Chapter 25
Molly
For what feels like the millionth time today, I lift my phone, only to realise that it’s out of power.
God, the phone addiction shouldn’t be this bad, but when your phone is dead, you realise just how much you’re used to having it.
After spending two days at a conference, I decided to go back early.
I’m missing my man and the world of Formula 1.
I already feel like I’m missing out, with the two practices today, which I won’t be able to catch in real time. I’m expecting a full brief when I get to the paddock.
When I woke up, on a whim, I decided to go back early, and in my hurry to pack up, I left my charger behind. Normally, I would just buy a new one at the airport, but I decided a phone detox might be nice.
I’m regretting that decision for every second I spend on this plane, not having much to do.
I’ve already sketched until my hand is sore, which leaves me to stare out the window.
At least I have the best seat.
When I finally land in Austria, I feel the tingling rising, knowing I’ll get to see Peter soon.
Not seeing him for two days is bad enough, and not talking to him today is making the anticipation even more exciting.
When I get to the arrivals hall, I’m not prepared for the media circus that awaits.
A group of reporters and photographers is waiting for me, and as soon as they spot me, they start shouting their questions.
“Molly! Molly!”
“What is your comment on Peter cheating on you?”
What the hell is this?
Peter cheating on me?
My head starts to spin, and I’m tempted to ask them what the hell they’re talking about, but I know how these people can be.
Whatever they’ll tell me is probably far from the truth. Still, the question causes a pit in my stomach.
Why would they ask me that?
It can’t be true, can it?
I’m gone for two days, and he gets with someone else.
The old Peter might have been like that.
Hell, the old Peter didn’t even kiss someone a second time.
But he’s not like that anymore. He’s never given me a reason not to trust him.
I have to stay true to him, to us, and get to him as soon as possible to find out what is going on.
I’ve never met with any press—that’s usually reserved for my outings with Peter, but it’s usually not this intense.
Which means something must have happened.
I keep my head low as I make my way out of the airport, cursing myself for my dead phone.
Could I have chosen a worse day to do this detox?
I also wanted to surprise Peter by coming back early, but now my nerves are rising because I don’t have a way to contact him.
I wave down a taxi; the reporters are still nagging at me, but they’re getting the hint that I won’t be speaking.
I tell the driver to go to the Red Bull Ring, and I’m tempted to ask for his phone to call either my dad or Peter, but I decide against it.
Having a random taxi driver with either of those numbers isn’t wise.
I’ll just have to be patient.
Which has never been my strong suit.
The drive takes way too long, and I ask the driver what time it is and whether he has a phone charger. Of course he doesn’t.
Luck just isn’t on my side today.
Both practices should be done by now, so I don’t even know if I’ll find Peter on track or if I need to go to his hotel.
We finally pull up to the track, but as I’m arriving in a taxi, he’s not able to drop me off as close as I’ve hoped.
I pay for the ride and start making my way through the paddock, pulling my hood on and putting on some sunglasses.
When I spot the chaos outside of the Audi garage, I’m tempted to just turn back around.
But maybe it means Peter still is here.
If he’s left for the day, the media would probably go back to where they came from or follow him to his hotel.
Once again, I lift my phone, ready to call my dad or Peter to help me out of this mess, but it’s just as dead.
I let out a groan and decide that the only way is through the circus. I keep my head down and do my best not to draw any attention my way.
When I’m getting closer to the garage, some of the reporters spot me and immediately turn their attention to me, shouting their questions and flashing their cameras.
Like the ones at the airport, all the questions are about Peter cheating on me and whether I have broken up with him.
When I get to the driver’s room, I don’t bother knocking and go right in.
The relief when I spot Peter, together with Ryan, is huge.
Peter immediately stands up from the couch and comes over to me, taking me into his arms. “Fucking hell, I’ve been going crazy not getting a hold of you.”
He hugs me tightly, holding on to me as if his life depends on it.
“My phone has been dead, so I don’t know what is going on. I landed in Austria to a bunch of reporters asking me if I’ve broken up with you because you’ve cheated on me.”
Saying the words out loud brings emotion to my throat.
The reality of their accusations hit me hard.
Praying that it’s not true.
“Fuck. I hate this situation. What a fucking mess.” Peter lets me go and starts pacing around the room, and I can tell this has been a hard day for him.
His hair is sticking up in all angles, probably from running his hands through it as he’s doing right now.
He’s muttering about the suits and their greed, and I watch him together with Ryan, seeing him come apart at the seams.
I’ve never seen Peter this lost.
“Did you cheat on me? Break my trust?”
That seems to break him right out of his daze.
“What? Fuck, no, Molly. I would never.”
Even though I didn’t believe that he would either, the relief is there as he looks at me, and he seems to come back to us, to me.
He comes right over, bringing his hands to my face. “I’m crazy about you. Those pictures are old.”
Christ.
Pictures.
I haven’t even seen what this is all about.
I’m hoping it’s not a sex tape.
It wouldn’t feel good seeing Peter with someone else, but I guess I do need to see what this is all about.
“Ryan, pull up the stories.”
He brings out a computer, and I start browsing through, the relief big as I take it all in.
First of all, it’s easy to see that these pictures are old. I would have seen that myself if my phone hadn’t died.
Second, the worst pictures are of kissing, which, of course, looks bad since they’ve printed them as if they’re recent, but I can tell they’re not.
I know my man, and he looks a little different now.
I feel my anger rising.
Toward the reporters who so easily bought into these pictures, not bothering to double-check their sources.
It would be easy to see that these are old.
Some of them have probably already been printed in older articles.
When I see a picture of Ryan sporting a buzz cut he must have had, I laugh out loud, the absurdity becoming complete.
“Your hair must grow quite fast, Ryan.”
I snort, and some of the pressure seems to lift from Peter as well as he sees with his own eyes that I don’t believe any of this shit.
Ryan chuckles, shaking his head at the old pictures of him.
A mechanic pops his head in, asking for Ryan and he takes off.
Peter sits down beside me, bringing my hand to his lips before squeezing it in his own. “Fuck, how did I get so lucky to have you?”
“I don’t know. Must be that cock piercing of yours.”
He starts laughing, and I’m happy to bring him some joy after what must have been a day from hell.
“My piercing and I will fuck you real good when we’re alone tonight. I’m not taking any chances here with those fucking reporters outside. Wouldn’t want our sex tape to be the next big story.”
I lean in, finally pressing my lips to his.
Gosh, two days apart was way too long.
“Nah, that sex tape is for our eyes only,” I murmur and I can tell Peter’s curiosity is spiked.
It’s not something I’ve ever done, but with him, it would be hot to record and watch it back.
With the media storm that is happening outside, I really shouldn’t be thinking of making a sex tape, but my brain is all mushed up from being in his presence again.
“Come on. Let’s go home.”
We manage to sneak out unnoticed by using the back exit and maneuver around the team buses, my hand in Peter’s the whole time.
I giggle, feeling like we’re in the middle of a movie.
“It’s like we’re spies running away from the bad guys,” I say and Peter tops it off when he pins me to a wall and kisses me.
“And I’m the male lead getting distracted by the beauty of my woman in the middle of it all.” He winks at me before he continues our journey, with me swooning behind him.
This man.
I’m down so bad for him.
We make it to his car, and he speeds off while he tells me the whole story.
The firing of the suits and how Arthur anticipated they would start leaking information to the media.
The fabrication of the dates was a surprising move, though.
No one saw that coming.
“You could sue them, you know. It’s illegal to mess with dates like that.”
I think about my own position at work and wonder if Star News took the bait.
I hope not.
“If Star News has posted anything of this, I’ll march right up to Anne and hand in my resignation. Then my dad will be stoked to finally have me on his team.”
Peter tightens his hold on my thigh.
“You’re so sexy when you get all fired up for me, baby.”
I roll my eyes at him. “We have serious business to attend to, Peter. You need to focus.”
I’ll gladly spend the night getting the ammunition we need to take these fuckers to court if that is something Peter wants.
“Yeah, and you need to relieve some of this tension, which I’ll gladly help with, by eating you out when we get to the hotel.”
I’m trying really hard to focus on the task at hand here, but he’s making it more difficult by the second.
His hand is drawing circles on my thigh, moving higher with each stroke.
I grab his hand, taking it away from my thigh as he distracts me with his touch.
“Seriously, Peter. I know that you’re used to this shit, and maybe before, when you actually were this party boy, it was part of what you had to expect. But you’re not that man anymore.”
He’s worked hard this year and turned around his old ways.