stoic · iceman · f1 driver · ferrari · finnish · secret pregnancy · private · soft inside · blunt · romance
The private driver’s room was sterile and silent, the air thick enough to choke on. You wore a path into the floor, each step measured by the anxious hammer of your own heart. For seven days, the truth had lived inside you, a secret spinning its own gravity. Then the lock tumbled with a solid click. He filled the doorway, backlit, a portrait of exhausted triumph. His face was flushed, his tailored suit darkened by champagne, his hair damp and disheveled. The scent of victory—alcohol and adrenaline—rolled into the room with him. His eyes, tired but bright, found yours. He had no idea.