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callmewrinkles3 · 7 months

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Anti-hero - DR3 x Fem!OC

Masterlist.

Summary: 2021 hasn't exactly been the best season, and Dan's struggling with the car not driving how he wants it to. But he didn't realise that Emmy was struggling with her own work.

Warnings: Zak Brown, McLaren era in general, smut (piv, kink behaviour (marking, domination, praise kinks, light choking, consensual pain by pinching and spanking) that are in the context of a long term already defined relationship but are not explicitly discussed on the page, fingering, teasing. They're kinky kids who love it), explicit aftercare, mentions of race crashes (Monza 2021).

Words: 11k

A/N: We're baaaaaack! This is a bit of a departure for us, and we really hope you like it. As always let us know what you think, we love hearing from you!

September 2021

Dan couldn’t admit it to anyone, but the fact that Em was travelling with him everywhere was probably the best thing in his life right then. Most of the time he was miserable and he fully admitted it. McLaren meant his days were hard, the car felt weird, and it sucked. At least in Zandvoort he’d been able to have some fun in the orange cape, cheering Max on. As much as a clusterfuck that championship battle would be a part of.

The one he’d been assured he’d be a part of next year. He didn’t fully believe Zak anymore. He wanted to but something yelled at him not to.

They were sitting in the private terminal waiting to be told the McLaren jet was ready to go, Dan watching as Em worked for the few minutes before they were called. The VIP area had become normal to him, but for her it was new. It was bright and shiny and he still remembered the first time that she said she didn’t feel like she belonged there.

They’d been in bed in Italy in 2019, flying to Monza from Belgium with Max and Christian in one of the most awkward flights of his life while Em was her usual sweet self. She’d told him that private jets were for important people and she was just Em. It led to his joke that her middle name should be Humble, not Charlotte. But she deserved the world, and the world included that she deserved to be in the jet with him and everyone else.

He loved every piece of her, wanted to tell the world that he loved her but they’d agreed to keep things to themselves. He didn’t know how much longer he could do it. They were down to days until Italy and he was going to say everything, he just had to keep it in till then. He had a plan and he was sticking to it.

He pulled out the carefully wrapped package Max had slipped him after several requests with a “Vicky said these are the best.”, smiling at the still crisp treat.

“Em, here.” He held the stroopwafel out carefully, caramel nearly dripping from the edge as she shook her head and took a sip from her Pepsi bottle. “You don’t want one?”

“I’m not a caramel fan, Danny.”

“But this whole week?” Every time someone gave him one he’d take a bite and offer her one, grinning while she smiled and took a dainty bite in between checking things on her tablet. It became easy to pass it over to her.

“You looked so happy feeding me bites, I didn’t want to break your heart by telling you I don’t like caramel. Toffee yeah, but not caramel.” She smiled at him before turning her head back to work, Dan staring at the woman he loved and her pure ridiculousness.

He watched as she stared at her tablet and frowned at it not doing what she wanted. But he wanted to curl up with her on his lap the same way they were when they flew separately. But instead they’d be separated in the luxurious white leather seats, she’d have her head buried in a book with her earplugs in and trying to ignore everyone around her. It’d be fine. It had to be. Even if they were spending it with people she didn’t feel comfortable around.

Before Dan started with the team he knew she didn’t have anything against Lando. He was a kid who’d joined the grid and was fine. Dan didn’t want to know a whole lot about him after the awkward moment of Lando’s best friend asking Em for coffee in the middle of the paddock when he was a Renault junior and Em was there as Dan’s guest. It took time for Dan to let his jealousy go and Em giggled at it, but he’d finally chilled out. Then Em couldn’t totally chill out about Lando after Monaco.

The “I’ve no sympathy for him” was burned into her brain, she’d had more than one nightmare about it. That kid who didn’t know what he was talking about, who hadn’t ever had to experience anything, saying that? He was showing how privileged he was having walked straight into a team that was expected to be at the top of the midfield. Dan had told her stories about the four day warning he had before his HRT debut, she knew how it had been for him. But Em would take anything that anyone said about her - and God knew she had this year - but if you said something about the people she loved then you were essentially invisible to her. And Lando Norris had reached the invisible stage.

She was always unfailingly polite, saying good morning and good night and making small talk as they were in the same group, but other than that it was radio silence between them. Dan had tried to convince her that it was all fine, Lando was just a kid who needed to learn, but she couldn’t let it go. Months later it was still the same.

She got on the plane just ahead of Dan, smiling at the flight attendant before taking the window seat that Dan pointed her at. He took the seat beside her, Blake and Michael slipping into the seats on the other side of the table. He watched as Lando sat in on the other side, Jon and Lando’s parents there too. Someone pulled an Uno deck out and everyone except Lando’s parents and Em started playing it.

She was sat quietly in her seat, one of the cloth bound classics he’d gotten for her birthday in her hand as she read. He could see the tiny loop of her earplugs just visible, knowing she could hear everyone but was tuning it out to concentrate and it broke his heart a little bit. He wanted to pull her onto his lap, kiss the top of her head and tell her to take a nap because he knew she’d slept badly the last few nights but he couldn’t. She’d have killed him if he tried.

Nobody in McLaren knew anything about them. He wasn’t stupid, he knew there were debates on what he and Em were, but nobody knew the truth. He’d told a mechanic on Lando’s side of the garage to shut up when he made a comment about Em’s ass before. There were rumours all around the paddock and online, he wasn’t blind, but they wouldn’t confirm what they had. He wanted to keep Em safe, and nobody being able to prove that she was the love of his life was easier. Everyone in Renault knew about them - he was convinced Cyril had deliberately started a fight so the cameras were away so he could kiss her at the Nurburgring - and even in Red Bull Christian and Simon had made jokes about Dan’s heart eyes whenever Em was at a race. But it was never public, it was always between them. And in McLaren it just didn’t feel right to tell them.

Em was having issues clicking with them, the constant “if you need an assistant” comments from Zak and Andreas just pissing him off. Em was his assistant, she did a fucking great job and she was getting no respect for it. Zak had insisted that it was teething problems and it’d be fine but it had been going on for nearly nine months now. It was like his driving style and the car, it just couldn’t click right.

So they were avoiding sharing planes whenever possible. He’d organise his own charter, or go with a different driver, or anything. They’d even gone with Fernando at one point, Nando quizzing Dan on the clusterfuck that was the Renault upper echelons while they flew. Or they’d book commercial and deal with looks and selfie requests, because even being on a plane with 150 strangers was better for her anxiety than a tiny jet with people who she didn’t like. Which made no sense to Dan because people at every other team had liked her. There was a reason that she had a standing invitation into multiple hospitality suites if she wanted it.

But they couldn’t help it going to Monza. It was the final leg of the triple header, everyone exhausted and wanting more sleep. So it was easier to say yes and go so they got to the hotel earlier and actually got some sleep. But it meant that he couldn’t cuddle her, he couldn’t even hold her hand and snuggle with her to forget the world existed. Instead she sat there curled in on herself as she was halfway through Pride and Prejudice, a frown on her face and Dan unable to kiss it away.

After a torturous half hour of flying without touching her Dan was tired of it. Friends got to be affectionate with each other, he’d hugged her in public before. He could be touchy with his best friend. He laid his hand over hers, fingers lying in the gaps. She’d put one hand on the armrest as her other hand held her tablet, half looking out the window at the dark night and half paying attention to her screen. She barely even reacted to him, just her fingers loosening and then lacing with his to squeeze for a moment. It said more to him than a thousand words could have.

He knew her well enough to know she’d be silent during the flight, but he wanted to make her smile instead of the small frown on her face. If they were alone he’d have pressed kisses across her cheeks and nose to make her laugh, asking him to stop because his stubble was scratching her. But that wasn’t an option until they were in the hotel in a few hours. The next best option was texting, watching as the notification of his text appeared on her tablet.

The sky should be really jealous.

???

Because it’s pretty outside but it’s nowhere near as pretty as you.

Cocky. Should be jealous of you though, black looks good on you.

You look better on me than black does.

You’re gonna say we can test it out when we get to the hotel, aren’t you?

U know me so well.

Nobody else noticed the tiny smile that appeared on her face, but Dan did. It was there for barely a second but it was enough. At least until he could make sure she was smiling when they were fully alone.

It wasn’t until they were in the car on the way to the hotel and away from the airport that he could hold her hand and press a kiss to her fingers. There were no questions about where anyone was sitting or who was driving, he got straight into the back seat with Emmy, gripping her hand across the middle seat.

“Can we go for pizza after we check into the hotel? I’ve been waiting for one.”

“Already thinking about pizza?” Michael asked it and Dan frowned at his tone, taking it as exhausted.

“I’m never not thinking about pizza in Monza. This pizza keeps me going through the year. Plus, I didn’t throw anyone off the plane or start an argument so I deserve it.”

“You kind of do,” Dan affirmed, lifting their joined hands to his lips to kiss her knuckles.

Emmy’s wishes were his command so if his girl wanted pizza he wasn’t saying no. The fact that her favourite pizza place was also his favourite was an extra point in their relationship. After they checked in, left their things in rooms and Dan pulled her to his room for a quickie to prove his theory of the best way he looked, they left the room to have dinner.

He loved Italy. It was his family’s country, it was the first place that he’d lived on his own in Red Bull supplied housing, he had thousands of memories there. But his favourite ones were Em in Italy with him.

She always seemed happier there, more carefree. The first time he’d brought her to Italy was that first week in Monaco, eating pasta and showing her places he loved. Even when they were busy with work at races she carried herself differently there. When they had their post Monza vacation every year she was always completely relaxed. He grinned just watching her.

He could feel her relax against him as they got out of the car a few streets away from the pizza place. It always felt like he was a little bit of a spy in a foreign land when he was in Monza, the Tifosi out in force. But she was so chilled out that she didn’t say anything when he reached for her hand and held it tightly. Any time they were in public she always gave him her Dan, we’re in public face because they didn’t need any more rumours or people on the internet asking what they were. They didn’t need more people whispering about them.

He didn’t care about it. He couldn’t care less if people talked about him, that came with the territory of his job. But he couldn’t handle people talking about Em and gossiping about her. So he tried to keep his hands from her even when he kept reaching out to take her hand walking anywhere. That night he couldn’t stay away from her and she didn’t say anything about him holding her hand walking down semi familiar streets, or his hand on her lower back as they were brought to their table, or his arm around her shoulder pulling her in for a hug. She didn’t give him a little look or a gentle nudge in the stomach, no whisper to leave her alone while they were in public. It was completely the opposite, after a sip of his beer she was fully leaned against his side and half snuggling him.

“You know what we should do?” Dan whispered in her ear, only half listening to the debate that Michael and Blake were having about the Black Widow movie.

“I’m scared but curious. Tell me,” Em answered as she ignored her lemon drink in favour of another sip from his one allowed beer before a race week fully started.

“Buy a house in Italy.” He watched as her eyes lit up and her face started to move to a grin before she forced it down.

“You’re the most ridiculous man in the world. When would you have time to spend in Italy?”

“We totally could. A cute little house, a couple of bedrooms, a garden, by one of the lakes. It’d be perfect. We should do it.”

“You’re insane.”

“Is that a yes?”

“Of course it’s not!”

She was saying no but the smile she was fighting to keep off her face was enough to make Dan know it was an excellent idea. After they got engaged and found a place in London he was gonna start trying to find somewhere for them. And hopefully some kids. Showing their kids where their family was from, even if it wasn’t Sicily.

They spent the rest of the night chatting and laughing, eating pizza and joining in the conversation with their friends. Em pretended she was sticking to just soft drinks, stealing a sip from his beer every now and then as Dan winked at her and tried so hard not to kiss her wrinkled nose. The four of them walked back to their hotel as Dan forced himself not to take her hand and kiss her on the street. He had a plan and he was sticking to it. This time next week he'd be on a proper date with her, kissing her and then asking her the question that had been burning a hole in his bag since the previous Christmas. It was going to be perfect.

Em loved lazy Wednesdays in Italy. The fact that she'd had enough of them to know that was a magical feeling. It was the end of their triple header, just one more race to go and then they got to relax and spend a couple of days on the shores of Lake Como. Dan had taken control of booking their trip, a cute villa slightly outside the main tourist area. They spent the day relaxing for most of it. Dan had given her a list of restaurants to look at and they mapped out where they’d eat for the three days. They would have killed for longer but it just wasn’t possible in the middle of the season.

That evening was a sponsor dinner that she had to dress up for and look appropriate to be on Dan’s arm. She hated those nights with a passion. She had to be in a fancy dress and full makeup, talking to the rich men who wanted Dan at events. At least this one was for Google Italy, it was more fun than some of the other events she’d been at. A particularly boring DeWalt shoot came to mind on that.

It was Google shmoozing their own clients, using Dan and Lando to do it. Em stayed on Dan’s arm for the entire night as she smiled and shook hands. Halfway through Zak found them and stopped to talk, his own wife there with him. It was Em left with Tracy for a few moments while Zak took Dan around to speak. The two women had wine glasses in their hands and looked around the room.

“Having a good evening, Emma?” Tracy asked, Em nodding.

“It’s Em, but yeah. These events aren’t always fun but it’s nice to see Dan in his element. It’s part of the job.”

“I suppose. Not every assistant does what you do.” Em took a sip of her wine, careful not to knock the glass back like she really wanted to.

“Dan and I were friends before I started working for him. If it means that Dan can enjoy events a bit more then I don’t mind.” Tracy watched her closely for a few moments but nodded as their respective dates for the night returned.

“Sorry about that, I had to double check some things. Daniel, you’re in with Valtteri for the press conference tomorrow, right?”

“Yeah, I am. Should be fun. We’re gonna head off, it’s a busy day tomorrow. See you at the track?”

He took Em’s arm and pulled her along out of the room, the two of them getting into the car and heading back to their hotel. She was tired from the busy room and having to be on around people but she kept it together as they drove on. Dan held her hand on the way back, fingers locked as he pushed a kiss to them. She smiled, looking forward to getting into bed and out of the dress she was in. Even if Dan looked excellent in his suit.

She started pulling pins out of her hair to take it out of the undo she’d managed, Dan standing beside her and pulling them out too. Once they were out he started kissing along her shoulder as he pushed her dress down. Em threw her head back to give him more access before they made it to bed.

Thursdays were weird now. Instead of press conferences it was all digital, the journalists in their hotel rooms asking questions. It meant more setup meetings, more talking, more everything. She used Dan’s meetings as a way to get the weekend planned. But it didn’t seem as busy as normal. Her calendar was half empty. Again.

At Zandvoort she thought it was a mistake but it wasn’t. It didn’t feel right. Em put her worries aside, taking a deep breath as she looked. There had to be an explanation and she needed a moment.

“I’m getting a coffee, anyone want anything?” It was just her, Dan, and Blake upstairs. Michael was out doing some checks and making sure the kitchen was stocked and ready.

“Green tea please Emmy? You make it best.” She laughed at Dan’s puppy eyes, nodding as Blake gave her his order and she went down to the main hospitality area. It didn’t take long to have everything and she went to go back upstairs when a security guard stopped her.

“Sorry Miss, drivers and support only.” His arm blocked the narrow staircase and Em stared at him.

“I am support. I’m Daniel Ricciardo’s assistant, I need to get this up to him.”

“No entry.”

Em sat watching until the guard was called outside and ran upstairs, smiling and pretending it was fine. It had to be fine. There was no other option. The drinks got handed and she watched as they were getting ready until Blake’s phone chimed.

“Shit, Dan, you’ve got a sit down we’ve got to go. Did you not see it Ems?” Blake asked, Em checking.

She stared at her tablet, the realisation hitting her. She wasn’t on any of Dan’s meetings. She looked at Blake’s calendar and his filled up with meetings, things he was in. But hers had a couple of things - the press conference, the race, practices. One of the engineering meetings. A fanzone appearance. But that was it. It was empty and she hated it. Her usually perfectly colour coded calendar was mostly blank and worried her. She was getting blocked out.

“Sorry I must have missed it. My calendar hasn’t synced, I’ll sort it.” Dan and Blake left, Em sitting staring.

She didn’t know why, she didn’t know what had caused this to happen but it was. How? Dan had promised that it was in his contract that his team had full access to all of his information and everything they needed to do their jobs. But she’d missed a meeting and he was nearly late and that was supposed to be why she was there. She had to keep that going. If she didn’t then why was she there?

The evening was half a blur as the realisation she was being pushed out hit her. Security stopping her going up to Dan and Blake. The way McLaren acted in general. All of it. They were pushing her out and forcing her away and she couldn��t keep going like this. It wasn’t fair to her or to Dan if she couldn’t do her job.

“You ok?” Dan asked at dinner, watching her barely touched food.

“Yeah. I’m fine. Just been a long, long day. I’m tired.”

“We can go back soon.”

When they got back to the hotel room Em curled up beside him, feeling the warmth of his body around her and the way he pressed a soft kiss to her forehead before whispering goodnight. If this was her last race she was going to enjoy it.

Em was always the last one to get up in the morning. She was a night owl, getting up at seven because he had a race was the last thing she ever wanted to do. It was usually him waking her up with kisses and promises that he would bring her for food after that helped. Or early sleepy sex to wake her up. Both were fun for him.

But the bed was never empty at five in the morning. He could count on one hand how many times he’d woken up alone when they’d gone to bed together. The room was dark and silent, Em’s spot cold. She had to have been gone for more than a few minutes.

It took a few seconds for his vision to adjust to the quiet darkness and he slipped out of bed and searched for her. Her clothes were laid out where she’d left them the night before. Her shoes were there by the chair. She had to be either in the bathroom or the adjoining room that was hers in name only.

The worry in his gut turned to cold fear as he opened the bathroom door to discover her missing. His girl was gone and she had to be next door but why was she? What had she done to head to her room? It felt wrong. She should have been beside him. He eased open the adjoining door and spotted a ray of light spilling out from the bathroom. The fear eased. She was there, they could fix everything. It’d be fine. But her quiet sobs got louder as he padded across the carpeted floor to her. It was gut wrenching and painful and he pushed the door open to see his girl curled up on the floor beside the shower, her arms wrapped around her knees as she cried.

Em was in one of his oversized shirts - his in name only because he was pretty sure it was the shirt he’d given her over two years ago to help her sleep when he was travelling and she was still in London - hugging herself. Now that he was in the room her sobs were all encompassing and he had no idea how he didn’t hear her the second he woke up. She looked like a scared child, not the woman who shared his bed and his life and heart every day. This wasn’t the Em he knew.

She looked broken. He sat down beside her and pulled her into his arms, feeling how she tensed until she realised who he was. He wanted to hold her and fight against the world, but he needed to know which of her ghosts he was going to fight that night. But it felt like this time it was a whole haunted mansion. He pushed kisses against her forehead and rocked her gently, telling her how it was gonna be ok no matter what.

“I’m right here, Emmy, I promise. Whatever’s going on we can fix it. I promise. I’ll fix it for us.”

Her tears began to ease and he could look at her face. Her eyes were swollen and red, her cheeks flushed but the rest of her face so pale. He’d never seen her this bad before. She was shaking and trying to pull herself together and he knew she wasn’t gonna have the words to discuss what caused this for a few minutes.

“When you’re ready talk to me, ok? Whatever you need. But tell me what’s wrong so we can fix this. I’m worried about you.” His thumb wiped the tears from her cheeks, but he wasn’t quick enough to get them before more came. Slowly they eased and she could take breaths without sobbing. He kept rocking her until she was ready to speak.

“You need to get ready, D.” She went to get out of his arms but he held on and waited till she looked at him with an angry pout on her lips.

“I’m not going anywhere until we talk. There is nothing more important than you, Emmy. Nothing. You’re crying in the bathroom at five in the morning and you came in here so I couldn’t hear you. What’s going on, Wrinkles? Talk to me.” He stood up still carrying her, bringing her into the main hotel room and sitting on the bed. She was playing with the hem of her shirt nervously but Dan gave her time until she was ready to speak.

“I… Dan they’re pushing me away and they’re stopping me from doing my job. And if I can’t do my job at the track then I shouldn’t be travelling so why am I even here? There’s nothing for me to be here for.” He kept his face calm as she spoke, anger filling his veins. What the fuck.

“What are you talking about, Baby?”

“They didn’t want to let me in your room today. I went down for your tea and when I went to go back upstairs they didn’t let me. I snuck past when he was distracted. It’s why it was cold.”

“Who did that?”

“Some random security guard? I’ve never seen him before, I don’t know his name. He said it was drivers and support only and I wasn’t support.”

“I’ll find out who.” Or at least Blake would. He wasn’t letting them get away with this. He couldn’t.

“Danny they’re not letting me do anything. The meeting you nearly missed wasn’t on my calendar. I’m blocked out from everything and I don’t know what to do anymore. There’s no reason for me to be here now, but I don’t want to be away from all of you. I can’t lose you, Danny. I don’t want to be stuck alone and I don’t want them to keep us apart.” He could see the worry hitting her, and he held on, kissing her forehead while rubbing her back.

“You’re not going anywhere, Emmy. You’re not gonna lose me. I’m not letting you go anywhere you don’t want to without me. You’re the one who keeps us all sane and you can’t do that if you’re at home. When did all this start, Baby?”

“Hungary? Slowly but surely. Spa it was worse and Zandvoort was bad. I didn’t know how to talk to you and Blake about it. I thought maybe I could fix it.” She looked even more nervous, jumping as his phone alarm went off in their room.

“Just my alarm, it’s alright. You did nothing wrong Baby, you hear me? Nothing at all. I’m gonna talk to Blake and we’ll fix it. I promise you, you are perfectly fine and didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Thank you.” She went to stand up but Dan squeezed her tighter before letting go, kissing her cheeks to remove the trace of tears.

“Don’t thank me. You know, right?” He squeezed her hand as she stood.

“I know.” A watery smile filled her face. “I need to get ready, I think I need a shower to fix my face before I’m in public.”

“Grab one. I’m gonna run into Blake for a couple of minutes. Are you ok if I do?”

“I’ll be in the shower, don’t worry.”

“I will anyway. I’m gonna take my phone, if you need me call me and I’ll be back in two.” He made sure she was ok before he shrugged into a pair of sweatpants and a hoodie. He picked up his phone and key before heading out, grabbing Em’s iPad as he did. Blake was a couple of rooms away and answered the door looking tired and annoyed, hair sticking up. When he saw Dan’s face he calmed.

“What happened?”

“Inside. Now.” Blake let him in and Dan handed Em’s iPad over, her calendar open to today. There was practice and qualifying in it and that was it. He saw how Blake raised an eyebrow.

“What the fuck?”

“I heard her crying through the wall. She’s getting left out of everything.”

“I know you share a room, I’m not a fucking idiot.”

“She went back into hers.” He laid out the little information that Em had given him, comparing her calendar to Blake’s. The missing meetings, how she was kept away. Zak asking when he wanted his new assistant to start. Dan had to stay calm but Blake could be angry then.

“I’m getting a meeting before practice. She’s gonna be fine, Dan. She’s not going anywhere. We know this. It’s Em, she keeps us alive half the time. Go back, have a shower, we’ve got breakfast downstairs for eight and then we’ll go from there.”

Too much time had passed since he got up to find her, but Dan pushed himself to get ready and get his head in the game. It was going to be a busy, chaotic morning but Em came first. The four of them ate breakfast together and he watched as she barely ate her yogurt. He stood and went over to the buffet, coming back with a Nutella croissant and a hot chocolate to put in front of her. She never really ate when she was anxious so hopefully something would be better than nothing.

On the drive to the circuit he held Em’s hand. Blake drove, Michael in the front seat beside him. Nerves thrummed through his body as he linked fingers but Em kissed his hand and he relaxed. She was there. She was right there and it was all ok.

When they finally made it into the circuit Michael went to do some checks while the other three went to his driver’s room. Em sat there staring into space while Dan stretched out. Finally it was time to go down to Zak, Blake tapping his shoulder.

“Emmy we’re heading, ok? I’ll be back in a few. If you need anything call me.”

“I will.” She still looked nervous so he leaned over to peck her lips, smiling as they separated.

“It’s gonna be fine. I promised you. Focus on holiday plans, which beach are we going to first?” She smiled at him and nodded, safe in his room. Nobody was going to remove her from it, nobody was going to kick her out. She belonged there.

He went down the stair with Blake, ignoring the look that his friend gave him.

“So you and Em?”

“Nothing.”

“It didn’t look like nothing.”

“We’re nearly there.”

“Nearly?”

“I’m trying to make it work.”

“Mate, I’m saying this as someone who loves both of you. She loves you. Just tell her.”

“We’re nearly there.” By the time Dan spoke they were outside Zak’s office and he shook his head to end the conversation. A knock on the door and they were inside, Zak standing ready to end it.

“Guys can we talk later? I’m heading to a meeting, but after qualifying we can-“

“We’re talking now.” He sat down, watching how Zak sat too. Blake followed suit.

“What’s going on?”

“Why is Em being kept from my calendar and everything she’s supposed to be on? She’s been removed from everything. She’s not supposed to be removed. It’s in my contract. What’s going on?”

“I don’t-“

“Emma isn’t able to do her job. She’s missing things because you’ve been keeping her away from everything she needs. She needs access.” Blake took over and Dan was fine to let him, he ended it. He couldn’t keep himself calm for this. He let the words wash over him until Zak got his laptop up.

“We need to keep our information safe. Having someone not employed by McLaren affects this. It’s why we’ve been asking about getting you a new assistant.”

“And Blake has access to my calendar. He’s not employed by McLaren. I trust Em with everything, you need to trust her too.”

“Fine.”

It took another two minutes before Zak closed the laptop, looking at them. “She’s there. If we lose anything I will blame her for it.”

Dan stood and left, too angry to talk. He had to get into the car soon and he wasn’t going to let it affect him. He couldn’t. Em was most important.

Emmy was still sitting where he’d left her, staring into space. It was clear to him now how much this was affecting her, she hadn’t even opened her tablet and her makeup was heavier than he ever saw it. All he wanted to do was make it better for her and fix things. This he could fix. He could make this better for her. There wasn’t a whole lot he could always fix but this he could fix. She looked up at him when he arrived and Dan smiled.

“Check your calendar.”

It took all of ten seconds for her to see that everything was back in her calendar and he watched her relax into her seat. If Blake wasn’t there he’d have kissed her, but they both had jobs to do and practice was an hour away. It was squeezing her shoulder before he went downstairs to talk to Tom.

After practice it felt like things might go ok. He went over data and grabbed lunch before getting into a fresh race suit for qualifying. Like always Em was the last person he spoke to before he got into the car. She kissed the side of his helmet and smiled with a whispered “Go fast and be safe”.

For the first time in McLaren his qualifying felt like it went right. He got out of the car just six thousandths behind Lando. It was good. Em was grinning from the back of the garage with her headphones still on when he arrived in.

That evening as soon as he could get out he did, wanting nothing more than to get to bed. The early morning had done him in, and Em was dead on her feet. It was a quick dinner in hospitality and back to the hotel, Michael and Blake in the car with them again before going up to their rooms. He watched Emmy get changed and set out her clothes for the next day like she always did. Once they were curled up in bed he pulled her closer, desperate to hold onto her as tightly as he could.

“Apart from the obvious, how was today?” He couldn’t feel her tense up at least. That was a good sign.

“Weird. But ok. Blake was like my shadow today, I was beside him the whole day. There was a weird security guy who kept looking at us but other than that it was good.” Dan felt his stomach clench but he made himself stay calm. He’d noticed extra security but that couldn’t have been why. There was no way there was extra there for his Emmy. Not at all.

He watched her eyes close and her breathing even out, his thumb rubbing circles on her back. Three more nights after this. By this time Tuesday evening he’d have said everything, and Emmy would know all of it. The ring sitting in his bag would have a home on her finger. He had so many plans for them. He wanted to marry her over Christmas when they were in Perth, make it all official. She deserved every moment of happiness he could give her and this was the start of it.

Saturday arriving to the track was different. The security had definitely lessened, and coming in realising that it had was a kick in the teeth. But he had to concentrate and work, as much as he’d rather do anything else. Two days till they were on holiday. Two days. They could do it. He was gonna get a good result and decent points and then he and Emmy were going to Lake Como for a strictly clothing optional holiday and he couldn’t wait.

Practice was shit. There was no easy way around it, no way to make it sound better than it was. It fucking sucked and he hated that it did. He hated that every time he thought he was improving he wasn’t, that he was stuck in a tractor of a car that was worse than he was promised and maybe he’d made a mistake. Maybe he shouldn’t have left Renault, maybe he should have been in the blue and pink Alpine instead. Then the bullshit wouldn’t have happened.

The anger fuelled him as he made his way upstairs to his driver room. He was tired and pissed off and fed up. What he thought was a good decision for his career had fucked him and more importantly it had fucked Em over. He never wanted to see her like that again. Ever.

Emmy was sitting on the couch upstairs, her head jolting up as he arrived in wearing his race suit. Not even seeing her calmed him fully and he knew she could tell.

“What’s wrong?”

“Guess.” She stood up and he wrapped his arms around her, feeling himself ease up on everything. She was there and it was going to be ok.

“What do you need, Danny?”

“I don’t even know.”

“Ok, rephrase. What do you need from me? What do you need to get it out?” She leaned up and kissed him and Dan caught her lips, pushing her against the wall as they made out. She was perfect. Absolutely perfect. He could feel the way that she pushed against him, her hand gripping the back of his neck.

“I think I just need to fuck you against this wall, you know that? Make you scream and have the whole paddock know this is exactly where you belong. Right here with me. But I’ve to change and go to another fucking meeting. Much less fun than what I want.” He could see the way she shivered at his words and he completely knew if he moved his hands she’d be there with him. Instead he just watched her swallow and look up.

“I’m not saying no. I’m saying not here and now.”

“You deserve better than that.”

“Danny when we get back to the hotel I want you to push me against the wall and fuck me, understood?”

His brain short circuited. Emmy was asking him. Emmy. His Emmy who before was too afraid to tell him she hadn’t had an orgasm because when they started sleeping together she thought she’d be left high and dry without one. Asking him to fuck her exactly how she wanted with no thought for anything else? He was a lucky, lucky man.

“You are amazing.” He pecked her lips one last time before just holding her. He didn’t want to let go. He didn’t want to say goodbye and go to engineering and stretch out and everything. He wanted to spend time with his girl away from the world. But he changed his clothes and went downstairs, kissing Em goodbye before he left.

The meeting was boring, getting told to protect Lando off the starting line, as if there was no chance he could make it off himself. He’d won seven races, he could beat Lando off the start line. Even with this car. He knew he could. Finally it was time to start stretching and getting ready, Michael holding out tennis balls and helping him prep.

“You need to concentrate, you’ve got a good chance this weekend.” His trainers words were quiet but Dan could hear the full force of what he meant in them.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I mean you need to clear your head, mate. Worrying about Em isn’t gonna change anything.”

“Oh fuck you.” He stepped back, shaking his head while flapping his arms out to loosen them. “I’m focused on driving, that’s what matters. I have a life too.”

“I’m just saying.”

The pit lane was about to open and he stepped back, staying out of the camera view. Netflix were with them that weekend to make it worse and he had to keep a smile on his face when he didn’t want to. Em was at the stairs up to his driver room, smiling at him and quickly kissing his cheek.

“Drive fast, be safe, I’ll see you at the checkered flag. You’ve got this, Danny.” He squeezed her hand before letting go, desperate for the words to be right. It was going to happen. It had to.

Going back to the garage he zipped up his suit and ignored his name being called. Nobody spoke to him until he was in the car after Em did, it was his rule. As he stepped into the car the music changed to Stayin’ Alive, Dan looking around.

“This DJ should get fucking shot though!” He called out, staring at the team. Seriously? This bullshit again. But when he put his helmet on he forced it out of his head, determined not to hear it. He was gonna do this. He was gonna qualify well.

The start felt like a dream, and the fact that he kept going even with the touch with Pierre was important. Somehow he ended up behind Max and he wasn’t sure what had happened until Tom came over the radio.

“Good job Dan, P3. Lando’s just behind and will protect.”

Monza was fun to drive. Every moment of it was fun, the swooping curves and fast flowing corners leading to the straight where he let the throttle fly. He knew he wouldn’t beat Max, but that moment going around the parabolica knowing he was third was beautiful. The screaming of the fans, Tom congratulating him in his ear, he’d fucking done it. He’d come third in the sprint and yeah maybe it wasn’t an official podium but he’d done it and he could be proud of that. He had to be.

Seeing everyone cheering for him meant everything, Em standing with Blake’s arm around her grinning and he wanted to kiss her in front of the world. She was right there but he just grinned. It was everything.

After the interviews he was on his way back to the garage when Max stopped him with a wide smile. The paddock had cleared and it wasn’t unusual for them to walk together.

“I’m going to fight you, but if you get the start I’ll hold Lewis back.” Dan stopped and stared at the younger man, raising an eyebrow.

“Max, what?”

“If you beat me. Only if, and I’m going to fight for it. But if you do I’ll hold Lewis off for you to get the win. We both know you’re good enough for it.” Max smiled and Dan replied with one, looking at his former teammate. Sometimes he regretted leaving Red Bull more than he could ever admit. It was the right move to spread his wings, but he missed the support he used to have.

“Don’t tell Christian you said that.”

“Christian would be glad if you won and I came second. Better if I win and you come second, but he still likes you. Stop by some time, Daniel. You won’t be run away unless you try to look at our data.”

“Ah Maxy, you know me too well!” He grinned and turned into his garage, immediately welcomed by applause and cheering. It had really happened, and it was glorious.

After a stupid number of meetings and discussions they were finally ready to leave. Em was tired, her feet trudging alongside him until he bent down.

“C’mon, hop up.”

“What?” She asked, Dan indicating for her to get on his back.

“The paddock is empty, nobody’s around. Piggyback to the car, c’mon.” She held on and he walked down while talking to Michael and Blake, Em pushing a kiss to the back of his neck every few steps. He knew she knew what she was doing and he squeezed the back of her thighs, making his girl tense slightly as they walked. It wasn’t long back to the hotel and heading to bed to relax. Or in his case get all of the adrenaline out of his system.

They didn’t even do the mock of having Em go into the room that was supposed to be hers, instead he pulled her into their room, bags dropped just inside the door as it was kicked shut. Em was right there with him, her arm around him until he pinned her against the bathroom door. It was his hand in her hair to pull her head back as he trailed kisses along her jaw. It held her still as his knee split her legs and ran up to push the seam of her jeans against her. She gasped into their kiss as he held onto her.

“What did I promise you I was gonna do tonight?”

“F-fuck me against the wall.” Her words were gasps as his free hand was everywhere, teasing and pinching. It was easy to get her shirt off, exposing the pretty blue sheer lace bra. He couldn’t help himself, bending down to lick at her nipple through the barely there fabric.

“Danny…please…” she groaned and he loved every noise she made. Clothes went everywhere as he lifted her up, pulling the matching underwear down and settling her onto the barely used desk. Her legs were spread as he stood between them, sucking marks into her skin while he made his way to his ultimate destination.

Any man who wouldn’t eat his girl out was a coward as far as Dan was concerned. It was one of his favourite things to do. Em’s hair running through his curls and pulling on them, his fingers and lips and tongue working to bring her to the edge. If he was feeling particularly mean he’d leave her right there for a few moments and watch his girl beg him to move.

Tonight though he wanted to ruin her. He wanted to leave her boneless and well fucked and knowing that he was the one who did this with her. He’d leave it all behind if it meant that his Emmy was happy and he was going to slowly prove that to her.

It didn’t take long for him to feel her first orgasm come up, Em grabbing his hair and biting her lip as he took his mouth away to look up at her.

“I want to hear you. I’m the one who makes you feel like this, let me hear you. C’mon.” Her moans got louder as he dove back in, his fingers hitting the spot he knew was her everything. Once he was satisfied with the hickey he’d bitten into her inner thigh Dan moved back to her clit. He kept licking at her clit while she came, desperate to taste everything he could. It was just them in that hotel room and he was desperate for everything.

When Emmy finally stopped shaking he stood up, watching how she was flushed down her chest. She was absolutely fucking perfect.

“You ok, Baby?” He asked, leaning in to kiss her and hold onto her.

“I’m good. I promise. But you promised me a wall, Mr Ricciardo. Gonna make good on your promise?” She was grinning up at him and Dan stood, pulling her off the desk and her legs wrapping around his hips. His lips met with hers as he got them to the wall, pushing Em against it to give them more support. His fingers grabbed her hips as he finally slid into her, watching as Em looked up at him with wide eyes.

“All mine, Emmy. You’re all mine and I’m gonna make sure you know it.” His hips set a blistering pace against her and he watched as her fingers slid to where they were joined, feeling the way she tightened around him as between his pace and her fingers she came to another orgasm. She was harder to hold up after this one, tiredness taking over but he needed another.

“Third place today so I want to see three orgasms. Can you do it for me? Gonna give me that third so I can see my pretty girl? You can do it Baby, I’ve got you.”

Instead of keeping her there he took steps back towards the bed, still inside Em as he set them down carefully. His girl was right there in his lap riding him and she felt so perfect. He watched her move her hips carefully, suddenly realising how hard he’d been pushing her. There was the start of marks and bruises along her boobs and stomach and Dan moved his hand away, looking at her.

“I’m good. Danny, I’m good, I promise. If I wasn’t I’d have told you to stop. But you told me you were gonna fuck me hard against the wall and I wanted it. And right now I want you to tell me what you like.”

He looked into Em’s eyes and saw the absolute truth of what she was saying, even though part of his brain didn’t fully get it. They were rough, they’d go further kink wise than they intended sometimes, but not like this much. He knew Emmy could see the unsureness in his face and he watched as she picked up his hand and put it at her neck. It was their favourite thing in bed, and he used the feeling of comfort he knew it gave her to keep going. If she wasn’t sure she’d have called red and stopped him.

“Gonna be my good girl? Gonna let me watch you ride me and put on a show? Is that what my Emmy wants to do tonight?” He didn’t have to thrust, his hand keeping Em steady and feeling her move under him. She looked so perfect like that, chest bouncing as he watched her fuck herself on him. His perfect Emmy. He was so close to blurting everything out but not now, not till they were alone. He couldn’t do it during sex that was just cruel. He needed to do it when they had no distractions.

“Please Danny. Please. Make me feel good.”

“Such a greedy girl for me. Do you deserve another orgasm? Are you my good girl who gets another?” She nodded desperately as she bounced up and down, Dan pulling her lips closer to him.

“What are you, Emmy? Tell me and we’ll see.”

“I’m yours. All yours, Danny. You’re the only one who makes me feel this good. Please let me feel good.”

He could never deny her, pulling her in for a kiss as his fingers went straight to her clit. Between his thrusts, her bouncing, and his fingers she came in less than a minute, Dan following her straight over. He held her as aftershocks went through her body, Em’s head buried in his shoulder while he rubbed her back, unwilling to slip out of her. That meant the moment was gone and he wanted every second of it. He wanted Emmy in all the ways that he could have her. He was so fucking far gone it terrified him. But he was so blissfully happy.

Eventually they had to move, Dan pushing a soft kiss to her forehead as she lifted off him. He hurried to the bathroom to wet a cloth before coming back to clean Emmy up. She was pouting as he did and he couldn’t help but press a kiss to her to wipe it off her face before she went into the bathroom. While she was gone it was a quick call to room service for a strawberry pana cotta and a small cheesecake to be delivered. Dan slipped a robe on to answer the door, clearing their clothes away. He was delighted that he hadn’t actually ripped Em’s underwear getting them off her. One good thing.

When there was a knock on the door he answered with a smile and took the plates while giving a tip. Just as he had them settled on a table Em came out of the bathroom, showered with her hair tied up.

“You doing ok?” He asked, pulling her in for a kiss and running his hands over her.

“Yeah. I think I need some cuddles though.”

“And sugar. I got you dessert. Don’t tell anyone about my cheesecake.”

He shared his cheesecake with her and got bites in return before they curled up in bed together. He didn’t know how, but somehow she was fast asleep against him in about an hour. Emmy’s breathing evened out and he watched her sleep as the bruises he’d left on her chest were darkening. She always grinned every time she spotted a new mark he’d left on her and he hoped this time was the same. Whatever magic was there he didn’t want it to end. But sleep came calling and he had a race to drive the next day.

Em was the one who woke him up the next morning. Her kisses were nicer than his alarm clock, Dan’s hands immediately on her back and pulling her up. He heard her groan, opening his eyes to look at her.

“You ok?”

“Yeah, just sore. It’s good sore, Danny. I promise.” He raised an eyebrow and she laughed. “Honestly. I’m fine. You worked me good last night and every part of it was perfect.” She leaned down to kiss him and Dan smiled into the kiss, chasing Emmy’s lips as she got up.

“You need to shower and I need to get dressed. C’mon Mister Front Row, it’s going to be great. I have faith in you.”

That was all he needed to hear to get out of bed. It was one last kiss to Em before he went into the bathroom to shower. He nearly convinced her for five more minutes of cuddling before they had to get ready but he didn’t get away with it. Instead he showered while she got ready, putting on a McLaren shirt and jeans to be dressed. Once he was done he came out to find Emmy ready to go and he stopped in his tracks.

She was in skinny jeans and vans like usual, but every single part of her dripped his. Her three necklace hanging from her neck, the earrings with three stars he bought her. Her entire outfit was clothes he’d given her as presents and he was nearly sure if he checked her underwear was too. She was a dream and did he really have to leave for the track? It’d be fine to do the race without him. Who’d care?

Instead he pulled her in for a hug and a murmured “thank you” to Em, looking as she smiled up at him.

“For what?”

“For being you and amazing. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

Walking into the circuit felt different that morning and he didn’t know why. Things were good and he was going to do his best. He was going to be on that podium no matter what. He could do it.

The time before getting in the car was a blur. He had no idea. He wanted to soak in the moments but he couldn’t, he was focusing on driving. He could drive this place blindfolded. He could do it.

Putting on his suit and boots he took a deep breath before heading downstairs. Em caught him just before he went into the garage. It was another kiss on the cheek and telling him to be fast and safe, but Dan kissed her properly for the briefest of seconds.

“You’ve got this. I’m gonna see you at that barrier.”

He walked in and picked up his balaclava to put it on before getting in the car. But before he could step in Zak caught him, an arm around his shoulder. Nobody ever did that. Emmy was the last person he talked to before he got in the car, always. She was his good luck charm. Even Michael knew not to talk to him when Em had talked to him. He’d get in and connect his earbuds for the radio and then he’d talk to Tom.

“Good luck. It’d be good to have a trophy to show around the MTC on Tuesday along with that medal, wouldn’t it?”

“Tuesday?” His blood ran cold.

“Yeah, we need to celebrate your sprint medal. Did Nicole from PR not tell you yet? Full day in the MTC then. Your calendar was empty so it looked good.”

His calendar was empty because they’d removed Em from access. Without his girl there to block the days out then its looked free. Which meant that their vacation was gone because he had to be in fucking Woking instead.

“See you at the flag!” He wanted to punch Zak’s fucking face. He was so angry he wanted to scream. But instead he got into the car, settling down and putting his helmet on and connecting it to his HANS. The radio connected in while the guys strapped him into place and he had the go ahead to bring the car to the grid. Bring it in, get out, let everything happen.

He had to blank his mind out. It’s was the visualisation crap that Michael beat into his head that he kept going with.

Finally it was the anthems and he bopped along to the Italian one, the texts of good luck from his parents floating in the back of his head.

Waiting for the lights to go out was terrifying. Seeing the five red lights made him nearly forget everything that he’d known for so long, but as soon as they blinked off he was gone. Never ask him how he made it around those first corners but pretty soon he was leading the fucking race.

It was the fastest race of his life. The only time he worried was when the safety car backed everyone up after Max and Lewis crashed, the realisation that he didn’t have Max backing things up worrying him. But he forced himself to stay calm and pushed through, Tom giving him advice on the radio. It was obvious Lando had been ordered not to attack but Dan didn’t care, too focused on making it to the flag.

“YEAH P1! You bloody did it!” Tom was celebrating over the radio, Dan screaming his lungs out. He did it. He fucking did it. Fastest lap and first place and fuck it he did it.

“Deep down I knew this was gonna come, so…thanks. Thanks for having my back. And for anyone who thought I left, I never left. Just moved aside for a while.”

Pulling into that beautiful number one podium spot felt so sweet. He won. He actually won. It took a moment to realise what was happening as he shut the car off, pulling the steering wheel out and standing atop the halo. He fucking did it.Em was there at the barrier, sandwiched between Blake and Michael and he could see tears streaming down his girl’s face in pride and he grinned behind the helmet before tapping his chest three times, watching as she realised.

The jog to the team was sweet, jumping into them in celebration. He hugged Michael and Blake before Em wrapped her arms around him. All he wanted to do was pull his helmet off and kiss her in front of everyone but that wasn’t fair. He couldn’t. So instead he let go and realised she’d been FaceTiming his parents for the race. He took off his helmet and grinned at the camera, a murmured “I love you” escaping before he got pulled back to be weighed and interviewed by DC, a grin on the Scot’s face and the promise of a drink at some point once the cameras were switched off.

He was on the podium. On the top step in Monza. He’d done that and it was a heady feeling to be back up there, the Tifosi cheering because while he might not be a Ferrari driver he was half Australian and for them that was a big moment.

The chaos of interviews and discussions and debriefs and eating were constant, he didn’t have a second to himself for hours. It wasn’t until nearly nine that they were finally done, Zak sending him away to get changed before the party that had been hastily organised for the team in celebration. He bounded up the stairs two at a time, spotting Em in the room before she’d even realised he was there. She stood, grinning and pulling him in for a kiss.

“I am so proud of you. So fucking proud of you. You did that and you proved it to everyone and you are amazing. Well done, Danny.” He pulled her for a hug, pressing a kiss to the top of her head as he got the courage to say that they had to cancel everything.

“I need to get in touch with the villa to-“

“I called them earlier to cancel. Turns out the owner is a F1 fan and had put two and two together for when you rented it and your surname. He said congratulations and to call back whenever to rent it out again, there’s no problem. And I cancelled the flight back from Milan to London on Friday. Anything else you need?”

To tell her that he’s completely in love with her. But Emmy deserved better than that. She deserved better than when he was still sweaty after a race because he’d only had a rinse off shower to get the champagne off. She deserved a big gesture, but one somewhere private because if he did it in public she’d be too embarrassed. Just because this plan was ruined didn’t mean it was all bad.

Maybe Austin, the two of them in a city they loved. They were staying back an extra night or two to enjoy it. Or at the farm over Christmas when they got to go home together. After a day of seeing their family. That would be the right way to tell Emmy everything. He’d get down on one knee in their living room with her ring and she’d say yes, he knew her.

“You know, right?” His voice was thick. The tears he wanted to let out were close but he couldn’t start crying or he wouldn’t stop.

“I know. You know too?”

“I really know. C’mon. There’s a party in a couple of hours, let’s go change and shower and maybe nap for an hour.”

He pulled a clean shirt on before picking up his bag, holding his hand out for Emmy to take. At that time of night the paddock was deserted and he didn’t care who saw. If he didn’t get to tell his girl everything this week then he definitely got to hold her fucking hand leaving. He didn't care about the McLaren cameras in his face. He'd already had to give up enough with her this weekend, they didn't get this too.

Taglist.

@dr3lover @sabrinaselina55 @majx00 @tall-tanned-tattoo @lovingdennishauger @lauehr @msolbesg @f1medlife @idkwtfimdoing2 @leclercsbae @hiphopdancer101universe @mehrmonga @lewispool @saintandrea-droidsmuggler @coldheartedmar @sugarbabygirlofdaddy @nonsensical-nonce @a-distantdreamer @tita010 @leslizzle @javden @mloyer @magical-imagination-kgp @danarysstormborn @kakorrhaphiphobia @g-l-o-b-e-w-h-o-r-e @elizanav @neiich @luckyladycreator2 @scotlynaurora @belledawnidk

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karahalloway · 7 months

Text

Sleepless in New York: Chapter 12 - Hungover on You

Series: TRR

Pairing: Drake Walker x F!OC (Harper Gale)

Synopsis: What if Drake met Harper on the first night of Prince Christian’s New York bachelor party? A stand-alone AU written from Drake's POV.

Masterlist: Sleepless in New York

Chapter Summary: The time has come to fly back home... but who won the bet?

Word Count: 6,800

Rating/Warnings: E (swearing, aggravation, references to graphic images, references to sex, references to bodily functions, toilet humour, motive for murder, way too much caffeine)

Chapter theme song:

A/N1: Thank you so much for bearing with me! This chapter was supposed to be done quickly but then it suddenly exploded into the almost 7,000-word monster that you see before you (I blame Leo 😆). Hopefully, the contents make up for the longer-than-planned wait! There will be one more chapter.

A/N2: As an FYI, everything that is mentioned is true/correct/accurate. Yes, everything! You'll know what I mean when you get to it! 🙃

Chapter 12 - Hungover on You

"Mmm... You're right... These pancakes are heavenly...!" enthuses Max 'round an overstuffed gob.

"I have to admit, I may have been skeptical at first, given the somewhat... dated nature of the décor," admits Chris, skewering the last bite of his own stack, "but I am very glad that I did not allow first impressions to sway me, and to instead let the delights of the fare speak for itself."

I throw him a sidelong glance. "I told you to trust me, didn't I?"

"That you did, mate," Chris chuckles good-naturedly. "That you did."

"Drake always finds the best food," sighs Max as he closes his eyes in blissful appreciation.

I shrug nonchalantly. If you know where to look...

Having hit up Times Square and snapping the obligatory pic or two — it's the end of the trip... fuck it — I'd heeded Chris' final request for this trip by tracking down somewhere we could fuel up before our fast-approaching flight home.

And given the questionable-looking nature of our chosen venue, Chris' initial trepidation had been more than understandable.

Because from the outside — but for the tell-tale smell of bacon wafting out onto the street — this joint looks more like an illicit drug den than a bona fide restaurant. The single-paned window that faces the street has a massive crack in it, the doorway stinks of stale urine, and I wouldn't be surprised if a dead body or two had ended up in the dumpster 'round the back.

The inside's not much better, either. It's a cheap, no-frills galley-kitchen kind of set-up manned by a single, overweight chef who pumps out eggs, bacon, pancakes and hash browns in massive portions while you sit on the other side of the greasy, Lino-covered counter on creaky, '60's bar stools, sipping fully-leaded coffee from chipped mugs.

In short, the complete antithesis of the polished and slightly over-glammed feel of the retro, 1950s diner we ate at yesterday.

And that's why I picked it. Because after having been up the whole night, we need something to sub-in for our lack of sleep, and nothing tastes better than comfort food when you're craving a calorie hit. Plus, Chris had wanted a 'classic' Stateside breakfast experience, and it doesn't get much more Americana than this...

"What is all that sticky goop that it's swimming in?"

...except for the fact that I have Tariq sitting on the other side of me, complaining loudly about every-damn-thing that offends his toffee-nosed sensibilities.

Because as per usual, I can't seem to take two steps in this fuckin’ city without the Almighty crapping on me.

Our butts had just hit the stools when Chris' phone began lighting up with a million-and-one messages from Max asking where we were, what the plan was, and was there any food anywhere.

So, Chris (being Chris) had extended the breakfast invite to not only Max, but to the rest of our band of noble misfits, meaning that our laid-back outing has now morphed into a real-life rendition of The Breakfast Club.

I suppress a groan as I take another swig of my scalding coffee, careful not to move my mouth too much, given that — on top of everything — my jaw has set into exactly the kind of contused stiffness that I'd hoped to avoid.

My own damn fault for not icing the damn thing down when I had the chance...

The only person missing is Leo.

Not that I really care. I've had enough of that guy and his BS for one trip. And the main reason I haven't decked him yet for the shit he pulled last night is because I haven't actually seen him since Gale and I got booted from the club.

And I don't want to ruin Chris' last hour in the Big Apple by knocking his brother's teeth out.

The same can't be said for Tariq, though...

"It's maple syrup, Besnard..." I grunt at him, trying to maintain my focus on the viscous caffeine in my hand, and not the half-a-dozen ways in which I could smash the asshole's face into the countertop.

Because after the steady stream of crap that's hit the fan in the past 36 hours, the only thing keeping me on this side of sane right now is the free-refill mugs of coffee that I've been pouring into myself since we sat down.

Which means that my mood's dancing on a hair trigger, and I'm one stupid comment away from committing violence.

The chef'd probably thank me, though...

Tariq flashes me a disgusted look. "Maple syrup...? You mean tree sap? That is the most disgusting thing I have ever heard of!"

"A lot of things come from trees, dipshit..." I mutter, forcing myself to keep staring at the wall ahead.

Tariq scoffs. "Why would—?"

"Cinnamon is obtained from the inner bark of various South and South East Asian tree species," Chris reminds him.

"And cloves are the dried aromatic flower buds of the clove tree," adds Max, chewing loudly on a ketchup-coveted tater-tot.

Tariq glares down the counter disdainfully. "What are you lot? Walking encyclopaedias...?"

"We just know where our food comes from, Besnard," I grind out around the rim of my mug. "As would you if you ever bothered to step outside."

"Where it comes from is irrelevant," comes the derisive clap-back. "The only thing that matters is the price tag."

"Even when it's been through the digestive tract of a wild animal?" interjects Max with a perfectly straight face.

Tariq nearly spews his over-steeped tea across the room. "What!"

"Certain brands of coffee demand a premium price because of their somewhat... exotic processing process," affirms Chris. "For instance, Kopi Luwak is the most exclusive coffee in the world primarily because it comes from beans that have been consumed and then excreted by the Indonesian palm civet."

Tariq's eyes bulge. "Excreted... As in—?"

"Pooped out," confirms Max gleefully. "Through tiny little butt holes."

Tariq looks like he's about to puke.

"That is correct," continues Chris. "The bile in the civet's digestive system causes the fermentation of—"

Tariq bolts from his chair.

"Lemme guess..." I drawl, turning to face the other two. "The fuck stick's just realised that he's willingly subjected himself to this fancy ass coffee."

"Ass being the operative word..." sniggers Max as he mops up the escaped yolk from his sunny-side-up eggs with a piece of over-buttered toast.

"Yes," laughs Chris, reaching for his own mug of coffee. "He accompanied his father on a business trip to Indonesia last year where he was given the 'Holy Grail' of coffees as a gift..."

"...not realising what it actually was," I snort. "Typical."

The door of the dive creaks open.

"Speaking of typical..." I muttered under my breath as I glance over my shoulder and catch sight of the familiar figure who's just stepped through the entranceway.

"Hey, hey, hey, party people!" greets Leo as he saunters up to us like he doesn't have a care in the world...

...Oh, wait. He never does.

"Glad you could make it!" smiles Chris as he gets up from his stool to clasp his brother's hand in his own. "I was starting to think maybe you lost your phone again."

"I did, as a matter of fact," confirms Leo with a lop-sided grin, fist-pumping Max as he flops down into Tariq's now-vacant seat.

Chris frowns. "But then how—?"

"DiCaprio took pity on me and gave me a new one he had lying around his flat... Which, I have to say, is pretty sweet."

Max is gaping in starry-eyed admiration. "You got to go to famous Leo's apartment? Jealous!"

"No party like the after-party! And that man knows how to party. Oh! Bacon!" the elder Rys exclaims, suddenly laying eyes on Tariq's abandoned plate.

Chris still looks confused. "But if you lost your phone—"

"The magic of the eSIM, baby!" declares Leo with a full mouth as he brandishes a brand-new iPhone into the air. "Been using it for years! Why d'you think my number never changes?"

Chris opens, then closes his mouth. "Fair point."

"Glad to see you haven't lost your touch, Walker," continues Leo with a shit-eating grin as he elbows me in the ribs. "This place is the perfect spot to get daytime murdered in!"

"Careful what you wish for, Rys..." I mutter under my breath.

"Good bacon, though!" he quips, filching another rasher.

"We can order you a helping if you're hungry..." offers Chris.

"Nah, I'm good," replies Leo, dunking the bacon into some syrup. "Grabbed a bagel on the way from this awesome little Jewish place. Do you know that they even—?"

"Oh, dear God...!" gasps Tariq, bursting back into the dining area with a horrified look on his face. "That restroom is disgusting!"

I clench my eyes shut. Sweet Jesus give me strength...

"I admit it smelled a bit funky," concedes Max, "but nothing worse than when Bertrand—"

"There is excrement floating in the toilet bowl!" Tariq all but shrieks.

"Lemme guess..." I murmur to Chris under my breath. "He didn't know how that shit got made either."

Chris' eyes bulge as his coffee goes down the wrong way.

"That is generally what happens when you take a dump," Max tells him prosaically.

"It wasn't mine!!"

"Hate to break it to you, old sport," intones Leo, laying a hand on Besnard's shoulder, "but not every pisser flushes itself. So, you're going to have t—"

"No!" interjects Tariq, shoving Leo's arm away. "I refuse to go back in there! In fact, I've had it with this entire establishment, this entire city, and this entire bloody trip! Everybody is rude, nobody respects me, and I have suffered enough denigration to last me a lifetime! I am leaving!"

Throwing his nose into the air, he turns on the heel of his treadless Ferragamo loafers to stomp out of the diner.

"Christ!" huffs Leo as he jerks a derisive thumb in Tariq's direction. "Who pissed in his Earl Grey?"

"Oh, he's just miffed because he knows he lost the bet last night," supplies Max 'round a mouthful of toast.

Leo perks up. "What bet?"

"Oh, for fuck's sake..." I groan.

I'd completely forgotten 'bout the stupid bet...

"He does know that the hotel is in the other... direction..." coughs Chris, having finally managed to clear the wayward coffee from his lungs. "Doesn't he?"

"I wouldn't bet on it," I mutter, watching Tariq nearly get run over by an early morning cab as he tries to cross the street. "If we're lucky, he'll end up in Brooklyn again."

Chris starts hacking all over again as he tries and fails to stifle a laugh. "You're a...horrible person..."

"But I'm not wrong," I tell him, pointedly lifting my mug to my mouth again.

"Screw the sour-arsed sod!" cries Leo. "I want to know about this bet! And why I wasn't included on it!"

"You weren't there," I tell him tersely. "Plus, you'd've been ineligible anyway."

"Why would I—?" The proverbial lightbulb clicks to life in Leo's head. "Ooh! It was a race to fourth base, wasn't it?"

"Congrats, Sherlock," I grunt. "You've graduated to deductive reasoning..."

"Not just a pretty face, Walker," winks Leo in reply.

I roll my eyes as I return my attention to my coffee.

"But who's the winner...?" Leo continues contemplatively, eyeing the rest of us.

Max opens his mouth...

"No! Don't tell me!" decrees Leo, shoving a hand into the Beaumont's face. "I wasn't included in the bet, so I demand some vicarious recompense! I'm going to guess!"

"How—?" starts Chris.

"By using my incomparable situational awareness, sprinkled with just a smidge of mind-reading!"

"Sounds mystical..." admits Chris.

"Oh, it is! Prepare to be amazed!"

"I'm ready!" shouts Max like an overeager five-year old.

My head hits the Lino between my arms with a pained groan. Somebody just shoot me...

"Alrighty, then," declares Leo, rubbing his hands together with an ungodly dose of perverse satisfaction. "So, we know for a fact that Toss-Pot Besnard never made it out the gate, and—"

"How are you so certain?" asks Chris with a frown.

"For a start, it's Tariq," I mutter at him from the greasy countertop. "Plus, if by some miracle he had managed to pull, he'd've been bragging about it as soon as he walked in."

"True..." Chris concedes with a laugh.

"But, more importantly," adds Max, "Lucy and Jamie — the two girls he'd been after — ended up taking me home last night."

My head snaps up so fast, I nearly give myself whiplash. "They fucking what?"

"You heard me!" grins Max like the Grinch who stole Christmas.

"Hayley and Harper's friends..." reiterates Chris carefully. "You slept with both of them?"

"Yup!" comes the cocky affirmation.

"Well, fuck me running..." I scoff with a shake of my head.

Though I can't seem to stop an involuntary smirk from pulling at my mouth. Because that shit? That's impressive.

"Yes, gold star to Baby Beaumont," agrees Leo with a grin, slapping Max on the back. "But did he seal the deal before my little brother? That's the million-dollar question..."

"What about Drake?" interjects Chris. "He and Harper—"

"Oh, Walker didn't score!" laughs Leo.

Chris' eyes widen as he turns back to me. "You didn't? But you were the first to leave."

"Not by choice..." I admit sourly.

"Captain America here got his arse handed to him by a couple of beefcakes..." Leo explains.

"Fuck you, Rys!" I snap. "It was five against one and I still held my ground!"

"It was you who got caught up in that fight?" gasps Max. "That looked brutal..."

"It would certainly explain the bruises on your face," muses Chris, eyeing me critically. "And the ripped shirt."

I make a vague noise by way of reply. But I don't bother to correct him. The details aren't important. They lead to the same result.

Not that that's anybody's business...

"...and promptly got tossed out the club with Swifty in tow," continues Leo cheerfully. "Which I'm guessing is the reason why she wasn't willing to put out, because—"

I shoot off the stool, shattering the mug in my hand in the process. "Mention her one more time, Rys, and I swear to God—"

"Wait, wait, wait, wait!" interjects Max with a frantic wave of his hands. "If he left with Harper, how do you know that he didn't—?"

Leo jabs an uncompromising finger into my face. "Does this look like the expression of a man who spent the night warmly cocooned by the soft embrace of a woman's supple and welcoming thighs?"

I slap his hand away with a growl.

"Hmm..." muses Max, narrowing his eyes at me. "Now that you mention it... He does seem surprisingly grouchy this morning. Even more so than he was last night..."

"Beaumont..." I warn.

"Whereas my little brother is positively glowing!" continues Leo, fanning his hands around Chris by way of illustration. "Tell me you don't see the difference!"

"Fuck you, both," I grunt, slinging myself down into the barstool again.

A fresh mug of coffee appears before me, as if by magic.

I grab for it tersely. Where's the whiskey when you need it...?

"I rest my case," declares Leo smugly. "Which means, it's down to Lord Three-Way Beaumont and Prince Pull-Hard Charming. But who took their ladies to Heaven first...?"

"It doesn't matter," I grunt abrasively. "Max isn't in the running."

"I am afraid he is correct," Chris agrees after a second's reflection, glancing at Max. "No one backed you, so—"

"Rubbish!" objects Leo loudly. "The sheer act of the ménage à trois should guarantee him a spot in the champions' league, if not the entirety of the pot outright!"

"Except he's not the one who gets the money," I point out. "It's the person who ponied him."

"Christ, if it's that much of an issue, I'll punt him!" declares Leo. "What were the stakes?"

"Eight hundred ducats," Max tells him.

"Done," Leo declares, pulling his wallet out to drop a handful of Ben Franklins on the counter.

Chris meets my eye. "Your call, Drake. It's your money on the line."

I flick my eyes between Max and Chris, before letting out a low breath. "Fuck it. Let's make it interesting."

Pulling my own wallet out, I slap the requisite cash down as well.

Because worst case? I'm out of pocket $500. But best case? I net four times that. And I'm my book, that's a play worth making. Especially when my money's on Chris.

"That's my man!" whoops Leo, punching me enthusiastically in the arm.

"Careful, Rys," I warn him as Chris and Max add their contributions to the purse as well. "It's your dough I'm about to walk away with..."

"Eh..." shrugs Leo unconcernedly. "Money's relative."

"Spoken like a born-and-bred fat cat," I reply dryly.

"And now for the big reveal!" shouts Leo, clapping his hands together. "The stakes are set. The buttocks are clenched. Who takes the crown of Don Juan?"

Chris and Max exchange wry looks.

"What time did you get back to the hotel?" Max asks.

"Just after midnight, I believe..."

"Twelve thirty-five," I tell him.

Max's feet start dancing beneath him. "Oh, this is going to be close! We got back to the girls' flat around half-past as well."

"Sod all that!" cries Leo. "Get to the climax, gents! We want to know who got slob on their knob first!"

"Well, after we got back to the suite, we shared a drink before we..." Chris clears his throat. "...retired to the bedroom. So, perhaps 1am?"

"Yeah-yah!" enthuses Leo with a snap of his fingers. "Bring it home like a pro, bro!"

"Not sure why you're rooting for him," I scoff.

"I am permitted to share in my little brother's sex-tastic accomplishments!" he counters. "Especially when I'm the one who taught him everything he knows!"

"Except now, it's about to leave you out of pocket," I smirk, reaching for the pile of cash.

"Hold on!" interjects Max, scrolling furiously through his phone. "I think I have Christian beat!"

I frown. "How in the—?"

"Watch it and weep!" the Beaumont exclaims triumphantly, thrusting his phone out.

Leaning in towards the device — from the speakers of which spew the unmistakably pornographic sounds of sex — Leo, Chris, and I are greeted with a bird's eye view of Max balling Lucy from behind while she went down on Jamie's spread-eagled form on the bed.

Leo's jaw drops. "You filmed it?"

"Would've been rude not to," smirks Max.

"You dirty bugger!" laughs Leo, grabbing the Beaumont to noogie him.

I pull my eyes away from the X-rated spectacle. "Okay, but how does this—?"

"Look at the...time stamp," prompts Max from beneath Leo's arm.

Glancing back at the screen, I focus in on the tiny numbers at the top.

12:52am.

My shoulders slump. "Goddamn it."

"Looks like we have our winner," Chris concedes with a wry chuckle.

"You're not even going to contest it?" I demand, throwing an accusatory hand out at Max.

"I am not sure there is anything to contest," replies Chris. "The numbers speak for themselves. And since Maxwell is the only one out of the two of us who had the foresight to record the exact timing of the event, I think it is only fair that he takes the pot."

"Yeah, baby!" whoops Leo, jumping off his stool with outstretched arms to thrust out an in-your-face victory dance à la Ace Ventura. "Can you feel it? Can... you... feel it?! Damn, it feels good!"

"Yeah, yeah, whatever..." I grunt with a roll of my eyes.

But, Leo's asinine antics aside, I have to hand it to Max. Not only did the guy manage to go above and beyond, but he somehow managed to beat the clock as well.

So, I can't begrudge second place too much.

"I believe this is rightfully yours, big brother," declares Chris, graciously handing the pile of bills over.

"Why, thank you, little brother!" grins Leo as he accepts the winnings with a mock bow...

...before studiously dumping the cash into Max's lap.

The Beaumont's eyes widen in disbelief. "I— But you— I didn't—"

"Hey, I wasn't the one with my pants down on the front lines last night," he says. "So, if anyone deserves the spoils of war, it's you."

Max is still gawping like a stupefied goldfish. "But—"

"Spend it well, kemosabe," the elder Rys incants somberly, laying a hand on Max's shoulder.

"Th-thank you," stammers Max, suddenly overcome with unexpected emotion.

"Ehh... Don't mention it!" shrugs Leo with a grin. "I'm just here for the memories. Though... speaking of, if you want your lasting memories of this trip to be anything other than dear Father sending a squadron of Guards after you to haul you back across the Pond, I suggest you get your tushes to the airport."

"Oh, shit..." I cuss, glancing down at my watch. "We gotta move." Necking the last of my coffee, I signal for the cheque.

"Are you flying back with us?" asks Chris as he pushes himself off his stool.

"Nah," demurs Leo, reaching across his brother to grab the final piece of bacon off Tariq's plate. "As much as I'd love to steal your thunder by gate-crashing yet another fancy ball that I don't have an invitation to, you know Regina still hasn't revoked that shoot-on-sight order she put out on my head last year."

Chris laughs. "I'm sure it's not all that bad..."

"You'd be surprised!" insists Leo with only a touch of sardonicism. "Plus, I promised Katie that I'll bring her back a box of cronuts. So, I got a few errands to run before I jet out."

"Well, in that case," replies Chris, reaching out to envelop his brother in a hug, "thank you for coming, and we'll hopefully see each other soon!"

"You can bet on it, matey," confirms Leo, giving Chris a heartfelt thump on the back before pulling away. "At the Coronation, if nothing else."

Chris' eyes widen. "Father signed off on your attendance?"

"Not yet," the elder Rys admits. "But I'm slowing wearing the old man down."

"Well, I — for one — certainly hope you succeed!" laughs Chris.

"I have faith in myself," winks Leo. Leaning past Chris, he reaches out to bump knuckles with Max. "Beaumont. Say hi to Bert for me."

"Will do," nods Max. "And thank you. Again. You really didn't—"

"Like I said," Leo deflects with an arrant smirk. "Don't even mention it."

Max nods gratefully.

Finally, Leo turns to me. "Walker."

I meet his eye impassively as I draw myself up to my full height to face him. "Rys."

"You got his six, right?" he asks, inclining his head almost imperceptibly back towards his brother, who — true to his earlier promise — is in the process of intercepting the bill before it can make it to me.

"Come hell or high water," I affirm.

"Good," he nods, his expression uncharacteristically tight. "'Cause there's going to be both. And he'll need someone to help pull him through."

"This ain't my first rodeo, Leo," I remind him, watching Chris trying to figure out which greenback was which with Max's help as he sought to pay for our breakfast.

"I know," acknowledges Leo, his face tightening as the memories of the fallout from the assassination attempt flash through his memory. "But I still appreciate it. He is my only brother, after all."

I meet his eye. "Then you know why I'm doing it."

Leo holds my gaze for a long moment before extending his hand. "You're a good friend, Drake."

"Someone's gotta be," I tell him with a wry smile, reciprocating the gesture.

Leo might grate me up the wrong way with his bad jokes and juvenile attitude, but we are — and always have been — on the same page when it comes to Chris.

"They're rarer than you think," Leo murmurs softly. Dropping my hand, he turns back to Chris and Max, who have finally managed to settle the bill, plus tip. "Ciao, amigos! It's been a blast!"

"Have a good flight!" Chris tells him with a wave.

"I always do!" Leo assures him. "Stay safe, little brother. Give the ladies a fair chance, don't do anything I wouldn't—"

I scoff. "Is there even such a thing?"

"—and remember," Leo continues unabashedly, "if you're ever in doubt, there's always the balcony!"

Chris stifles a laugh. "I'm sure it won't come to that..."

"Never underestimate the beauty of a Plan B!" Leo hollers over his shoulder as he pulls the rickety door open, and steps out onto the street.

Max stares after him with a perplexed look. "When he said 'balcony'... Did he mean you jumping off it, or you throwing the lady off?"

"I wouldn't read into it too much," I advise as I grab my leather jacket to pull it on. Turning to Chris I ask, "You good?"

"Yes, I think I managed to sort the bill..." he replies, pulling his own jacket on as well. "Fifty percent gratuity is acceptable here, right?"

I nearly dislocate my shoulder putting my arm into a non-existent sleeve. "Erm... Yeah. Sure. More than acceptable."

Christmas definitely came early for this waitress!

But at least the hefty tip would help smooth over any wayward resentment left in the wake of Tariq's ass-like behaviour.

Chris' face visibly relaxes. "Oh, good! I wasn't sure of the correct etiquette."

"Trust me," I drawl, opening the creaky door. "You ain't never gonna fall flat in that department."

"If you say so," concedes Chris with a smile as he and Max follow me out onto the street.

"I know so," I assure him, leading the way back to Broadway.

At just gone 7am on a weekday, the city is already a hive of activity with cyclists, taxis, and pedestrians vying for position on the thoroughfares against the buses, garbage trucks, and private vehicles, as everyone tries to get where they're going just that much faster.

My gaze tracks west almost on auto-pilot. Wonder what Gale's doing... Is she still asleep, or—?

I yank myself forcefully back from the precipice of that dead-end drift.

The only thing that matters right now is getting Chris and Max (...Tariq can go fuck himself) back to the hotel and then getting 'cross town to Teterboro in time for scheduled departure.

Leo hadn't been joking when he'd said that Constantine would not hesitate to unleash a squadron of King's Guard on our tails if we didn't arrive back in Cordonia by the agreed time.

That had been the agreement.

Because the first event of the season kicks off tomorrow with the Masquerade Ball, and Chris has a full week's worth of engagements penciled into the twelve hours beforehand.

Which means that there can be zero deviations, zero slippages. We have to be on that plane...

...even though that's the last thing any of us want to do right now.

Because glancing back at Chris and Max as we make our way up back to the hotel, it's clear that New York has been a much-needed escape for both of them. Not just from the daily grind of court, but also from the strictures of expectation. As here, you weren't your name, or your title, or your birthright.

You were just another guy on the street, trying to make your American dream come true.

And despite — or rather, because of — their stations, that's a privilege that neither Chris nor Max have ever had the luxury of experiencing before. Because even though they may have all the money in the world, one thing they could not buy with it is freedom — true freedom. As money garnered expectations and expectations choked you out like chains around your neck.

And that was life's unfair trade-off...

...unless you were Leo, who somehow managed to screw the pooch into laying him a golden egg by finding a woman who was apparently not only worth abdicating for, but who also turned out to be loaded in her own right, thanks to a very generous inheritance provision in her grandmother's will.

And because that money came with zero strings attached, the lucky bastard got to have it all: living it up large, while also getting to flip the rules and regulations that he's always hated the bird.

But, unfortunately for the rest of us mere mortals who weren't born with the luck of the devil, the best we can hope for are those rare moments in between when the constraints of your usual life fall away, and you're rewarded with a much-needed breath of levity.

And maybe that's why I'd fallen so hard and fast for Gale. Because irrespective of the magnetic pull she had on me, she wasn't just some hot girl I'd happened to hit it off with. As while undeniable, the deep seated attraction went beyond the mere physical... or even the personal.

Because beyond the fact that she was gorgeous, funny, and knocked me for six at every turn, she was more than just simple perfection. She was the sweet promise of possibility. Tantalising me with a taste of what could've been in a world free of obligation. Where I was just me — not an undercover Guard, not a duty-bound friend to a prince, not a jaded outsider confined to the sidelines, always looking in.

But as entrancing as the experience had been, I know it couldn't last.

Because such moments are — by their nature — transient. And like a pre-dawn mist on the water, they dissolve with the first light of the sun.

Just like our time in the States.

Which means that it's time to return to reality. Whether we want to or not.

Because duty always calls.

Arriving back at the hotel, I see that the pre-arranged limo is already idling next to the curb.

Detouring by the driver's side window, I have a quick word with the chauffeur to let him know that we'll be back down in a sec with our bags.

Turning to lope into the hotel, I catch up with Chris and Max just as the lift arrives in the lobby. The doors ping open and we pile in to make our way up to our floor, each of us lost in our respective thoughts.

The elevator arrives on our booked-out floor and we disperse into our rooms to throw our shit together. While packing, I send a text to Schweitzer to let him know that we're bugging out, so his team can start the clean-up and check out.

Zipping my duffle up, I do one last sweep of the space before grabbing the keycard and exiting the room for the final time.

Stepping back out into the corridor as the door clicks shut behind me, I find Chris already waiting for a lift.

"You were quick," I say, coming to a stop next to him.

"Wasn't much to pack," he admits.

"Hayley still there?"

"Yes, she's sleeping," he confirms with a ghost of a smile. "I couldn't bring myself to wake her."

I nod wordlessly. Good-byes suck. They're either gut-wrenching, or awkward, or both. Best to just—

"Will...you be back?" "I wouldn't hold my breath." "Maybe I want to."

The ding of the elevator knocks me back into the present.

Shaking my head, I step into the car after Chris. But for some reason, I can't seem to duck the sudden sense of emptiness that's dropped into my guts. Like I'd forgotten something... Even though I know I haven't.

I rub my eyes. I'm just beat...

I'm about to hit the button for the lobby when Max careens in out of nowhere to throw himself through the wedge between the doors, Gucci backpack dangling haphazardly from his arm.

"Oh, thank God!" he pants, falling gracelessly into the small space. "Thought you'd left already!"

"We wouldn't dream of leaving without you, dear friend," Chris assures him with a laugh.

"Speak for yourself," I grunt abrasively as the doors finally close. "You fall behind, you get left behind."

Max's eyes widen. "You wouldn't!"

I meet his gaze impassively. "Try me."

"But Tariq—"

"—can find his own damn way home," I cut in flatly. "If he ain't buckled up by last and final call, that plane's not waiting for him."

Max flicks his horrified gaze from me to Chris.

Chris shrugs. "Drake is correct. It is unfortunately too short notice to modify the flight plan and—"

Throwing his head down, Max begins typing away furiously on his phone.

"You're wasting you're time, Beaumont," I tell him with a low exhale. "Regardless of where the fuck-wit is, he'll still need to come back to the hotel to get his passport, if nothing else. He ain't gonna make it."

"But we can't just abandon him!"

"He's a grown-ass man," I grunt dispassionately in response as we hit the ground floor again. "If he can't be bothered to look at his overpriced Rolex, then that's his problem. Not mine."

"Chances are he is waiting for us at the terminal already," advises Chris optimistically.

"But—"

"Drop it, Beaumont," I grunt, grabbing my duffel to march out of the elevator car without a backwards glance.

I have no clue why Max is being so hard up about waiting for the dipshit who wasn't even supposed to be on this trip in the first place. Especially since that same dipshit also happens to be in possession of a gold credit card.

So, I really can’t give a flying fuck if Besnard misses the flight. He can pay for his own charter home.

I'm not about to jeopardise Chris' commitments for the benefit of a self-absorbed prick.

Exiting the lobby, I beat a straight line to the back of the waiting limo. The chauffeur spots my approach and scrambles to open the door, but I've already beaten him to it.

Popping the trunk, I toss my duffle in before making my way to the front to grab the shotgun seat while Chris and Max offload their own bags.

A slam of doors, a click of seatbelts and we're pulling out onto 57th St., only ten minutes behind schedule.

I try to settle down for the half-hour drive, but I find my knee jackhammering impatiently. I know we have plenty of time to spare before takeoff, but I hate running late. Even if it's only by a minute.

Because you never what kind of shit's gonna hit the fan — roadworks, lane closure, freeway pileup — and you can't mitigate if you ain't got any time in the bank.

I can only hope and pray that we don't run into any last-minute surprises on the 15 or so miles to the airport.

Chris strikes up some kind of conversation with the chauffeur, but I'm in no mood for small talk. Folding my arms, I try to tune out whatever it is they're saying by watching the skyscrapers flick past as we head west, then north to pick up the George Washington Bridge to Jersey.

And apart from a brief wait at the toll plaza on the other side of the Hudson, the journey passes quickly and uneventfully.

Arriving at the airport concourse, we exit the limo and make our way into the main terminal building. Luckily, at this time in the morning, there are not too many flights, so we pass through customs without any hang-ups...

...except for the fact that Max remains glued to his phone, obsessively-compulsively checking for texts from Tariq every two seconds, even as we board the jet.

"Have you tried calling him?" Chris asks as he stows his bag in preparation for the flight.

"At least ten times," confirms Max, glancing anxiously out the window in the over-keen hope that Tariq will magically appear.

"Maybe his phone ran out of battery..." offers Chris hopefully.

"More likely he got mugged," I grunt, falling into one of the leather seats.

Max throws me a disbelieving look. "That's a horrible—! Oh. You're actually serious..."

"Guy like him... Prime target," I reply dispassionately.

Max's face drains of colour. "We have to call the police!"

"And say what?" I snap abrasively. "That the bell-end got himself lost somewhere in Manhattan? They'll laugh us off the call."

"But—"

"If Tariq really is in trouble, he can hit up the Cordonian consulate," I declare uncompromisingly. "But it was his bright idea to throw a hissy fit and stomp off in the wrong direction when—"

"You ungrateful ingrates!"

My eyes snap past Max. "For fuck's sake..."

Tariq is stood in the doorway of the jet, looking like he'd literally battled his way through the nine levels of hell to get here. His over-gelled hair looks like it's been zapped with a Taser, his clothes are somehow drenched and filthy, and he's wearing only one shoe.

"Would it have killed you to wait?!" he shrieks, throwing his Louis Vuitton man-bag onto the closest seat.

"Yes..." I reply.

Tariq shoots me a murderous expression. But before he can open his mouth again, Max has crushed him into an over-eager bear hug.

"You made it!" he enthuses. He pulls back suddenly. "But why were you not picking up your phone? And also, why do you smell like a wet dog?"

"Because I was robbed!"

"Told ya," I smirk across the aisle at Chris.

"It's not funny!" shouts Tariq, jabbing an irate finger at me. "If you only knew of the horrors that I have been subjected to, you would think more than twice about making light of my plight!"

"Pretty sure I wouldn't..." I mutter with a roll of my eyes.

"What was that?" demands Tariq imperiously.

"Nothing," I grunt as a steward appears next to my seat.

"Can I interest you in a pre-flight refreshment?" she asks.

"Yeah, sure," I shrug.

She hands me something pink and bubbly in a champagne glass. "Enjoy!"

"I doubt it," I mutter, grabbing the flute to throw it back in one swig.

I grimace as the sour mix of grapefruit and Prosecco hits the back of my throat. But alcohol's alcohol, and at this point, I would've downed windscreen wash if it'd've helped drown out Tariq's high-pitched info dump of his trials and tribulations.

Kinda wish we had left the bastard behind...

But I couldn't seem to win on this trip, so I'm just going to have to suck up the next twelve-or-so hours locked up in an airtight fuselage with the bouchebag and pray that there's enough whiskey on board to keep me from choking him out.

Pulling my phone from my pocket to help distract myself, I shoot off one final text to Schweitzer to let him know that we've made it to the airport and we're about to take off.

I'm about to do the same for Bast when the over-taxed device finally gives up the ghost and the battery dies halfway through the text.

"Great..."

Reaching into my duffel with a sigh, I extract the phone's charging cable and plug it into the seat's USB port so it can get some life back while we're airborne.

As Tariq continues to piss and moan about nearly getting run over, having his phone stolen right out of his hand as he tried to call a cab — followed shortly thereafter by his watch — and then tripping and falling into an open excavation hole as he tried to chase after the pickpockets, the cabin crew shut the aircraft door and complete their final cross-checks in preparation for departure.

A quick intro from the captain, and the jet starts rolling. After a short taxi, we're out on the runway, where we idle for a couple of minutes waiting for the go from the tower.

As soon as we get it, the pilot revs the turbines and the jet lurches forward. We hurtle down the runway, wheels bouncing and jet engines whining before jumping into the air to start our climb to 41,000 feet.

Glancing out the window, I watch the ground fall away as we ascend over Jersey, my ears popping from the rapid altitude change.

The plane banks sharply to the right and I catch sight of the Manhattan skyscape...

...but there must've been something in the mimosa because I’ve crashed out before the plane fully levels off.

The story concludes in Epilogue: Into The Night.

A/N: As another little bonus, here is a pic of Chris in Times Square:

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Sleepless in New York only

@bebepac

Picture Credits: Breakfast - New York - Diner - Chris - Tariq

Max, Leo, and Drake were generated using the AI art app Wonder

#drake walker #sleepless in new york #prince leo #prince liam #maxwell beaumont #tariq #the royal romance #new york #trr fanfic

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