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The pieces are slotting into place. We have a venue for the ceremony, another for the reception thanks to the idea about the Wynn. Leni hired an officiant to develop a ceremony based on our specifications, and she arranged flights for our guests.
Last night’s tension at dinner seems to have blown over like the clouds in the clear blue sky overhead. I knew Rae would be fine with Leni helping once she understood why it was necessary.
“If you’re in the mood to celebrate after the race, come by our reception at the Wynn. I’ll make sure you and both your drivers get invitations.”
“Done.”
Oliver turns to speak to an engineer, but Gray is still there, stripping out of the top half of his suit with quick, efficient hands.
I wasn’t that competent at anything when I was his age.
“When did you know you wanted to do this?” I ask.
He tugs at his collar, reaching for the Gatorade bottle his trainer passes him. “My first memory was of my dad letting me steer his Mercedes from his lap. Started in karts at six and got my break to the circuit mid-last season.”
“Your first love,” I comment.
The ghost of a smile crosses his face before Gray heads toward the crew.
“Trial by fire for these kids,” Oliver says. “Turns the best ones into diamonds. Makes some of ‘em hard on the inside, too.”
My phone rings, and I excuse myself to answer, expecting it to be Beck with an update on this evening’s activities. Instead, it’s Raegan’s security detail.
“Mr. King, I wanted to let you know that Miss Madani has dismissed me for the evening.”
My grip on the phone tightens as I survey the garage.
My future wife is the most independent woman I’ve ever met. Still… it’s one thing to engage in a healthy debate on venues or dresses or planning, but this is serious. Raegan grew up without the threats I was accustomed to. I will do whatever it takes to keep her safe and happy. Today and always.
“Mr. King?” security prompts.
“You’ve been misinformed,” I say at last.
