Chapter 12 Aurélie #2
“I know,” I said. “But I did. I’ve spent the whole season doing just that. Against other drivers, the FIA, my team sabotaging my car.” I heaved a sigh, rubbing my forehead.
Ivy’s knuckles went white on her mug. “Then we don’t give them a single inch. You say what you want, nothing more.”
I nodded once, jaw tight.
Ivy pointed at Callum next. “You. You stay. You do not pick a fight, no matter how much they deserve it. You let me prod where I need to and you back her up. Minimal Scottish snarling. We need you soothing, not feral.”
He lifted a shoulder. “No promises.”
“Fraser.”
He groaned. “Fine. I will attempt to keep my temper to indoor levels.”
“Thank you.” Her gaze slid to Kimi. “You are on Luminis official watch. If they try to push being in the room during your examination, you stall, you redirect, you downright refuse. I don’t care. They don’t get access to her. It’s doctor-patient confidentiality.”
Kimi nodded like she’d just asked him to pass the salt. “I can do that,” he said. “It would be my pleasure.”
“Marco.” Ivy pinned him with a look. “You are on paparazzi and staff watch. Any drone, any long lens, any resort employee hovering with their phone out, you charm them into oblivion. You are the golden boy. Use it.”
Marco flinched, then straightened a little. “Copy that,” he said. “If there is one thing I can do, it is be distracting.”
“Perfect. Distract away.”
“Worst case scenario, I pull my shirt off and reveal my tattoos to the world.”
I blinked. “Wait. You’d do that for me?”
His expression faltered. Something flickered behind his chocolate brown eyes—shame, maybe, or guilt dressed up in bravado. “I would,” he admitted quietly, meeting my gaze across the table. “I’m sorry, Aurélie. This… all of this is my fault. You don’t deserve it.”
He looked at Callum next. “Neither do you, mate. So if taking the heat from my Nonna and my mother is what it takes, so be it. I’ll put on a fucking bikini if it helps because nothing I do now will make this right.
I crashed your honeyday, or sex island, or whatever the hell you’re calling it.
And you’ve been through some serious shit and I just—”
“Marco,” Callum said, voice calm but firm. Marco stopped mid-spiral, glancing between us. “We know. Thank you.”
Something unspoken passed between them. Marco swallowed and gave a quick nod.
Ivy’s voice gentled when she turned to Lucy. “They will be signing NDAs before they can step foot in this villa. You don’t owe anyone anything, especially not when this is a working holiday for you now, but if you want to stay—”
“I’m staying,” Lucy said immediately. Her voice was small but steady.
“Okay. Then you are on support duty.”
“Perfect. I can be there afterwards or even during. Sing, or cry, or braid hair, or hold a bucket. Whatever she wants.”
Something in my chest pinched and then eased. I hadn’t known this woman two days ago, just listened to her music and thought about the one time I met her in Monaco and she’d complimented me. Now she was offering to sit with me through an uncomfortable examination.
“Merci,” I said quietly. “I will let you know what I need. Right now I think I need… this.” I gestured vaguely at all of them. At the table, the food, the blanket, the stupidly beautiful ocean. “All of you being here, so it feels less like I am walking into the lion’s den alone.”
“We’re a whole circus,” Marco said solemnly. “We’ll crowd the lion.”
“Also,” I added, “if Henric calls during this visit, no one is allowed to let him say the word ‘uterus’ in my presence, or I will be forced to commit murder, and that would be very bad for my image.”
“Noted,” Ivy said. “Henric’s vocabulary is on a strict need-to-use basis. He needs only three words: ‘yes,’ ‘sorry,’ and ‘resignation.’”
That pulled a shaky laugh out of me. It felt like trying on a familiar jacket after it had been soaked in salt water and tears and left in the sun to dry. Still mine, just a little stiffer.
Callum nudged my plate closer. “Try the avocado toast, mo chridhe,” he murmured. “If you don’t eat, you’ll faint when they take blood and I’ll have to catch you again, and then everyone will mock us.”
“They already mock us,” I pointed out.
“Yes, but then they’ll say we’re dramatic, and that will hurt my feelings.”
“Injured legend,” I sighed. “Tragic.”
Still, I picked up the toast and took a bite, then another and another until it was gone. Only then did I realize I was ravenous, so I reached for my partially-eaten croissant and scarfed that down, too.
The air was warm and soft. A breeze moved through the terrace, ruffling napkins and lifting loose strands of my hair.
For a few minutes, the conversation drifted into safer waters—Marco complaining about the stairs all over Milos and how he was on vacation, not “auditioning for a Marvel reboot,” to which Ivy muttered “If the spandex fits…” under her breath.
Then someone—maybe me, maybe not—floated the idea of getting matching tattoos, and Lucy sat bolt upright, danish halfway to her mouth.
“I’ve always wanted one,” she said, eyes sparkling. “But my label wouldn’t let me. Said it made me ‘less wholesome.’”
That spiraled into her telling us about the time they tried to add a “no visible bruises” clause to her tour contract, and Kimi, without missing a beat, deadpanned, “We should add that to Marco’s.”
Callum choked on his tea. Marco flipped him off.
By the time Callum pulled me into his lap, the laughter had softened into something warmer, easier.
I tucked my knees to my chest and let my head rest on his shoulder, closing my eyes for a second.
He smelled like bergamot and expensive body wash and something older, heavier, masculine.
The kind of scent that lingered on sheets and made your stomach flip when you caught it days later.
I let everyone’s voices wash over me. Let the sea fill in the silence.
For a moment, I almost forgot there was a countdown running underneath it all.
The knock came just as Ivy was explaining, in graphic detail, what she would do to Henric’s inbox if he tried to leak anything to the press.
Three sharp taps echoed through the villa, filtering through the open glass doors, polite but firm.
We all stilled.
Ivy was already halfway to the door, muttering under her breath. “If this is the paparazzi, I swear to God—”
But it wasn’t. It was the official Luminis crew.
The moment she opened the door, chaos spilled in.
There were four people total. A doctor in navy slacks and a branded polo, a nurse with a clipboard and tired eyes, a Luminis security officer who looked like he was sweating under his earpiece, and the team’s medical compliance liaison—aka the one sent to make everything sound lawful while making it look like they weren’t committing a massive privacy violation.
The Luminis logo was embroidered on all their shirts. Ivy’s eyes narrowed like she was planning arson.
“Shoes off,” she snapped automatically. “And sign this first. You may not speak to any of these individuals until you do.”
She shoved her iPad toward the doctor without even a hello, the NDA already pulled up on the screen.
One by one, they fumbled to remove their shoes—awkwardly stacking them near the door—and scrawled their signatures, clearly startled by the welcome committee of half-dressed drivers, an MIA popstar, and one very pissed off PR queen.
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 was safe. 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.”