Four sets of eyes landed on us.
Marco’s grin went wary. Ivy narrowed her gaze like she was trying to figure out what we were about to pull. Kimi looked resigned, which was fair. Lucy’s brows knitted, confusion sliding into curiosity.
“You crashed our sexcation,” I said, voice mild. “So there are rules.”
Lucy, on the other hand, went as red as a tomato, eyes flying wide. Oh, she was going to have fun with this group.
Marco clutched at his chest. “You called it a sexcation?” He looked at the group with a smug smirk. “It’s catching on, guys.”
“It’s not,” Ivy muttered and rolled her eyes.
“That is heavily censored compared to what we call it in private,” Aurélie said serenely. “We’re being gracious hosts.”
Ivy’s mouth twitched again. “Oh, this should be good.”
“Rule one,” I said, over the low chatter. “You are guests in our home. That means you respect the house and the people in it. No filming, no accidental Lives, no Story posts with location tags, nosneaky off-the-cuff pictures that somehow end up in group chats you can’t control. If you want to take a photo, you ask us first. If you want to post something while you’re still on the island, you run it by Ivy and Lucy, and if they veto it, you accept that like adults.”
Ivy lifted her hand. “Co-signed,” she said. “And if you argue with me about it, I will arrange mandatory press tours.”
Marco shuddered. “She’s not bluffing.”
Lucy looked between us, eyes wide. “Wait, do you really…” She cut herself off, cheeks flushing. “Actually, never mind.”
“Rule two,” I said, drawing attention back to me before Aurélie could spiral about the press. “Bedrooms and bathrooms are not communal spaces. If a door is closed, you knock. You wait. If you don’t hear a very clear ‘come in’ that includes the words ‘we are dressed,’ you assume we’re indecent and walk away.”
Kimi gave us a shit-eating grin. “Is that not standard practice?”
“You’d think so,” I said. “You’d be wrong. Marco.”
Marco threw his hands up. “I walked in on one blowjob, everyone loses their minds?—”
“Two,” Ivy corrected crisply. “That I know of.”
“We weren’t supposed to tell them about the second,” he hissed.
“Youare the one who couldn’t keep your temper in check whileI was on a date.”
Christ. Those two were going to kill each other.
Lucy’s blush crept all the way to her ears. “I’m just going to… never open a closed door,” she said faintly. “Ever.”
Kimi patted her shoulder sympathetically. “It’ll be okay, Luc. You’ll get to used it.”
“Excellent start,” I said.
Aurélie shifted, the hem of her romper whispering against her thighs. My brain derailed for a second, replaying the way those thighs had parted so perfectly for me on the kitchen counter less than half an hour ago. The way she’d gone boneless in my arms, eyes glazed, lips swollen. The way she was commando under that damn thing, and I hadn’t stopped thinking about it since I put it on her.
Focus.
“Rule three,” Aurélie said, picking up the proverbial baton. Her voice went light, effortless, but I could hear the steel underneath. “No bringing work drama to the dinner table. We are happy to strategize, plot revolution, and plan our hostile takeover of the paddock—but in designated hours only. Tonight is not those hours. If anyone says ‘contract’, ‘FIA’, ‘Orion’, or ‘Henric’ over the pasta, they are doing the dishes.”
“Or, in Marco’s case, sleeping on the terrace,” I added.
“I feel targeted,” Marco said.
“You are,” she and I said at the same time.
Lucy snorted, then clapped a hand over her mouth like she wasn’t sure if she was allowed.
