’m hungry” she said with a smile, already texting someone on her phone.
What. The actual. Fuck?

“Please, Irina. Don’t shut me out again. We’ve been here before. I need to know what’s wrong. Let me take you to a hospital—just to be sure.”
She looked up at me, calm, smiling. “Max, I’m fine. I probably just have seasickness. I’m not used to being on a boat.” She nestled into my chest. “Really. I’m perfectly fine. Just hungry.”

I didn’t believe her. Not entirely. But today was her birthday, and we were on vacation, so I let it go—for now. But I’d book appointments the moment we go back in Monaco.
And it will not be a request, it will be a demand.

I texted Diana that we’d be a bit late and stopped at a local pizzeria so she could eat.
It wasn’t a bite. It was almost an entire pizza.
She was definitely hungry, but after vomiting like that? It didn’t make sense.
Nothing about today did.
Still, on the ride back to the villa, she was in a perfect mood again.
Her color had returned, her smile was bright, and she looked… fine. I guess.

Just before we reached the gate, I stopped her.
I was carrying her real birthday present in my pocket, and I wanted this moment to be private.
I had planned to give it to her on the boat, but yeah—that clearly didn’t happen.

“This is my real gift for you” I said, handing her the small box.
“Max… you shouldn’t have. I told you, I didn’t want anything” she said as she stared down at it.
Her brows furrowed as she opened the box, then lifted her eyes to mine.

“I want you to move in with me. In Monaco. Officially. All your stuff. No more back and forth. Just… us. Our home.”
I don’t think I’ve ever been so nervous in my life.
And the silence that followed nearly killed me.
She just… stared. Zoned out.
Looking scared at those damn keys.
“Please say something” I said gently, trying not to let the panic take over.

I’ve lived with girlfriends before. But it just sort of happened. A few clothes here, a toothbrush there and boom.
We were living together.
But this?
This was the first time I asked. Properly. Wanted it.
Fuck. If this was so hard, in the future I will just throw a ring at her and sprint when I propose.

She finally blinked and leaned in, pressing her lips to mine.
“Max…” she whispered, “yes. Of course.”

And in that moment, I swear I heard a stadium’s worth of applause in my head. Fireworks too. The whole damn show.
If this were a movie, it would’ve been the grand finale.
But this wasn’t the end. Not even close.

I smiled against her lips. “You gave me a little heart attack.”

“Luckily, I know how to treat it” she teased.

Chapter Text

Well, Diana surely knows how to throw a party.

“SURPRISEEE!” about 30 people shouted the moment we walked in, the sound echoing through the villa like a wave.
The living room and terrace had been completely transformed, draped in soft white linens, with cascading flowers, warm lights, and upbeat music filling the air.

As the initial shock washed over me, I turned instinctively to Irina.
Her eyes were wide, sparkling in disbelief, and a huge smile broke across her face.
Thank God.
I had mixed feelings about how today would unfold after everything that happened on the boat, but seeing her expression—pure joy—gave me some relief.
She let go of my hand, pressing her palms to her mouth.

“Wow! This is really incredible!” she gasped, her voice full of joy.
“You deserve all of this” I told her, “and so much more.”

I took a quick scan around the room. Familiar faces—Diana, Alex, Daniel with Heidi, Lando, Peter, and a few others I expected.
But then my eyes landed on two very unexpected ones: Lewis… and that doctor-slash-colleague-slash-idiot.
Fucking great.

Then again, it was my fault.
I told Diana to invite whoever Irina would want by her side. I even gave her my contact list.
So… yeah. This one’s on me.

“Seriously? Lewis is here and that doctor from your hospital?” I muttered, unintentionally out loud.
Irina caught it. “Lewis is my friend. Of course he’s here” she whispered with a soft sigh. “And David is my collegue”
I rolled my eyes.
Then, the crowd swept her away in hugs and birthday wishes.
I stepped back, letting her enjoy the moment.

I hoped my face wasn’t too obvious, nor my smile too forced when I shook hands with Lewis and the doctor—who I still refused to name.
“They’re just friends. They’re only friends”
I reminded myself like a damn mantra.
Lewis gave me a big smile. “Hey, man. All good?”

Oh, piss off.
“All good. Thanks for coming. I know Irina’s happy to see you here.”
I choked on every word.

Needing some space and a drink I headed to the makeshift bar, where Daniel was already surrounded by a group of our friends.
It felt good having everyone together again.
Life moves too fast for regular catch-ups, but for moments like this, it all comes back.

A bartender handed me a champagne glass, which I downed quickly.
The first was for thirst.
The next ones? Jealousy.
Beers. Gin and tonic. I didn’t care. Just keep them coming.

Lewis hugged her for a little too long.
The idiot doctor basically kissed her on the lips.
The only thing missing would be Charles jumping out of her birthday cake in full Monaco glory.
I shook the thought away.

I started walking toward her again when a hand grabbed my arm.
“Max, we really need to talk.”

Lando.
He’d been texting and calling over the break, but I ignored him.
I assumed he wanted to drag me to some wild party I had zero energy for.
Those days were behind me. I wasn’t Wild Max anymore. I just wanted to race and be with Irina.

“Hey, Lando. Listen, I’m sorry for—”
“Yeah, yeah. Forget about that. We need to talk. Alone.”

I raised an eyebrow.
“Dude, it’s a party. Can we save the serious stuff for tomorrow?”

He wasn’t letting go.
“It’s about your… girlfriend.” he pressed.

That stopped me in my tracks.
I looked at him. He wasn’t joking. Not even close.
I turned back to Irina.
She was still with Diana and Alex—but her face… she looked like she saw us.
And she looked… worried?

What the fuck is going on?

As if on cue, Diana took the mic and invited Irina to sing one of their old songs.
Perfect timing.
Lando used the moment to tug me aside, heading toward the privacy of mine and Irina’s bedroom.

“Lando, before anything—I’m sorry for being a dick over the summer. Things were just..wild. Me and Irina—”
“She’s not the woman you think she is.”

I blinked.
“What?”

“I saw her. With Charles.”

There it was.
I staggered slightly. Then gave him a dry smile.

“Lando, come on. I appreciate the concern, but you don’t know the full story.”
He was clearly talking about the pictures from earlier this year.
The ones from the paddock, the rumors.
Probably everyone saw them together a couple of times.

What he didn’t know was that Irina was mine first. First and always.
That thing with Charles? A detour. A moment of confusion. I brought her back to where she belonged.

“Everyone knows about her and Charles. But that ended a while ago.”
I gave a tight smile.
I hated thinking about it, even now.
“My story with Irina goes way back. Since 2017. We found each other at the beginning of the season”

Lando’s expression didn’t change.

“A while ago?” he repeated with a bitter laugh. “You mean before or after the France GP?”

And just like that, my chest clenched.
Wait.
What?

My mind flashed back.
Irina was indeed strange that day.
Even before the moment of her sickness.
She was silent. Didn’t reply to my messages.
Furthermore, she was panicked almost everytime Lando came up into discussion.
Of course, now it all made sense.
A knot twisted deep in my stomach.
Was I being naïve? Too trusting?
No. No, she wouldn’t—
Would she?

“Lando,” I said, voice lower, colder now. “What exactly did you see?”

Chapter Text

"You mean before or after the France GP?"
I froze.
My brain was trying to catch up with my heart, which had suddenly dropped into my stomach. I stared at Lando, searching for some kind of smirk or anything that would tell me this was just some twisted joke. But he wasn't laughing. He looked... genuinely sorry. And concerned.
"What exactly did you see?" I asked, my voice low and sharp.
Lando hesitated for a second, shifting on his feet.

"It was Sunday just after the drivers parade" he said. " I left hospitality with my trainer to have a short preparation between the containers of Ferarri and McLaren garages" He paused.
God. So many details. Just say the fucking part already.
"That's when I saw them. Charles had her against the wall. They were talking, but... it was the way they were with each other. Too close. Way too close."
I clenched my jaw.
"And?" I urged him.

"Firstly, I didn't want to assume anything. But then he kissed her. And Charles was touching her. Probably if they hadn't seen us, more would have happened." My blood was boiling under my veins just thinking about them in that particular situation. "And she... didn't exactly push him away."
I felt something crack in my chest.

"She didn't kiss him back either" Lando added quickly. "But she didn't stop it. Just when they saw me..."
I took a step back, needing space. Air.

It felt like the walls of the villa were closing in on me, suffocating me with the weight of those words. I couldn't just take it at face value my instincts were screaming but something about the way Lando was telling me, the hesitance, the guilt... it didn't feel like a lie.

"I thought it was just a moment. I thought they are really a thing, considering they used to spend time together, media already taking pictures of them." he went on. "Remember I was trying to gossip about what I saw when we were on your jet after the race...but it was just a gossip back then."
I nodded.
Fucking shit. I was remembering everything now.
"After Dani Ric told me in Budapest that you and her are actually together and you love her!? I knew I had to tell you, but now, not as a gossip but to open your eyes"
I didn't respond. I just nodded and got up from the bed. Pacing through the room like a mad man.
Trying to take all the information and to fully understand.

Irina's laptop was on the vanity table, the usual spot. I sat down slowly and opened it. Lando came next to me "What are doing?" He asked but I was too focused to find something.
I don't know what, just something...
I knew her password, she trusted me with it a while ago. I hesitated for a second before typing it in.
Her inbox loaded.
Dozens of unread messages. Emails from her mother, Diana, hospital and medicalstuff.

But then... I went to her messages in Cloud. Straight to a thread I was so desperate to read. Charles Leclerc.

I clicked. The thread was long. Most of it was from him. But many messages from after their "break up".
Casual greetings, a few jokes, some appologies, threats...
One message was from yesterday: "I wish things were different...." I didn't read the rest because it was already enough.
No reply from her. Not one. Just his words hanging there like ghosts.
I closed the laptop, suddenly cold.
Lando tapped me on the shoulder "Max, I'm really sorry."

I stared at my own reflection in the vanity mirror. My jaw was tight, the veins in my neck threatening to pop. A thousand thoughts rushed through me all at once.
Anger. Betrayal. Denial.
But most of all, confusion. Had she really...?
I stormed out the room and rejoined the party.
"Max...wait" Lando's voice faded in the background.
The music hit me first. Then the smell of champagne and laughter.

Irina was up front with Diana, holding the mic, still singing and laughing so beautifully it made my stomach hurt. She looked... happy. Like none of this was weighing on her. Like everything was in perfect order.
Master of disguise.
She saw me and Lando step back in. Her smile faltered. Just for a moment. But I caught it.
Yeah, she was worried.
Good.
Let her be.

I walked past everyone and poured myself another drink. My fifth? Sixth? I didn't count anymore. I just needed the numbness. Anything to quiet my brain.

And then... of course.
David. The fucking doctor.

He invited her for a dance and she nodded. Laughing, whispering something in her ear that made her throw her head back in amusement. His hands a little too low on her waist. Her arm brushing his shoulder. It was innocent. maybe!?But at that moment, it lit a fire inside me that I couldn't extinguish.
Every insecurity I'd buried came bubbling back up.
I wasn't the fierce aggresive driver. She wasn't some WAG molded by the media. She was older than me. A doctor. Independent. Real. And somehow, all that made me love her even more. But now?

Now I felt like the fool.
The idiot who poured his heart into a woman who might still belong to someone else.
I downed my drink and watched her laugh under the fairy lights.
I didn't know how long I could keep pretending.

I stayed in the corner for most of the night, sipping on whatever the bartender handed me, pretending to be present when people talked to me. I nodded, smiled, laughed when I had to. But I wasn't really there.

My eyes kept finding her. Always her.
Irina was glowing laughing with her friends, hugging them, swaying gently to the music when the beat slowed down. From the outside, it was perfect. A beautiful night for a beautiful woman surrounded by people who loved her.
And yet I couldn't stop the storm building inside my chest.

Lando's words wouldn't leave me. The kiss. The message. Charles still lingering like a ghost between us. And Irina... pretending like everything was fine?
Or maybe she wasn't pretending. Maybe it really was fine for her.
Maybe that's the problem.

I leaned against the balcony railing, the night breeze doing little to cool the burn under my skin. The soft sound of a guitar played in the background now. Someone had passed the mic to Alex, who was crooning some slow song in Italian.
I turned my gaze back to her.
She was dancing again. With Peter this time. Laughing. Carefree.
And it hit me.

She never wanted us to be seen together in the paddock. Always pulling my hand away when I tried to hold hers on the streets.
Always brushing it off as, "I just want to keep things just between us."
I thought she just wanted privacy. Always saying it is too soon after what happened with Charles.
Scared of the media storm that would come if we went public. And I respected that. I never pushed.
But maybe it wasn't about the media.
Maybe it was about him.

Every time I asked her about it, she'd just say, "Charles is still hurting. Don't make it worse. Let time do its thing."
And I believed her.
Because I trusted her.
Because I loved her.

But now, it all feels like I've been driving blind.

I thought she was protecting us.
What if she was only protecting him?
What if she's been carrying some guilt this whole time, and I was too wrapped up in our fantasy to see it?
I looked back down at my glass. Empty again.
God. I feel like such a fucking idiot.

Chapter Text

The stars were scattered across the night sky, blurred slightly by the alcohol in my veins.
The laughter and loud music from earlier was replaced by the sound of the waves in the distance. And now, only four of us remained on the terrace near the pool: Diana, Alex, Irina, and me.
The lanterns flickered gently in the soft breeze.

Irina sat on one of the lounge chairs, her legs folded beneath her, a lazy smile on her face. She looked relaxed, a little tipsy. I saw that she only had few cocktails.
Simply glowing with birthday joy.
And I hated that I couldn't enjoy it with her.

I'd kept my distance all night, floating from group to group, dodging her gaze, faking smiles. I had perfected the act. Pretended the fire inside wasn't burning every inch of me alive. I'd replayed Lando's words in my mind at least a hundred times. The kiss. The intimacy. The secluded corner. Charles' messages.
She had not replied much, no. But she had not blocked him either. Had not shut him down. He still thought he had a chance. Fucking idiot.

"Max, you're awfully quiet tonight" Diana said, breaking the silence with a chuckle. She nudged me with her foot from across the small table. "Too many drinks or just deep in thought?"
I smirked, sipping the rest of my drink before setting the glass down a bit too forcefully. "Just taking it all in" I leaned back on the arm chair. "The performances were quite something tonight. Your duet singing. Amazing.
But tell me, besides singing, did you take some acting lessons as well? " My eyes didn't leave Irina as I said it.
She caught the weight of my tone instantly. Her smile faltered for a split second. "It was just for fun, Max." Irina answeard.

"Fun, right" I muttered, running a hand through my hair. "Looks like you had plenty of that tonight. Or more exactly, plenty of fun for almost two months already."
Diana and Alex exchanged a quick glance.
"I think we should let the birthday girl and the grump have some alone time" Alex said gently, trying to lighten the tension with a chuckle.
Diana gave Irina a quick kiss on the cheek. "Best birthday ever, sweety. Sleep tight. And Max? Maybe cut the sarcasm. It doesn't suit you."
They left, the door sliding shut behind them, leaving just me and Irina under the heavy weight of everything unsaid.

She stood slowly, a little wobbly walking over to me. "What's going on with you?" she asked. "You've been acting weird all evening."
I gave her a cold laugh. "Weird? You want to talk about weird, Irina? Let's start with your laptop. Or maybe with Charles. Or hell, why not the kiss in the fucking paddock?"
Her breath caught. "What?"
"Don't lie!" I said sharply. "Don't you start fucking lying! Lando saw you. He saw the two of you tucked away, kissing like no one was watching. And guess what? I wasn't."
She blinked, visibly panicking. "Max—"

"I read the messages" I cut her off. "Saw his lovely birthday wishes from today and everything he has said since you allegedly break up. Very thoughtful of him."
Her face fell. "You went through my laptop?"
"Don't turn this on me, Irina" I snapped. "Don't you dare."
"I'm not turning anything, Max" she said, her voice rising slightly. "But you clearly don't trust me."

I laughed bitterly. "Trust? You've been hiding this from me probably since we got back together. You always said you didn't want drama, didn't want me confronting him. That he was 'hurt' and we should let time do its thing. Now I know why."
Her mouth opened to speak, but nothing came out.
"You didn't want me near him because you didn't want me to find out you weren't as done with him as you claimed."
"That's not true!" she said quickly, her voice trembling now. "It's not—"

"Then explain the kiss!" I shouted. "Explain why he's still texting you like he has a shot!"
"I didn't kiss him" she said. "He kissed me, and I pulled away. It didn't mean anything."
"That's not what Lando said."
"Lando saw a second of something and assumed the rest!"
I paced away from her, gripping the back of one of the chairs, trying to calm the storm inside me.

"I was trying to protect what we have" she said behind me. "You and me. I didn't want another scandal. I didn't want for you to be angry and to start a fight with him for what he is still doing to me. That kiss was a mistake. His mistake! And I should have told you. I just...I didn't know how."
I turned to face her, eyes burning. "Are you joking, right? You didn't know how because you didn't want to let go of him completely. You wanted to keep both doors open in case I disappointed you again. Because that's what you did last time. You went straight to Charles' bed"

"That's not fair!" she said, voice cracking. "And please don't bring into conversation what we both did before. You don't know how hard it's been for me. Knowing everyone around us would judge me, judge us! You're reckless sometimes, Max. You go from zero to a hundred without warning. I was scared!"
"I would have fought for you" I said through clenched teeth. "I have fought for you. If anybody if trying to harm you. If anybody says bad things about you. I'm constantly fighting my father and Christian and Helmut for you! And you made me feel like I was the one doing something wrong by loving you."
I swore to myself that I would not tell her about the ongoing discussions I have with the above regarding our relationship.
Tears gathered in her eyes. "I love you, Max. I didn't handle this right. I know that. I'm sorry."

"Sorry?" I scoffed. "You stood there tonight, smiling, laughing, singing like everything was perfect, while I was crumbling inside."
"I didn't know you knew" she whispered.
"That's the problem, Irina" I said, stepping closer. "You didn't think about how I'd feel. You didn't think about us. You were too busy protecting what exactly? Charles? You? Your 'image', while I kept giving more and more of myself to you. While I went above and beyond to get you back, to prove myself I am the one for you."

She stepped back, shaking her head. "That's not true."
"You didn't even want people to see us together in the paddock! Always some excuse—'not the right time,' 'people will talk,' 'it's too soon.'"

"Because they would've twisted it! You know how it works, Max."
"No" I said coldly. "They would've seen the truth. That I love you. That I want to be with you ."

Silence. The air between us hung heavy, thick with hurt.
Her voice came out small. "So what now?"

"I don't know" I said honestly. "Because right now? I feel like I don't know who the hell you are and what do you really want"
She flinched. "Max, please. I'm sorry. I should have told you, I know...."
"I finally had you, like really had you, only to realize I've been competing with a ghost this whole time."

"I ended things with Charles."
"Then act like it!" I roared. "Block him. Tell him to fuck off. Why are you so damned scared?"
Tears streamed down her face now, but I didn't move. I couldn't. The walls I'd spent months tearing down for her were slamming back up, one by one.

"I love you, Max" she whispered again. "Please don't let this ruin us."

I stared at her, throat dry. "Then prove it. Prove that I'm not just a second option you fell back into."
She stepped toward me, hand reaching out, but I stepped away.

"I can't do this tonight" I muttered. "I'm too drunk, too angry, and if I stay, I'll say things I can't take back."
"Where are you going?" she asked, panic rising.

"To sleep" I said, brushing past her. "Alone."

Chapter Text

****IRINA****

The house was far too quiet.

I hadn't slept a second. The faint chirping of seagulls outside the open windows mocked the mess inside me.
The sheets were tangled, cold from Max's absence.
My eyes, swollen and sore from crying all night.
I watched the door for the hundredth time, hoping he'd walk back in like nothing happened. Like we hadn't shattered something vital just hours ago.

But he didn't come.

His bag was still in our room. His clothes were still in the wardrobe. His passport still in the nightstand.
My phone was clutched in my hand like a lifeline. I stared at it, thumb pressing over his name in my contacts. Again.
Call.
Straight to voicemail.
Again.
I’ve texted him constantly since he left.
"Max, please... I don't know where you are. Just... come back. Or at least tell me you're okay"

I wanted to go look for him.
To drive around like some deranged woman checking gas stations, cliffs, the entire coastline if I had to, but I didn't even know where to begin.
So, for now, the better option was to wait.
Patient.
Which is not one of my top qualities.
I said to myself for a milion times: He just needed space. Let him.
We will get through this.
I hoped.

I made my way down the living room, limbs heavy.
The echo of laughter from last night, the music, the dancing, the warmth, felt like a cruel hallucination now.
The living room was a mess of empty glasses and crumpled napkins.
Balloons still floated near the ceiling like ghosts of a night I wanted to erase.
Flowers already looking half dead.
Like myself.

He avoided me the entire evening. I kept watching him from across the crowd of people, trying to catch his gaze. At first I thought maybe he wanted for me to enjoy my birthday with my friends.
Yet I wanted him to be next to me…
And then…I saw him with Lando, and of course all the piesces came into picture and it was clear what Lando told him…
From that moment on, Max only gave me distance, the kind that screamed louder than words.

And the way he spoke to me... like I was someone else.
Like he didn't recognize me anymore.
Like I'd become the very thing I feared, unworthy of being love.
Stupid me…to think it was for the best not to tell him what Charles was still doing to me.

I poured a glass of water, the tremor in my hand giving away everything I was trying to suppress. My mind kept spinning like a carousel of disaster. His voice.
The accusation.
The betrayal I never meant to plant in his heart.
Every word echoed still.

I didn't hear Diana come in until I felt her hand on my shoulder. I flinched, and she immediately took a step back.
"Irina..."
She didn't finish the sentence. She didn't need to. One look at me…red-eyed, hollow, broken, and she knew.
"He's gone" I whispered. "He left after we had a huge fight last night. And he is not answearing his phone”

Diana frowned "wait, what? What do you mean he is gone?"
Alex came down as well, who stood quietly in the doorway.
They exchanged a glance and Alex went outside at the pool.
She waiting patiently as I tried to breathe normally. After a minute, she said softly, "You want to tell me what happened?"
I didn't answer right away. My throat tightened.
"I messed up" I finally whispered. "I really, really messed up."
Diana didn't say anything. Just waited.

"I hid the fact that Charles kissed me. And that he is harassing me. With calls, text messages, even that kiss” I said between sobs “Actually, that’s the part I didn’t get to tell Max yesterday. Lando saw us before the race in France. Charles dragged me between some containers near the garages in the paddock and started touching me, kissing me…”
Those images came back vividly and it raised the hair from my skin “Of course I pushed him away, but Lando got to see something and assumed the worst”
I reached for a tissue.
“Max went through my messages as well, and saw a couple of them from Charles. With all that information he thought I had something still going on with Charles."

Diana looked at me carefully. "Do you?"

"No." My answer was immediate, sharp. "God, no. Charles was threating me. He is tormenting me still. But probably Max didn’t see that. Only the last texts …”
Diana tilted her head. "What did he said in those ?"

I swallowed, the shame thick in my throat. "He sent me a message yesterday, when we were on the boat. Wished me happy birthday. Said he still loves me and misses me. And that he had bought me a gift."

I leaned forward, pressing my hands to my face. "I should've blocked him. I should've told Max sooner. I just didn't want to open old wounds. He was already so hurt. I thought if I could just... let time smooth it out, it would go away. I never thought Charles would be so cruel."
Diana sighed
"But it didn't and this is not a normal behaviour from Charles."

"I know... I made everything worse. And now Max thinks I betrayed him." My voice trembled. "After everything we've fought through to be together. He thinks I am using him."
She pulled me into her arms “Why didn’t you tell me about it? Maybe I could have helped you…”

"Because I am stupid sometimes. Trying to manage by myself these battles…”
There was a long silence before Diana finally spoke again. "Max is a smart guy, I’m sure if you tell him the full story he will understand."
I nodded. "I was only trying to avoid any scandal between Charles and Max. I know Max can be impulsive and act on the spur of the moment."

She reached over and squeezed my hand. "And for good reasons. Charles needs to be put on his place! And Max will rip his head off if he is still hurting you"

—————-

The rest of the day dragged by like wet cement.
I tried calling again. Voicemail.
I texted him again.

"Please. Come back. Please let me explain everything. Or tell me where you are. I love you."

No reply.

The worst part wasn't the silence. It was the fear that he didn't want to be found.

I spent hours curled up in bed, staring at the door. I didn't cry anymore, I was dried out. Emotionally dehydrated.
Every time I closed my eyes, I heard his voice again. His words. His pain.

It wasn't about Charles.
Fuck him!
It was about me not trusting Max enough to tell him. Me thinking I could protect him by hiding the truth. But secrets rot things from the inside out. And I knew that better than anyone.

At sunset, I stepped onto the terrace. Diana had lit some candles and left me a lemonade on the table. She didn't ask anymore questions but just stayed nearby.
I took a sip, my hands still shaking. The wind picked up slightly, brushing my hair from my face.

My phone buzzed.
And my heart stopped.

Max.

“I am on my way at the villa with my mom and with Vic and her family. Act normally. Pretend.
You already are good at it”

Chapter Text

The phone slipped from my hand and landed on the bed with a soft thud.
I couldn't breathe.
I couldn't cry either. Or to be angry or frustrated.
His words weren't cold, they were calculated.
Measured.
Aimed to hurt with sniper-like precision.

"Act normally. Pretend. You already are good at it."

My head throbbed from the lack of sleep, my body sore from the way I'd spent the entire night tossing, thinking, regretting.
I stared blankly out the windows.

I inhaled deeply filling my lungs and preparing myself for whatever will come.

A show.
That's what it was going to be.
I had no idea what kind of version of him I'd get. Silent rage? Icy coldness? Mocking sarcasm?
I didn't know which one scared me more.

Diana came in quietly. Her eyes scanned my face with that kind of best friend x-ray vision.
"You heard from him?" she asked softly, crouching next to me.
I nodded slowly, not meeting her eyes. "He's on his way. With guests."
Her brows pulled together. "What kind of guests?"
"His mom. His sister with husband and their kids." The words came out flat. Like I was reading from a script.

After a couple of hours, the sound of car tires crunching over the driveway gravel jolted me upright.
I ran a shaky hand through my tangled hair and stood, forcing myself to breathe.
My heart thundered in my chest like I'd just sprinted ten kilometers just by coming down the stairs.
I fixed my posture. Smoothed my dress and  pinched my cheeks.

Pretend.
I had to pretend.

The front door creaked open before I could reach it.
Max stepped in first, sunglasses on, jaw clenched tight, his presence like a stormcloud pressing against the walls.

Behind him came his mother, Sophie, her soft smile fading the second she noticed the tension in the air. Victoria followed with a polite greeting and a child on each arm, her husband behind with another child.
I smiled at them, giving hugs and offering drinks, like my heart wasn't splintering inside my ribcage. Like Max hadn't just ripped through my soul.
And of course, he barely looked at me.

No words. No warmth. Not even anger.
Just... distance.

Max went upstairs to show their rooms while I remained in the kitched to set up some appetizers.

Sunlight poured golden over the terrace as we sat outside. Diana and Alex were back from the beach and joined in quickly, filling in the silences with casual small talk and funny stories.
Victoria laughed easily. The kids splashed in the pool with their dad. Sophie helped with the snacks.
Max? Max poured himself a whiskey and leaned against the railing with sunglasses still on, even as the sun dipped lower in the sky.
I could feel his eyes burning through me.
Even if I never saw them.

"...remember Max's birthday party in Monaco?" Vic chuckled, sipping her drink. "The one where Max lost his voice for two days after screaming in the club?"
Everyone laughed. Even Sophie smiled and shook her head.

But Max?

"Oh, I remember" he said, his voice low, amused, bitter. "That was around the time I learned how good people are at pretending."
His words stabbed the air like glass breaking.
A silence fell across the group. Diana looked between us, her expression tightening.
I cleared my throat, forcing a soft smile. "Some cold drinks, anyone?"
"I'll help" Diana offered quickly, but Max stood up instead.
"No need" he said "I'll help my darling girl!" and walked inside with me.

While I went to the fridge,  Max opened the cabinets to grab some new glasses.
"I wanted to see how well you perform when you know everyone's watching. Turns out, you're Oscar-worthy."
I dropped the bottle of wine hard onto the table that it thudded against the wood "Enough!" I spat out.
"Just stop it already! If you really want to listen my part of story, fine! We'll talk! But if you continue with this masquerade and to be a child with your ongoing remarks...I won't be here for too long to watch you"

Max laughed harshly and came in front of me.
Towering over me, eyes wild, mouth twisted into a bitter grin. "Is that a thread? Why you want to leave? Is Charles waiting for you?" His voice low and dangerous. "So that's it? Once in a while we come with an expiration date? You just jump from our beds when it gets real and we need more than just your charm"

I slapped him.
The silence that followed was deafening.
Max didn't flinch. He just stared at me. His chest rising and falling.
Eyes wild with something dark and feral.
I opened my mouth to speak, but he surged forward.

The kiss was brutal.

There was no hesitation, no sweetness, no control. His mouth crashed onto mine, and it wasn't a question.
It was a punishment. A possession. A scream muffled between lips and teeth and fury.

I pushed at his chest. He pulled me closer.

"Max! Stop!" I pushed him back again and walked away from his presence and toward our room.
He followed me and closed the door behind with the key.
"Can we talk please? Let me explain everything."
I said softly.
"No!" Max replied quickly with a smirk. "I don't want to talk right now." His hands grabbed my face and kissed me intensely.
I gasped, but he didn't stop.

"Is this what you wanted?" he growled against my mouth, dragging his hands down my sides. "To break me?"
"No" I breathed, voice trembling.
His mouth moved to my jaw, then my throat. Rough, urgent, biting.

"Then why did you keep things from me?" His fingers curled into the fabric of my dress and ripped it open, buttons flying. Breasts exposed causing my body to shiver a little."Why did you let him near you again?"
He said as he was playing with both of my nipples.
I moaned, the sound caught somewhere between pain and pleasure. My hands found the hem of his t-shirt and yanked it over his head. I needed skin. I needed contact. I needed him to feel what this was.

"What do you want from me?" I gasped as his teeth grazed my hard nipples and his hands were squeezing my breast to the point of aching.
He lifted his head. His eyes burned into mine. "Everything."

And then he kissed me again, deeper this time. Still angry. Still bruising. But behind it, there was that same ache I'd felt the first time he touched me. The love that never left. The fire that never died.
His hands slid under my thighs and lifted me. I wrapped my legs around his waist, my half-torn dress slipping off my body as he carried me.
He slammed me against the wall, his mouth never leaving mine. He was breathing through his nose, growling into me, like he couldn't stop even if he tried.
I clawed at the waistband of his jeans. There was no grace, no patience. Clothes fell to the floor like debris in a race.
"I fucking hate how much I still want you" he muttered against my skin.

I grabbed his face, forcing him to meet my eyes. "There is no one, absolutely no one beside you! I belong to you! Only you, Max Verstappen!"

Hearing me, Max grabbed my hips and slammed into me with a force that stole my breath. I cried out, but he covered my mouth with his, swallowing every sound.
His thrusts were hard, erratic, furious, but every movement screamed mine.
His hand tangled in my hair, pulling my head back so he could kiss my throat, my shoulder, my chest. My legs tightened around him, fingernails digging into his back.

"Tell me he never fucked you like this" Max whispered, voice ragged and broken.
"He didn't." I cried. "He couldn't."

His mouth found mine again, and for a moment, there was nothing but skin and heat and pain and love and desperation.

We shattered together.

Chapter Text

I slid down the wall, breath heavy, legs trembling, hair damp with sweat.
Max stood a few feet away, still breathing like he'd run a marathon, chest flushed, jaw tight.
His hands were in his hair, his body tense like he was fighting off everything that just happen.
The silence was oppressive now. Louder than our moans. Louder than the fight.

Max turned to face me.
And this time, there was no fire in his eyes. Only exhaustion. Regret. And something that looked a lot like heartbreak.
"Max, please, let's talk. I don't want to leave things in the air" I said softly.
"Later" he brushed me off, not meeting my eyes. "Right now, my mom and Vic are down at the pool probably waiting for us."

He extended his hand toward mine. I hesitated for half a second before taking it. Without another word, we walked down to the terrace.
All heads turned as we stepped outside. I could see it in their faces, the assumptions, the quiet smiles. It didn't take a genius to figure out what they thought we'd been doing just before.
But Max? He wasn't distant anymore. Not cold, not sarcastic.

He was... himself. Or at least, some version of the Max I knew. He held me close, kissed me from time to time, his arm casually around my waist like nothing had happened.
Like everything was fine.
To anyone watching, we looked normal. Maybe even perfect.
But I knew this wasn't a fix. It was a bandage over a deep, open wound.
We still hadn't talked, and I needed to. I needed to tell him everything. About Charles. About what he did to me.

As the evening carried on, I helped Victoria get the kids out of the pool, wrapping them in towels and drying their soaked hair. Max, Alex, and Tom, Victoria's husband, sat at the table, deep in conversation about racing, the sound of their laughter and glasses clinking mixing with the hum of the night.
Diana and Sophie were cleaning the kitchen, gathering plates and packing away leftovers, chatting about something I couldn't focus on.

Then, as Victoria and I carried the kids inside, she glanced sideways at me and said, "Hey Irina... don't take this the wrong way, but..” She looked again if someone could hear her “I've been pregnant twice. My maternal radar is kind of freakishly strong."
I smiled faintly, amused but not sure where this was going and not sure what I should say.
She paused at the door, lowering her voice. "And I'm getting some serious pregnancy vibes from you."

My steps faltered.
The air felt thicker somehow.
I blinked, trying to force a laugh. "What?"
Victoria tilted her head. "You don't have to answer. Just... the way your breasts look like. The color in your cheeks. You look radiant but tired.”
I laughed it off, but it came out brittle. "I'm not. I mean, I don't think I am. We just-“

I stopped myself.
We just what? Screamed at each other? Tore each other apart? Had sex like we hated each other and loved each other all at once?
And besides, I still have some fertility issues that I didn’t even discuss with Max.
Victoria gave me a long, knowing look but said nothing more. She gave me a kiss on the cheek and stepped inside.

I stood frozen in the hallway, my heart racing.
Was I?

I hadn't even considered it. Not once. Everything that happened in the last months had been chaos and fire and unresolved pain. Max’s accident, my dad’s health problem…
God.
My life wasn’t boring at all.
Drinking, pills, cigarettes.
I blamed those ugly habits of mine and those events for the absence of my menstrual cycle.
It is not uncommon to have these kind of issues when everything around you is a complet disaster.
But in the light of this new information and looking back, Max and I didn’t use any kind of protection since…London, I think.

But now...
The thought lodged itself in my brain like a thorn.
Was this the real reason I'd felt sick those times?
The reason I was so tangled in my emotions lately?
I pressed a palm to my lower stomach, suddenly aware of everything.
Every twinge, every shift in my body.

"Irina?" Max's voice cut through the fog. I turned and saw him standing barefoot near the hallway, holding two glasses of wine.
He looked at me differently now. Not angry. Not guarded. Like he didn't know where my mind had gone.
I forced a smile. "Coming."

After everyone disappeared into their respective rooms and the house settled into an eerie, fragile quiet, I knew there was no more stalling. No more pretending. No more silence.
Max and I entered our room without saying a word.
He took off his shirt, tossed it toward the armchair, and opened a window.
The air was heavy despite the evening breeze. I stood near the edge of the bed, heart pounding in my chest like a drumbeat counting down the moment I dreaded yet needed to face.
He turned to me. His eyes were unreadable, calm on the surface, but I knew the storm was still beneath. He hadn't forgotten. Neither had I.

I took a breath that scraped against my ribs.
"Max" I said gently, "let's sit down. We really need to talk."
His gaze lingered on me for a moment before he nodded, wordless. He sat on the edge of the bed, elbows on his knees, waiting.
I stayed standing. I needed the ground under my feet to stay upright through this.

"I hate that I kept it from you. I hate that it took all this... chaos to force it out of me. But you deserve the truth. All of it."
He didn't say anything. He just looked at me, jaw tense, eyes shadowed.
"After Charles ended things because he knew I was still in love with you... I thought he will be fine, but, he didn’t take it well."
I saw the flicker in Max's eyes.
“Stupid of me to think that, since…” I paused preparing to say it out loud. Still thinking it was probably just a mistake. “In Barcelona, after a fight, he…hit me.” I lowered my head unable to meet his eyes.
“HE FUCKING DID WHAT??” Max stood up instantly and shouted so loud it echoed throughout the entire room.
I could’ve sweared I can see actual flames coming from his nostrils.
He was now walking like a lion trapped in cage. “I don’t know…it was just a mistake, it wasn’t on purpose” I said, in an attempt to stop the tsunami with a tiny cocktail umbrella.

“There is no such thing!!” He came in front of me pointed with his index finger, as if lecturing me.
“I’m going to fucking kill him!” He hiss through gritted teeth. “Max, please. Sit down and let me tell you everything”
Max listened and I was shocked. Not knowing how the fuck I managed to make him sit with just one simple request.

"He started texting me” I continued. "At first, it was just passive-aggressive messages. Then they turned cruel. Accusations. Insults. And then... the apologies. The 'I miss you's. The 'I still love you's."
I paused, rubbing my hands together to fight the cold in my palms despite the heat.
"I didn't reply to most of them. He'd switch from hating me to begging me to see him again. It was exhausting. I didn't want to bring drama into our lives. I just wanted him to disappear."
Max remained still, but I saw the flick of his fingers. Tension. He was fighting with himself.

"And then..." I swallowed hard. "The day of the race in France..."
He looked up sharply. My stomach twisted.
"That day, I was walking towards the FIA meeting. I wasn't feeling well, remember? I was sick.” Without realizing my hand went straight around my abdomen. “but on my way there... Charles found me and pulled me aside, said he needed to talk. Before I could walk away, he blocked my path and started saying things. How much he missed me. How he hates seeing me around the paddock. I tried to move, but he—" My voice cracked. "He touched me, Max."

Max's fists clenched at his sides. "Touched you how?"

"He grabbed my waist. Pulled me close. Put his hands on me like he had some right to." My eyes burned. "After it was the kiss… and I was weak, physically. I couldn't fight him off the way I should have. I pushed him, told him to stop, but he didn't."
Max's breath caught, and I saw something fracture in his eyes.
"That’s when Lando showed up." he added.

"Charles told me that if I said anything... he'd make sure no one believed me. He'd tell people I wanted it. That I kissed him. That I initiated it. And Lando being your friend you will believe him, instead of me."
Tears spilled over my cheeks.
"I was scared, Max. I didn't want a scandal. I didn't want to drag you into more mess, especially after the tension between you and him in the media pen. I thought... if I just stayed quiet, if I avoided him, it would go away."

I took a step toward him, heart in pieces.

"I was wrong. And I should've told you sooner. I was just trying to protect what we have. I swear to you, on everything, there is nothing between Charles and me. Every single day I thought of you when I was with him…”
Silence fell, thick and unbearable.
Max's breathing was ragged. He turned away for a moment, hands gripping the edge of the dresser like he needed something to keep him grounded.
"Why didn't you tell me?" he asked, voice low and hoarse.
"Because I didn't want to hurt you. I didn't want you to think less of me. I didn't want this to become bigger than it already was."

"You should've told me" he said again, even louder now. "You should've told me the second it happened."punching the dresser cracking the door. I flinched.
"I know. And I'm sorry. I was wrong."
He looked at me, and his face.. oh God, his face, was a storm of anguish and fury and heartbreak all rolled into one.

"I would've burned him to the fucking ground" he said. "I would've protected you."
I nodded, tears still streaming. "I…I wasn't thinking straight. I just... panicked."
Max walked across the room, his chest rose and fell like he'd just come off a track.

"I thought you were hiding something because you still wanted him" he said. "That's why I spiraled. That's why I said the things I did."

"I know." I whispered

"I was so damn jealous. Angry. Seeing those texts, not knowing what they meant, not understanding—"
His hand lifted, gently cupping my face, thumb brushing away a tear.
"I'm not mad that you were scared. I'm mad that you thought you had to go through it alone."
A sob slipped out as I leaned into his touch.
"I don't want to go through anything without you ever again" I whispered.

He nodded, forehead resting against mine.

"I'm gonna fix this" he said. "We are going to fix this. But I swear to God, if I ever see him near you again—"
"You won't." I said, firm. "Irina, I don’t give a fuck about media, gossip, scandal. I’ll rip his hands in front of all cameras”
Call me crazy, but I believed him.
Max took a deep breath, his lips brushing my forehead. We stayed like that, holding each other in the quiet, as the storm between us began finally to break.

Chapter Text

The air was finally still.
Max hadn't said much after I finished speaking, only that we'd fix this, that we'd face it together now that the truth was out. And that was enough for now. The storm had calmed, even if the damage still lingered in the air like the remnants of a summer thunderclap.

We slipped beneath the sheets in silence, his arms wrapped securely around me. His body was warm, grounding. One of his hands rested protectively against my waist, pulling me into his chest. His breath was steady now, lips pressed into my hair as if he was afraid to let go.
His arms are my favorite place in the world.
I wouldn't trade it for anything.
It was quiet. Just us and the soft waves outside the windows.

"You're not alone anymore" he whispered sleepily. "Okay?"
I nodded against his chest. "Okay."
"We've been through so much..." he sighed, his grip tightened just slightly, and I knew he was already drifting off. I listened to the rhythmic beat of his heart, the steadiness of it calming the storm still lingering in my own.

One problem solved.

But I couldn't close my eyes just yet.
Because the other one. The one I hadn't even dared to fully face, was still looming over me like a shadow.

Pregnancy.

I stared at the ceiling long after Max had fallen into a deep sleep, his breathing even and peaceful beside me. My mind refused to rest. Instead, it looped the conversation I'd had earlier that day with Victoria like a broken record.

"I sense some pregnancy vibes..."
Her words rang louder now, echoing in the quiet room. But somehow, my eyelids grew heavy and my mind shut off.

Early in the morning, I slipped out of bed as gently as I could, careful not to wake Max, and padded quietly down the hallway to the guest room where Diana was staying.
I knocked softly, biting my lip.
A second later, the door creaked open, and Diana blinked at me in the dim light. "Hei sweety. Are you okay?"
I shook my head, eyes wide, heart pounding. "Can we talk?"
She didn't hesitate. "Of course." She stteped outside the room and we went downstairs in the living room.

I sat down on the sofa, wrapped my arms around my legs, and stared at the floor for a moment.
"Did you and Max talk?" she asked gently.
I nodded. "We did. I told him everything... about Charles. The texts. What happened in France."
She exhaled in relief. "God. I'm glad. I was so worried about you both."
I gave a soft, tired smile. "We're okay now. I think. He held me all night. I think... I think we'll be okay."

Diana reached out and took my hand, giving it a comforting squeeze. "You're stronger than you know."
"I don't feel strong" I admitted. "I feel scared."
She tilted her head. "Of what?"
I hesitated. "There's something pressing on my mind..."
Diana stayed quiet, letting me find my words.
I bit my lip, then pulled out my phone. "Victoria made a comment earlier—about pregnancy. At first, I laughed it off, but then I started thinking... and I checked something."
I opened my period tracker app and turned the screen toward her.

"My last period was at the beginning of June."
Diana's brows furrowed. "That's... over two months ago."
"Exactly" I whispered, heart thudding painfully. "I didn't notice. Everything's been so chaotic. Between traveling, the races, the drama with Charles, then Max...his car crash, my father's intervetion"
Her eyes widened slowly. "Irina..."
I looked at her, panic rising in my throat. "What if I'm pregnant?"
Diana blinked. "But sweety, that's wonderful. You should be happy. Have you had any symptoms?"

"I thought I was just tired. Stressed. I've had some nausea, but I blamed it on food or nerves." I shook my head. "But now I'm not so sure. And I'm...scared?!"
Diana reached over, squeezing my arm. "Okay. Okay, first of all, don't panic. We'll figure this out. You can take a test. I'll run to a pharmacy to buy one."

"But..." I said staring at the app who was mocking me "the problem is...If I really am pregnant... I don't know who's the father."
My stomach dropped saying it out loud.
My mind running all the possibilities, trying to remove the one where Charles was part of. But I couldn't...
Diana's breath caught, her eyes widened. "You mean... it could be Charles?"
I nodded, tears building behind my eyes.
"Before we broke things off, back in Canada, we... we weren't exactly being careful. And neither with Max after. I don't know what the fuck was in my head. Probably thinking I could not have babies, knowing my...problems. How hard it was for me and Aron to concieve... "
Silence fell, thick and stunned.

Diana looked at me with wide eyes, her voice soft when she finally spoke again. "Irina, have you told Max?"
"No. Not yet. I can't... What would I even say? 'Hey, we just fixed everything between us, but by the way, I might be pregnant. But there's a posibility that the baby is not yours.' "

Diana exhaled slowly. "No, I get it. That's... a lot."
I wiped a tear from my cheek. "If it's Max's, I'll be okay. We'll figure it out. But if it's Charles's..."
Jesus...can I have a fucking break in my life?
I don't even what to imagine this scenario.
"Do you think he'd want to be involved?" She asked quietly.

"Who? Charles?" I said immediately and she nodded "I really don't know. He is changed and not in a good way, anyway. He'd use it against me. Against Max..."
Diana's face darkened. "He is vile."
I nodded, shivering despite the warmth in the house.
She reached out and pulled me into a hug, holding me tightly. "You're not alone in this, okay? No matter what happens, I'm here. We'll figure it out together. Stay here, keep it to yourself, while I'll go to buy a test."
I clung to her, my throat tight. "Thank you."

"We'll deal with one truth at a time" she whispered. "But you're strong enough to handle them all."

Glad to know that my best friend sees me that way, because I sure in hell didn't feel strong.
In the slight moment I start to believe my life is back on the right track, boom, I find myself at another cross path with big potholes and dark abyss on each side.
While Diana went to the pharmacy I kept my mind busy around the quiet house.
Luckily no one had woken up yet and I could spiralling and steamying in my own juice.
The part if I was really pregnant was the easy one, but how in the fuck I will tell Max…

Chapter Text

Diana came back from the village pharmacy with a paper bag clutched tightly in her hands, her mouth pressed into a thin line. Her expression was unreadable, serious, but calm. The opposite of what I felt.
I was pacing from the main door toward the terrace door when she came in.
"I got the one with early detection" she said softly, holding the bag out to me.

I stared at it like it was a live wire.
"Thank you" I murmured, my voice thinner than I wanted. My hands trembled as I took it.

We got into the bathroom together, Diana leaned at the edge of the countertop, watching me with gentle eyes. "You don't have to be afraid, Irina. Whatever the result is, it doesn't define you. It's just information. One step."
I nodded, too full of nerves to speak. My heart was galloping in my chest.
My fingers fumbled as I opened the box, read the instructions twice, just to be sure I wouldn't mess it up. It was like my brain erased the fact I did plenty of those a couple of years ago.
And finally, I did it.

Afterward, I stood in the bathroom, staring at the sink, the countertop, anything but the small plastic stick resting on the towel near the sink.
I couldn't look.
I physically couldn't bring myself to glance at it.
"I... I can't. Can you...?" I muttered as I looked to Diana for help.
She didn't even hesitate and picked up the test.
The quiet stretched. Too long. Too heavy.
As soon as she looked, her eyes widened and a soft smile apperead at the corner of her mouth.
And then Diana whispered, "Irina..."
I froze. My knees buckled slightly, and I sank onto the closed toilet seat, clutching my arms around my torso.

"Positive?" I asked, already knowing the answer.

"Yes" she said gently. "Very positive!"
The world spun.
A rush of blood thundered in my ears. My lungs forgot how to work for a moment. My eyes stayed dry, but only because I'd already cried everything I had the other nights.
"I'm pregnant" I whispered, almost to myself. "I'm actually pregnant."
Diana sat down on the floor in front of me, placing a hand on my knee. "Hey. You're going to be okay."
I shook my head. "Will I? Cause I’m freaking out right now and I’m a desperate need of something strong…." I was starting to hyperventilate.
“Sweety, breathe please!” Diana was inhaling and exhaling, encouraging me to do as her.
After I did the exercise, my breath settled to a normal rhytm,
" But why? " she asked gently, already knowing the answer. “Irina, this is such an incredible news!”

"Because I don't know who the father is, Diana," I choked. "It could be Max. But it could also be Charles.”
Saying his name out loud made my stomach turn. It was like poison in my mouth.
"And... I haven't been careful with myself either" I continued, my voice trembling. "I drank a lot,I smoked as if I wasn’t aware about lung cancer. I took those damned pills. I was falling apart. I didn't even think…I didn't even know I could be pregnant."
Diana reached out, holding my hands tightly. "Listen to me. A lot of women do things in the early stages before they realize. Don't blame yourself."
I am a fucking doctor, I should know best than other woman.

"But what if I hurt the baby? What if it's already too late? And what if—" My voice cracked. "What if Max finds out, and it's not his?" So many ideas and so many mixed feelings about this new situation. I was feeling a little panic attack settling in. Taking a toll on me.
"Then he'll still love you," Diana said softly. "And you'll deal with it. But you don't need to make that decision today. Just one thing at a time."
I buried my face in my hands, trying to breathe. "I can't tell him. Not here. Not now. His mom's here, and Victoria and the kids... Everything's finally calm again. I can't drop this bomb. Not until I'm sure. Not until we're back in Monaco."

Diana nodded. "Okay. You don't have to tell him now. But you should definetly see a doctor when you get back. Make sure everything's okay with you and the baby."
"I will" I whispered. "I just need time. I need... a little more time."
She squeezed my hands again. "You've got me. You're not alone in this."
I nodded, eyes glassy. "Thank you. I don't know what I'd do without you."
She smiled softly. "Cry in the shower and Google symptoms all night like the rest of us."
I laughed, dry, broken, but real.
I stood up shakily, washing my face in cold water, trying to steel myself.

When we walked out of the bathroom, Max was already in the kitchen helping Victoria with the kids, preparing breakfast for all of us.
His face lit up when he saw me enter the room. His warm smile melting my fucking soul.
“Good morning” I said to all of then and went to kiss Max “you were up early today.” Max said, tone of voice casually.
I guess he didn’t actually know the moment I slipped out of our bed. “I couldn’t sleep anymore and didn’t want to wake you up.” I said while putting a mug under the coffee machine.
Victoria looked at me and smiled.

And now, I have another secret.
A terrifying, growing secret.
But one thing was clear as the sunlight filtering through the curtains, I couldn't lie to Max for long. Not again.
We just overcome a big issue and things were fine between us. This new information can do either way, and I’m not ready to be on a verge to loose him.
He has to know, obviously.
Just not yet.
Not until I knew how to say the words.

Chapter Text

*****MAX*****

A week passed in Ibiza, and if anyone had walked in on us, they never would've guessed what storm had nearly torn us apart just days before.

I was smiling again. And Irina seemed happy again.
She was laughing with my mother at breakfast, sunbathing with Victoria while keeping an eye on the kids, helping Diana with dinner. She was calm, gracious, warm and everything I loved about her poured out in quiet ways that made people gravitate toward her without even realizing it.
And yet...
There were moments when I'd glance at her from across the pool and she was deep lost in her thoughts. Or find her standing silently by the window before we went to bed, and I'd see that flicker of something in her eyes. A shadow. A weight. Something she wasn't saying.
She insisted everything was fine.

We'd talked a lot. About us, about our future.
We made plans for us. I was thrilled that she was going to stay at my place.
And I believed her when she said she was done with Charles, that she never wanted anything to do with him again. That she had been afraid, ashamed, unsure how to speak about what had happened.

But I still woke up in cold sweat some nights, fists clenched, jaw tight, stomach burning with the raw, acidic anger that hadn't left me since she told me the truth.
Charles fucking Leclerc.

He laid his dirty hands on her. Pulled her into a dark corner of the paddock. Pressured her. Threatened her. Hurt her.
And I hadn't been there.
I couldn't forgive that. And I will not.
No matter what she says and begs.
I didn't care about the consequences anymore. About PR, sponsors, Red Bull, the FIA. Fuck the statements. Fuck the image they were trying to preserve.
This wasn't just about rivalry anymore. This was personal.
And if he even looked at her again, I was going to end him.

I clenched my hands at the thought, knuckles cracking. The rage was always there, just under the surface. I was keeping it buried, for her. For us. But it wouldn't take much to break out.
Irina didn't want more scandals.
So I kept my mouth shut. For now. But the season will soon restart.

Still, watching her laugh with my family made it easier to breathe.
My mom loved her. Victoria, despite her first reservations, said that Irina was ‘the best thing that ever happened’ to me. Saying things like she couldn’t wait for me and her to start a family.
Big words. Big steps. But I wouldn’t mind.
She is the woman I want in my life, forever.
The kids were constantly hanging on her like she was some sort of fairy-tale queen.
It almost felt normal.
Almost.

There was still one piece missing. One name we hadn't mentioned during the entire trip: my father.
I hadn't brought him up for a reason.
Because I knew what he'd say. What he'd already said, even before meeting her, just by hearing rumors and searching her past.
‘She's not right for you, Max. She's not part of this world. She's older, she's complicated. She’s just a little doctor, from nowhere. A distraction.’

Not a supermodel. Not a media darling. Not a sponsor's dream. Just a woman who happened to be a damn brilliant cardiologist, who saves lives for a living and somehow managed to save me too.
He didn't get it.

Neither did Christian or Helmut, who, despite hiding it behind polite smiles, had made their stance clear in enough veiled comments.

‘She's not exactly Red Bull material, is she?’
What the fuck is that suppose to mean?!
They could all go to hell for all I cared. I proved them wrong! More than once.
I was leading the driver’s championship.
And I didn't want or need some ‘Red Bull material’. I wanted her.
But still... I hadn't pushed for her to meet my father. Not yet.
I'd fight every battle, but some fights needed strategy. And timing.

We left Ibiza on sunday, jus before the start of the second half of the season.
Back to Monaco.
Back to reality.

Somehow, it felt strange, returning to our penthouse. Like the air was heavier. Maybe because our little bubble of paradise will soon break and will have to face the reality of the world around the races.
We didn't talk about the Charles situation again. It felt like a wound slowly stitching itself closed. No need to rip the threads just yet.
But I will have a men to men chat with him.

The Belgian Grand Prix was coming.

Spa, the track next to which I'd grown up. Where I fell in love with racing. Where my dad used to push me so hard I could barely breathe.
Now I'd be returning as a World Champion. Soon to be Two time World Champion. And yes, I am sure of that. I know myself, I know what I am capable of when being in my car.

Unfortunately for me, I wasn't spending much time in Monaco anymore. Between simulator work in Milton Keynes, team strategy meetings, and a new round of media obligations and marketing stuff. I was flying in and out daily. Conference calls. Heavy training.
I hated being away from her.
Every time I left, I felt it in my chest.
Like something was waiting to break while I was gone.

But when I came home, she was always there. On the balcony. In the kitchen. In our bed.
Waiting for me. Smiling. Holding me. Kissing me like nothing had changed.

Chapter Text

*** Irina ***

Max's penthouse was just as we left it. The cats were happy to see us and I enjoyed some moments with them because I missed them.
I stood in the middle of the open-plan living room, staring out at the marina from the floor-to-ceiling windows, the breeze from the balcony carrying in the hum of the city.
"This is your home too now." he wrapped his arms around and kissed me on the head.

He gave me his card as well to buy everything I wanted for the house, to give it a personal touch. But I didn't want to change anything. I liked it just the way it was. It smelled like him.
With Max flying back and forth between Milton Keynes and Monaco for simulator work, meetings, and prep for the next race, I had some space, and just enough courage, to schedule an appointment at a good OB-GYN.

The waiting room smelled of antiseptic and lavender. Too clean. Too calm. I sat with my hands on my knees, nails digging into my jeans.
When the doctor called my name, I stood and followed her, heart pounding.
The examination felt surreal, clinical yet deeply intimate. When the gel touched my stomach and the monitor lit up, I held my breath.

And then I heard it.
The heartbeat.
Strong. Steady. Undeniably alive.

Tears welled up instantly.

"You're 12 weeks along" the doctor said gently, smiling as she printed out the first image. "Everything looks good so far. I'll prescribe you prenatal supplements. You'll need to avoid alcohol, smoking, and certain medications moving forward."
Of course I didn't and wouldn't lay hands on those things anymore.

Twelve weeks.
My stomach clenched.

But that meant... just what I was afraid of.
I hoped the pregnancy wasn't that far along...but 12 weeks meant exactly the Canadian Grand Prix. And right a week after, Max and I found our way back to each other in London.
Back when I was self-medicating, drinking, smoking like the pain would just dissolve.
Guilt came like a slap across the face.

I nodded at everything the doctor said, but I was floating somewhere else. Somewhere dark and terrifying.
When the appointment ended, I walked out with the image of the baby in my bag, the supplements in my purse, and a full-blown panic simmering inside.
How in the world can I know for sure who is the father without involving Max or Charles. Or to start a revolution.

I paced the hallway for what felt like hours before I finally picked up my phone and called Diana.
She answered immediately.
"Hey, you. How did it go?"

I sat on the floor, leaning against the cool glass of the balcony doors. My voice was hoarse. "Twelve weeks, Diana. I'm twelve weeks pregnant."
There was silence. Then: "Wow. Okay. Deep breath."
"I heard the heartbeat" I whispered. "It was the most beautiful and terrifying sound I've ever heard. But Diana...this is horrible. It can still be Charles' baby"
She was quiet for a moment."You are 100% certain you had unprotected sex with Charles in Canada?"
I laughed. "Yes. Of course. I wasn't drunk. And then everything with Max happened right after. There's no way of knowing without a paternity test."
And for that I will need to tell them the truth...

"And how are you feeling... physically?"

"Fine, I think? I'm not nauseous, just a bit of fatigue, but manageable. The doctor gave me supplements. But that's not the point now. What the fuck will I do?"
"Listen to me" Diana said, firm but kind. "You're going to be a mother. That baby is real. It has a heartbeat. Whether it's Max's or not, that child is yours. You get to choose how to move forward. Max will be by your side no matter what. I'm sure."
Well, I wasn't.
In that worst case scenario I don't think he will want to raise Charles' baby. The living, breathing memory of me and Charles together, running around his house.
I shook my head to get rid off that image.
And I pressed my hand to my abdomen.

"I'm terrified, Di. I don't want to loose Max. What if it's not his? What if he hates me?"
Diana exhaled slowly. "You will tell him. But not today. Right now, you need to breathe, eat something, and rest. Then you start preparing for the hardest conversation of your life."

—————

It was time for a reality check. Thursday was here.
Media day. First day back at the race track and the summer break.
I made the decision to wait after at least this race to talk with Max about the baby. Sophie and Victoria will also attend this race. Furthermore, we'll stay at Sophie's house all these days, so it wasn't the right time to break that kind of news.
Also, taking him by surprise, I told him I didn't want to hide our relationship anymore.
Maybe because I wanted to make it clear he is the only one in my life.

As we walked into the paddock, Max reached out his hand and grabbed mine. Everyone was starring at us, which made me feel very uncomfortable, but this is going to be my life from now on. I should get used to this kind of attention.
Cameras, flashes, people with microphones circling around us as we were trying to make our way through.

Max pulled me even closer to him.
"Max. Max. Is she your girlfriend?"  fans and reporters were asking him from all around the place.
"Nah. Just a random stranger I decided to cling to in public." he replied with a huge grin and kissed me in front of them.
Oh God.
A part of me was smiling, but the other part was scared about the wave of spotlight that will come upon me.

He went into Redbull hospitality, while I retreated into the medical center, still with some people around my tail.
I exhaled in relief when I closed the door behind me.
This madness will end soon. People will get used with me and they'll move into another fresh gossip.
I told myself. Hoping...

We didn't see each other for the rest of the day. Max texted me his team scheduled him a lot of marketing materials and told me I shouldn't wait and to go at his mother's house.

Sophie house smelled like tomato soup and fresh bread when I stepped inside.
Of course she made her son’s favorite food.
It felt like the kind of home that held generations of laughter and secrets, and Sophie matched the aura entirely.

"Long coffee with honey and milk?” She asked when I entered the kitchen. “ Max told me that’s how you prefer it” she said with a soft, warm smile and gaze.
I gave her a small smile back. "He talks a lot, doesn't he?"
She chuckled as she poured the coffee. "Only when he cares."
The kitchen was bright and open, windows letting in the golden afternoon light, and she moved around it with the ease of someone who had lived in this space for decades.

Sophie took out an old family album "He always had this face" she said pointing to a photo with a young, inocent Max. "Even when he was a little boy. That same brooding stare like the weight of the world was on his shoulders."
I sipped from my mug, amused. "He still has that face."
"He was five when he stormed out of the karting track because another boy cut him off. Max climbed into my car, buckled himself in, and said, 'I'll win next time. And I'll win better.' Didn't speak for the rest of the day. Not out of sadness, out of strategy." She smiled to herself. "He's always been like that. Quiet. Intense. But when he loves someone, he loves them hard. There's no halfway with him."

I looked down at my abdomen. "That... sounds familiar."
Sophie tilted her head. "He's calmer with you. You ground him. That's not easy to do." placing her hand on mine.
I don’t know what to say about that, because I myself was the reason for some of his anger bursts, lately.
Before I could reply, my phone buzzed on the table. I picked it up absentmindedly, expecting a message from Diana or Max.

Alex.
“Max barged into the Ferrari garage. Huge fight with Charles. It's bad, Irina. Really bad.”

My breath hitched.

"What is it?" Sophie asked, her voice sharp and maternal.
But I couldn't answer. Because at that very moment, the unmistakable roar of Max's Aston Martin echoed in the driveway. I stood, frozen, as the sound cut off and the front door opened with a violent slam.
Sophie stood too, calm but alert.

Max stepped into the kitchen, his jaw clenched, eyes dark and stormy. His shirt was wrinkled.
He looked at me, something wild in his gaze.

Chapter Text

***Max***

I wasn't even sure how I got to the Ferrari garage. One moment I was reviewing marketing briefs at the Red Bull motorhome, nodding and pretending to care about lighting angles and camera cues , the next I was striding down the paddock with a purpose I hadn't fully allowed myself to name I didn't run. That would've made it look urgent. Desperate. I had time. Enough time to calculate, to cool my anger into something that didn’t not involve beating his ass off..
But the moment I stepped into Ferrari's space and locked eyes with him, I knew I’ll loose my shit.

Charles was standing at a workbench, laughing with one of the engineers like nothing ever happened. Like he didn't get away with violating someone I love. Like Irina didn't cry in my arms, trembling with shame and fear after finally telling me what he'd done.
He noticed me too late. And suddenly his smile faltered.
I walked right up to him, ignoring the confused glances from the mechanics. "We need to talk."

He turned, folding his arms, already cocky. "If this is about Irina, you're wasting your breath."
I kept my voice low. Calm. "It's exactly about her. I'm only going to say this once. You leave her alone. No more messages. No more showing up around her. No more threats."
Charles tilted his head. "You think she told you everything? Don't be so sure."

"I know enough" I replied. "More than enough. You've crossed a line, and if I hear that you've contacted her again, I'll make sure it's the last time."

He laughed, actually laughed and my calmness was fading little by little. "Come on, Max. You think she's yours? Until when? Until you fuck up things, again, and you end up in your ex's bed?"
I felt the fury flash behind my eyes, but I held it back. Well, if anybody ever tells me again I’m reckless, I give this scene as an exemple.
"She was never yours" I said, the words sharp but steady. "You were just a distraction until she found her way back to me.”
Charles smirked. "Funny. She didn't sound distracted when she was fucking me. Over and over. You know how needy she is…” God, you are testing me. “Maybe I should give you a few tips, she seemed very satisfied with me." he continued and the darkness has removed any trace of the light and good will from my side.

My hands were around his shirt before my brain could stop them. I shoved him against the wall, hard enough that the tools on the bench rattled. A few heads snapped up around the garage.
"Don't" I growled, my voice vibrating with rage, "ever say her name. Don’t think about her, don’t come near to her!”
He tried to push me off, but I was faster. Stronger. My body was a hair's breadth from snapping. "You're done. She's mine. And you're not just a loser on track, Leclerc “
He spat to the side, his face red. "She still thinks about me and I will fight."

"She doesn't" I snarled. "But even if she did, I'd still be the better man. You don't know how to lose, Charles. That's your fucking problem. Whether it's racing or relationships, you think you're owed something. But some people are just better."
I pushed off him and took a step back, still shaking.

That's when Alex stepped in, thank God. "Max! What the hell are you doing?“
He got between us, hand on my chest. I let him.
"Get him out of here" one of the engineers snapped. "Now!"
”come on Max, let’s go” Alex said,guiding me back toward the entrance. I didn't resist. But as I turned, I looked back one last time.
Charles wasn't laughing anymore.

⸻

The steering wheel felt like a vice under my hands as I pulled into my mother's driveway. The tires crunched against the gravel with a sound that might as well have been gunfire in my head. I could still feel Charles' shirt in my fists. Still hear his smug voice.
I killed the engine and sat there for a beat, knuckles white, breath uneven. I was supposed to come here and smile. Pretend. Act like I hadn't nearly lost control in front of half the Ferrari team.

I stepped out into the late afternoon sun, trying to breathe normally. No one needed to see the chaos still burning in my chest.
Entering the house, my mother’ brows lifted in that silent, maternal way that said, What the hell did you do now?
Next to her, Irina. Her face looked pale. Tense. Phone still in hand. She knew.
"Sorry I'm late." I said casually.
Irina didn't respond. Just looked at me like she wanted to slap me or to hug me. I don’t know.
But she waited until my mom stepped into the kitchen before speaking. "You went to see him??” she asked angrily.

I looked toward the kitched door to make sure my mom wasn’t hearing "Yeah." I replied.
Irina’s eyes filled with panic. "Max... please tell me you didn't—"
"I didn't punch him." My voice came out flat, tired. "But it was close." Her shoulders dropped as if part of her had expected worse. "Why would you do that?"
I couldn't help the scoff that escaped. "Why? Why? You told me what he did to you. What he said. And I was supposed to just sit there like it didn't matter?"
"Max, this will escalate very quickly, and—"
"I'm not sorry" I interrupted. "I'm not sorry I told him to back off. I'm not sorry I told him he's never coming near you again. And I'm definitely not sorry I reminded him that you're with me now."
She looked down, her fingers tightening around the phone. "This could be bad, Max. Media. Your team…"
"I don't give a damn about the media. Never had, never will." I snapped. "Let them write whatever they want. “

Irina was quiet for a moment, then walked toward me slowly. She placed her hands gently on my chest, right where my heart was still pounding like a war drum.
"I know you did it for me" she whispered. "But I wish you didn't have to."
"I had to” I said, softer now, my hands settling at her waist and leaned her forehead against mine.
A quiet moment passed. Her breath evened out against my jaw. And for the first time all day, my pulse started to slow.
"I'm sorry…" she said.” I’m sorry that I brought this mess into your life”.
I pulled her closer."No!" I muttered, pressing a kiss to her temple. "Don't say that. Not to me."

From the kitchen, my mom called out, "You two planning on saying hello properly, or should I open the wine without you?"
Irina gave me a half-laugh, eyes still shining with a mess of emotions. "We should go. She'll think we're hiding something."

I kissed her once more before pulling away.
She met my eyes. And I could see it, that she was still holding something back.
But for now, this was enough.

Chapter Text

I barely had time to shower after FP1 when the message came through:
‘Meeting on my office. ASAP.’

Christian.
I knew what it going to be about before I'll even step inside his office. The whispers. The looks around the paddock.
The tons of missed calls and messages I've got since yesterday.
The Ferrari crew practically watching me like hawks. And Charles?
Still walking around like he is a fucking saint.

I walked in Christian's office, towel still slung around my neck, and Alice, team's PR manager, was already perched on the edge of the table with a stack of papers in front of her.
Christian leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, expression unreadable, but I could tell he was trying to keep it civil. For now.
"Close the door, Max" Alice said.
I kicked it shut with the back of my heel.

Christian started first. "What the hell were you thinking?" Wow, no greatings, no asking if I want a bottle of water, a neck massage. Nothing.
"What, you want a list?" I asked, dropping into the chair opposite him. "Because it's long."
Alice ignored the sarcasm. "We've had over twelve phone calls this morning. From sponsors. Team partners. Media. Not to mention Ferrari's lawyers sent a formal complaint to the FIA."
I've had more, and I'm not complaining and not dragging anyone's ass into an useless meeting.
I scoffed. "About what? Me telling Charles to stop harassing my girlfriend?"

"Don't play stupid, Max," she snapped. "You started a fight in their garage. This is the second time media captures a fight between you and Leclerc. And it's escalating."
"And? What seems to be the problem?" I muttered, jaw clenched.
Christian leaned forward. "And you grabbed his shirt, shouted in front of half the team, and had to be pulled off by Alex. Come on, Max. This is not the behaviour of a champion."

I rolled my eyes, because of course it's all about the "image".
"He's harassed Irina. Touched her. Threatened her. Do you understand that? Or are we still pretending like a clean public image matters more than actual safety?"
Alice opened her mouth to respond, but Christian cut in, voice quieter. "We do understand. But you know how this world works. If Charles takes this to the FIA... they could suspend you from racing a few Grands Prix."
I stared at him. "So I'm supposed to shut up, smile for the cameras, and act like nothing happened?"
"We're asking you to protect your season" Alice said. "Just until this blows over."
"Maybe even consider not showing up in public with Irina for a while" Christian added cautiously. "Just so you're not feeding the fire and of course the scandal will be soon replaced by another. You know how everything rolls around here"

That did it.
I shot to my feet, voice rising. "Are you kidding me? Hide her? Like she's something to be ashamed of? No fucking way. She is a fucking doctor, she is better than most of us around here!"
Alice flinched. Christian tried to keep calm. "It's not about shame, Max. It's strategy."
"No. It's bullshit" I snapped. "Those sponsors should kiss my ass for what I've been delivering. For the money I'm making them. And Irina's ass too, because she is making everything better in my life. But no, they want a clean, silent robot they can parade around. Well, fuck that!"

I stormed out of the office, ignoring their voices behind me, and didn't stop walking.
I walked straight through the paddock toward the medical building, ignoring everyone who turned their heads.
The second I stepped inside, the familiar sterile scent hit me. How opposite are our worlds.
My "field" full of dirt, rubber, oil, gas.
"Oh, hello Max" Dr Peter greeted me interrupting my thoughts. "She's with a patient" he said quietly.
I shallowed hard the lumb from my throat. "I'll let her know you are here. Wait in my office" and I simply nodded, not being able to form a fucking sentence. Or even a word.

I sat at the edge of the consultation bed, trying to keep my leg from bouncing, heart still pounding from the argument. Every word Christian said played back in my head. But nothing hit harder than the thought of pretending and hiding her.
Yes, I like keeping my life private and I like that she is that kind of person too, but she is no longer a secret.

A few minutes later, the door opened, and Irina stepped out.
Even in her uniform, plain, practical, clinical, she still made my heart twist. Her hair was pulled back, her expression calm, focused. But the second she saw me, a flicker of concern crossed her face.
"Is everything okay?" she asked, gently closing the door behind her.
"No" I said quietly. "But I needed to see you."
I kissed her forehead and held her in my arms.

"I just came from a meeting with Christian and Alice" I started. "About... everything."
Her eyes softened a little, and she went at the desk across from me. "And?"
"They want me to stay low-profile. Stay away from more drama. Not be seen with you in public for a while."
Irina raised an eyebrow, but didn't say anything.
"They think it'll calm things down," I added bitterly. "Like you're part of the problem."
Her lips pressed into a tight line. "And what did you say?"

"I told them to shove it." I paused. "Told them you're the only one keeping me sane."
A long silence fell between us. Her eyes stayed locked on mine, unreadable.

"I'm sorry it's coming down on you too. " I said finally. "And that probably, because what I've done in the Ferrari garage I might get suspended for some races."
Irina's eyes went wide in shock. "It's not your fault. I'll fix everything" I added.

"I can handle the whispers, the looks on me" she replied softly. "But I can't handle the thought that your career can suffer consequences because-" she lowered her head. "Because of us." whispearing that last part.
I reached over and placed her hand on mine. "Irina, I'm happier than ever. Everything in my life is perfect, now! If they are blind and can't see it, the results on track are proof enough."
She smiled and nodded.

"I just don't like feeling like I have to choose between the two things I care about most" I muttered.
"You don't" she whispered. "You just have to learn how to carry them both. Carefully."
I smiled, squeezing her hand.
She leaned over and kissed my forehead. "Now go. FP2's starting soon."
"I'll be back" I said, standing up reluctantly.
"I know." she replied with a quick smile.

On saturday I set up the fastest lap to be on pole position, but unfortunately I’ll be starting the race from the back of the grid for exceeding engine component limits.
Some will think it made me upset, but no, on the contrary. I couldn’t wait to make my way through the entire grid, lap by lap.
That’s the beauty of racing.

Chapter Text

There's something about Spa. It's in my blood, crafted into my childhood like the smell of rain on the asphalt and the smell of used engine oil. Every kilometer of this circuit felt like home, and today, it all came together like a symphony in motion.
Because call me a fucking robot. A maniac.
Whatever.
P1.

Pole to win. Except I didn't even start on pole. That was Carlos. I started 14th. Fourteenth.
By the 12th lap I was leading the race. I climbed my way up like a possessed man. No one came close. No one had a chance. Everything clicked. I won this race to prove everyone how good I am and how nothing breaks me when it comes to racing.
The car. The strategy. The adrenaline surging through my veins.

And Irina. My Irina.
I made a custom to hum to myself that song she sang at the Miami GP a while ago. I should ask her to sing it more often to learn the lyrics better,  because apparently it brings me luck.

God, knowing she was here, seeing this amazing performance, proving my damn point, did something to me. Settled something that had been boiling into my team.
Watching her on the sidelines, in her doctor's coat, professional and focused but still sneaking glances my way... It grounded me.
She is everything good in my life.

The checkered flag dropped and I screamed into the radio. The garage went wild. Hugs, cheers, helmets smacking against helmets.
"You're an animal, mate!" GP laughed through the comms.

And maybe I was.
Yeah, I am.

When I finally pulled into parc fermé and got out of the car, the crowd erupted. The Dutch fans, the Belgians. Hell, everyone in orange was losing their minds.
And I did what felt natural.
After the podium celebrations and the post-race conference I knew what will come next. A proper celebration by the Redbull team into our garages.
So, I grabbed Irina's hand and pulled her with me.

The PR team's faces dropped the moment they saw her. Alice's eyes widened behind her clipboard like someone had just spilled wine on her spreadsheets. Christian tried to keep his composure, but I saw the flicker of disapproval. He'd warned me, after all. Told me to keep things low-profile after the Charles incident. Told me to lie low.

Screw that. Screw all of you.

I had nothing to hide. And I'd just won the race of a lifetime.
Irina looked like she wanted the ground to swallow her whole.
She stood stiffly beside me, smiling tightly as the team congratulated me, but I could feel her unease. The way her fingers gripped mine, too tightly. The way her eyes darted around, trying to avoid the judgmental stares. Trying not to be seen.

I bent down and kissed her cheek. "Stay. Just for a bit."
She leaned toward my ear, her voice quiet, almost pleading. "Max, this is your moment. Celebrate with them. I really don't feel like I belong here right now."

"You do!" I said, maybe a little too stubbornly.
Her eyes softened, but she still shook her head. "I'm gonna go. Your mom's waiting for us anyway. And I'm tired."
I didn't force her. I knew better.

I let her go, watching her disappear into the paddock as I was pulled into a dozen interviews, handshakes, flashes. But I wasn't fully there anymore. I hated seeing her walk away from me.

We stayed a few more days at my mom's place until the next race. Quiet mornings. Home-cooked meals. Walks through familiar streets and woods. My childhood bedroom from where I used to stay before the divorce, hadn't changed much, and watching Irina brush her hair at the old mirror, singing that song for me, wearing one of my hoodies, felt surreal.
Like a piece of a future I never thought I'd want.
But even in the stillness, the weight of Zandvoort loomed.

My home race.

And the shadow of Jos Verstappen.
And it didn't take long.

He was waiting in front of my driver's room when I came back from a sponsor event.
Arms crossed, eyes burning, the posture of a man who had something to say and didn't care how brutal it came out.

"You think this is smart?" Jos said. No greeting. No smile. Why he'd bother anyway.
I set down my phone. "Good to see you too, Dad." He shoved me into the room and closed the door behind him with a loud slam.

"Is this what's important now for you? Scandals, fighting over a little doctor from fucking nowhere?"
"She's not going anywhere" I said, jaw clenched. "So if that's what you're hoping…"
"I'm hoping you stop acting like a goddamn teenager. And start thinking with your brain and to not let your dick do the thinking!"

That was it.

I stepped forward, voice high. "You are not in control, dad!" Swallowing the word dad, but wanting to remove it from my vocabulary. "Not anymore!"
He laughed in my face. " I will always control you, boy! I'm the only one that knows your true self and I'm the one who created you. You are here because of me. Show some respect!" he snapped while my jaw was hurting like hell from how hard I was clenching it.

"You already caused enough damage" he continue. "Now the media's painting you like some rage monster. Again! You think Red Bull's happy? You think your sponsors are laughing?"
"I don't give a shit if they are. They don't live my life. They don't know how wonderful she is. But moreover, they didn't see her crying on the bathroom floor. They didn't watch her flinch every time she walked past the Ferrari garage. I did. Because maybe if they did, they would have understand the whole picture."
Jos shook his head. "She's dragging you down. And you need to focus on winning your second championship."

"No. She's the one thing keeping me from completely losing my mind" I growled. "She's the reason I didn't beat the shit out of Charles last week. So unless you've got something productive to say…"

"I want to meet her."

I blinked. "What?"

"I want to meet her” he repeated. "Properly. Not from headlines. Not from rumors. You think she's worth this much? Then show me. Your mother met her, your sister as well, so why haven't I?"
I didn't expect that.
"I will" I said. "Tomorrow night. Dinner. You, me, her. That work?"

He hesitated, then nodded once. "Fine. But if she can't handle me, she won't handle this world either."
I gave him a tight smile. "She can handle more than you think."

———

The restaurant was high end, candlelight flickering across white tablecloths, silverware so polished it almost blinded you.
The manager gave us a private table, away from pry eyes.
Irina looked absolutely stunning. a long black dress that clung to her waist just right, her hair up, small diamond earrings glinting under the soft light. She was nervous though, I could feel it in the way her fingers tapped quietly against her glass of water.
I asked of she wanted at least one glass of wine but she refused strongly. But what was even more bizzare, the fact she wasn't smoking anymore.

"You nervous?" I asked her, brushing her hand lightly with mine.
She smiled tightly. "No. Should I be?"
I kissed her forehead. "You have nothing to worry about."

When he finally showed up, my stomach twisted.
Jos, towering, no emotions showing around his face, arms crossed, with that permanent air of judgment he wore like a second skin. God, I hope I'll never be like him.
His eyes landed on Irina. Scanned her.
Cold. Calculating.
I could almost hear him drawing conclusions in his head.

"Dad" I said, forcing a smile. "This is Irina."
Irina extended her hand, polite and a bit nervous.
"Nice to meet you, Mr. Verstappen."
Jos shook her hand but his eyes didn't soften one bit.

He then started to speak about racing, the car, my performance from last races. Where should I improve. All his sentences in dutch, while mine where in english.

"Doctor, right?" he said stiffly and out of nowhere.

"Yes" she smiled "I'm specialized in cardiology but now working with the FIA medical team."
"Hmm" Jos replied, noncommittal, already disapproving. Is he fucking serious?
She is more educated than me and him all together.
The conversation stumbled through a few painful minutes.
Irina tried. She really did.
But Jos was a brick wall, cold smiles, sharp glances, judgmental at every word she said.

Finally, Irina excused herself and went to the bathroom.

The moment she was out of earshot, Jos turned to me, speaking low and sharp in Dutch.

"Wat doe je, Max? Wat zie je in haar?" (What are you doing, Max? What do you see in her?)

I clenched my jaw. "I love her"

He scoffed.

"Ze is niet goed genoeg voor jou." (She's not good enough for you.)

I felt my blood boil, but I kept it inside, barely.

"She's doing her best. She's been through a lot." I said.

Jos leaned closer, his voice like a blade.

"Kris was beter. Zij begreep wat het betekent om naast iemand als jij te staan." (Kris was better. She understood what it meant to stand next to someone like you.)

That hit hard.
So hard I had to look away for a second.

But then I thought about Irina.
About how she fought her demons.
How she never asked for fame or attention.
How she doesn't care about who I am.

I turned back to him.

"She's not Kris. She's not anyone else," I said quietly but firmly. "And she doesn't have to be."

Jos shook his head in disappointment.

"Je gaat spijt krijgen." (You're going to regret this.)

Chapter Text

*****IRINA*****

The smell from the seafood hit me harder, considering the state I was in. I excused myself and went to the bathroom in order to prevent some scene. Not to mention that Max's father seemed a horrible human being. The way he was scanning me like I was some meaningless woman who had the audacity to love his trophy son.

"Come on! We are leaving!" Max said in the moment I wanted to sit down on the chair. I didn't ask any question and just took his hand, leaving Jos at the table.

As we were in the car on our way to the hotel, Max's hands gripped the stearing wheel so tight it almost turned his fingers white. His jaw was clenched so tight I thought he might crack a tooth, and his eyes were glued to the road like he needed the darkness to swallow everything else.
I don't know when everything went south and what exactly triggered Max and didn't dare to ask him in that moment. The whole drive was silent and so was our night.

But I couldn't help and wonder if I did something wrong. Said something stupid? Like a real thing that came from me, beside the obvious things . How he had looked at me like I was nothing. No, worse than nothing. Like I was a stain on the fabric of his son's life.
He hadn't been rude. Not out loud. But his eyes had said it all.

Yet, I didn't push Max on telling me what the hell happened during the time I was in the bathroom. Tomorrow is another big day for him, qualifications for his home race, so it was for the best for both of us to rest and forget about this dinner.

The next morning, Max got up before I did, and left a note that said he had a meeting before FP3. And since I had a couple of hours before I had to be on the race track, and in between the waves of nauseness I called Diana and my mom and dad.
All of them will come to the race in Italy and I couldn't be more happy for seeing them, especially my parents.
Maybe until then I will find a trace of bravery left in me to talk with Max about the pregnancy.
No. I must do it!
After the race.

I arrived at the race track just when Fp3 ended, and on my way through the paddock many people were shouting my name and were taking pictures of me. Some even asking for selfies.
This situation was making me feel incredibly unconfortable and since I can't fake my emotions, my poker face was in plain sight.
While passing by Redbull's motorhome, I saw Max's dad watching me. Watching how I was trying to make my way through the crowd with a look that could kill all the flowers in a field.
He was disgusted by me.
But, hei, the feeling was mutual.

Right in the moment I got inside of my office and while I was putting my things aside, the door widely opened without a knock. My head turned immediately.
"Maybe I'm not familiar with the customs in the Netherlands, but In my country we knock before entering a private room" I said to Jos while keeping a straight face and a tone of voice clear and steady. His tall frame filled the doorway, uninvited and unbothered, arms crossed like he owned the damn place.

Jos Verstappen didn't flinch at my words. He just stepped inside like I hadn't said anything at all, the door swinging shut behind him with a cold click. His eyes scanned the room before landing back on me.
"You're bold" he said flatly. "I'll give you that."
I turned fully toward him, not backing down. "And you're rude. So I guess we're even."

His mouth curved into a humorless smirk, the kind that didn't reach his eyes. "You know, I've met a lot of women in this world. Groupies. Opportunists. Climbers. But you..." He tilted his head. "You're a new category entirely."
The fuck is that supposed to mean?
My pulse jumped in my throat, but I didn't let it show. Instead, I moved to my desk calmly.
Breathe Irina.

"If you came here to insult me, I'd suggest doing it somewhere else" I said. "I have work to do, and I'm sure there are people out there desperate to hear your unsolicited opinions."
He took a slow step forward. "Let's cut the bullshit, shall we? You think I don't know what this is? You, here, with Max. While his career's at its peak. While he's being hunted by every sponsor and media outlet like a prize. And you, hiding behind a white coat, taking advantage of this whole thing to boost your shitty image?" He scoffed "Firstly Charles, now my son. Who is next on your list 'doctor' "?

Wow. The way he emphasized my profession was on another level of rudeness.
I stared him down. "With all the respect, which you don't deserve, get out of my office."
He laughed dryly "I know women like you. I know how you think and what you want. Just a few moments into the spotlights"
I bristled. "And you're a walking example of toxic parenting and a frustraded ex driver who hasn't accomplished anything in his racing career."

That one hit him. I saw the twitch in his jaw, the sharpness in his eyes. But he didn't lash out. No, Jos Verstappen didn't waste energy on theatrics. He preferred control. Manipulation. Pressure.
"You've got him wrapped around your finger. He fights in garages. Tells the team to fuck off. Brings you into celebrations like you're his damn wife. But it is just a matter of time when he will realise..."

I blinked, the word wife catching in my chest. My stomach turned not just from the confrontation, but from the nausea I'd been trying to push down since morning.
"Realise what?" I said, gripping the back of my chair to ground myself.

"That he was better off with Kris" Jos said in a malicious. "You are just a distraction but you won't last."

My spine stiffened.

"You don't get to decide that" I said, voice trembling slightly despite myself. "You don't get to walk into my office, disrespect my work, my life, and assume I'm some parasite feeding off your son's fame."
"You're already doing it."
I stared at him, chest tight, lips parting to say something. Anything Irina...but before I could speak, the door opened again.

Max.

His voice was like a gunshot. "What the fuck are you doing here?"
Both our heads turned. Max stood in the doorway, chest rising and falling fast, his expression thunderous.
Jos didn't move. "Having a chat."
"No, you're not." Max stormed forward, stepping protectively in front of me like a wall. "You don't talk to her. You don't come near her. Not here, not anywhere. You understand me?"

Jos raised his hands like he was the victim. "She's not who you think she is, Max."
"She's exactly who I think she is" Max snapped, voice ice. "She's the woman I love. And if you have a problem with that, you can take it and shove it. Leave !"

Jos' eyes burned, but for once, he had nothing to say.
Without another word, Jos turned and walked out. No apology. No goodbye. Just the heavy, echoing sound of the door slamming behind him.

Max turned to me, and in that moment, all the fury drained from his face. What remained was fear. Concern. Love.
"Are you okay?" he asked, cupping my face.
I nodded, but my hands were trembling. Not because I was scared, but because I was angry. Furious. But as soon as the anger subsided some sort of guilt enveloped me.

"Max...maybe..."

Chapter Text

"What?" He asked confused. "Nothing." I smiled and hugged him tightly.

I opened my mouth, then closed it again, unsure which of the dozen thoughts flooding my head should be the first to leave my lips. My hands twisted together, cold despite the heat in the small medical room. I looked down, swallowing hard.
Beside the big important secret I was carrying, all this situations with his team and the fact that they are kinda of against our relationship. Maybe not our relationship itself, but the consequences, and what nearly cost some fines and penalties in his driving career. Now, with his father...all these fights, heavy and strong words that were spoken between them.
And in the middle of everythings, stands me.
At least that is how I see things.
I couldn't stop the feeling that I'm the one that is causing all of this.
And I couldn't bere to think I could be the cause of ruining his career or to distance him from his family.
Because I tend to put myself in those particular shoes...if anyone attempts to ruin my career or to cause shredding in my family...I could never forgive it.

Sunday. Race day.
Not just any race. His home race.
I barely slept that night, overthinking everything that happened since we got back from Ibiza, but now I shook them off my mind.
I wrapped my arms around myself and inhaled deeply. The faint sterile scent of disinfectant and motor oil mixed in the air, oddly grounding. I had work to do. A race to cover.
A world to pretend to belong to.

The air at Circuit Zandvoort buzzed with a sort of chaotic magic. Everything collided into an atmosphere so electric it almost knocked the breath out of my lungs.
I stood on the edge of the pit wall, headset on, medical bag slung across my shoulder.

Max's car lined up first. Pole position.
Of course. No matter what storm raged around him, Max could still pull perfection out of the air like it owed him something.
As the lights went out, the familiar surge of adrenaline rushed through my chest. I watched the Red Bull rocket off the line like a bullet, perfectly clean start, swallowing the track with precise hunger.

He was in a class of his own.

Lap after lap, he was untouchable. While chaos brewed behind pit stop dramas, Ferrari strategy blunders, Lewis fuming on the radio, Max just... flew. Smooth, cold, relentless.
Hearing Lewis put a reminder to check him after the race..or probably, the days after. Because after this race, I will have to start the conversation of my life. So help me God!

The track was Max's church. And today, he was God.
I'll glady go his church to confess my sins day after day.

By lap 48, he had already extended his lead comfortably after the Virtual Safety Car. The team nailed his pit strategy, bold, aggressive, and perfect. The crowd roared louder with every pass. Orange smoke bombs painted the sky.

I stood just a few meters behind the crew as he crossed the line.
P1.
He did it.
Again.
Here.
In front of his people.
Arms in the air, radio exploding with cheers.
I could barely hear anything through the thunder of the crowd, but I didn't need to.

Christian was the first to reach him.
Helmet still on, Max fell into the embrace of his team.
Then, he turned toward the pit lane, tugging off his helmet and pulling out his earpieces. His eyes scanned the chaos, looking. Searching.
And he found me.

And he smiled. That rare, full smile that could stop my heart and restart it in the same second.
Without thinking, he motioned me over.

I hesitated.
Just a split second.

Because I knew what this would do.
I saw Christian's jaw tighten the second I stepped forward. Alice, the PR manager, didn't even try to hide her disapproval. And Jos? The fuck knows from what dark hole he had watched the race.
Max didn't care.
He pulled me into his arms and I kissed him. In front of everyone.
Cameras, cheering, clapping. By this point I didn't understand for what, but it didn't matter.

I knew Max will stay a little longer around the paddock to celebrate this win with the team. And so, just like after the race in Spa, I made the decision to go back to our hotel room.
I was considering packing my things in case everything will turn into a bad outcome.

I curled up on the couch with a blanket, watching the rerun of the race on mute. Max's overtakes, his confidence on the track.
It all looked so effortless. So him.

But I couldn't enjoy it the way I wanted to.

Not when every win came with a whisper in the back of my mind:
Does he have any idea what's coming?

I had rehearsed the words in my mind a thousand times. Different versions, different tones. Calm. Blunt. Emotional. Casual. None of them felt right. None of them matched the sheer weight of what I was about to say.
But I couldn't carry it any longer.
And soon... Max would know too.

He came back around 9 p.m. Damp hair from the shower, hoodie hanging from his hand, navy shirt clinging to his chest. He looked relaxed. Peaceful. I almost hated myself for what I was about to do.

He kissed my cheek "Hei beautiful. You okay?"
There it was. The loaded question.
I nodded. "Can we talk?" I whispered and my stomach twisted.
His brow furrowed just slightly. "Yeah. Sure. What’s going on?."
I couldn't meet his eyes yet.

He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, looking at me with concern that only deepened by the second. "Irina. What's going on?"
I inhaled. Deep. Steady.
Come on. You're strong. You're a doctor. You know the science. You know the risk. Now be honest.

"There's something I need to tell you" I said, forcing my voice to stay calm. "And I've been waiting for the right moment, but there isn't one. So I'm just going to say it."
His jaw tensed. "You're scaring me a little."

"I'm pregnant."

Silence.
Not dramatic silence. Just quiet. Like the world held its breath around us.
Max didn't blink. Didn't move. His body was perfectly still, like his brain had stopped functioning for a beat, trying to catch up. But after those seconds a smile was forming around his mouth.

I kept going. I had to. Because the worse is yet to come "I'm fourteen weeks already. I found out in Ibiza, right after our fight… I went to the OB-GYN when we returned in Monaco, and she confirmed it."

More silence. He was processing everything. And then…
“Fourteen weeks?” He asked. “ Like 3 months?”
I nodded. And I knew he realized the big issue.
"It could be you. It could be Charles. I've been trying to do the math over and over and..." I laughed—dry, nervous. "I'm a doctor. You'd think I'd have figured it out by now. But sometimes life isn't clinical."

His hands had clasped together tightly, knuckles white.
My voice cracked as I added, "I didn't want this to happen this way. And I didn't want to hide it from you. I just…things have been chaotic. Between the fights, your team, your dad, the racing pressure... it never felt like there was space for this."

Finally, Max stood. Walked a few steps to the window. Ran a hand through his hair. Then turned.
His expression was unreadable. Not angry. Not cold. Just... overwhelmed.
"You're sure?" he asked, voice hoarse.

"About what?"

"About who is the father.. there's no way to tell yet?"

"Not without a paternity test.”
Max let out a long, shaky breath. "Fourteen weeks..."
I nodded.
He looked away, jaw clenched, breathing shallow.

I stood too, needing to move. "I'm not asking anything from you. I swear. You don't need to decide anything right now. I just… I couldn't keep this information anymore. I couldn't keep walking around like nothing was growing inside me."
Max was quiet for a long time. And when he finally turned around, his eyes were glassy, not teary, but close.

"Is it okay if I go for a drive?" he asked. "I just need to think."

I nodded.
He walked to the door, then hesitated. Came back. Pressed a kiss to the side of my head.

And then he was gone.

Chapter Text

****MAX****

Fourteen weeks.

The steering wheel had never felt this foreign in my hands.
The engine purred underneath me, and yet, I didn't push the car the way I usually would. No speeding through these familiar roads. No adrenaline. Just the road and the sound of my own breath, clipped and uneven. It was probably the first time in years I was driving without any sense of control.

She was pregnant.
Irina.
Pregnant.

The words kept bouncing around in my skull like stray bullets. Not a rumor. Not a maybe. A fact. One she'd been carrying literally and emotionally for who knows how long.. Without telling me.
I gripped the wheel tighter.

It wasn't that I didn't want it. God, that was the part that hit me the hardest.
For a moment, maybe just three or four seconds, my brain had jumped ahead, painting this blurry, beautiful image of a baby with her eyes and hopefully my personality. Endless laughter in our home. Chubby hands reaching up.

But the picture burned at the edges, and in its place came the doubt.
The possibility.
Him. Charles.
That bastard already took too much. Now the idea of him being entangled in this, through blood, through law, through a child, made me physically sick. I leaned forward, resting my forehead against the steering wheel at a red light, trying to slow my breathing.

What if the baby was his?

What if every milestone, every appointment, every late night fever and school play and graduation meant Charles had a seat at the table too? Not just as a name in the background, but as the other half.
Another presence in Irina's life, in my life, for the next eighteen years. Maybe forever.

I turned the car onto a quieter road. Less traffic. Less reality.
She hadn't done anything wrong. I knew that.
She had been with him....
Again that thought made me sick.
But she had been hurting, in pain...during all that time.
I knew what Charles did to her now, knew it in detail, and still wanted to put my fist through a wall every time I remembered.
I knew why she hadn't told me right away.
I even understood why she was scared. But that didn't stop the ache from settling heavy in my ribs.

Fourteen weeks.

I wondered if the baby has the form of an actual baby by now. If I wasn’t driving, for sure I would google everything about this part of the pregnancy.
Jesus fuck. I don't know anything about raising a baby...
I had always been just the big brother or the fun uncle.  New addition...a dad!
Wow...
And still... I didn't want to lose her.
Not now. Not after everything.
Not after how fiercely I loved her. How much of me she already had.

It was nearly dark when I got back to the hotel.
The penthouse suite was silent except for the distant hum of city noise outside. I toed off my shoes and walked in slowly, guilt pooling in my chest like something thick and heavy.

She was curled up on the bed, fast asleep. Hair tied in a messy bun. Her hand resting against her stomach like it had always belonged there. She looked peaceful. And exhausted.
My heart cracked.
I sat on the edge of the bed and just watched her for a moment. How could someone carry so much, all alone?
How much can she endure ...

I reached out carefully, placing my hand on her belly too.
On my baby...
I didn't want to wake her. But of course, I did.

Her eyelids fluttered open, the ocean blue of her eyes meeting mine, sleepily confused. "Hey..."
I swallowed. "Hey. Sorry. I didn't mean to wake you."
"It's okay." Her voice was hoarse, soft. "Did you... go clear your head?"
I nodded.

She pushed herself up, sitting against the headboard. "Do you want to talk about it?"
I looked at her for a long moment. "Yeah..." I said, my voice quiet. "But first... can I just lie next to you for a second?"
She moved over without a word. I lay down, and she nestled into my chest, her palm instinctively resting against the same spot she had earlier.
I exhaled, long and slow, as my arms wrapped around her.
"I'm still figuring out what all of this means," I whispered into her hair. "But I'm not going anywhere. Okay?"

She nodded against me, and we just stayed like that for a while. Breathing. Waiting. Quiet.
And we both felt asleep within minutes.

The morning sunlight was pouring softly through the thin curtains when I opened my eyes, and for the first time in a long while, I didn't feel the urge to get up and train or check the time. I just stayed still.
It was a week gap until the next race in Monza. Plenty of time to put everything in order.
Irina lay beside me, her breathing slow, one leg tangled in the white sheets, the other resting lightly over my thigh. Her features looked calmer now, less tense than last night.

But the doubt twisted like a knife in my chest again, but I shut it down.
She was carrying a child. And this woman.
My woman, had walked through every terrifying step of this alone. I'd be damned if she ever had to do that again.

She stirred just as I was reaching for her hand.

"Morning" she murmured, voice still scratchy from sleep.
"Morning” I replied, my thumb brushing gently along her knuckles. "Did you sleep okay?"
She nodded slowly.
We lay in silence for a few more minutes before I shifted slightly, leaning up against the headboard. I didn't want to press her too hard, but my brain was swimming.

"Irina... I wanted to ask you something."
She looked up at me, already sensing the weight behind the question. "Of course."
"How... how long have you known?"
Her gaze dropped to the sheets. "A few weeks. I wasn't sure at first. I didn't even think about it seriously until Victoria said something."
"My sister?" I blinked.

She nodded, almost smiling. "She made a joke in Ibiza... said she had a feeling. That I was glowing in a way she was familiar too.  I laughed it off, but... after that, I started thinking. I'd missed my period. Twice. But with everything going on... the car crash in Silverstone, my dad getting sick, I thought it was just stress. And probably just a hormonal delay."
I swallowed the lump forming in my throat. "So when did you... actually find out?"

"Right after our fight in Ibiza" she admitted, her voice lowering. "I asked Diana to buy me a test and she stayed with me while taking it because I was too scared." I let out a long sigh.
"And you went to the doctor?"
"In Monaco. When we came back."

I looked away for a moment, jaw tight. "While I was in Milton Keynes for testing..."

She nodded. "I didn't want to call you and tell you something so... heavy, over the phone. And I wasn't even sure how I felt yet. I was still processing. I wanted to be sure. I heard the heartbeat, Max..." Her voice broke a little. "It was real. And completely terryfing as well."
I reached for her hand again, lacing our fingers together. "And then, we went to Spa now to Zandvoort. Everything in between you kinda now...."

I let out a long breath, staring up at the ceiling. "I hate that I wasn't there. I missed the first ultrasound. That's something you don't get back."
Her hand squeezed mine gently. "There'll be others."
"I'll be at every single one. Just make sure to make the appoiments when we are both home." I said, turning to face her again. "I don't care what the result of the paternity test says. I'm in, Irina. All the way. You're not doing this alone anymore."
Her eyes welled up, but she didn't cry. She just nodded, slowly. Grateful. Relieved.

"I do want to take the test though"  I added. "Not because it changes anything, but because we need to know. If it's mine... great. If it's not, I'll still love that kid like they're mine. But I need to be ready for what that means. Especially if he..." I couldn't even say his name. "...if he's part of the picture."
Her expression shifted, and I saw the hesitation forming already.

"I was thinking" she started slowly, "we should tell Charles."
My entire body stiffened.
"Irina" I said, already trying to control the edge in my voice, "you really want to involve him in this right now?"
"I don't want to. But it's the right thing to do. If there's even the slightest chance—"
"I hate that there's even a chance" I cut in, sharper than I intended. "I hate that he gets a window into our life because of this."
She looked down again, thumb rubbing a small circle on her palm. "I hate it too. But this isn't about hate, Max. It's about responsibility. About what's fair."
I bit the inside of my cheek. I knew she was right. I just didn't want to hear it. Not yet.

"I'm not saying you have to do it today" she added. "We can go back to Monaco. Take a breath. See the doctor together. And then figure out how to tell him."
"Yeah...okay" I said, voice low. "One step at a time."

⸻

Back in Monaco, the air felt different. A little heavier. A little more real.
No media frenzy yet. No baby bump showing. No press release or team meeting.
Just the two of us.

Irina spent most of the afternoon booking her follow-up appointment with her OB-GYN. I sat next to her at the kitchen counter, staring at my phone, reading articles about prenatal vitamins and fetal development like my brain was trying to catch up to reality.

Fourteen weeks. Three months.

Chapter Text

The lights were too bright in the clinic. White walls, glass panels, soft music in the background a place that tried to calm you down and somehow did the exact opposite.

Irina sat beside me in the waiting room, fingers nervously twisting the rings on her hand. I reached for them, entwining our fingers together. She didn't look at me, but she didn't let go either.

This wasn't like a race. This wasn't something I could overtake or brake late into. This was real life.  
Terrifying, beautiful, raw.  
And I was about to hear my baby's heartbeat.

Our baby.
Maybe.

The maybe hovered like smog in my chest.

A nurse called her name. Irina stood, taking a sharp breath. I walked behind her into the examination room.
The OB-GYN was polite and straightforward. One of the best in Monaco. I knew that. I did my own little research.
A middle aged woman with kind eyes and a clinical, competent tone. She asked Irina some basic questions and then told her to lie down. I stood by the side of the bed as she unbuttoned her shirt and lifted it slightly, exposing her abdomen.

Then came the gel. Then the wand.

And then...

A sound.

A heartbeat. Fast. Like a hummingbird with something to prove.

It echoed around the room, and for a second, everything stopped. No engines, no media bullshit, no father drama, no Charles. Just that sound.
I looked down at Irina. Her lips were parted slightly, eyes glassy.

"We have a strong little one here" the doctor said, "and everything looks perfect. Measuring just over 14 weeks. Development is in the normal range."

I exhaled slowly. I didn't realize I'd been holding my breath.
Irina looked at me then. I didn't say a word. I just squeezed her hand tighter.

After the scan, Irina cleared her throat. "Doctor, I wanted to ask... given the stress I went through at the beginning, the pills I took, alcohol, and some days without eating properly, is there a way to test if... everything is really okay? Chromosomal disorders or anything?"
The doctor nodded, already anticipating the concern. "Absolutely. We can perform a non-invasive prenatal test. It also gives you the baby's sex."

My eyes widened. "That soon?"

"Soon as today, if you both want."

I could tell she was scared. She was also brave.

"And for the... can we also take the paternity test?" Irina asked.
The doctor gave a slow nod. "If you'd like to pursue a paternity test during pregnancy, there's a non-invasive version we can do. We just need a blood sample from the mother and from the alleged father. Results usually come in a couple of weeks."

I hated the word "alleged." I hated that I had to be in this situation at all.

But we nodded.

A nurse came in and took Irina away for her blood draw. I went second. It was quick. I didn't even flinch.  
Now...the waiting part. 
God, I hated that.

By the time we left the clinic, the sky over Monaco was slightly overcast. The walk back to my apartment wasn't far, but Irina seemed distracted. She hadn't said much since we stepped outside.
I didn't want to push, but I didn't want to walk in silence either.

"You okay?" I asked.
She gave me a faint smile. "Yeah. It's just a lot."

"I know."
I didn't.
But I would try.

About ten minutes in, we passed a baby boutique. One of those disgustingly adorable ones with tiny knit booties and pastel-colored blankets in the window.
I slowed my steps.

Irina noticed and raised a brow. "What?"

"Want to go in?" I asked, nodding toward the shop.

She laughed, a dry sound. "Max, it's still early. We don't even know if it's a boy or a girl."
I shrugged. "It's still our baby. In our life. That's real enough for me. And I'm sure they have some neutral colors." 

She hesitated. I opened the door anyway.
The shop smelled like vanilla and money. I had zero clue what I was looking at. But I saw a set of tiny racing-themed onesies — one navy blue, one light orange, and thought why the hell not.
Irina picked up a grey beanie with bear ears. Her eyes softened. "This is too much."

"It's nothing" I said, already carrying a handful of items to the counter. "Besides, I've spent more money on sim gear."
She gave me a look but didn't stop me. That was progress.

Back at the apartment, she went into the kitchen to cook something. I needed to reset my brain, so I went to my sim.
Ten laps in, the group chat was blowing up.

And the boys from my team already teasing me.

"Mate. Are you going to say something?"

"You planning on running a daycare out of the pitlane?"

"Mini Max on the way?"

I paused the sim.

"What the hell are you talking about?" I asked but keeping myself composed and steady
"Photos. You. Baby store. Monaco. It's all over TikTok. 'Max Verstappen shopping for baby clothes with mystery girlfriend.'"

Jesus Christ.

"For Victoria's kids. My nephews."

With the corner of my eye I saw a comment: "Congratulations on being the world's worst liar."

I sighed and shut off the sim. I wasn't going to let gossip derail my night.
I walked into the kitchen. Irina was humming softly while stirring something on the stove. Her hair was tied up, loose strands falling at her neck. I wrapped my arms around her from behind and rested my chin on her shoulder.

"I got ambushed on Twitch."
She tilted her head slightly. "For what?"
"Our little visit in the baby store."
She exhaled long "What did you say?"
"That I was buying stuff for my nephews."
She laughed quietly. "Good one."

We stayed like that for a while, just breathing the same air, cooking something simple, pretending life wasn't on the brink of exploding again.
Let the world guess. Let them wonder. Let them gossip and theorize.
I am used to it and don't give a fuck about what they talk about me. All I cared about was the person in my arms, and the heartbeat I'd heard earlier that day.

——————

Monza was a few days away, but I couldn't stomach the idea of sitting around Monaco, waiting for the paddock chaos to swallow us whole again. The schedule said "media, sim prep, sponsor duties" 

I said fuck it. 

We needed space.
I needed time with her.

Time to process everything before I had to climb into the car and pretend nothing else mattered but apexes and tire degradation.

 So I planned it.

Private jet to Milan. Then a short drive north to a villa I had booked months ago but never used. Hidden behind rows of cypress trees, carved into the hills just above Lago d'Iseo. Isolated. Quiet. The kind of place no one could find unless they were actively tracking my GPS, and at this point, wouldn't be surprised if they were.

Irina didn't ask many questions when I told her. She just packed light and leaned her head against the plane window during the flight, fingers brushing over her still-flat stomach like it was second nature now.

Fourteen weeks. And counting.

The villa looked like it was made for secret romances and old novels, thick stone walls, wooden beams, wild lavender growing between cracked tiles on the terrace.  
From the balcony, we had a full view of the lake, the water shimmering like melted silver under the afternoon sun.
She stepped outside the moment we arrived, breathing it all in.

"You like it?" I asked from the doorway, watching her leaning on the rail. Remembering her a while ago in Miami when she was with him...and I was just the shadow who couldn't let go.
"It's beautiful" she whispered. "I didn't realize how much I needed... stillness."

Stillness. Yeah. That was the word.

I gave her that. For once, I didn't touch my phone. No sim, no interviews, no texts from Christian or the PR vulture reminding me what not to say. Just us, walking through the tiny village nearby, grabbing gelato from an old man who didn't recognize me at all, which honestly felt like a damn miracle.
She kept laughing every time I tried to pronounce Italian words. And I didn't mind.

I didn't mind anything.

That night, we sat outside under the vines, eating simple food, fresh pasta, tomato and burrata, grilled vegetables, all delivered by a local chef who knew not to ask questions.  
The air smelled of basil and damp earth, and for a little while, we talked about everything except racing and paternity tests and Charles.

We just... existed.

But I couldn't lie to myself, the thoughts crept in when things got too quiet. The part of me that wondered what it would mean if the test came back and proved the baby wasn't mine. If I could handle that reality without letting it infect everything between us.
And I knew the answer: I couldn't walk away. No matter what.
I'd made that choice the moment she told me about the baby and when I heard the heartbeat, it was just the confirmation.
That baby is mine. No matter what.

Later, while she curled against me in bed, half-asleep, I whispered into her hair,

"You're safe here, you know?"

She didn't answer. But her hand found mine under the covers, fingers locking tight. That was her reply. That, and the way she melted into my chest like it was the only place she wanted to be.
But a few seconds later, she shifted, slowly, until she was on top of me.
The moonlight painted silver streaks across her bare shoulders, and, I just stared. Aware of this beautiful, strong woman in front of me.

"Wait" I said, breath catching, "We can still... right?"
She looked at me, fire in her eyes and something even deeper in her smile.
Then she nodded. "Yes."
Her lips met mine, warm and sure. I kissed her back, but then stilled again, hand brushing gently over the curve of her waist.

"I won't hurt the baby, right?" I murmured against her mouth, heart pounding for reasons far beyond lust.
She pulled back and laughed softly. "No, Max. You won't."

And just when I tried to ask something else, probably something equally cautious, so not equally Max, yet here I was, she cut me off with another kiss, firmer this time. Her fingers tangled in my hair, anchoring me right there, to her.
"Max"  she whispered, voice low and steady, "just stop and fuck me properly. My hormones are over the roof."

That was all I needed.

I held her hips, steady and reverent, and let go.
She didn't waste any time and of course I was already fucking hard and ready for her.
She slowly started to move up and down on me, my hand gripped her waist on both sides. Each thrust driving me insane.
The sounds of skin against skin filled the room, along with moans slipping from her lips. 

I got up with her in my lap, my hands on her ass and I took the control over her body. Thrusting deeper and harder. "Fuck, Max."
"That's it baby, take it." I growled slamming her ass on my cock. "You feel so good around me." I whispered in her ear while her fingers digging into my skin.  
I reach out one of my hands and placed it around her clit, my pace remaining the same, and rubbed her. "Max, don't stop." She cried out in a chase for her orgasm and came with a loud moan. I followed her right after, pulsing  and spilling inside her.
We stayed like that for a couple of moments, then I crashed on the bed, taking her with me, our bodies still connected.

My hand traced slow circles across her back, savoring the way her skin warmed under my touch.
The quiet after was my favorite part. It always had been with her.

"I think we're going to have a boy" I murmured suddenly, the thought slipping out before I even realized I was saying it.
She laughed, muffled against my chest. "And why is that?"
I felt her smile against my skin, and it made me grin too.

"I don't know" I said, looking up at the ceiling. "It's just a feeling. Like... gut instinct. Maybe it's because I've already started imagining him...tiny, blonde, walking around with a mini helmet and bossing everyone in the paddock. Future champion of the world."
She shifted, propping herself up on one elbow, eyes glinting with amusement. "Or maybe he or she will want to be a doctor, like their mother."

I turned to look at her, couldn't help the grin that spread across my face. "That'd be alright too."

"'Alright?'" she mocked, raising a brow.
"Okay, maybe more than alright" I admitted, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "Less dangerous. Better hours. Less media..."
She laughed softly. "I have my doubts about the better hours but certainly less trophies."
"True" I whispered, brushing my lips over hers. "But still just as brilliant as the mother."

"Max…”

"Hmm?"

"What if it's a girl? "

"Then I'm doomed. Completely and utterly whipped. She'll be my little terror."

Irina smiled, the kind that settled deep in your chest. "You already are."

"Whipped?" I smirked.
"For both of us" she teased.

I didn't deny it. I just held her closer.
Because it was true. And I didn't want to be anywhere else.
Because in that moment, the only thing that mattered was the way she looked at me like I was home.

And I was.
With her, I always was.

Chapter Text

IRINA

Even though everything around us felt absolutely insane, the pregnancy, the idea that maybe Charles was the father, the waiting for those goddamn results that will take too long to come, I had Max. And Max made it all feel... bearable.

No, more than bearable. He made it feel safe.

He was there, in every amazing way possible. Supportive, kind, grounding. He never flinched, not even once, even when the truth could've broken something between us. Instead, he held me tighter. He rubbed my back when I couldn't sleep, bought me weird Italian crackers when I craved them at midnight, and looked at me like I was the most beautiful person in the world, even when I was crying into his hoodie because the thought of Charles maybe being the father made me physically nauseous.

The quick trip to Milan before Monza, his idea, his plan, of course, was just the cherry on top of the madness. A private villa by Lago d'Iseo, quiet dinners, early morning walks with swollen clouds hanging low over the lake. It felt like the world had hit pause, and I could breathe again. Max planned it to make us feel normal, even if nothing in our life was anymore.

It only made us stronger.

But now... Monza. The loud, fast, emotionally charged Grand Prix. The one where we had made a joint decision: it was time to talk to Charles. Together.             My stomach churned at the thought, and it wasn't just morning sickness. And thank God, I didn’t have much of those.

On Thursday morning, we arrived at the paddock together for Max's media day. And it was a circus.
The moment we stepped out of the car, it hit me. The flashes, the screams, the chaotic energy. Photographers were already waiting, shouting both our names. Fans lined up outside the barriers, holding signs, caps, phones in the air. Some screamed Max's name like a prayer.

Others... screamed mine.

"Irina, you're so beautiful!"

"Are you two having a baby?!"

"Is it true?! Are you pregnant?!"

I tried to keep walking, but my legs wobbled slightly, and the panic settled in like a weight in my chest.
Max's hand found mine immediately, his grip firm and grounding. I didn't look at him, but I felt his thumb stroke the inside of my palm gently as we pushed forward.
By the time we reached the Red Bull motorhome, I was barely breathing properly.

He turned to face me, shielding us from some of the noise, eyes scanning my face. "You okay?" he asked, low voice, full of concern.
"Yes" I lied, forcing a smile. It probably looked more like a grimace.

Max saw right through it, I knew he did, but he didn't call me out. He just leaned in and kissed me gently, hand on the back of my neck.

Flash flash. More pictures. At this point, I didn't care.

"I'll come find you after" he whispered.
I nodded and turned toward the medical center.

Peter greeted me with his usual warm expression. He asked how I was holding up, if I needed anything, and offered a quiet space in the back to breathe for a few minutes. I took it. I sat on the small exam bed and counted backwards from 100 until the noise outside didn't feel like it was echoing in my skull.

A little while later, Max showed up again, sunglasses on, his hair a little windswept from the media bullpen chaos. He didn't say anything when he saw me, just came over and pressed a kiss to my forehead.

"You ready?" he asked softly.

I nodded.

I wasnn’t though.

Together, we left the medical center and walked across the paddock. Toward the red motorhome The one with the prancing horse on the side. The one that suddenly felt a lot more terrifying than any pit lane or start line I'd ever faced.
Because this wasn't about racing anymore.
It was about honesty. And the future.
About telling the truth.

The Ferrari motorhome loomed in the distance like a fortress.
Every step I took made my stomach twist harder. My hand was still clutched in Max's, but it was clammy now, sweat pooling in the gaps of our fingers. I wanted to disappear. To vanish into thin air before this whole thing exploded.

But we walked in anyway.

All eyes turned toward us the moment we stepped through the entrance. Conversations died. Forks froze mid-air. The tension was so thick, it wrapped around my throat like a rope.
I kept my gaze low, fixed on Max's shoulder blades as he led the way, broad and confident like nothing in the world could shake him. I, on the other hand, felt like I was walking barefoot across fire.

"Max? Irina?" Alex stepped in front of us, brows drawn together in visible confusion. "What are you guys doing here?"
"We're looking for Charles" Max answered, his voice calm, clipped. "You know where he is?"

Alex hesitated. His eyes flicked between us. Max's clenched jaw, my pale face. "Max, please don't cause another scene. There's no point" he said quietly, almost pleading.
He looked at me then. As if I held some sort of lever to bring this all back to reason. As if I could stop the inevitable.
But I had no voice. My tongue was heavy and dry in my mouth.
Max wasn't in the mood for lectures. He took a step forward. "Alex, if you know where Charles is, tell us. If you don't, no problem, I'll tear down this place to find him anyway."

The threat was low, but clear.

Alex sighed, shoulders dropping. He looked around, then finally pointed to the terrace outside.
"He's there. With his trainer. And some other friends. Don’t cause another scene, I beg you both.”

My heart leapt into my throat.
I saw him instantly. Charles.  
The person I somehow hoped I’ll love. The person I thought was nice and sweet.  
Sitting casually under the shade, laughing at something, his head tilted back. His hands gesturing animatedly. There was Thomas beside him, and a few others I recognized from when he introduced me to. Familiar faces.

"Shit" I breathed. My voice cracked. "Max... I can't do this."
He turned quickly, his hands going straight to my waist, pulling me close. "Hey. Hei, hei, baby" he murmured, so only I could hear. "I'm here. We're doing this together, remember?"
I nodded, but my legs still didn't want to move.

Then, as if the moment wasn't already unbearable, I looked past Max's shoulder... and they were all watching us now. Charles had seen us. Everyone at the table had.
Time stopped. The air changed. I saw Charles's smile vanish like a light switched off.
Max took my hand again, kissed it quickly, and took the lead.
We walked straight up to the table.

"Can we talk?" Max asked Charles. His tone was polite, but firm. "In private." MCharles stared at him, then at me. His jaw tensed. He scoffed, rolled his eyes, and stood up anyway.
Without a word, the three of us walked to an empty table in the far corner of the terrace, away from the stares and whispers, though I could still feel them burning into my back.

I sat down across from Charles, Max beside me, our hands still laced under the table.

My breath hitched.

Now... there was no turning back.

"What do you want? A threesome or something?" Charles leaned back in the chair, arms stretched casually over the backrest, arrogance dripping from every inch of him.
Max's jaw tensed so hard, I could practically hear his teeth grinding.
I didn't even flinch. I just took a deep breath and said it.

No preamble. No soft landing.

"I'm pregnant."

Charles blinked. Then gave a dry, humorless laugh. "Congrats? That's it? Wow. Nice conversation."

He started to stand.

"Sit. Back." Max's voice was low, dangerous. His hand tightened under the table, a warning barely held back by restraint.
I looked Charles in the eye, steady and unflinching.

"I'm fifteen weeks."

That's when his expression shifted.

Just for a second.

The smugness faltered. His mouth parted slightly. I could see him doing the math in his head.
Then, he laughed again. Louder this time.

"So I'm the father?"

I said nothing.

He leaned forward, tone venomous now.
"Are you sure? Because let's be honest, Irina. You weren't exactly keeping your legs closed, were you?"
Max lurched forward but I caught his arm without looking. He stilled, barely.
Charles kept going, shrugging. "Wait. You don’t know which one of us is the father, that’s it, right?” Another laugh. 

I swallowed hard. My mouth was dry.

Charles tilted his head. "It's not even too late, you know? You could still... get rid of it."

Max stood.

His chair screeched across the floor as he shoved it back, fists clenched.
"Sit the fuck down, Verstappen" Charles said, not moving. "Don't pretend like you're a saint in all this either. You think you can play daddy to someone else's mistake?"

That word hit like a blade.

Mistake.

"You asshole" I snapped. My voice cracked, but I didn't care. "This isn't about you. This is about a life that might be yours, whether you want it or not."
Charles narrowed his eyes. "And how the fuck do you plan to take care of a baby? You can barely take care of yourself sometimes. You bounce between hospitals and mental breakdowns and now what, you think being pregnant makes you some kind of holy woman?"

Tears stung my eyes, but I didn't let them fall.
Max was breathing heavily beside me, like he was seconds away from breaking his self-control.

"I'm not here for your approval or advice. It my body, my uterus." I said, voice low. "I came to tell you. That's all. You deserved to know. What you do with that information is your own cross to carry."
Charles scoffed. "You don't get to drop a bomb like that and walk away."

Max cut in, voice quiet but deadly. "She can. And she will."

Charles looked between us, disgusted. "You two make me sick."
I stood slowly, body trembling, but my voice came out steady. "Don't worry. You won't be hearing from me again until we know the truth. And if it is yours, don't expect me to beg you to be part of it."
Max didn't even glance at him again. He wrapped his arm around my waist, turned us both around, and walked us out, his body a shield, his silence deafening.

The whispers behind us grew louder as we left the motorhome, but I kept my head high.

I had done it.
We had done it.

And now... I don’t fucking know. Just wait for those goddamned results.

I don't remember walking back to the Red Bull motorhome.

Everything felt distant, people talking, laughing, camera shutters, the pit lane noise. All just static in the background. My mind was elsewhere, still stuck in that corner table of the Ferrari terrace, with Charles' face twisted in sarcasm, his mouth saying things no decent human would say to another. Let alone to the woman who might be carrying his child.

Max didn't say a word the whole way back. He just held my hand so tightly, as if by doing so, he could absorb every ounce of pain from my body. And God, there was pain. The kind that lingers in your chest and your gut, all at once.

When we reached his driver room, he closed the door behind us and locked it. No cameras. No interruptions. No bullshit.
I stood there in the middle of the room like I didn't know what to do with myself, with my hands, with the ache in my ribs.

"He's a fucking idiot" Max said, finally breaking the silence. He threw his cap onto the small couch and turned to face me. "A complete, entitled, self-centered dickhead."
I nodded slowly, not sure if I was going to cry or scream or throw up. "I thought...I don't know what I thought. I didn't expect him to jump with joy but I didn't think he'd say…" My voice broke. "'Can you still get an abortion?'"

Max's face hardened again, jaw tight. "If he ever says something like that again, I swear I’ll beat the shit out of him."

"Max," I said softly, stepping toward him. "Don't. Please."

"I just, I hate that he made you feel that way. Like this is some...burden. Like our baby is a mistake."
I felt tears sting the corner of my eyes but I blinked them away. "You know the worst part?" I whispered. "For a second... I let him make me feel like that too."
Max was in front of me in two strides, cupping my face, pressing his forehead to mine. "No. Don't go there. He doesn't get to define this. Or you. Or our baby."

Our baby.

I closed my eyes at the words. They still felt fragile, like I might break them just by breathing too hard. But Max said them with such certainty, such fierce protectiveness, I clung to it like a life raft.
"I'm sorry" I said, my voice small.

"What the hell are you sorry for?"

"For dragging you into this mess. For making it so complicated. For…"
"No." He shook his head, kissed the tip of my nose. "We're in this together, remember? And if you need to hear it again, I don't care whose DNA this baby has. Fuck the result, I don’t even know the result anymore. You shouldn’t either.” tears now escaping my eyes. "I'm not leaving. I'm not changing my mind. I'm here."

I let myself cry. Silently, into his shoulder, while his arms wrapped around me like a shield from the rest of the world. I don't know how long we stood like that, time slowing to a quiet, rhythmic hum of our breathing.

We sat down on the couch, his arm slung protectively around me, my head on his chest. For the first time all day, my heart felt like it could slow down.
Because no matter how much the world wanted to throw at us, disbelief, judgment, doubt, we had this. Us.

And that was enough.

Chapter Text

While Max was busy in the Red Bull garage between FP1 and FP2, I stayed at the medical center with Peter and Dr. Ian, going over a list of supplies we needed. It was mundane work, discussing new heart monitors, replacement splints, sterile gloves, but it kept my mind off the swirling mess of the last twenty-four hours.

A knock at the door broke our discussion.

"Oh, Charles," Dr. Ian said, looking up. "What brings you here? Not feeling well?"

Charles shook his head politely. "Sorry to disturb. Dr. Stan, could you come for a brief medical check-up?"
It wasn't just a request...His eyes flicked to me and stayed there.

My stomach tightened. The way he said my name...so measured, almost neutral, made my skin prickle. I caught Peter's glance, but I didn't have the luxury to refuse, not with Dr. Ian right there.

"Of course" I said, my voice even, and led Charles into one of the smaller exam rooms.

The door shut with a click that felt louder than it should have. I walked to the desk, keeping my posture professional, my tone clipped.
"What do you want?"

He leaned casually against the desk, the faintest smirk tugging at his mouth.
"A medical exam" he said, as if it were the funniest thing in the world. Then, with a half-shrug, "I'm joking. C'mon. Don't be like that."

I stared at him, unamused. "Seriously, Charles, if you're in the mood for jokes..." I turned to walk out.

 "I'm sorry."

I froze. Slowly, I looked at him. His voice lacked the sarcasm and venom from yesterday. His eyes... they almost looked...sincere?
No, I will not go soft on him.
"I'm sorry for my reaction yesterday" he repeated.

"Fine. I accept your apology. That's all?" The words came out clipped. I didn't forgive him, but the sooner this conversation ended, the better.
He shook his head. "Please, Irina... I know I fucked up. I shouldn't have said those things."
He took a step closer, but I moved back instantly.
"Seriously? Are you afraid of me?" he asked quietly.

"Can you blame me?"

His face twitched. "Irina, I may be the father of the baby..." He reached a hand toward my stomach.
I caught his wrist mid-air. "Don't."I warned, my tone sharper than I intended. "Don't touch me."

"I'm not the enemy here, Irina. I'm not going to stand by and let someone else raise my child if it turns out to be mine."

I folded my arms, hugging myself, more for protection than defiance. "We don't even know whose it is. And when we do, we'll deal with it then. Until that day comes, you need to stop acting like..."

"Like I care?" His voice rose, frustration threading through every syllable.  
"Please Charles, stop pretending. You showed me your real self yesterday." I snorted.  
Who the fuck does he think that I am? Some highschool girlie with no experience in toxicity and manipulation?

"I freaked out. I hated...I still hate the fact that you came with Max to talk with me. But I didn't mean a word I said."

A pause. Then,

 "I'm not okay with the idea that Max just gets to play dad. I have every right to fight for you."

I couldn't help it, a bitter laugh escaped. "Fight for me? What is this, Charles, some twisted fairy tale? You don't get to decide what I want." I tilted my head, feigning casual curiosity. "And, don't you have a girlfriend now?"

Something flickered across his face, guilt maybe, but it was gone almost as quickly as it came. "She doesn't mean anything. I..." He stopped, hesitating like he was standing at the edge of a cliff.
I swallowed, bracing myself.

"I love you."

It landed heavy in the space between us. And for a second, just a second, I felt the ghost of what we used to have. The laughter, the nights that stretched into mornings, the easy comfort.  
But then reality slammed back.

"Charles, don't... okay? I'm with Max. I love him. I always did." My voice was steady, but my chest was tight.
His jaw clenched so hard I could almost hear it. His eyes, normally warm, burned like arrows aimed straight at me. "Yeah... I remember how you played eith my feelings." he said, his tone edged with venom but something more, like he was trying to make me the villan of the story. "I really hope the baby turns out to be mine. We'll see how Max's loyalty and love for you will be then."

And with that, he turned and walked out, leaving the air in the room heavy, as if his presence still lingered like smoke after a fire.
Of course he had to throw something evil into the matter.

I stood there for a moment, staring at the closed door, trying to steady my breathing. My hands instinctively went to my stomach, not because of what he'd said, but because I needed to remind myself that this child, boy or girl, deserved peace. And right now, peace felt like the most fragile thing in the world.

Yet, his last words burrowed deep.

Will see how Max's loyalty and love for you will be then.
He knew exactly what those words will do inside my mind. 

A shiver crawled up my spine.

What if he was right?

What if Max changed?

What if, the moment the DNA proved it wasn't his, the warmth in his eyes cooled, the way he touched me became less, and the love I felt every time he looked at me... vanished?

The thought was like a shadow slipping under my skin. My mind itched for an escape. Something fast, something sharp. For a split second, I could almost feel the dry, bitter drag of a cigarette in my lungs, the numb haze of a couple of pills melting the edges of my panic.

But then... I shook my head hard. 

No. 

Not now. 

Not again.

I pressed my palm firmly over my abdomen, feeling the faintest swell beneath my skin. "It's not just me anymore" I whispered under my breath, like a pact. The little life growing inside me deserved better than my old ways of coping.

I straightened, inhaled once, twice, deep enough to push the tremor from my hands. And before I'd even decided, my feet were already carrying me toward the Red Bull garage, toward the only person who could quiet this storm.

Some faces smiled when I stepped into the garage. Others... not so much.
I didn't give a damn.
My eyes locked on the board at the back covered in telemetry lines and numbers that meant nothing to me, but the man standing in front of it? 

He was the only one that mattered.

His hands were in the air, sketching shapes in the air as he spoke to his engineer, his tone clipped but calm. I could tell by the way his brows were drawn, the faint crease between them, that he was in deep focus.

And somehow, just seeing him, broad shoulders under the fireproof top, hair mussed in that familiar way, already stripped away every crazy, destructive thought that had been clawing at me minutes earlier. The cigarettes, the pills... the fear. It all started dissolving.

Because there he was.
My Max. 

The moment his gaze flicked to me, mid-sentence, everything else blurred out.

He stopped mid-word.

Didn't even excuse himself to the engineer, just dropped the conversation like it had never existed and crossed the space between us in those long, purposeful strides.

"Hey, beautiful"  he murmured, leaning down to press a quick, grounding kiss to my lips. His hand lingered at my hip, thumb brushing absently. "What are you doing here?" The corners of his mouth lifted into that boyish smile, but his eyes... they were already searching mine, reading me far too well.
"Nothing special" I said lightly, forcing my mouth into something that vaguely resembled a smile. "Just thought I'd stop by before you disappear into driver mode."

His eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly, the way they do when he's about to call out someone's bluff. "Mm-hm" he said, drawing out the sound like he didn't believe me for a second.
I shrugged, glancing past him toward the pit wall screens like I was fascinated by sector times I didn't even understand. "Don't look at me like that, Verstappen. I'm fine."

Max tilted his head, studying me in silence for a beat too long, then slid his hand from my hip down to lace his fingers with mine. "You're a terrible liar, you know that?"

"I'm not lying." I even laughed, though it sounded brittle to my own ears.
"Talk later." I said and kissed him.

When I stepped out of the garage, Christian Horner was coming in from the pit wall, his face tight with the kind of expression that usually meant trouble. I didn't care and just kept walking.

"Hei, stranger." The familiar voice from behind stopped me mid-stride. I turned to see Lewis, that easy smile on his face.

"Lewis" I said, softer, before leaning in for a hug. His arms were warm and brief around me.

"I'm running late now" he said, already glancing toward the Mercedes garage, "but come visit other motorhomes too."

"I promise I will."

While FP2 was still running, I stayed with Peter near the pit lane, watching the cars flash past in a blur of speed and noise. I nodded at whatever he was saying about tire compounds, but my mind kept drifting back to Charles' words in the medical room.
Those thoughts pressed against my chest like a weight, the metallic roar of engines only making my head feel heavier.

An hour later, FP2 ended. Another hour passed before Max finished his debrief with the team. By the time we slipped into the car, the paddock was calmer, shadows stretching long in the late afternoon light.

Cap low over his eyes, one hand on the steering wheel, the other resting on the gearshift. I turned my head toward him for a couple of times and tried to speak, but didn't know how to start.
The quiet between us felt thicker than usual.

Halfway out of Monza, I broke it.

"Max... there's something I need to tell you."
His head tilted slightly, eyes flicking toward me before returning to the road. "Okay."
I exhaled, fingers knotting together in my lap. "Charles came to the medical center today."
That got his attention. His knuckles whitened on the steering wheel. "Why?"

"He said... he wanted to apologize for yesterday." I hesitated, then forced myself to keep going. "But then he... he also said things. About not being okay with you raising the baby if it's his. That he wants to fight for me. For the baby."

Max's jaw tightened, the muscle there working like he was biting back words. "What else?"
I looked out the window, afraid to meet his eyes. "He told me he loves me. And that... if the baby is his, he wants to see what your loyalty really looks like then."

The car went quiet again, but this time it wasn't peaceful. It was thick with something sharp, electric.

For a few seconds, all I could hear was the low hum of the engine and the faint sound of the tires on the road. Then Max gave a sharp, humorless laugh, the kind that made my stomach clench.
"Of course he said that" he muttered, shaking his head. "Classic Charles... can't win on track, so he tries to win off it."

"Max..."

"No." his voice cut in, low but charged. "He thinks I'm gonna just... walk away? That I'd stop loving you because of a DNA test?" His grip on the wheel tightened until I could see the tendons in his hand. "That's not how this works. Not with me."
I swallowed hard, wanting to believe him, needing to believe him. "He was trying to get in my head."

Max's eyes flicked to mine, sharp and unwavering. "And did he?"
I hesitated. "A little," I admitted, my voice almost a whisper. "But only because... I don't want to lose you."

"You won't." The certainty in his tone was so solid, so unshakable, it almost undid me. "I don't care whose kid it is. I'm here. For you. For the baby. End of discussion."

He shifted gears, jaw still tight, but his hand found my thigh, squeezing firmly like he wanted me to feel the truth of his words.

The quiet of the villa wrapped around us the moment we stepped inside, the lingering smell of coffee and faint notes of sandalwood from Max's cologne still in the air. I toed off my shoes, stretching my toes against the cool floor.

"I also bumped into Lewis today" I said casually, trying to ease the tension that still hummed between us. "I should give him a call, it's been a while since we talked or saw each other."

I didn't even make it two steps before Max's hand wrapped firmly around my wrist, stopping me in my tracks. He didn't just hold me, he pulled me toward him with a kind of quiet force that sent my pulse skittering.
"Enough of Charles" his voice was low, almost a growl, "or Lewis." His eyes locked onto mine, sharp and possessive. "Now, I'd only like to hear my name coming from your beautiful lips."

Before I could reply, his fingers brushed against my mouth, tracing my lower lip with slow, deliberate strokes that made my breath catch. His hand slid to cup my chin, holding me in place, the warmth of his palm grounding me while his thumb tilted my face up toward his.

Then his mouth was on mine, hard, insistent, claiming. The kind of kiss that left no room for anything else in my head. 

No Charles. No doubts. Just Max.

The kiss deepened so fast, I barely had time to breathe. His hand at my chin slid to the back of my neck, fingers threading into my hair, anchoring me to him as his lips moved with a hunger that made my knees weaken.
I gripped his shirt, bunching the fabric in my fists, pulling him closer like I couldn't get enough. The faint taste of redbull energy drink lingered on his tongue, warm and intoxicating, and the way his chest pressed against mine made my heartbeat thud in my ears.

He backed me toward the wall, never breaking the kiss, his body caging mine in. The soft drag of his stubble against my skin sent shivers racing down my spine. When his mouth left mine to trail hot, open-mouthed kisses down my jaw and throat, I heard my own soft gasp escape.

"Say it" he murmured against my skin, his lips brushing the sensitive spot just below my ear.

"Max" I breathed, almost involuntarily, the sound of his name seeming to pull a satisfied growl from his chest. "Good girl"

His hands were everywhere, sliding down my sides, gripping my hips, pulling me flush against him. Heat coiled low in my belly, and for a moment, there was nothing but the feel of him, the scent of him, the undeniable truth that no one else could undo me like this.

I didn't care about Charles. I didn't care about what-ifs or results or the whispers in the paddock. Right now, I only cared about Max's mouth finding mine again, about losing myself in him until the world outside didn't exist.

Chapter Text

*****MAX*******

The sheets were tangled around our legs, her skin still warm against mine. Irina was curled on my chest, fingers tracing lazy patterns across my ribs. The quiet after sex always had a way of breaking me open, stripping everything else away, no racing, no paddock, no Charles.
Just her. Us.

I tilted her chin up, pressing a kiss against her temple.

"I need you to hear this again" I whispered. "I'm not leaving. Not you, not the baby. I don't give a damn what that test says. This is our family."
She breathed out slowly, her voice fragile but steady. "Max... sometimes I don't know if that's the right way to look at it. What if we're just lying to ourselves?"

I shook my head, brushing my thumb along her cheekbone. "No. We don't need a piece of paper to tell us who we are. I'm in this, Irina. Always."

Her eyes shimmered in the low light, and for a moment, I thought she'd cry. Instead, she gave me a small, tired smile. "So we just... never open the results?"

"Exactly." I kissed her again. "We make a pact. No matter what, we don't need to know."
She exhaled, almost laughing through her nerves. "That's reckless."

"Maybe. But it's us."

We sealed it with another kiss, softer this time, like a promise.

That's when her phone buzzed on the nightstand. She groaned, reaching for it.
"Probably just another reminder from the medical center..." she muttered, unlocking the screen. Her eyes flickered, then widened. "Oh. It’s not the medical center and It's not the paternity test either."

I propped myself up on one elbow. "Then what is it?"
"The NIPT, the non-invasive prenatal test." Her voice turned clinical for a moment, the doctor in her taking over. "It checks for chromosomal abnormalities, and... it can also detect the presence or absence of the Y chromosome."

My brows lifted. "Meaning...?"

"Meaning we can find out right now if it's a boy or a girl."

I didn't even let her hesitate. "Open it. Come on, Irina. Let's see."

She bit her lip, staring at the screen. "Are you sure? Maybe we should..."
"Yes." I cut her off, my heart hammering like I was waiting for a red light to go out. "Open it."

Her thumb tapped the message, eyes scanning fast. Then her hand flew to her mouth. Tears welled instantly. "Everything's fine" she whispered. "No chromosomal issues... perfectly healthy baby."
My chest loosened with relief, like I'd been holding my breath for weeks. "And...?"
She swallowed hard, looking at me. "Chromosome Y was not detected."

It took me a beat. Then it hit me. A grin exploded across my face. "A girl" I breathed. "We're having a little girl."

I don't think I'd ever felt something so raw, so pure, flood through me. I laughed, kissed Irina everywhere, her lips, her cheeks, her hair, before sliding down to her stomach. My hands cradled her belly as I pressed kiss after kiss against it.
"You hear that, little one?" My voice cracked, but I didn't care. "You're going to be the most loved baby girl in the world. And I'll protect you with everything I have."

Irina's hand rested in my hair, her own tears finally spilling over.  I don't know how long I stayed like that, talking to our daughter, but in that moment I could've sworn time stopped.

Saturday morning in Monza was one of those days when I woke up already buzzing with adrenaline.

The Tifosi were everywhere, red shirts flooding the streets, flags waving, chants echoing around the circuit. Italy loved Ferrari more than anything, but I had gotten used to their passion, their noise, their way of making you feel like the enemy. And honestly? I thrived on it.

But this weekend wasn't just about the noise outside.

Inside, I had my own storm to deal with. Irina. The look in her eyes yesterday after Charles cornered her... it still burned in my head. I hated leaving her with even a shadow of doubt.  
Hated knowing Charles was still trying to push his way into her life, into our life.

By the time I got to the garage for FP3, I had shoved all that aside. Helmet on, engine fire up, that's my sanctuary.  
The car felt alive under me, sharp through the Ascari chicane, biting down hard into Parabolica. 

Qualifying later would be messy because of all the grid penalties, including mine, but the point was clear: pace was on our side.

When I stepped out of the car after FP3, Irina was waiting just outside the garage, talking quietly with Peter. She smiled when she saw me, but it was the kind of smile that tried to hide nerves. I brushed my hand across her lower back as I passed her, just a touch. Nothing big. 
But enough for her. Enough for me.

In the qualifying, the Ferrari crowd roared every time Charles set a lap. And I admit, he hooked up a strong one, he took the pole.  
I put in second fastest, but the penalties shuffled the grid anyway.

I knew I'd be starting P7.

Didn't matter. Seven cars in front of me just meant more fun.

When I walked back into the garage after the session, Irina was there again, leaning against the wall. I pulled off my balaclava and caught her eyes.

She didn't need to say it.

She was proud.

And worried. Always both.

"Seventh isn't bad" I joked, wiping sweat off my forehead. "Just means I'll give them a show tomorrow."

She smiled softly, but I saw her glance toward the Ferrari people who where congratulating Charles.  
Charles had been looking too. Watching us.

On sunday for the race day, the sea of red was louder than ever. I tightened the straps of my helmet, heart steady but electric.  
This was the kind of race I lived for: nothing to lose, everything to gain.

Lights out, and I launched. P7 became P5 by Turn 1.

P5 became P3 by the end of Lap 2.   
The car was flying, each corner begging me to push harder.  
Every lap I was slicing through them, Russell, Norris, even Sainz.  
And when I closed in on Charles, the crowd went insane, red flags waving everywhere.

But it didn't matter how loud they screamed his name. I was faster. Hungrier.

By Lap 48, I was leading.

Irina's face flashed in my mind even as I braked hard into Turn 1,  her sitting in the pitlane, probably clutching her hands, heartbeat racing with mine.
Then the safety car came out. The laps ticked down, and I knew this one wasn't ending at full speed.

It was a win, but not the way I wanted it. Still, Monza, Ferrari's backyard, and I had beaten them.

That feeling? Unmatched.

The garage erupted when I rolled back in. Mechanics cheering, cameras everywhere.  
I pulled off my helmet and the first thing I saw was Irina. Standing a little off to the side, her hands clasped, unsure if she belonged in this wild celebration.

I didn't even think. I walked straight to her, grabbed her hand, pulled her close.
Irina leaned close, whispering, "Max, this is your moment. Stay with your team."

But I shook my head, pressed my lips against her temple. "You're part of my moment."
Still, I felt her tense. She didn't like the eyes on us. Didn't like being judged.

After the podium, media duties, and the obligatory debrief, I could feel the tug-of-war inside me: part of me should have gone to the team's big celebration party, but another part, the bigger one, wanted nothing more than to spend the evening with Irina and her parents.

They arrived in the evening to see the race, and luckily, this time, no other ugly events happened in between.

Unfortunately I met them after Austria, when her father had suffered that heart attack. It was emotional, raw, but we had connected in a quiet, meaningful way.

Tonight felt different. Less crisis, more family.

So, I ditched the champagne-soaked party plans and reserved a discreet, elegant restaurant tucked away in the center of Monza. The kind of place where no fan mobs could interrupt, and the wine list was longer than the menu.

Her parents looked radiant. 

Her father, already grinning ear to ear, proudly saying again that he is and will be loyal with Ferrari. "But today, I admit... I did cheer a little when you passed Charles." He winked at me, and I laughed, shaking my head.
"You're betraying Ferrari already?" Irina teased, squeezing her dad's arm.

He shrugged, taking a sip of wine. "What can I say? The boy drives like a devil. And most importantly..." he glanced at Irina, then back at me with softened eyes, "he makes my daughter happy."

Her mom was gentler, more watchful, the kind of woman who picked up every detail.  
She complimented the restaurant's flowers, the tablecloths, the way I pulled out Irina's chair before sitting. Her eyes lingered on me sometimes, like she was searching for something beneath the surface, and I let her see it.

The sincerity. The devotion.

We talked about everything. Racing, of course, her father couldn't resist asking me about Monza, about the adrenaline of that pass into Curva Grande. He mimicked holding a steering wheel, nearly knocking over his glass in the process, while Irina's mother shook her head, muttering, "Old men and their toys."

But then the conversation shifted to softer ground. Irina's childhood stories, the trouble she'd cause in school, the way she'd lock herself in her room to read medical books at thirteen.

Her father proudly told me how she once stitched herself at sixteen after a clumsy fall.   
I looked at her, smiling in disbelief, and she just rolled her eyes, cheeks pink.

I didn't drink much, only a glass of wine. I wanted to stay sharp. But I watched Irina glow under the candlelight, her laughter blending with her parents'. I realized then that skipping the team party wasn't just a choice, it was obvious.

This was where I wanted to be.

By dessert, laughter filled every corner of the table. Tiramisu spoons clinked, stories layered over one another, and the weight of racing, of Charles, of doubts, it all faded.  
For a few hours, I wasn't Max Verstappen, World Champion.

I was just Max, sitting at a dinner table with people who already felt like family.

Dessert had just been cleared, the waiter setting down tiny espressos and pouring another splash of wine for her father, who was still recounting one of his "Ferrari stories" with wide gestures. Irina laughed softly, but I could see the way her fingers twisted around the stem of her glass, that nervous habit she had whenever something weighed on her mind.

Her mother noticed too. She always noticed. "You're quiet, darling" she said gently. "Everything all right?"

Irina's eyes darted to me, and I gave her hand a reassuring squeeze under the table.  
It was our silent pact: we'd tell them tonight.

"Yes" Irina began, her voice steady but her eyes glistening. "Actually... there's something important we want to share with you both."
The table fell silent, her father lowering his glass, her mother leaning in.

Irina took a breath, her free hand moving instinctively to rest over her stomach. "I'm pregnant."

For a split second, there was only silence. Then her mother's hand flew to her mouth, eyes brimming with tears, while her father blinked hard, his face breaking into a wide grin.

"Pregnant?!" he boomed, half-standing from his chair before sinking back down, overcome. "Irina, my little girl... you're going to be a mother!" The voicd of Irina's mother cracked on the last word.

She was already out of her chair, wrapping Irina in a fierce embrace, kissing her cheeks over and over. "Oh, sweetheart... oh my God. You should have told us sooner. How far along are you? Are you feeling well? Do you need anything? What did the doctors say?" The questions tumbled out in rapid-fire, but the joy in her voice was unmistakable.
Irina laughed, blinking away tears of her own. "I'm fine, Mama. The baby's fine. We just found out recently that it's a girl."

Her mother gasped again, pulling me into the embrace now too, surprising me with her warmth. "A girl! Max, do you hear? You'll have a daughter."

Her father was quieter, but his eyes spoke volumes as he reached across the table to grip my shoulder with a strength that startled me. "Take care of them. Both of them."
I nodded, feeling the weight of his words, and the trust behind them. "I will. Always."

The rest of the evening dissolved into happy chaos: plans for baby clothes, talks about names, her father joking that if the baby inherited my driving skills, he'd better start saving for helmets. Irina glowed under their attention, her laughter freer than I had seen in weeks.

As we left the restaurant, her mother hugged me once more, whispering, "Thank you, Max... for giving her this happiness."

And when Irina slipped her hand into mine as we walked into the Monza night, I knew that this evening would stay with us forever. It wasn't just the night I won a race. It was the night we became a family, not just us, but all of us together.

Irina's parents left the next morning, after one last round of hugs that lingered a little longer than usual.
Her mother kissed her cheeks and reminded her to rest, her father pulled her close twice, like he was reluctant to let go. I stood a step back, watching the goodbyes, strangely warmed by how quickly they'd accepted me.

Chapter Text

By afternoon we were back in Monaco. The harbor outside my apartment glittered under the sun, familiar and grounding after the noise of Monza. She curled up on the couch with a journal in her lap, though I doubted she was reading much. I headed straight for the simulator, running laps until my eyes burned and my arms felt heavy.

After a shower, I found her still there, lost in thought. I leaned against the doorway, studying her. Every time I looked at her now, the thought hit me again: she was carrying my child. 
Or maybe not my child. But mine all the same. Ours.

"Maybe you could stay home for the rest of the season" I said, trying to keep my tone light, like it was just an idea.

Her head lifted, brows furrowing. "Why?"

I pushed off the doorframe and crossed the room, sinking onto the couch beside her. "Because the next races are brutal. Singapore, Japan, Austin, Mexico, Sao Paulo... long flights, heat, time zones. I don't want you tired. Or worse."

"Max." She said my name like a warning, soft but firm. "I'm only in the second trimester. Flying is safe. I'm fine. The baby's fine."
But I wasn't convinced. Maybe part of me just wanted her here, safe in Monaco, away from the madness.  
Away from Charles.
"Still" I muttered, rubbing the back of my neck. "Maybe..."

"No." She cut me off, eyes steady on mine. "Don't do this. Don't wrap me in cotton just because you're scared. I'll never put myself or the baby at risk. If I ever feel something's off, I'll talk to Dr Roberts immediately. I promise."

I studied her face, trying to read the certainty in her expression. It didn't calm the twist in my chest. "Do you want me to talk to him? Just to be sure?"

"Max." Her answer was immediate, firm. "No."

Silence stretched for a beat. The weight of my fear pressed down until I dragged my hands over my face, elbows digging into my knees. The words came out low, raw. "I just... I can't lose you. Either of you." She shifted closer, sliding her fingers into mine, resting her head on my shoulder like she could steady me with her touch alone. "You won't" she whispered.

I kissed the top of her head, pulling her against me, but I knew she could feel the tension still coiled under my skin. Protective. Possessive. Afraid.
I didn't care what she said, part of me would always want to shield her from everything.  
Even from things she didn't see coming.
I broke the silence myself, blurting it out like it had been sitting on the tip of my tongue all day. "I called my mom and Victoria. Invited them to stay with us for a couple of days. Maybe we'll take the yacht out... announce the baby there." I could hear the joy in my own voice. For once, something felt uncomplicated.

Irina smiled, soft but cautious. "And your dad?"
My jaw tightened before I could stop it. I shook my head. "I'm not planning to talk with him very soon."

Images of Zandvoort flashed like a bad replay, the venom in his words, the way he looked at her like she was nothing. It still made my blood boil. "Max, he's still your father" she said gently. Of course she'd say that. She had this irritating, beautiful kindness that stretched even to people who didn't deserve it.

I turned to her, my voice hard. "Irina, that man is pure poison. I don't want him anywhere near you. Or the baby. I don't want that close to our little family."
Her lips parted, about to argue. "But..."

I cut her off. "No. No buts. Matter of fact, I've got a project for you." I stood, pacing toward the window, already imagining it. "I'll call a real estate agent. We need a bigger place."

Her brows shot up. "What? Why? This one is very nice. More than enough space."
I shook my head, almost laughing. "Not really, no. Two bedrooms won't cut it. I want at least four bedrooms. A bigger living room. A place where our kid can run, where we can breathe."
Her eyes widened, a mix of shock and amusement. "Jesus, Max."

I grinned at her expression, but underneath it was something sharper, heavier: the certainty that I wasn't just preparing for a baby. I was building a home. A safe one. One that Jos Verstappen would never walk into.

Irina laughed softly, shaking her head. "You realize you sound like a nesting mother right now, right?"
I raised an eyebrow. "And? Someone has to make sure our daughter has room for her kart collection."

"Our daughter is barely the size of a peach, Max" she teased, eyes sparkling. "Yeah, but peaches grow" I said with a grin, leaning against the counter. "And when she does, she'll need space. Toys. A piano if she takes after you. Maybe a little racing simulator next to mine."

She threw a dishtowel at me, laughing. God, I loved that sound.
The apartment suddenly felt too small for it.  
Like her laughter was filling every corner, and I wanted more of that. More her. More everything.

I crossed the room and pulled her against me, my hands resting over her stomach. "You have no idea how much I'm looking forward to this," I whispered into her hair. "To her. To us."
Her body relaxed against mine, her head finding its usual place under my chin. "Sometimes I still can't believe this is real." she murmured.

"Believe it" I said, pressing a kiss to her temple. "Because it is. And I'm not going anywhere."
For a few seconds, the world was quiet. Just the hum of the city outside and her heartbeat against my chest.
Then her voice, soft but thoughtful: "You think your mom will be happy?"

"She'll cry" I admitted with a small smile. "She loves kids. And Victoria, she'll probably plan the a babyshower and the nursery too, even before we even sign for a new place."

The next few days passed in a blur of apartment visits. But nothing seemed to be like the one I was imagining it. Not a problem, there was still time to find the perfect one.
My mom and Victoria arrived exactly how I imagined, full of warmth and noise and endless questions.

I hadn't told them why I'd invited them yet. Wanted to make it special.

We spent the day at sea, the waves calm, the sky painted gold. Irina was glowing, sunlight turning her skin honey and her hair almost copper in the light breeze.

My mom kept smiling at her like she already knew. Vic probably having the certainty, since she was the one that told Irina she might be pregnant in Ibiza.
When we finally settled far on the sea and I opened a bottle of sparkling juice before the champagne, I just... said it.

"We're having a baby."

The words hung in the air for a heartbeat before my mom gasped, hands flying to her mouth. Victoria squealed like a kid.
Then it was hugs, tears, laughter, the kind that makes your chest ache in the best way.

Irina was crying too, silently, one hand on her belly, the other tangled with mine.
And for the first time in months, everything felt right.

Later, when the sun set and the city lights started blinking far on the horizon, I looked at Irina leaning on the railing, her hair tangled by the wind, and I thought...

This is it.
The family I've always wanted, the calm after every storm.

I didn't know what the next races would bring, or if the world would ever stop prying into our lives.
But at that moment, watching her laugh with my mom and sister, I knew one thing for sure:
Whatever comes, I'll protect this.

Her.

Us.

Always.

Later that night, after my mom and Victoria along with the kids went to bed in the guest rooms, the yacht was quiet again, just the soft hum of the sea, the occasional creak of ropes against metal, and Irina sitting barefoot on the deck, wrapped in one of my hoodies that was too big for her.
I came up behind her, a cup of tea in each hand. "You should be sleeping" I murmured, handing her one.

She smiled faintly. "You too."

"Without you?"  I said, sitting beside her. "Never."

For a while we didn't talk. We just listened, to the water lapping against the hull, to the wind rustling in the sails. She leaned her head on my shoulder, tracing little circles on my hand with her fingers.
"My dad would've loved this" she said softly. "The calm. The view."
I looked down at her. "He's feeling better now, right? I mean...he seemed better in Italy."

"Yeah. Much better. He keeps saying he wants to visit again soon... to see you."
That made me smile. "I'll take him karting next time, or on some laps around some track."  
She laughed quietly, shaking her head. "You'll terrify him if you drive in in your characteristic way."

"Probably" I admitted, grinning.

Then her voice softened again. "Thank you, Max. For tonight. For bringing your family, for making it so... real."
I turned to her, brushing a strand of hair from her face. "It is real, Irina. You, me, our daughter. I've never wanted something this much."
Her eyes flickered with emotion, and before she could speak, I kissed her, slow, unhurried, like the sea around us.
When we pulled apart, she whispered, "I love you so much...and you're going to be such a good dad."

That hit me harder than I expected. I felt it in my chest, deep and steady. "I'll do my best" I said quietly. "I promise."

The next morning was chaos in the best way.
Victoria had taken over breakfast duty, which meant the kitchen smelled like burnt toast and laughter.

I don't even know how the fuck is she cooking for her own kids.  
Yeah...I'm joking, she is an incredible mother.

My mom was already sitting outside with Irina, flipping through baby name ideas on her phone. I just leaned against the doorframe, watching them.

Three generations of Verstappen chaos right there, my mother smiling like she was thirty again, Irina glowing even though she still insisted she "didn't have that pregnancy glow" and the faint hum of something that felt suspiciously like peace.

My mom looked up and spotted me. "Don't just stand there, Maxie, come help us decide! Irina says she likes names that start with A."

"A?" I repeated, sitting beside them  
Irina smiled softly. "Maybe, I don't know. It's very hard to find a name suited for the last name. Verstappen."

"Amelia Verstappen" I said out loud, trying it on for size. "Yeah, that sounds like a future world champion to me."
My mom rolled her eyes. "Or a doctor, like her mother."

Irina laughed. "Or both or neither. She should decide for herself."
It was silly, lighthearted, domestic, and I loved every second of it.

For once, there were no cameras, no engines, no team meetings, no pressure. Just us.
Later that day, after dropping my mom and sister off at the airport, Irina and I returned to our apartment. The sun was setting over the port when we walked into the apartment.

It still smelled faintly of her perfume and the cinnamon candles she liked to light in the evenings.

I dropped my bags, stretched, and looked around the place that had seen both late-night chatter and arguments and equally passionate make ups. But it suddenly felt smaller than ever.
Irina came up behind me, wrapping her arms around my waist. "You're thinking about the house again, aren't you?"

"Maybe" I said, turning to face her.
She gave me that knowing smile. "You want space for your sim, your trophies, and a baby room."

"And a garden" I added.

"For what?"

I shrugged. "For her to run around. For us to sit outside. Maybe get a dog."

Her laugh was soft against my chest. "A dog. It will surely get along with the cats." she laughed even more. "Next thing you'll say is we should move out of Monaco entirely."

"Not yet" I said, kissing the top of her head. "But someday... yeah. Somewhere quieter. Somewhere that's ours and our three kids"

"Three??" Her eyes going wide. "Yeap. It's a magical number. It's perfect."

That night, as she slept curled into me, one hand resting over her belly, I realized how much my world had shifted in just a few months.
Racing used to be everything.

Now it was just one part of my life.

Because this...her heartbeat steady against me, the tiny life growing between us, the quiet...this was what actually mattered.

For the first time in a long time, I wasn't thinking about winning.

I was thinking about keeping.