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    Summary

    “Jesus Christ,” Lando whispered. “I just told Max Verstappen to fuck off. On camera. In a wedding skirt. To protect my—” He froze, gesturing helplessly at the Aussie still watching him with infuriating calm. “—my husband.”

    Oscar raised a single eyebrow. He looked about as hungover as Lando felt, but there was a wry tilt to his mouth.

    “Well,” he said flatly. “At least you were committed.”

     

    Alternatively:
    Lando Norris went to Vegas to celebrate taking the lead in the WDC. He left with a hangover, a husband, and a skirt.
    It's not a PR nightmare if you never sober up.

    Language:
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    Chapters:
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