weeks later, he's forgotten about the one night stand, the vp, the club. seems like he should've paid more attention when you said you were 'bit' younger than him because why are you lingering around the university where he was supposed to give his alumni guest lecture.

you looked up from your phone when someone bumped into you. holding back the curse words as you watched him walk towards the headmaster. acting as if he didn't sleep with you weeks ago, as if he wasn’t sucking your clit like his life depended on it, as if he wasn’t fucking your brains out. you scoffed because this man is ignoring you as if he doesn't even know you.

lando on the other hand, panicking internally because surely he didn't sleep with someone who was what? 20. he's been legally drinking longer than you were a legal adult. for fuck's sake you're younger than his interns. he surely didn't fuck someone who was a teen just last year, right?

you weren't supposed to be sitting in his lecture. you weren't even a finance student!!!!

"any questions?" he asked as his lecture came to an end. lando was hoping there'd be none so he could leave asap. but ofcourse someone raised her hand.

and oh look, it you who raised her hand!!!!

"mr. norris i was just wondering about your company’s 2023 anti-competitive case in telecommunications. specifically, how you justify your pricing strategy and market influence, considering the court’s ruling in your favor despite clear advantages over competitors."

the room goes dead silent. students are clutching their notebooks, some glancing at lando like he’s about to implode. because let's be honest no business empire can withstand 5 decades without engaging in anything unehtical but no one really had the guts to call out the perpetrator in such a huge audience with no evidence-backed claims.

lando almost scoffed but instead he said "well, our position was that as a new entrant in telecommunications, we were operating within fair competition parameters, and any pricing strategies were compliant with legal frameworks."

you raised a brow, clearly not buying the legal-loophole bullshit. "right, but doesn’t benefiting from goodwill in other sectors give you an inherent advantage over huge competitors? which is why i am confused as to why the court ruled in your favour."

"are you questioning the legal framework of our constitution?" he shot back. "oh no, no, no, mr. norris. now, you're accusing me of something really really awful. see i'm a corporate law student myself. i completely believe in law. what i am confused about is why was the ruling in your favour given no such documents are displayed for public view." god, you were one sharp tongued trouble. but he couldn't help but feel even more intrigued.

"i'm not questioning the law. i'm questioning your morals and ethics. because surely, it's obvious that you'd gain advantage in telecommunications sector as you already have established business in oil, finance, electronics, and multiple other sectors." somehow that question felt more personal. as if you were attacking for the little stunt he pulled on his way to the lecture.

but before he could answer the bell rang, signaling another lecture. and god, he's never felt more humiliated in a class full of kids. he watched you walk out without a care in the world, avoiding your friend's concerns for apparently "insulting the literal chairman of cnm capital!!"

later in the evening, he met you at a convince store. you were stocking up on essentials like notebooks and pens. and lando? honestly he just saw you from his car and followed you. "fuck" you jumped, he was standing behind you when you turned. as if appearing out of thin air. "anything about the fucking stunt you pulled today?" oh he was mad, mad. but just smiled. "baby, we could've been soo good but you just had to act like i'm some bitch desprate for your attention just because you're a rich asshole." god, he's never met with someone with as much as audacity you had.

you undid his tie that was already coming loose, "i'm not dying for your attention. i have multiple other guys my age ready to kill to sleep with me. but details aside, you know what my research paper's topic is? it's about how cnm does money laundering in monaco and through their shell companies. a lawyer's words can be really manipulate i hope you know that." you pecked his cheeks before leaving. the loose tie now redone.

you'd be lying if you said you didn't have mixed feelings after that interaction. a part of you expected something in reply from him. he didn’t seem like the type of guy to let thing go. but then he was so much older than maybe he wanted to wash his hands off you and focus on his work.

to your surprise there was a boquet of pink roses waiting for you. "meet me at the coffee shop? — ln" the note read.

he was already there by the time you reached there, eyes glued to his tablet, an empty cup on his table. "what are you? an ipad kid?" you teased putting your bag down as you took a seat infront of him. lando couldn't help but roll his eyes. "you have a lot of audacity doll."

lando talked about the entire money laundering case. and ofcourse it went without saying, he wanted you to potray him, his money laundering — artistic work as he called it — in a positive way. basically deny such claims and make lando and cnm look like angels. "and what do i get in return?" you chuckled writing down his words. "you get to spend time with the lando norris. isn't that enough?" he smirked, clearly riling you up. "i have better things to do than sit with guys who smell like dior sauvage." you shot back, pointing your pen at him.

the next time he met you he bought you a van cleef necklace. "for last time." he muttered.

coffee shops turned into dinners, his gifts became more bolder and extravagant. more often than not you'd end up in bed all sweaty and breathless. even after you stopped writing your research paper.

and that's how he learned you weren’t all calculated and sharp tongued devil that you were that day. instead you were a ridiculously sweet and coy girl. so he let you 'bully' him, pass all sorts of sarcastic comments about him and his company, take jabs at this morals. only for him to leave you breathless and orgasm blissed on his bed.

your friends were suspicious. i mean who wouldn't be if they saw a twenty year old kissing, having sex, being clingy, & doing all sorts of relationship stuff with a man who isn't her boyfriend. and matter of fact it wasn't even some normal boy. he was the chairman of one of the biggest conglomerates in the world. eyebrows were raised, words were whispered — all hidden beneath those lavish gift he spoiled you with & your giggles that was swallowed by his kisses.

"ronnie, do you think i was raised in a barn?" you chuckled applying your lip gloss as you got ready to lando for the umpteenth time this week. "ofcourse i know the consequences and how it would play out if i were to get into a relationship with him." sure your parents weren’t the monaco wealthy type of people but no means were they poor. they were still wealthy enough to send you to brighton college for 15 years of your life.

lando sighed, the middle east treated him well — as usual. i mean for someone who was staying at the royal palace with a custom robe that was made with the finest material money could buy, his initials stiched onto the cuff with real 24k gold threads — he was living and breathing luxury. but there was just something missing that he couldn't pin point. "you're far too spoiled chairman." you once joked when he shared the problem with you.

it was only when he came back he came back he realized what he missed.

you; he missed waking up with you in his arms, your weight on him every time he sat in coffee shops and you won't be next to him, he missed having someone who'd steal fries off his plate, someone who tried his watches only for them to fall off your wrist. god he missed your presence, the way you'd talk his ear off before going to bed, the way you'd wrap your arms around him and rest your face on his shoulder, the way you'd kiss him, the way you'd giggle everytime he said something flirty, the way your perfume clung to his shirts and blazers, they way you'd get sickeningly sweet and clingy when you wanted sometjng— oh he missed you.

"oh– morning babe." you smiled at him as he walked into your kitchen half awake. "you didn't tell me you were coming home early." you added, eyes focusing down on the food you were making. lando remembers how he didn't go back to monaco, just took a flight to your city and using the keys you gave him for "emergency" he crashed onto your bed. you weren't home at that time but your lived-in presence and lingering perfume lulled him to sleep. but, 'home', oh how the simple work make him more awake than before. you were talking as if you two have been married for decades and shared a home with 2 pets and a kid on the way and not like you two were some messed up arrangement. and he wasn’t standing in your kitchen shirtless, arms around your waist, chin on your shoulder.

"work ended quickly. figured I'd be better off at home." he muttered, voice rough with sleep as he nuzzled into your neck. fucking hell, why was he feeling all butterflies in his stomach and giddy like a teenager. you weren’t even his girlfriend! "missed me too much?" you chuckled, feeding him a piece of strawberry.

"doll if you talk to a donkey everyday you'd get attached to it." he scoffed, lando heard your soft gasp as you turned in his arms to face him. hands moving up to smoothe his bed head, "darling i get it you have bed head and all but you're too pretty to call yourself a donkey." you said, voice laid with faux concern.

"fuck you." he chuckled but still holding you. "but you keep saying stuff like that and i’ll start thinking you actually like me." he chuckled kissing your face." don’t flatter yourself, chairman. i only tolerate you because you bring me good wine." you rolled your eyes with far too much dramatic flair.

"good wine?" he echoes, pretending to be offended. "doll, that bottle was older than some of your oxford professors!" you laughed — loud and unfiltered, the kind of laugh that fills the whole apartment. and god, that sound does things to him. because lando has been in rooms full of the world’s most important people, but no sound, no applause, no deal, ever made him feel like this.

and oh, that photo.

you in that stupidly cute pink dress he bought you weeks ago, hair falling in soft waves, a lovely smile on your face. and that guy’s arm around your shoulders. lando swears he almost threw his phone. he gives you all of his — affection, patience, care, and love — all for some idiot guy to wrap his arm around your shoulder the same guy who also happens to be the guy who looks at you as if you're the only person in this world. what also rattles him more is that he's actually your age.

and it didn't take long for him figure out the sole reason you hesitated so much for a relationship with him was because of the age gap, the power imbalances. you were just afraid of how it would play out. sure he could give you the literal stars if you asked but if there's something — perhaps the only thing — out of his control is the age. seeing an idiot guy who wouldn't even do half things he does, even if that bastard had infinite money, all cozy with you makes him livid.

but ofcourse not at you, not his darling. how can he ever be upset with his pretty girl, the sweetest girl he's ever known.

the apartment door opens with a clumsy push, laughter trailing in behind you. you stumbles in with your heels dangling from one hand, hair a little messy, cheeks flushed pink. you're glowing, and maybe it’s the alcohol or maybe it’s that post-concert joy, but you look so young and so alive that his breath stutters for a second. "lan?" you asked, turning on the lights. "jesus why are you sitting in the dark like some villan?" throwing your bag on the counter you walked towards the couch.

"i don't know, you tell me." he sighed watching as you rested your chin on his shoulder and wrapped your arms him. snuggling into him already, making it so hard for him to be mad. "you sound mad." you mumbled. he looked at you before sighing, uncrossing his arms and holding you. "i'm not mad at you darling." he said as he kissed your temple. "but who was that guy in you story?" "oh so you're jealous?" you raised a brow, leaning into him even more.

lando couldn't answer. because what he was supposed to say? he knew he had no rights being jealous because for fuck's sake you weren’t even his girlfriend. "you're not my boyfriend. i hope you know that." you smirked, throwing all those blurred lines in his face as if all those times he's made you cum, kissed you, fed you, shared same utensils, drank from the very place your lips touched the rim of the bottle didn't mean anything.

"do you realize the fucking irony of it?" he scoffed. and he was true. you were all over him — freshly tipsy after a small trip to club post concert, arms looped around him, chin on his shoulder, being called endearments, and saying he wasn’t your boyfriend. you grinned, "baby, he's just a friend." you moved onto his lap, pink dress riding up as his hands moved to your hip. "i swear i have only eyes for you." and gosh, once again he feels his heart loosing to your sickeningly sweet words and even sweeter smile. "fuck you're gonna be the death of me." he muttered pressing his forehead against yours.

you leaned down to kiss lips as if smoothing his ego and jealousy with a kiss. the kiss starts slow, your soft lips against him but then your fingers fist in his shirt, and that’s it. it deepens fast—hungry, messy, completely unplanned. your laughter breaks against his mouth when he mutters something that sounds a lot like "you’re impossible" and you tilt your head to kiss him again, harder this time. he shifts, pulling your closer until you're fully straddling him, the hem of your dress brushing his wrists. the taste of wine on your tongue, your perfume on his skin—it’s too much, too easy to get lost in.

"lan—" you breathe, and it’s barely a sound, more a plea than a name. breath hitching when he nips at your collarbone. your hands slide up, curling around the back of his neck, nails grazing lightly. he pulled away with a proud, predatory gaze on you, his lips curling into a smirk, "you—" thumb moving to rub the lipstick on your mouth, "are such a pretty mess for me, darling."

neither of you know when it happened or matter of fact how. all you remember is him getting up — lips still peppering hickeys or on your lips — and stumbling into your bedroom, stripping you of your dress. next thing you remember is his cock slipping in and out of you, his name falling off of your lips so easily. "say my name again. let me hear it from that pretty little mouth I paid to ruin." he mumbles, curls sticking against his sweaty forhead.

"all these boys your age? they wouldn’t last a second with you."

"what’s wrong sweetheart? thought you wanted to play with men and not those stupid boys huh?"

"they look at you and they see something they can’t afford. and I don’t share what’s mine." and god, the way he felt your tight cunt milking his cock. with your back arching off the bed, you came undone. his hands dipped between you two, strumming your clit — desperately trying to pull yet another orgasm out of you as chased his own high. you felt unbearably tight against him. getting of your moans, he let pleasure wash all over him.

"hii babe!!! i am so excited for us all to meet again. by the way i forgot to mention it on the invite but you can bring your boyfriend." his head snapped up instantly, eyebrows furrowed, because who the fuck is this boyfriend that he's never heard of. "yeah, sure." you laughed nervously, avoiding oscar's intriguing gaze. the second the call ended, he sat up. "okay, what? who’s this boyfriend i've apparently never heard of?"

you froze, then turned around slowly. "okay, listen, she’s been trying to set me up with some guy from school, and I panicked! I told her I already had a boyfriend." you explained, moving to get your bracelet. "oh and where are you going to get a boyfriend in what?" he looked at his watch mockingly, "ten minutes. yeah, no chance. guess I’ll just tell nia her matchmaking career’s officially over." you snapped your head toward him, earrings still in hand. "wait. wait, wait, no. you can’t do that." "why not?" he raised a brow.

"because then she’ll think I lied just to avoid her setup—"

"you did lie to avoid her setup."

"that’s not the point!" you groaned, "ugh, she’s never gonna shut up about it if she finds out." oscar smirked, folding his arms. "so what you’re saying is—you need a stand-in boyfriend." you glared. "don’t even say it."

"oh, come on." he straightened, that annoyingly self-satisfied grin tugging at his lips. "you’re the one who created this whole mess. I’m just offering a solution."

you eyed him in the mirror, watching as he moved behind you, fixing the collar of his shirt like he was already preparing for the role. you paused. then your eyes flicked up to meet his. he caught it immediately. "oh, no. no no no."

"come on, osc, it’s just for one night!"

"no?! you’re thinking out of your league now! i'm way out of league so i’m not pretending to be your boyfriend." he said, voice firm, though his lips twitched like he was already giving in. you stepped closer, tilting your head, that mischievous little smile tugging at your lips. "okay, one fuck you. and two, what’s the worst that could happen? you already sleep on my bed half the time." he groaned, dragging a hand down his face. "you’re going to owe me for this." "yeah, yeah." you rolled your eyes, handing him his jacket. "but you’re driving." "obviously." he muttered, standing up and slipping it on.

it felt less like wedding and more like reunion. but then again, nia was a social butterfly so seeing so many familiar faces didn't faze you. the night was a blur of champagne, too-loud laughter, and people pretending they hadn’t stalked each other’s linkedIns before showing up. you and oscar had slipped into the rhythm easily—him charming everyone with that soft-spoken smile, you being pulled into a circle of old classmates who suddenly acted like they’d always been your best friends.

at some point, you got tangled up with a few girls you hadn’t seen in years and oscar wandered off to talk to a couple of guys from the cricket team. you caught his eyes across the room once—he gave you a lazy grin and a mock salute before turning back to his conversation. you were mid-conversation, laughing at something mildly funny, when a familiar voice joined in.

"didn’t expect to see you here." a tall guy said, grinning. ethan, the same ethan who used to sit behind you in maths and also someone you never talked to. you gave him a polite smile. "yeah, it’s been a while." he leaned a little closer—too close. "you look… different. better, actually." you wanted to roll your eyes because sure you did look better than before but didn’t mean you essentially 'ugly' at school. instead, you gave him a tight lipped smile, trying to stay diplomatic. "thanks, ethan."

but then he was still there, lingering, ordering you a drink even though you already had one. ethan laughed at something you said, his hand brushing your arm lightly, and that was apparently oscar’s cue. you didn’t even see him walk up, but suddenly there was a familiar arm sliding around your waist—firm, possessive, and a little too natural for something supposedly fake.

"hey, sweetheart." his’s voice came low, close to your ear, his breath warm against your neck. "sorry i took so long." you blinked, completely caught off guard. ethan straightened, " oh hey oscar. still best friend i see." "dating actually, i'm her boyfriend." oscar supplied smoothly, smiling just enough to make it convincing. but his hand didn’t leave your waist. if anything, it tightened, thumb rubbing a slow circle against your hip in a way that made your knees threaten to give out. "you know formula one, so trying to keep things lowkey."

"oh." ethan said, tone shifting awkwardly. "didn’t know that." oscar hummed, eyes locked on yours now instead of ethan. "it’s a pretty new thing. but it’s good, you know? she’s kind of hard to resist." ethan mumbled something about getting another drink and walked away, leaving you and oscar still standing way too close. "you know, if this f1 gig doesn't work you. you can try your hand at acting." you glared at him, trying to distract yourself of the heat that crept up your neck. "i know right?!" he mused, caging you in his arms and pulling you closer. "i'm just multi-talented." that earned him a hit on his chest.

"never again" you mumbled asyou unlock your apartment door. "next time nia calls for baby shower tell her i died." oscar shut the door behind you, chuckling under his breath. "you’re welcome, by the way, for saving you from ethan’s intense staring problem." you spun on your heel, pointing at him dramatically. "you were insufferable. you couldn’t just say you were my boyfriend, you had to add ‘she’s hard to resist’? who even says that?” he just shrugged, leaning casually against the wall like he hadn’t turned your brain to static an hour ago. "seemed believable."

you shot him a glare, then flopped onto the couch with a groan. "god, i’m so done with everyone from that school." "everyone?" he teased, walking toward you. "you don’t count." you shifted. "you’re furniture at this point." "furniture?" he repeated, feigning offense as he crouched down beside you. "you mean to tell me you dragged your furniture to a wedding just to fake-date it?" "retty much." you shrugged, kicking your legs up over the armrest.

and that’s when it happened.

he stood up, trying to not step over your outstretched legs, but his foot caught on your ankle. there was a startled "shit—" and before you could even process it, his weight crashed down on top of you. you both froze. the air left your lungs, not from the fall, but from the sudden, perfect closeness—his hand braced beside your head, his face inches from yours. the warmth of him pressed against you, his heartbeat pounding just as fast as yours.

you didn’t know who moved first. maybe it was him leaning closer, or maybe it was you forgetting to pull away. either way, the distance vanished. his lips brushed yours, soft and unsure at first—like testing the waters. then, the hesitation cracked, and he kissed you properly. the kind of kiss that leaves no room for pretending, the kind that feels like it’s been waiting for years to happen.

his hand slid up to your jaw, tilting your face toward him. you tasted the faint trace of champagne still on his tongue, the warmth of him pressing closer. when he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours. both of you were still trying to catch your breath. "so…” he said softly, a grin breaking through. "still think it’s fake?" you laughed breathlessly, tugging him closer again. "ask me after the next one."

the soft morning glow spilled across the apartment, painting everything gold. you padded toward the kitchen, the floor cool against your feet. And there he was—oscar piastri, leaning against the counter in grey sweats, spatula in hand. he behind when he heard you. the grin that crossed his face was sleepy, boyish, and teasing girn you've known for years.

he flipped the egg, nodding toward the shirt he wore last night now draped on you. "looks better on you." "i'm a good model." you mumbled hopping onto the kitchen counter. he smirked, sliding a mug toward you. "coffee. two sugars. don’t say your boyfriend doesn't know you." "don't you have better things to do?" you rolled your eyes, hiding your smile behind the coffee cup.

"i do need to go to mtc but thought i'd make breakfast. you know… help you recover." he leaned forward, hands planted on the counter on either side of you. "recover from what exactly?" you chuckled knowing well what he was talking about. he shrugged as he took your mug, taking a sip himself. "oh, nothing. just… last night. you know, in general."