The Deception ~ LN4

2

Lando

Today 11:15

Are you at the airport yet?

I haven't even left my hotel room

I'll be there in 15

Okay good

~~~

My Matcha Tea

Yesterday 22:23

I had dinner with Lando...

Today 11:18

Lando who?

Lando Norris?

Mercedes?

~~~

Mercedes pulled her pilot's suitcase through the staff entrance of Nice Côte d'Azur Airport, suppressing a yawn. She'd stayed up later than planned, rereading Lando's texts and trying to convince herself that last night had actually happened. Her phone buzzed – speaking of which...

"YOU MET WHO?!" Sienna's voice exploded through her AirPods before she could even say hello.

Mercedes winced, adjusting the volume. "Good morning to you too, Si."

"Don't you 'good morning' me! I wake up to a text saying you had dinner with Lando freaking Norris, and you expect me to be calm? Start talking. Now."

Mercedes swiped her ID badge through security, nodding to the familiar guard. "It wasn't planned or anything. He was just there at the restaurant, eating alone..."

"And you just happened to be wearing your cute pilot uniform that makes you look like a total boss?"

"Actually, no," Mercedes laughed, heading toward the crew room. "Just jeans and that white button-down you made me buy in Paris. But listen, the best part is—"

"Hold up," Sienna interrupted. "Your texts were super vague. Did you actually talk to him? Like, properly talk? Or was it just a 'oh my god, you're Lando Norris' kind of thing?"

Mercedes paused outside the crew room door, lowering her voice. "We talked for three hours, Si. And get this – he's actually on my flight back to London today."

The shriek that came through her AirPods could have shattered glass. "ARE YOU KIDDING ME? Please tell me you're not kidding me. Mercedes Kinley, if you're messing with me—"

"Not kidding," Mercedes grinned, checking her watch. "Look, I have to go do my preflight checks, but I'll call you tonight and tell you everything, okay?"

"You better. And Merce? Try not to crash the plane while flirting with your F1 boyfriend."

"He's not my— goodbye, Sienna!" Mercedes ended the call, shaking her head with a smile as she entered the crew room.

The next two hours passed in a familiar blur of preflight procedures, weather checks, and crew briefings. Mercedes was reviewing the flight plan one final time when her first officer, James, poked his head into the cockpit.

"Captain," he said with an unusually broad grin, "there's apparently an F1 driver on our passenger list today. Thought you might want to know, being a racing fan and all."