Monaco Nights

Laura Jean POV

The Monaco night was warm in a way that felt like the city was showing off.

I stepped out of the car, smoothed the front of my dress, and took a second to just exist in it before heading inside.

Yachts in the harbor, lights dancing across the water, retired champions in suits that probably cost more than my rent having conversations that would never make it into any article. It still didn't feel normal, but I was getting better at pretending it did.

Stephen found me before I'd made it three steps inside.

"LJ."

He handed me a champagne flute like he'd been waiting all evening to do that. "You clean up well for someone who spent the day in Laurence's garage."

I accepted the glass. "You were watching the garage?"

He laughed. "I watch everything. It's an occupational habit."

He leaned against the high table beside me, that grin going nowhere. "Come on. One night off from the serious journalist thing. My yacht's down the harbor. Better conversation, better music, at least one driver on this grid who actually answers questions in full sentences."

I took a small sip of champagne before looking back at him. "You're very persistent."

"It's a gift." He tilted his head. "You're wasting good journalism on Laurence. You would think a camera had insulted his mother."

"Maybe it did," I said. "That's kind of the story."

Stephen raised an eyebrow. "Careful. You're starting to sound like you actually like him."

"I'm starting to sound like I'm doing my job," I said. "Different thing."

He looked at me for a second like he wasn't entirely sure about that. Then he smiled again. "Come find me when you're ready for actual conversation."

Before I could answer, heads turned toward the entrance almost without anyone meaning to.

Conversation near the door thinned out. Jannis had arrived.

His gaze flicked briefly to me before settling on Stephen. "Cole."

Stephen's grin stayed exactly where it was. "Just keeping your journalist company, Laurence. Someone has to."

Jannis looked at me. "You get what you needed today?"

"More than yesterday," I said. "The comment about tire wear and track temperature changing the grip. That was actually useful."

Something shifted briefly in his expression. "At least you asked something worth answering."

Stephen looked between us, clearly enjoying himself.

He let out a low whistle. "Two whole sentences. You two might manage an actual conversation by the next race."

Jannis looked at him with the specific patience of someone who has decided not to bother. "Keep talking, Cole. See how it affects your lap times tomorrow."

Stephen put a hand over his heart. "He threatens my lap times and somehow I'm the villain of this paddock." He glanced at me. "You see what I deal with?"

"I see two people who've been doing this long enough that it's become its own language," I said.

They both looked at me.

"What?" I said. "I'm observant. It's literally my job."

Stephen laughed, genuine this time. Jannis's mouth twitched, not quite a smile. Then he looked away first.

"Make the rounds," he said to me, like it was a suggestion and an exit at the same time. He walked off toward the far end of the room without waiting for a response.

Stephen watched him go. "He's going to be a problem for you."

"He's already a problem for me," I said. "That's the whole point."

I finished my champagne and set the glass down. "I should actually make those rounds."

Stephen nodded. "You know where I am, LJ."

I moved through the crowd and that's when I spotted her near the media corner.

Evangeline Dame.

Three-time Sports Journalist of the Year, the woman whose F1 investigations I'd basically used as a study guide in university.

She clocked me before I reached her.

"So you're the exclusive," she said, smooth and precise.

"Laura Jean Renard. Full paddock access after two years of Jannis freezing everyone out."

"That's me." I kept my shoulders straight. "It's genuinely an honor. I've followed your work for a long time."

She gave me a small cool smile. "Twenty years in this paddock and they hand the golden ticket to someone who's never survived a full season." She glanced at my credential. "Try not to choke on it, darling."

I met her gaze without looking away. "I intend to earn it."

"We'll see," she said, already turning back to her group. "The paddock has a way of revealing who belongs."

I stood there for a second after she turned away.

One of the photographers she'd been talking to caught my eye briefly, gave me a small sympathetic grimace, and looked away. Which was somehow both worse and better than nothing.

I circulated for another hour after that, gathering what I could from engineers and support staff, but Evangeline's comment sat with me.

By the time I got back to the hotel I was too wired to sleep. I changed into something comfortable and took the elevator to the rooftop terrace.

The city spread out below, Monaco doing its thing, all light and water and the particular beauty of a place that knows exactly what it is.

I leaned on the railing and let the breeze do something about the heat still sitting in my chest from the party and the general weight of the day.

I heard him before he turned. Only one person walked like that, unhurried, like the terrace already belonged to him.

I turned just enough to glance over my shoulder. "Couldn't sleep?"

"Too much noise," Jannis said.

He stopped beside me at the railing, forearms on the metal, looking out at the water. Not close enough to be anything. Close enough to notice.

We stood there for a while without talking. It wasn't uncomfortable, which was strange given that most of our conversations felt like sparring. This was just quiet.

"You handled Evangeline well," he said eventually.

I let out a quiet breath. "You saw that?"

"Hard to miss. She doesn't like new faces getting what she thinks are shortcuts."

"She's not wrong that I haven't earned it yet," I said. "Not fully."

His fingers tapped once against the railing. "You asked the right questions today. Didn't twist what I said. That's more than most."

I smiled lightly. "Was that a compliment?"

"Don't push it, Vixen." The faintest trace of something dry in his voice.

He looked back out at the water. "Why chase this? Full season, constant travel. Most journalists would've said no when they heard my name."

"Because people like you are interesting," I said. "What it actually costs to keep winning when everyone's waiting for you to slip. There's something real in that."

He was quiet for a moment. "Cole said something to you tonight?"

It wasn't a question. I looked at him. "He said a lot of things."

"About me?"

"He always says things about you," I said. "I'm starting to think that's less about me and more about whatever's between you two."

Jannis looked at the water. "Old history."

"You don't have to tell me," I said. "I'm not asking."

"I know you're not." He said it quietly. "That's why I might. Eventually."

I didn't push it.

The wind picked up off the water. The space between our arms felt closer than it had a few minutes ago.

My phone buzzed in my pocket. I pulled it out.

Unknown number: You don't know who Jannis Laurence really is.

I deleted it and put my phone away.

His eyes flicked briefly to my phone before returning to my face. "Work?"

"Just work," I answered.

He looked at me for a moment, like he'd noticed the gap between what I had said and what was true. He didn't push it. "Get some rest. Tomorrow's another long one."

"You too." I said.

He pushed off the railing and headed for the elevator.

I stayed where I was, looking out at the water, the text sitting in the back of my mind.

Below, the city glittered. I watched it for a while longer before going inside.