We led them through the villa and into the living room, where someone had cleaned up the breakfast dishes and pushed the chairs into a semi-circle. Marco offered them water with the fake smile he reserved for pit lane interviews. Lucy curled deeper into the armchair she’d claimed earlier and blinked at them like they were part of a very weird dream.
Kimi drifted behind her like a shadow, hovering near the back of the chair. Not touching, but clearly guarding. His hand hovered near the top of the cushion, just shy of resting against her shoulder, the way you do when you’re not sure if it’ll be welcome. She leaned into it like it already was.
He didn’t say a word. Just watched, sharp and calculating. Like if they so much as looked at her funny, he’d have their credentials stripped by sunset.
It was… kind of sweet to watch. Kimi had always been like a brother to me. A few awkward kisses as teenagers here and there, but nothing beyond that. His life had always been private. He fucked around, sure, but he wasn’t in the headlines much. And he never really latched onto anyone.
So seeing him gravitate toward Lucy, in a way he never had with anyone, made me wonder if it was more than just friends. Callum and I knew better than anyone that “just friends” didn’t last. Even with benefits. It turned into head-over-heels love that split you open and rewired your entire nervous system. The kind that transformed you, that burned everything clean and set your soul on fire.
But he also had a good moral compass. Loyal to the end. Quietly supporting the people he loved. He never bragged about his salary, never chased the cameras, never pretended to be anything he wasn’t. He spent more time visiting home in Finland than I’d seen most drivers do with their home countries.
He didn’t talk about his family much, but I knew he was close to them. Kimi was hard to explain, impossible to summarize. But if anyone could do it—if anyone could hold his attention long enough to make him slow down and realize there was more to life than fucking around and driving fast—it was a wide-eyed popstar who looked 100% his type and had a heart soft enough to cut through steel.
“Miss Dubois,” the doctor said, clearing his throat. “This will just be a standard physical examination, per Article 7 of the FIA’s medical oversight clause. It includes a quick vitals check, a brief physical assessment, a urine sample, and a draw for blood work. All confidential, all required given the current… speculation of your condition. The results will be shared with you directly, and your team’s medical director’s.”
Ivy’s brow twitched. I said nothing.
He continued, a little too fast. “Given the nature of the examination, I’ll need to ask that it’s conducted privately. No team personnel or drivers are permitted to accompany?—”
“She’s not alone,” Callum cut in smoothly, stepping forward.
The doctor blinked. “Pardon?”
“I said she’s not alone.”
“Ah, my apologies, Mr. Fraser, but only family may be present.”
“Perfect.” Callum reached for my hand and lifted it. My ring flashed in the morning light. “She’s my fiancée.”
My stomach flipped, hard and fast, and I knew in that moment I wassafe. We were safe. Our bubble was safe. Our future and our family—whatever shape it took—was no longer up for debate. He wasn’t letting anyone touch it without peeling through him first.
“If you’d like to see the marriage application,” he added coolly, “I’d be more than happy to provide it. But under no circumstances is this examination happening without someone she trusts in the room. Especially given the ethical and medical concerns surrounding this surprise visit.”
The Luminis compliance officer cleared his throat. “Sir, we do need to maintain a certain level of clinical?—”
“You need to maintain moral and legal standards,” Ivy snapped. “And this is already toeing the line of a lawsuit.”
“We’ll be recording the entire thing,” Callum added, voice like steel. “If that’s a problem, I’d suggest you speak to our lawyer first. You know, the one who has ample evidence to sue the FIA and corresponding officials who participate in morally ambiguous practices.”
The nurse looked like she wanted to disappear into the floor. The security guard clasped his hands tightly behind his back.
And I had never been more confident that we would win this fight.
“I’ll allow the presence of one support person,” the doctor said finally, stiffly. “But I’ll need confirmation on the record that you consent, Miss Dubois.”
I nodded once. “I do.”
Callum’s thumb brushed over mine.
“And I’m not giving you anything you don’t need,” I added. “No off-record questions. No commentary. No press leaks. I have your signature on a non-disclosure agreement.”
“Understood,” the doctor said.
“Good,” Ivy said. “Then let’s get this over with.”
The visit didn’tlast long. The doctor and nurse moved with mechanical efficiency, only asking basic questions pertaining to my vitals. I laid on the bed for a quick pelvic exam, which did, unfortunately, hurt from the endo.
I peed in a cup for them and waited for the nurse to emerge from the bathroom confirming no drugs were in my system and clearing up the pregnancy concern. Callum stayed by my side like he was orbiting me.
