Mia squeezed her hand. “Thanks, Dana. For this. For listening. For… everything.”
Dana squeezed back—gentle, steady. “Anytime. Now come back to the madness before my mum starts another round ofcharades.”
They walked back to the living room together, the loneliness easing just enough that, hours later, on the dark train back to London, it no longer felt quite so heavy.
* * *
The factory felt sharper in early January—pre-season energy crackling: media schedules to lock, briefing notes to draft, social calendars to align. The first big comms-strategy meeting of the year was set for 10 a.m. in the main conference room—department heads, Marcus Lang, and the drivers when they eventually arrived.
Mia walked in with her tablet and notebook, ready for the controlled frenzy. As she took her seat, her phone buzzed once—Dana’s name on the screen.
Coffee after the meeting? Let me know when you are free. We need to talk.
Mia frowned, thumb hovering. Cryptic. Urgent. But Claire was already clapping once at the head of the table, voice cutting through the low chatter.
“Settle, everyone. Quick season overview, then driver updates.”
No time to reply. Mia silenced the phone, slid it face-down, and forced her focus forward.
Claire tapped her screen, smile bright.
“First news: our golden boy is officially off the market.”
A ripple of chuckles and murmurs went around the table. Mia’s eyebrows lifted slightly. She felt a flicker of genuine curiosity—Jax dating someone sounded juicy. Who’d finally pinned down the Aussie charmer?
She leaned forward just a fraction, interested despite herself.
Claire continued, tapping again. “Lucas confirmed it this morning. He’s dating Sienna Vale—the influencer. They’ve been seen together over the break. Mia, let’s draft the first statement. Low-key, positive. ‘Happy for him, focused on the season,’ etc.”
The name landed like cold water down her spine.
Not Jax.
Lucas.
Mia’s lungs emptied. The pen in her hand froze mid-air. Her pulse slammed once, hard, then steadied into something dull and aching. She kept her face perfectly neutral but inside the room tilted.
Dana’s text suddenly made brutal sense.
She forced a small nod, voice level. “Got it.”
But her fingers tightened around the pen until the plastic creaked, and the words on her tablet blurred into nothing.
* * *
Lucas
The Swiss Alps had been the perfect escape.
Christmas at the family estate in Kent had been the usual mix of comfort and quiet pressure. The house—sprawling, ivy-clad, with grounds that stretched into misty fields—was beautiful in that old-money way that never quite felt like home. His mother had been kind as always, pressing extra servings of Christmas pudding on him, asking gentle questions about the season, telling him how proud she was. His father, though, had been the same as ever: impatient, expectant. “So, when do you think you’ll bring home that championship, son?” he’d asked over port, half-joking, half-serious. The question hung like a challenge.
Lucas had smiled, deflected, then escaped with his brothers to Verbier for skiing. Fresh powder, cold air, no media obligations. Just speed on the slopes and the burn in his legs.
That’s where he’d met Sienna Vale.
She had been at the chalet bar—long blonde hair catching the firelight, gym-honed figure impossible to miss, her laugh carrying across the room. Sweet enough, easy to talk to. Her attention had flattered him at first, a welcome distraction from the weight of expectation. One drink became two, conversation turned flirtatious, and then—inevitably—one thing led to another.
The sex had been good. Hot, urgent, uncomplicated. He’d told himself it was exactly what he needed: a clean reset. A way to burn out the memory of Mia’s mouth on his after Abu Dhabi—the slow, searching way she’d kissed him back, the soft hitch in her breath when his hand slid to her waist, something uniquely her that had lodged under his skin.
