Breaking the Grid

Princess

I step off the terminal walkway and onto the tarmac, my suitcase rolling behind me as I approach the jet. Kimi had dropped me off not too long ago, offering his usual playful sarcasm before heading back to the car. Now, it's just me and the familiar sight of the private jet that's become my second home over the past year. As I get closer, I see Maria, the captain I've flown with for weeks now. She gives me a friendly wave.

"Blair! Back so soon?" she calls, her voice cutting through the hum of the engines.

I wave back, smiling. "You know me, Maria. Never a moment of peace."

She chuckles, and I walk up the stairs into the jet, the sleek interior as familiar as ever. The usual scent of leather and the soft hum of air conditioning hit me, making it feel like any other flight—until I hear music.

I pause just inside the doorway, my eyes narrowing as I look toward the source. Sitting in one of the window seats, comfortably sprawled out, is Joe. He's got his legs crossed, one arm draped over the seat back, and a champagne glass in hand, the bubbles catching the light from the window. His gaze shifts to me as I walk further into the cabin, and a grin spreads across his face.

"Well, look who it is" he drawls, lifting his glass in a mock toast. "Finally gracing us mere mortals with your presence."

I bite the inside of my cheek, already annoyed. "Joe," I greet him curtly, barely slowing my pace as I move past him, dropping my bag on the seat furthest from his.

"Come on, Princess," he says, making me freeze in my tracks. "You don't want to sit all alone, do you? I'm good company, I swear."

I hate that nickname. *Princess.* He's called me that a few times before, always with that same condescending tone, like I'm some delicate thing he can toy with. The way he says it grates on my nerves, and I'm one deep breath away from snapping.

"Stop calling me that," I say through clenched teeth, sitting down but facing away from him.

He chuckles, that smug sound filling the space. "Aw, you're no fun. You need to lighten up. You're always so serious. What's the harm in relaxing a bit, huh? You're a woman of many talents, Blair, but man, you don't know how to have fun."

I roll my eyes, trying to tune him out as I fish my headphones from my bag. Anything to drown out his voice. But of course, Joe doesn't get the hint.

"You know," he says, stretching his arms behind his head, "with all the stress you put on yourself, maybe what you need is someone to take care of you. Someone like me." His grin is so wide, it makes my stomach turn. "You and me, Princess—could be a good fit. I'd make sure you're not always stressing over that 'man's sport' of yours."

My fists clench around my headphones. It's like he's trying to get under my skin on purpose. He knows exactly what buttons to push—making those subtle digs about F1 being a "man's sport," treating me like I don't belong in the same league, as if he's doing me a favor by suggesting we'd make a good pair.

"You know, Blair," he continues, clearly oblivious to my irritation, "you're a beautiful girl. You've got a whole future ahead of you. Ever think about what comes after racing? You could have a family, a nice stable life. You're chasing after all this success, but for what? Why not just settle down and enjoy the good things in life?"

I turn to face him now, unable to hide my disgust. "Settle down? With someone like you?"

His grin widens, and he raises his glass again like he's just won a bet. "Hey, I wouldn't mind. I mean, come on—look at us. Power couple, right?"

"You're delusional." My voice is low but firm, the anger bubbling just beneath the surface.

He leans back, undeterred, his gaze sliding over me in that way that makes my skin crawl. "Just think about it, Princess. You keep pushing so hard, trying to prove yourself, but you don't need to. Not with me."