Mia nodded, gathering her tablet and notes. She glanced at Lucas, expression neutral now, last season already archived like some forgotten press release. “Ready when you are,” she said lightly.
They ended up in the small conference room, whiteboards covered in bullet points. Mia sat across from him, posture rigid, flipping through her prep document without looking up for longer than necessary.
The silence stretched, thick.
“Okay,” she said finally, voice even but quieter than usual. “Let’s start easy. Sky Sports: ‘Lucas, after a solid rookie season, what’s your mindset going into year two?’”
He tried for the grin. It felt wrong. “Focused. Hungry. The team’s made strides over the winter—can’t wait to get back on track.”
She tilted her head, appraising him like telemetry data. “Good. But add something human. Fans like vulnerability. Maybe how the break helped you reset.”
The word “reset” landed badly. Skiing. Sienna. The announcement still ringing in both their ears.
He swallowed. “Yeah. The break… helped.”
Her eyes flicked to her notes. No flinch, but her pen tapped once—sharp—against the page.
They moved on. The personal-life question came too soon.
“‘Rumours about your personal life—care to comment?’”
Lucas rubbed the back of his neck. “No comment. Next.”
Mia’s eyebrow lifted, the smallest crack in her composure—a wry, almost pained half-smile. “Deflect with charm. Try: ‘I’m all about the racing right now, but life’s good off-track too.’”
He repeated it. She nodded, but the nod was tight.
They pressed through more questions. The tension didn’t vanish, but it had to bend—they both knew they’d be in rooms like this for months. When he botched a rival-team question—“Wait, no, I didn’t mean they’re slow, just… strategically challenged?”—Mia’s lips twitched. She pressed a hand to her mouth, stifling what might have been a laugh, but it came out softer, sadder.
He caught it. “That bad?”
“Recoverable,” she said quietly, almost gently. “Try again.”
He did. She corrected. They laughed—small, tentative sounds, like testing intermediate tyres on a slick surface. Not the easy banter of last season, but a fragile truce. They had to worktogether. They had no choice.
After an hour, Mia leaned back. “You’re getting better. Less stiff. Almost… relatable.”
“High praise,” he said softly, no tease in it this time. “Thanks to you.”
She shrugged, cheeks warming just enough to notice. “Just doing my job.”
A pause. Loaded.
Lucas leaned forward. “Mia. About Abu Dhabi—”
His phone buzzed. Sienna’s name. Heart emoji.Miss you already! Dinner plans tonight? x
Mia’s eyes flicked to it, then away. The softness vanished.
“You should get that,” she said, standing. Voice even. “We’re good here.”
Lucas silenced the phone. “Mia—”
“Really. It’s fine.” Quick, professional smile. “See you at the sim briefing tomorrow.”
The door clicked shut.
* * *
