Revved Up

Chapter 9

Max had been in Charles’s life ever since he could remember. Max came from an influential Dutch family with ties to several businesses in Monaco and France. Their fathers crossed paths often due to business. Charles’s father, a humble mechanic, was determined to build an empire for his young sons. In contrast, Max’s father was a tycoon with connections all over the world. Their paths crossed by chance, but it was a meeting that would shape their futures. When the Leclercs began succeeding in Monaco, Hervé, Charles’s father, enrolled his sons in a prestigious private school. He wanted to give them the best possible education, help them build solid foundations, and make influential connections. This school was a world away from the modest life Charles had known, filled with children of politicians, businessmen, and celebrities. It was there that Charles first met Max.

That’s when Charles and Max met. Max was quiet, reserved, always in his own bubble during class. Charles saw him sit alone during their lunch breaks and decided to befriend the young Dutchman. They got along like a moth to a flame. But, they were also fire and water when it came to their personalities. Charles was kind-faced and kind-hearted. Max was stern, often appearing unapproachable, but was yearning for attention. His father worked so much, he never spent time with him and when he did, he constantly critiqued the young boy for every small mistake. Not even his accomplishments were ever good enough. This treatment from his father manifested a darkness in Max. He started acting out of character, at least from Charles’s point of view, trying to win over his father’s favour.

Charles, noticing Max’s isolation, approached him one day during lunch, “Hi, I’m Charles. Mind if I sit here?”

“Sure, go ahead,” Max looked up, surprised, but nodded. Charles sat down next to the solitary figure and offered a friendly, dimpled smile. 

From that day forward, Charles made it a point to include Max in his activities, whether it was group projects, sports, or simply hanging out after school. Max, despite his reserved nature, found himself opening up to Charles. He was drawn to Charles’s warmth and genuine kindness, traits that were starkly absent in his own life. As their friendship deepened, Charles learned more about Max’s home life. The constant criticism and lack of affection from his father weighed heavily on Max. He shared his frustrations with Charles, who listened without judgement. Charles’s unwavering support provided Max with a sense of belonging and acceptance he had never felt before.

However, the stark differences in their personalities often led to conflicts. Charles’s easygoing nature and inherent goodness clashed with Max’s stern demeanour and growing bitterness. Max’s desire to prove himself to his father led him down a path of ruthless ambition. He began to see the world in terms of winners and losers, and he was determined not to be the latter. Charles, with his strong moral compass, often found himself at odds with Max’s methods. While Charles believed in hard work and integrity, Max was willing to use any means necessary to achieve his goals. This fundamental difference in their outlooks created a tension that simmered beneath the surface of their friendship. Max’s behaviour grew increasingly erratic as he tried to win his father’s approval. He became more competitive, more willing to cut corners and use others to get ahead. Charles, ever the peacemaker, tried to steer Max away from this destructive path, but his efforts were often met with resistance.

The first time Max and Charles butted heads was in their sophomore year of high school. As fate would have it, both boys fancied the same girl. Charles had expressed his interest in her to Max, trusting his friend with his feelings. He described how he planned to ask her out, detailing every aspect of his intentions. Max listened intently, but his eyes held a glint of something Charles couldn't quite place. A few days later, Charles was stunned to see Max making a move on the innocent girl. Max, with his smooth talk and confident demeanour, quickly won her over. Charles watched from the sidelines, his heart aching with betrayal and confusion. He couldn't understand why his friend would do such a thing. Despite his hurt, he held back from confronting Max, hoping it was all a misunderstanding.

However, it wasn't long before Max broke the girl's heart, ending their brief relationship with a cold detachment that shocked Charles. The girl, devastated and confused, confided in Charles about how heartless Max had been. This incident planted the first real seeds of distrust between the two friends, and Charles began to see Max in a different light. Yet, his loyalty kept him from severing ties completely, hoping that the Max he once knew would resurface. The second major incident came after a party during their junior year. Both boys were drunk, unable to drive themselves anywhere. Despite their intoxicated state, Max insisted he drive them back into Monte Carlo. Charles, ever the voice of reason, protested vehemently, emphasising the dangers of drunk driving. But Max, using his manipulative charm, convinced Charles that everything would be fine. He played on Charles's loyalty and trust, making him feel guilty for doubting him.

Against his better judgement, Charles agreed. The drive was tense, with Charles gripping the seat, eyes wide with fear. His fears were soon realised when Max lost control of the car and they crashed. Both boys were injured, but Max played the victim perfectly. When the authorities and their parents arrived, Max's father immediately pointed the finger at Charles, accusing him of distracting Max while he was driving. Charles was stunned by the accusation but remained silent. He didn't want to create more trouble for Max, despite the injustice. His loyalty, his greatest strength, also proved to be his biggest weakness. He took the blame quietly, enduring the harsh words and disappointed looks from his parents.

This incident, however, left a deep scar. Charles began to see the true extent of Max's manipulative nature. He realised that Max would go to any lengths to protect himself, even if it meant betraying his closest friend. Yet, Charles's loyalty persisted. He couldn't completely turn his back on Max, hoping that their shared history and the bond they once had would be enough to redeem his friend.

Hervé, deeply concerned about the growing influence Max had over Charles, pleaded with his son to cut ties with him. He saw Max as a bad influence, someone who could lead Charles down a dangerous path. Hervé’s worries were not unfounded; he had witnessed the negative changes in Charles and feared that Max’s manipulative tendencies would eventually overshadow his son's values.

“Charles, you need to distance yourself from Max,” Hervé implored one evening. “He’s not the friend you think he is. He’s a bad influence. You need to focus on your future, not on someone who’s dragging you down.”

Charles, feeling torn between his father’s concerns and his own loyalty, lied. He had no intention of severing his friendship with Max. A mistake, perhaps. The bond they had forged was too deep, too complex to unravel easily. He believed he could still influence Max positively, hoping his friend would eventually change for the better.

As they moved on to college to complete their degrees in Business Management, the strain on their friendship became more apparent. Max’s disdain for the structured, academic environment was evident from the start. He loathed being tied to a desk, working on assignments and studying for exams, a stark contrast to his father’s expectations. The college experience, meant to be a time of growth and learning, became a battleground between Max’s rebellious nature and the demands of his academic pursuits. To avoid the drudgery of studying, Max found a more insidious way to get through his courses: he cheated off Charles. At first, it seemed like a harmless arrangement. Max would glance over Charles’s notes during exams, or sometimes they would swap answers in a discreet manner. Charles, while uncomfortable with the deception, couldn’t bring himself to refuse his friend’s requests for help. They never got caught, but each instance left Charles feeling uneasy, plagued by guilt and a growing sense of moral compromise.

Max’s reliance on Charles’s academic performance became a regular pattern. Despite his disinterest in studying, Max managed to maintain decent grades, thanks to Charles’s diligent efforts. The arrangement, while keeping their friendship intact, slowly chipped away at Charles’s sense of integrity. Each act of cheating seemed to further entrench Max’s dependency and blurred the lines between friendship and exploitation.

The final nail in the coffin came after yet another party - a lavish, high-energy event that promised excitement and excess. Charles, having grown wary of the chaotic aftermaths of these gatherings, decided to drive himself and stay sober. He had seen too many nights ruined by alcohol and was determined to avoid another disaster. Max, on the other hand, embraced the night with abandon. He was drunk within hours, revelling in the attention of several women and engaging in a wild, hedonistic spree. Charles watched from the periphery, his discomfort growing with every reckless action Max took. As the night wore on, he noticed a darker side of his friend that he had been desperately trying to ignore.

At some point during the evening, Max’s behaviour took a disturbing turn. Charles saw him corner a man in a dimly lit corner of the party venue. The man, dishevelled and clearly terrified, was being berated by Max. It became clear that the confrontation was about money - the man owed Max a significant sum, and Max’s patience had worn thin. Charles watched in horrified silence as Max, consumed by rage and a thirst for control, began to physically assault the man. The violence was brutal, fueled by Max's unchecked anger and a sense of superiority that had grown over the years. The scene was so shocking that Charles felt paralyzed. He had seen Max act out before, but this was a new level of cruelty. He could not stand by any longer; his sense of moral obligation outweighed his loyalty. When Max eventually dragged the beaten man into a secluded area, the reality of what was happening set in. Charles knew that something had to be done, but the situation spiralled beyond his control.

Later that night, Max approached Charles with a grim, urgent request. He needed Charles’s help to dispose of the body, to cover up the crime and ensure that his father, Jos Verstappen, would never find out. Max’s fear was palpable; he knew the consequences if his father learned of his actions. In a moment of cold, calculated desperation, Max sought to pull Charles into his moral abyss. Charles was revolted. He felt the weight of his past actions and the loyalty he had been forced to compromise. The request was too much; it was the final breach of his ethical boundaries. After a brief, tense confrontation where Max’s threats became clear, Charles made his decision. He refused to participate in the cover-up. Without a word, he walked away from Max, leaving him to handle the fallout of his own choices.

In the days and weeks that followed, Charles’s decision to distance himself from Max had severe repercussions. Max, fueled by a mix of betrayal and fear, saw Charles’s departure as a threat to his own safety. Fearing that Charles might reveal his criminal actions to Jos Verstappen or the authorities, Max began plotting revenge. He worked tirelessly to destroy Charles’s reputation and life, employing all his resources and connections to ensure that Charles would suffer. Sometimes, he would leave Charles be, but Charles was always aware of the impending threat, and now Max had something on Charles - solid proof of wrongdoing, all Charles had was his word.

Charles lay awake most nights, staring at the ceiling in his darkened bedroom, haunted by the same relentless nightmares. The images from that fateful night replayed in his mind with cruel clarity. Max’s violent outburst, the fear and desperation in the man’s eyes, and the harsh reality of what Charles had chosen to ignore plagued his thoughts. The guilt of not reporting the crime gnawed at him, a constant reminder of his moral failure and the betrayal of his own values. The weight of his decisions bore heavily on him, twisting his thoughts into a web of remorse and self-reproach. Charles understood all too well the crushing burden of guilt. It was this understanding that fueled his desire to protect Marie from the same torment. He saw in her the potential for the same endless cycle of regret and anguish that had consumed him.

Charles knew that what he had done was wrong. He had become exactly what he hated in Max - a murderer. It was a decision made in a moment of fear and self-preservation, a reaction to the intense PTSD he had suffered for over five years. The psychological scars from that night, combined with the subsequent attacks from Max, had turned his life into a continuous battle of moral and principle. His efforts to help Marie stemmed from a place of deep empathy and a desire to atone for his own mistakes. He recognized the look of fear and uncertainty in her eyes, understanding the unspoken anguish that came with being in a dangerous situation. Charles wanted to offer her a chance to avoid the kind of guilt that had become his constant companion. He hoped that by helping her navigate her own challenges, he could give her a semblance of control and peace, something he had long since lost. He also knew he wasn’t like Max. He felt remorse, Max did not. Charles wasn’t protecting himself, he was protecting his family. Max only ever cared about himself and not being inadequate in the eyes of his father.

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Chapter 8

Pierre Gasly, a French diplomat and lifelong friend of Charles, could not keep his eyes off the brunette wearing the scarlet red satin gown. He hadn’t noticed anyone else or paid much attention to any conversation as his eyes remained glued on the woman who seemed very out of place among the billionaires, politicians, and diplomats. She moved gracefully, yet there was a certain hesitancy in her movements, a slight awkwardness that set her apart from the confident, practised elegance of the gala’s usual attendees.

The woman in red was with Charles, a detail Pierre didn’t miss. The way Charles stayed close to her since they arrived, guiding her through introductions and ensuring she felt comfortable, spoke volumes about their connection. It was rare to see Charles so attentive, and it piqued Pierre’s curiosity even more. Marie had received a glass of champagne shortly after Charles wandered off to find Lorenzo. She didn’t know anyone and felt brutally uncomfortable floating among the esteemed guests. She knew everyone was important, but she didn’t care much about politics or finance to engage in conversation above her weight class.

She took a small sip of her champagne, letting the bubbles tickle her throat as she scanned the room. The grand ballroom was filled with elegantly dressed men and women, their conversations blending into a symphony of polite laughter and subdued chatter. Crystal chandeliers cast a warm, golden glow over the room, and the air was perfumed with the scent of expensive cologne and fresh flowers. Marie felt out of place in her scarlet red satin gown, though she looked stunning - a fact Charles made every effort to remind her of since he picked her up in his Ferrari.

When Pierre casually strolled over and pretended to bump into her, Marie immediately knew he was going to try to flirt. She had encountered this countless times during her waitressing days and even occasionally at the casino. She braced herself, ready to deflect his advances with practised ease.

“My apologies,” Pierre spoke with a charming smile as he removed her champagne flute from her hand and helped her wipe down the split droplets from her hand. She let him flirt to spare him the embarrassment. “I didn’t realise you were behind me.”

“It’s quite alright,” Marie replied, her voice polite but guarded. “Accidents happen.”

“I’m just glad I didn’t mess anything on your dress. I must say, it is quite captivating,” Pierre continued, his tone light and conversational.

“Thank you,” Marie responded, taking a small sip of her champagne. She was used to compliments, and while they were flattering, she knew not to let them affect her too much.

“Pierre Gasly,” he finally introduced himself, holding his hand out for her to shake, which she hesitantly did.

“Marie Dupont,” Marie responded with a nod in recognition of his name, even though it didn’t ring any bells.

“These galas have always been so boring. Meeting you has been the highlight of my evening by far,” Pierre admitted. She couldn’t help but laugh softly at his unabashed compliment.

“You’re quite the charmer, Mr Gasly,” Marie observed. He grinned, clearly pleased with himself.

“I try. But in all seriousness, I would love to get to know you better. Perhaps over a glass of wine sometime?” Pierre suggested. Marie appreciated his directness, even if she wasn’t entirely comfortable with it.

“That’s a lovely offer, Pierre, but I’m not sure it’s the best idea at the moment,” she politely declined. Pierre’s expression softened, and he raised his hands slightly in a gesture of peace.

“No pressure, of course. I just think it would be nice to have a friend in this world of politics and power. Someone who understands what it’s like to feel out of place,” he continued to elaborate.

“Perhaps,” she said noncommittally, spotting Charles approaching them. “We’ll see.”

His eyes flicked between Marie and Pierre, a hint of curiosity in his gaze.

“I see you’ve met Pierre,” he said, his tone light.

“Yes, he’s been very welcoming,” Marie replied, giving Pierre a small nod of thanks.

“Pierre. It’s been a while,” Charles greeted him, shaking his hand firmly.

“It has,” Pierre agreed, taking a large sip of his champagne. As he did, Charles smoothly moved to slot in beside Marie, his hand resting comfortably on the small of her back. He knew Pierre well enough after all these years to see what he was doing, and Charles wanted to make sure Pierre knew his place around Marie.

“Trust you to show up with the prettiest brunette,” Pierre scoffed, a teasing glint in his eye.

“Well, you know me, Pierre. Always aiming to make an entrance,” Charles chuckled, his hand moving to grip her waist in a protective gesture. 

Marie blushed at the compliment, feeling the heat rise to her cheeks. She appreciated Charles’s subtle support, grounding her in this unfamiliar setting.

“I’m sure Charles has been the perfect host,” Pierre nodded, his smile warm but calculated.

“Oh, he has,” Marie said, playing to Charles’ attitude by wrapping her arm around his midriff, glancing up at him in the process. “He’s been very kind.”

Charles met her gaze, a silent reassurance passing between them. Pierre took another sip of his champagne, his eyes still lingering on Marie.

“Well, if you ever need a break from Charles, I’m always around,” he joked, though the offer seemed genuine.

“I’m sure she will be just fine with me, Pierre,” Charles’s smile remained, but there was a slight edge to his voice. 

“Of course, I wouldn’t dream of interfering,” Pierre laughed, raising his glass in a mock toast. 

Marie felt a wave of relief as Pierre’s attention shifted away from her. She took a sip of her own champagne, trying to regain her composure.

“Shall we take a walk, Marie?” Charles suggested, sensing her unease. “The terrace has a lovely view.”

“That sounds nice,” she agreed, grateful for the escape.

“Enjoy your evening, Pierre,” Charles said, his tone polite but final as he guided Marie away.

As they walked towards the terrace, Marie felt Charles’s hand remain gently on her back, a silent promise of support and protection. He guided her through the elegantly decorated halls and out onto a terrace that overlooked the city. The cool night air was a welcome relief from the warmth of the ballroom. They stood in comfortable silence for a moment, gazing at the twinkling lights below. Marie took a deep breath, savouring the quiet. Charles turned to her, his expression softening.

“Are you holding up alright?” he asked, his concern evident. Marie nodded, offering a small smile.

“Yes, thank you. Just a bit overwhelmed with Pierre there for a moment,” she admitted, the blush refusing to leave her cheeks.

“He can be a bit much, but you handled it well. He’s harmless, just likes to test boundaries,” Charles chuckled softly, his hand still resting on her back.

“I could tell,” she replied, taking a deep breath. “I just wasn’t expecting all this attention.”

“You deserve it. You look stunning tonight, and anyone would be lucky to have your company. Especially me,” Charles said, his voice sincere. Marie’s blush deepened at his words and laughed softly, shaking her head.

“You’re quite the charmer yourself, you know,” she teased.

“Only when it’s true,” he replied, his eyes twinkling.

“How does your brother think we met?” Marie wondered, recalling Lorenzo passing by shortly after Charles joined her and Pierre. Surely Charles had not told his brother everything.

“Lorenzo thinks we met through mutual friends. It’s not entirely untrue, just...simplified,” Charles chuckled softly, glancing at her. 

“Simplified, huh?” Marie raised an eyebrow. 

“I didn’t think he needed to know all the details. Besides, it’s not something that’s easy to explain at a gala when his wife is heavily pregnant at home,” he continued, a faint smile playing on his lips. 

“I just don’t want to be the reason for any complications,” Marie admitted, turning her gaze back to the city lights.

“You’re not,” Charles assured her, his tone firm. “Lorenzo understands the importance of discretion. He won’t pry.”

“I suppose that’s for the best,” Marie sighed, feeling a bit more at ease. “So, I’m guessing you invited me here tonight because the person threatening you is here as well and you want to show a united front of some kind?”

“Correct, Ms. Dupont. I’m wondering if I should let you guess who they are,” Charles suggested, causing Marie to chuckle.

“I already have a suspicion,” she confessed, causing Charles to halt their leisurely stroll back into the opulent ballroom.

“You do?” he wondered, a mix of curiosity and intrigue in his voice. “Go on.”

“It’s one of three people. First, Pierre. I know he’s quite the flirt, but there’s something about his eyes that seem untrustworthy, no offence, of course. Second, I suspect the Dutchman, Verstappen, I think it was. He’s very quiet, observes more than he engages, and he followed you when you went looking for your brother and returned back to the hall shortly after you. And third… the Canadian, Stroll. He’s just giving me a funny feeling,” Marie explained.

“Keen observations, Ms. Dupont,” Charles smiled as they continued walking.

“So?” Marie urged him, her curiosity piqued.

“You’re right about one of them. It’s Max Verstappen,” Charles glanced around the room, then leaned in slightly with a lowered voice.Marie’s eyes widened slightly.

“I had a feeling. He’s been lurking in the shadows all evening,” she added. Charles nodded, his expression serious.

“Max has been trying to undermine me for a while. He’s meticulous, calculative. I’ve known him a very long time too and we’ve always competed in the same business markets as families, so I wouldn’t be surprised if this was his attempt to railroad my family once and for all. He's subtle, but dangerous. I wanted him to see that I’m not intimidated,” Charles explained.

“And you thought bringing me would help with that?” Marie asked, a mixture of scepticism and intrigue in her voice.

“Precisely,” Charles replied. “You being here shows that I have allies, people who trust me and stand by my side. It’s a power move.”

“Well, I’m glad I could help with your strategy,” Marie chuckled softly.

“You’ve been more helpful than you know, Marie,” Charles smiled, his eyes twinkling with gratitude.

“Do you have a plan to stop him?” Marie asked, her voice low and serious.

“I’ll be honest, Marie, no. I have no idea how to manage this,” Charles admitted, stopping their stroll through the gala once more. Marie nodded thoughtfully, her brow furrowed with concern.

“If we think logically, he would have made copies of the video. If you paid him and he deleted the file on his phone, he could have copies saved on various other platforms. That gives him an opportunity to leak it at a later stage or run back to you for more money,” she added.

“You’re right. I’ve been weighing the risks, but it’s a precarious situation,” Charles sighed, running a hand through his hair. 

“How much can we trust him to uphold his word?” Marie pressed, her gaze steady.

“He wouldn’t think twice to stab me in the back when it profits him,” Charles informed her, his tone grave.

“Great, this sounds like a wonderful problem to have,” Marie sighed, a touch of sarcasm in her voice. She looped her arm into his, a gesture of solidarity in the face of uncertainty.

The pair sighed together hopelessly before Charles turned to face her with a small, wry smile, “Shall we dance, Ms. Dupont?”

“Mr. Leclerc, I have two left feet and not nearly enough alcohol in my system for that. But, on this not so lovely occasion, why not?” she countered with a playful glint in her eye, following him onto the dancefloor.

They moved together in silence, the music enveloping them in its soft embrace. Charles’s hands rested perfectly on her hips, guiding her with a surprising grace despite Marie’s earlier protestations about her dancing skills. After a few moments, Charles glanced down at Marie, noticing her scanning the faces of the people around them. He could sense her unease, the weight of their conversation still lingering between them. His hand rested leisurely on her hip, his thumb rubbing small circles against her dress in an attempt to ease her anxiety.

“Why stay in Monaco?” Charles asked abruptly, his voice low as he tried to distract her from the fuss around them.

“Well, it… Diana and I ran out of money here and needed to find work to get back on our feet. Why I stayed for as long as I have, I don’t know,” Marie began, her voice tinged with introspection. “I suppose it’s familiar now. Going back home would be such a shift, I don’t think I would enjoy it as much as I do here.”

“What about your parents’ apartment?” Charles inquired gently, his curiosity genuine.

“I’m frightened by how much you know about my life,” Marie scoffed lightly, a hint of vulnerability in her tone. “But to answer your question,I’ve thought about going back to pack it up and move everything into storage, maybe rent it out as an Airbnb because I could never sell it.”

“I can help with that,” Charles’s expression softened, understanding in his eyes. 

“What?” Marie replied, genuinely surprised by his offer.

“I can have my people go and do all the packing and moving. You wouldn’t have to go if you don’t want to,” he explained earnestly.

“I couldn’t expect you to do that,” Marie shook her head, touched by his gesture.

“Let me do this for you, please,” Charles insisted, his voice quiet but determined. “If I can’t buy you clothes or give you any financial help, at least let me help with this. I know what it feels like losing a parent, but losing both... I can’t imagine the pain.”

Marie looked up at him, seeing the sincerity in his eyes. She felt a wave of gratitude wash over her, mingled with a newfound sense of trust.

“Thank you, Charles. I... I would appreciate that,” she conceded, a sudden pressure lifting from her shoulders.

They continued to sway to the music, finding a quiet comfort in each other’s presence amidst the swirling uncertainty of their circumstances. One thing Marie knew, Charles was a good man who did a bad thing and was trying his best to deal with that in his own way.

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Chapter 4 - Austria 2023

The upgrades turned out to be more successful than Lando had anticipated. As the sun set on the 2023 Austrian Grand Prix, the paddock buzzed with excitement and disbelief. McLaren's gamble had paid off, and Lando Norris had ended the race in fourth place overall. It was a triumphant return to form, and the atmosphere in the McLaren garage was electric with joy and relief. Renn was there to witness it all, her camera capturing every moment. She had been hired by AlphaTauri that week to photograph Yuki Tsunoda and Nyck de Vries for promotional content, but her eyes frequently wandered to Lando. As the race progressed, her heart pounded with every lap he completed, every overtaking manoeuvre he executed with precision and skill.

When the chequered flag waved, signalling the end of the race, the crowd erupted in cheers. Lando had crossed the finish line in fourth place, a result that felt like a victory given the challenges McLaren had faced all season. The team's elation was palpable, and Renn couldn't help but feel a surge of pride for him. As the teams prepared for the podium ceremony, Renn made her way through the throngs of people to find Lando. She spotted him near the McLaren garage, surrounded by his jubilant team. He was beaming, the weight of the season's struggles momentarily lifted from his shoulders. She raised her camera, capturing the pure joy on his face, the moment of triumph that they had both desperately needed.

“Lando!” she called out, lowering her camera. He turned at the sound of her voice, and his smile widened when he saw her.

“Renn!” he shouted back, breaking through the crowd to reach her. Without thinking, he pulled her into a tight hug, lifting her off her feet. “Can you believe it? Fourth place! It feels like a win!”

“I’m so proud of you, Lan. You did it,” she laughed, her arms wrapping around his neck.

He set her down, his eyes shining with happiness.

“I couldn’t have done it without the team. And maybe a little bit of luck,” he replied.

“Don’t be modest,” she teased, poking his chest. “You drove like a champion out there.”

Their moment was interrupted by the McLaren team calling for Lando to join them for a celebration photo. He glanced back at them, then turned to Renn, his expression softening. 

“I’ll see you after?” he wondered.

“I wouldn’t miss it,” she promised.

While Lando joined his team, Renn returned to her work, but her mind kept drifting back to him. She captured shots of Yuki and Nyck, documenting their race day for AlphaTauri, but her heart was with Lando, celebrating his success. She couldn't wait for the day to end so they could share a private moment, away from the crowds and the noise. When the festivities died down and the paddock began to empty, Renn made her way to the McLaren motorhome. Lando had texted her earlier, asking her to meet him there. She walked through the quiet corridors, her anticipation building with every step. She found him in his driver’s room, still in his race suit, his hair damp from the post-race celebrations.

“You made it,” he said, his smile lighting up the room.

“I wouldn’t be anywhere else,” she replied, closing the door behind her.

***

Needless to say, the celebrations of a good result ended up in a local club where the only people they knew were other drivers and their girlfriends. The music was loud, the drinks were flowing, and the energy was infectious. Lando was the centre of attention, his fourth-place finish giving him a confidence boost that radiated through the room. Renn watched him from across the dance floor, her heart swelling with pride and something deeper, something she was still trying to understand.

As the night wore on, they danced, laughed, and drank, losing themselves in the euphoria of the moment. Lando pulled Renn close, their bodies moving in sync to the beat of the music. The world outside the club ceased to exist; it was just them, the music, and the electric connection between them. The night progressed in a blur of laughter and movement, and before they knew it, things escalated, as had become the norm, to Renn’s hotel room. They stumbled through the door, their hands all over each other, lips locked in a fervent kiss. The urgency of their desire drove them, a familiar rhythm they had come to crave.

Lando kicked the door shut behind him, and they barely made it to the bed before clothes were discarded in a haphazard trail across the room. Renn’s back hit the mattress, and Lando was on top of her, his hands exploring every inch of her body. She arched into his touch, her breath hitching as he kissed his way down her neck.

“God, I’ve missed this,” he murmured against her skin, his voice thick with desire.

“Me too,” she breathed, her fingers tangling in his hair as she pulled him back up to kiss her. 

The intensity of their connection was undeniable, a force that neither of them could resist. Their bodies moved together with a familiarity that only came from countless nights like this. Every touch, every kiss, every whispered word spoke of a deeper bond, one that went beyond the physical. They were addicted to each other, drawn together by a need that defied logic or reason.

“Renn,” he groaned, his voice filled with a mix of passion and something more profound. “I need you.”

“I’m here,” she whispered back, her hands roaming over his back, pulling him closer. “I’m always here.”

They lost themselves in each other, their movements becoming more urgent, more desperate. The room was filled with the sounds of their lovemaking, the raw, unfiltered expression of their connection. It was a dance they knew well, a dance that left them both breathless and sated.

When it was over, they lay entwined, their bodies slick with sweat, their breathing ragged. Lando pressed a soft kiss to her forehead, his hand tracing idle patterns on her back.

“Lan…” she mumbled as he cuddled her tightly, their bodies still entwined from their passionate night.

“I know, I know. Just a few minutes like this, please, Renn,” he pleaded, his voice a soft murmur in the quiet room.

“Just a few minutes,” she agreed, her hand moving to stroke his hair back as she watched his eyes. They fluttered shut a few times, fighting sleep, and she could see the weariness in his expression.

“I don’t want to go,” he whispered, his voice tinged with a vulnerability that made her heart ache.

“I don’t want you to go either,” she sighed, finally caving to embrace the moment with him. The intimacy of their position, the warmth of his body against hers, felt like a cocoon, sheltering them from the outside world.

“Let’s take a shower together, then I’ll leave, yeah?” Lando suggested, his hand gently tracing the curve of her shoulder.

“Yeah, okay. A shower sounds good,” she looked at him, her eyes softening as she nodded. 

They reluctantly disentangled from each other, their bodies protesting the loss of contact. Lando helped her to her feet, his hands lingering on her waist as they made their way to the bathroom. The room was dimly lit, the soft glow from the streetlights outside casting gentle shadows across the tiles. Lando turned on the water, adjusting the temperature before guiding her under the warm spray. They stood there for a moment, the water cascading over them, washing away the remnants of the night. Lando’s hands moved with tender care, lathering soap over her skin, his touch reverent and soothing.

“You’re gorgeous, Rennie,” he assured her, his voice filled with genuine affection.

Renn felt a warmth spread through her chest at his words. She knew she wasn’t the prettiest girl in the world, with her dull hair, bony elbows, and meaty hips. But hearing Lando's affirmation made her feel beautiful in a way she rarely experienced. He saw more than just the physical aspects that often made her self-conscious; he saw the kindness and compassion within her, the parts of herself she valued the most.

After they had rinsed off, they dried each other with soft towels, the intimacy of the act deepening their bond. Lando wrapped her in a towel, holding her close for a moment longer before stepping back to dry himself. Once they were both dressed in comfortable clothes, they moved back to the bed, sitting side by side. The night had taken on a serene, almost magical quality, and Renn felt a peace she hadn’t felt in a long time.

“Silverstone next week,” Renn stated as she watched Lando put on his sneakers. “You must be excited.”

“As long as the car keeps performing the way it did today, then yes, very excited,” Lando responded, a smile spreading across his face as he glanced at her sitting on the edge of the bed.

“I’ll be in the paddock with Red Bull, but I’ll be cheering for papaya all the way,” she told him, her eyes twinkling with mischief.

“Why Red Bull of all teams?” Lando grunted, his playful jealousy evident.

“My job, Lan, let’s not forget that I need to work too,” she reminded him. “It’s not like I’m going to be fawning over their drivers.”

“Max always liked you, though,” Lando continued, sitting down next to her on the bed.

“As a friend. I think Kelly would kill me if it was anything else,” Renn replied with a laugh.

“When will you be in McLaren’s motorhome for a change?” Lando countered, his tone more serious.

“When McLaren hires me as their photographer,” she retorted, but then she noticed the sparkle in his eyes. “Don’t you go pulling strings. I’m enjoying just being at the races when I can.”

“Fine,” Lando sighed again, though he couldn’t hide the disappointment in his voice.

“Careful, Norris. Jealousy doesn’t look good on you,” Renn teased, nudging him with her shoulder.

“Can’t be jealous of something I can’t have,” Lando quickly retorted.

Renn studied him, unsure whether he meant a Red Bull seat or her, but she imagined he was talking about her. They were treading on thin ice with their casual friends-with-benefits escapade. She watched him get up and gather his wallet and phone before heading towards the door.

The many weeks of to and fro, leaving shortly after a bout of passion, had left Lando wanting more than just the sex. He wanted her companionship. He wanted the intimacy of cuddles and falling asleep together. Sure, he knew he wasn’t supposed to develop feelings for her, but he always had a soft spot for her. He just didn’t realise it until he had left her alone by herself every single time. It was no longer a question of whether he loved her or not because he did. It was a question of him admitting it to himself and sharing that with her or risking losing her altogether.

“We’re getting together on Thursday for dinner, kind of a tradition. The Quadrant guys and girls will be there too, if you want to come?” Lando asked, his tone hopeful.

“Oh, the dinner Max [Fewtrell] already invited me to?” Renn retorted, raising an eyebrow.

“I didn’t know if you would want to come, that’s why I’m only asking you now,” Lando attempted to explain, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly.

“I’ll see,” she responded, folding her arms over her chest.

Lando nodded, a hint of disappointment in his eyes, and saw himself out, clicking the hotel door shut as he left her room.

Renn stood there for a moment, processing the conversation. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to go to the dinner; it was just that everything between them was becoming so much more complicated. She sighed, running a hand through her hair as she tried to push the thoughts away.

------------------------------

Chapter 7

Marie quickly befriended the three guards keeping the closest watch over her, their constant presence turning into an unexpected source of safety. With time, she discovered their names and stories, weaving bonds of trust and mutual respect. She no longer had to worry about being approached on her walk to work or on her way home after a shift by drunk and unknown men. The guards, initially distant and professional, softened under the warmth of her genuine interest, eventually indulging her curiosity and even her more audacious requests.

One such request led them to Charles's apartment, an unannounced visit she had convinced them to permit. The guards, now more like reluctant accomplices than strict overseers, escorted her through the city's labyrinthine streets. Each step brought her closer to a man whose life and demeanour seemed worlds apart from her own.

As she entered his apartment behind one of the guards, her breath caught in her throat. The space before her was grand, its sheer size and opulence overwhelming her senses. For a moment, Marie felt like she had stepped into a scene from an architectural magazine, where every detail was meticulously designed to exude elegance and luxury. The furniture was sleek and sophisticated, a harmonious blend of comfort and style. Plush rugs softened the space, and the faint scent of fresh flowers lingered in the air, adding a touch of warmth to the otherwise pristine environment.

She stood there, momentarily awestruck, her eyes roaming over the lavish decor. The guards, sensing her hesitation, lingered near the entrance, giving her the space to take in her surroundings. Marie couldn't help but feel a pang of nervousness, wondering how Charles would react to this unexpected intrusion. She had no clear plan, only a mix of curiosity and an inexplicable need to understand the man behind the name.

Just as she began to take a tentative step forward, she heard a soft, familiar voice, “Marie?”

She turned to see Charles standing in the doorway of an adjoining room, his expression a blend of surprise and curiosity. Dressed in casual yet impeccable attire, he seemed a stark contrast to the grandeur of his surroundings. His eyes, however, held the same warmth and sincerity she had glimpsed before.

“I hope you don't mind the unexpected visit,” she replied, her voice steady despite the flutter of nerves within her. He regarded her for a moment, then smiled, a gesture that seemed to light up the room.

“Not at all,"” he said, stepping forward. “Is everything OK?”

“All fine,” Marie replied, her voice steady but eyes blazing with determination. “I just wanted to return the money you forgot at my apartment the other night.”

With a swift motion, she slapped the notes down on his sleek coffee table, the sound echoing through the spacious room. Charles's expression softened into one of understanding, though a hint of frustration flickered in his eyes.

“I didn’t forget the money, Marie. I left it for you,” he clarified. She crossed her arms, the defensive posture from before making a reappearance.

“Why would you do that? Do you think I need your charity?” she hissed. Charles sighed, stepping closer but maintaining a respectful distance.

“It wasn’t charity. It was a gesture to help you out, to show that I care. I just wanted to make things a little easier,” Charles reiterated his intentions.

“You are not going to buy my silence,” Marie countered, her voice firm and unwavering. Her eyes flashed with defiance as she stood her ground, refusing to be swayed by his wealth or gestures. Charles's face fell, a mix of frustration and desperation evident in his features.

“Of course not! It's not like that at all, Marie, please,” he pleaded, his voice trembling with urgency. “I would never try to buy your silence. This isn’t about keeping you quiet; it’s about trying to support you.”

There was something about the way he said her name that made her demeanour soften, his voice carrying a warmth that seemed to cut through her defences. Marie had to admit, she honestly needed the money, but she had to be sure there were no strings or expectations attached to it. Even then, it still didn’t feel fully correct taking money from someone she barely knew.

“I don’t need your money, Charles. I need to know I can trust you. Actions speak louder than words, and throwing money at me isn’t the way to earn my trust,” she argued.

“I am indebted to you for the rest of my life. You could have ruined my life and destroyed everything my parents and brothers have worked for, yet you chose to believe me. Please, keep the money,” he insisted, his voice firm yet gentle.

Marie paused, considering his words. The weight of his sincerity hung in the air, and she could see the genuine remorse and gratitude in his eyes.

“Just this one time,” she hesitantly agreed, her voice softening. Charles let out a breath he didn’t realise he was holding, relief washing over his face.

“Thank you, Marie. I promise, no more money. Just know that I'm here for you, in any way you need,” he added. Marie nodded, her tension easing slightly.

“Alright. But let's be clear - this doesn't change anything. We still need to build trust, and that takes time,” Marie wisely reminded him.

In the weeks following their discussion, Charles found subtle ways to support Marie without overstepping the boundaries she had set. His men delivered groceries to her apartment regularly, ensuring her pantry was always stocked. They timed their visits to coincide with her return from work, placing the bags neatly on the kitchen counters before quietly leaving. Despite her initial resistance, Marie couldn’t deny the practicality and convenience of the groceries. Each delivery was a reminder of Charles’s promise to be there for her, even if she still grappled with accepting such help. She appreciated the gesture, but a part of her remained cautious, wary of becoming too dependent on his generosity.

One evening, after a particularly exhausting day at work, Marie walked into her bedroom to find several bags of designer clothing laid out on her bed. She stood there for a moment, taking in the sight. It wasn’t money, technically, but it was still a form of assistance she hadn’t asked for. She knew Charles was trying to help, driven by a need to do something, anything, to ease her burdens. Without a second thought, she gathered the bags and placed them in her wardrobe, not even bothering to look at the clothes inside. It wasn’t that she wasn’t grateful - she was - but accepting such gifts felt complicated. It blurred the lines she was trying so hard to maintain, and she didn’t want to lose her sense of independence.

Meanwhile, Charles struggled with his own internal battles. He wanted to help Marie, to make her life easier in any way he could. It was more than just a sense of duty; it had become a need for his own sanity. Knowing she was struggling gnawed at him, and providing these small acts of kindness was his way of coping with his helplessness. Yet, he also knew he was walking a fine line. He had to respect her boundaries and give her the space she needed. Every gift, every gesture, was carefully considered, hoping it would be seen as a token of his support rather than an intrusion.

It was seldom that Marie had a Sunday off, but when she did, she cherished the tranquillity, spending the entire day in her bedroom basking in the sunlight filtering through her curtains. This particular Sunday started like any other, peaceful and undisturbed. She let the warmth of the sun wrap around her as she read a novel, enjoying the rare moment of solitude.

The sudden knock at her door disrupted her peaceful reverie. Her first thought was that Charles’s men wouldn’t let just anyone knock on her door without their knowledge. But the uncertainty gnawed at her, and as she approached the door, her mind wandered to a dark place. What if the person threatening Charles had overpowered his guards and was now coming for her? She swallowed hard, trying to steady her racing heart. With a deep breath, she swung the door open, bracing herself for the worst. Instead, she was met with the sight of Charles, his deep-sunken dimples and blue eyes sparkling with a mix of mischief and concern. The sight of him, so unexpected yet familiar, brought an immediate sense of relief.

“Charles,” she sighed in relief, her shoulders relaxing at the sight of him.

“Expecting someone else?” he wondered, his curiosity piqued by her palpable tension.

“Every day I wonder if I will meet my killer, so yeah,” she half-heartedly joked, though the worry in her eyes betrayed the seriousness of her fear. Charles's expression softened, concern etched in his features.

“How have you been... otherwise?” he asked, stepping inside and closing the door behind him.

“I am well,” Marie replied, watching as he shut the door. Her gaze shifted to the large black box he held pressed against his body. “What's that?”

Charles chuckled as he placed the box on the counter in front of her. He beckoned for her to open it, so she did. She placed the lid aside and unfolded the tissue paper to reveal a gorgeous scarlet red satin dress, perfectly folded in the middle of the box.

“What is this?” she repeated, her fingers gently brushing over the luxurious fabric.

“It’s a gown,” Charles stated simply. “I have to attend a gala later this week.”

Marie raised an eyebrow, a playful smirk forming on her lips.

“I don’t think this dress will fit you very well,” she teased as she folded the tissue paper over the dress again. Charles smiled, his eyes twinkling with amusement.

“Be my date,” he insisted. He didn’t ask; he was instructing, but politely. Marie’s smirk faded, replaced by a look of confusion and surprise.

“Like an escort?” she countered, a hint of wariness creeping into her voice.

“God, no,” he shook his head vehemently. “No strings attached, just an evening where we can both enjoy ourselves.”

“Has it crossed your mind at all how it feels being on the receiving end of your gifts?” Marie asked, her voice tinged with frustration. “You say you don’t want to buy my silence, but this is all very extreme. It feels transactional, like you keep giving me these things in exchange for something after all.”

Charles's expression softened, a hint of regret crossing his face.

“I didn’t... I didn’t realise,” he mumbled, watching her close the box. "I didn’t want you to feel like I was... buying you. I just want to make life easier for you.”

“Life would have been easy if I never saw you that night,” Marie’s gaze hardened, her words sharp and unfiltered. Charles flinched, the weight of her words sinking in.

“I understand you hate that I have dragged you into this so far, but I am trying to make up for it. I really am,” he replied, his voice steady but icy. “If you wish, I will stop sending the clothes, but I will keep your pantry stocked up for as long as I see necessary - that’s non-negotiable.”

Marie looked at him, her frustration giving way to a mix of exhaustion and empathy.

“Charles, it's not about the things you give me. It's about the way it makes me feel. Like I owe you something, like there's always an expectation,” she continued to express her concerns.

“Let me be clear - I’m not doing this to buy your silence or to make you feel indebted. I know my actions may seem excessive, but I’m doing it because I care about you. It’s how I was raised to give back to those who help you. I want to ease some of the burden you’ve been carrying alone. You deserve to have someone in your corner, supporting you. And I apologise if my efforts have made you uncomfortable. That was never my intention. I just want to show you that I’m here for you, without conditions or strings attached,” Charles replied, his tone gentle yet firm.

On one hand, Charles appreciated Marie’s ability to be brutally honest with him. He valued her straightforwardness, knowing it came from a place of sincerity and trust. But on the other hand, he hated how much the truth stung. He could see how his actions might be perceived as transactional, and it pained him deeply that she felt that way. Deep down, Charles knew he needed to find a better balance - a way to support Marie without overwhelming her, to show his care without it feeling transactional. He wanted her to see him as someone she could rely on, not as someone who made her uncomfortable or unsure.

“No more money, no more extravagant gifts, I promise,” he added to which she nodded.

He turned to leave, but her voice stopped him cold in his tracks.

“When is the gala?” she asked, her tone firm and resolute.

“You don’t have to go,” Charles argued, his voice tinged with concern.

“When?” she repeated, her determination clear.

“Wednesday evening,” he responded, meeting her gaze evenly.

“I assume you’ll pick me up?” she retorted, surprising him with her directness. He hesitated for a moment absorbing her words.

“Yes,” he nodded finally, a faint smile tugging at his lips he couldn't stop.

He turned to leave once more, a mixture of anticipation and uncertainty swirling in his mind. This unexpected exchange left him contemplating their evolving relationship and the steps they were both willing to take to make it work for both of them.

---------------------------

Chapter 3 - Spain 2023

Renn wanted to be there for Lando at the Spanish Grand Prix, but work had her tethered to London, shooting content for one of her clients. The life of a photographer meant travelling everywhere, capturing moments that mattered to others while often missing the ones that mattered most to her. She had hoped, desperately, that she wouldn’t need to work that week, but reality had its own plans.

As she watched snippets of the race while tidying her apartment, her heart sank. The familiar buzz of the TV in the background did little to distract her from the disappointment that loomed large. Another tough race for Lando, ending in a disheartening P17, with his rookie teammate finishing ahead of him. She knew all too well how hard he would take it, blaming himself when the issues ran far deeper than his driving. She sighed, her heart aching for him. She knew how much he poured into every race, how hard he worked to push through the challenges. And now, miles away, all she could do was watch and hope he knew she was thinking of him.

It was like clockwork; first a text from Lando with the upside-down smile emoji, and an hour later, her phone rang. Renn answered immediately, her heart already aching for him.

“I suppose it would be stupid to ask you if you’re okay?” she spoke into her phone, collapsing onto her couch.

“Not stupid when the assumption is correct,” he replied, his voice carrying the weight of his disappointment as he took a seat in his driver’s room. “Can’t I just have one decent race?”

“Lan, you had a great start. That contact with Hamilton was unfortunate, but you finished the race, you didn’t retire or give up,” Renn tried to reassure him, her voice gentle but firm.

“Sometimes I wonder if it’s worth it, you know. Like, am I going to be happy being P17 for the rest of my career if it keeps going like this?” Lando continued, his tone hopeless and devastated.

“You’re getting upgrades soon, though, right? What if those skyrocket your year altogether? Have you thought of that?” she countered, trying to inject some hope into the conversation.

“I can’t be optimistic when things have been this bad for so long,” he argued, frustration clear in his voice.

“Rather optimistic than on the edge of giving up everything you and your family have worked so hard for,” she retorted. He remained quiet for a moment, absorbing her words. “You’re Lando fucking Norris and you’re on the verge of greatness.”

“I really wish you were here,” he spoke softly, the vulnerability in his voice tugging at her heartstrings.

“Me too, so I can slap some sense into that head of yours,” she added, causing him to smile for the first time since he finished the race. “But, I do wish I was there with you.”

“Will you come to Montreal?” he wondered, his voice hopeful.

“If I don’t have work, then yeah, I’ll be there,” she responded, her own voice softening.

“Good. I’m heading to MTC sometime this week if you want to go have dinner or something while I’m in the UK?” Lando asked, the tentative hope in his question making her smile.

“Like a date?” she hesitantly asked, the words slipping out before she could stop them.

“Not a date, just two friends getting something to eat together,” he clarified, although he wished it was a date.

“Fine, we can grab dinner,” she agreed, trying to keep her tone casual.

“I have to go debrief with the team. Can I call you later so you can tell me about how your shoot went?” he asked, his voice warmer now.

“Yeah,” she answered, a small smile playing on her lips.

“Talk to you later, Rennie,” Lando said, the gratitude in his voice unmistakable.

“Talk to you later, Lan,” she replied, her heart a little lighter after their conversation.

As she hung up, Renn leaned back on her couch, staring at the ceiling. She hated hearing him so down, but she was glad she could be there for him, even from afar. The thought of seeing him soon, of sharing a meal and catching up in person, brought a flicker of excitement to her heart. For now, she would hold onto that, hoping it would be enough to carry them both through the tough times.

The night for the dinner date that wasn’t a date finally arrived. Renn had spent the day trying to focus on her work, but her mind kept drifting back to Lando. She wondered what they would talk about and how the evening would unfold. Despite her efforts to keep things casual, there was an undeniable flutter of excitement in her chest.

Lando, too, was distracted throughout the day, thinking about the evening ahead. He had made the reservations at one of their favourite restaurants, a cosy little place known for its relaxed atmosphere and excellent food. As the time drew nearer, he found himself nervously adjusting his outfit, wanting to strike the perfect balance between casual and put-together.

When he pulled up outside Renn’s home, he felt a mix of anticipation and nerves. He texted her to let her know he had arrived, and a moment later, she stepped out of her apartment. She looked effortlessly beautiful, her casual dress and light makeup highlighting her natural charm. His breath caught for a moment, but he quickly masked it with a smile.

“You look stunning, as always,” he said as she approached the car.

“You clean up pretty well yourself,” she replied with a grin.

They made their way to the restaurant, the conversation light and easy, filled with the familiar banter that marked their friendship. When they arrived, Lando led the way inside, where they were promptly shown to their table. The ambiance was perfect - dim lighting, soft music, and an intimate setting that made it easy to forget the world outside. They settled into their seats, and after ordering their drinks, Lando leaned back, looking at Renn with a soft smile.

“So, how’s the shoot going?” he asked, genuinely curious.

“It’s been good, actually. Busy, but I managed to get some great shots. I think the client will be happy,” she replied, her eyes lighting up as she talked about her work.

“I’d love to see some of them sometime,” Lando said, his interest sincere. “You’re such a talented photographer, might just learn a thing or two from you.”

“Sure, I’d love to show you,” she agreed, feeling a warm glow from his attention.

Their food arrived, and as they ate, the conversation flowed effortlessly. They talked about everything from their favourite movies to childhood memories, and of course, racing. Lando shared some behind-the-scenes stories from the paddock, making Renn laugh with his vivid descriptions and animated gestures. While the evening progressed, the line between friendship and something more began to blur. The glances they exchanged were longer, the touches more lingering. By the time dessert arrived, they were both feeling the undeniable and familiar pull between them.

Returning to her apartment, Renn and Lando fell into an easy rhythm. Renn moved to the kitchen to whip up some hot chocolate, a comforting ritual that had become a tradition over the years. Lando made himself comfortable on the couch, glancing around her familiar apartment, feeling a sense of warmth and home that he hadn't felt in a while. She brought over two steaming mugs and handed one to him before settling next to him on the couch. The rich aroma of chocolate filled the air, blending with the soft glow of the lamps, creating a warm, intimate atmosphere.

“Thanks for this,” Lando said, taking a sip and sighing contentedly.

“Anytime,” Renn replied, smiling at him over the rim of her mug.

They sat in comfortable silence for a while, the sounds of the city outside a distant hum. The warmth of the hot chocolate seeped into their bones, relaxing them. A subtle touch on the knee from Lando, meant as a casual gesture of comfort, quickly became more. His fingers lingered, brushing lightly against her skin. Renn felt a spark of electricity at his touch, and she looked up to meet his eyes, finding them dark and filled with unspoken desire. Lando's hand moved from her knee to squeeze her thigh gently, the contact sending a thrill through her. Her breath hitched, and she set her mug down on the coffee table, unable to ignore the magnetic pull between them any longer.

Without thinking, she swung her leg over his lap, straddling him. Renn could feel his growing arousal pressing against her as she began to move, gently grinding herself against the buckle of his belt. The sensation was maddening, and a soft moan escaped her lips.

“Renn,” Lando groaned, his hands gripping her hips, guiding her movements. “You’re driving me crazy.”

She leaned down, capturing his lips in a searing kiss, all the pent-up longing and desire pouring out in that single moment. His hands slid under her dress, caressing the bare skin of her back, sending shivers down her spine. She could feel his heart racing against her chest, mirroring her own. Lando’s hands moved up to cup her breasts, his thumbs brushing over her nipples through the fabric of her bra. She arched into his touch, a gasp of pleasure escaping her. She tugged at his shirt, eager to feel his skin against hers. He quickly pulled it off, and she followed suit, shedding her dress.

They paused for a moment, just taking in the sight of each other, the raw desire in their eyes making the air between them crackle with electricity. Then their lips crashed together again, more desperate this time. Renn's fingers fumbled with the buckle of his belt, and Lando lifted his hips to help her, the urgency of their need driving them forward. Once his belt was undone, she pushed his pants down, freeing him from the confines. She could feel his hardness pressing against her core, separated only by the thin fabric of their underwear. The sensation was intoxicating, and she ground down against him, eliciting a deep moan from his lips.

“So good for me, baby,” he groaned, his hands gripping her thighs, guiding her movements.

She reached down, sliding her hand into his boxers and wrapping her fingers around him. He hissed in pleasure, his hips bucking up into her touch. She stroked him slowly, memorising the feel of him and the way he responded to her every touch. Unable to wait any longer, she stood up briefly, shedding her underwear and guiding him out of his boxers. The moment she straddled him again, they both gasped at the contact. Lando's hands gripped her hips tightly, positioning himself at her entrance.

“Are you sure?” he asked, his voice strained with desire.

“More than sure,” she breathed, lowering herself onto him, both of them groaning at the sensation as she gripped his shoulders to steady herself.

She set a slow, teasing pace at first, savouring every inch of him. His hands roamed her body, caressing and teasing, heightening her pleasure. As the intensity built, she quickened her pace, their moans and gasps filling the room. Lando thrust up to meet her movements, his hands guiding her, their bodies moving in perfect sync. The connection they shared, the raw intimacy of the moment, was almost too much to bear. Every time together felt like their very first time. The only difference was how much more they wanted it after each interaction. It was a drug, something they could easily get addicted to. She groaned again, feeling every sensation all over her body as he pressed his body against hers, his movements deliberate and unrelenting.

“Come on, let me hear you, baby,” he encouraged her, his voice a husky whisper in her ear. The sound of it sent a thrill through her, and she couldn't hold back the moan that escaped her lips.

“Lan,” she breathed, throwing her head back, her hands clutching at his shoulders for support. The intensity of their connection was overwhelming, each touch, each kiss, driving them both closer to the edge.

Renn's nails dug into his back as she clung to him, her breath coming in short, ragged gasps. The sensation of his skin against hers, the way he filled her completely, was intoxicating. His pace quickened, their movements becoming more urgent, more desperate. She could feel him trembling against her, could hear the strain in his voice as he fought to maintain control.

“Lan, I’m so close,” she whispered, her voice a mix of plea and promise. The tension inside her was building to an unbearable peak, and she knew it wouldn’t be long before she came undone in his arms.

“Me too, baby,” he replied, his grip on her tightening. “Just let go. I’ve got you.”

With those words, she felt herself teetering on the edge, her body trembling with anticipation. His movements became even more frantic, each thrust sending waves of pleasure coursing through her. She clung to him, her breath hitching, her heart pounding, and then she was falling, her body exploding in a white-hot blaze of ecstasy.

“Ah, fuck,” she cried out, her voice echoing through the room as she came apart in his arms. The intensity of her orgasm left her breathless, her body shuddering with each wave of pleasure.

Lando followed her over the edge moments later, his own release tearing through him with a force that left him gasping. He buried his face in the crook of her neck, his breath hot against her skin, his body trembling against hers. Finally, as the last tremors of their orgasms subsided, she slowed her movements, collapsing onto his chest with a contented sigh. His arms wrapped around her, holding her close as they both tried to catch their breath.

“God, Renn,” he murmured, his lips brushing against her hair. “That was incredible.”

“It really was,” she smiled, pressing a kiss to his chest. 

They lay there in a tangle of limbs, their hearts slowly returning to a normal rhythm. The intensity of their connection left them both feeling raw and exposed, but also deeply fulfilled. It was a feeling neither of them wanted to let go of, even though they knew their situation was far from simple.

Lando sighed, knowing it was time for him to leave. Their moments together were intense, passionate, and all-consuming, but they had made a simple agreement: to keep things casual, to not let their emotions complicate what they had. It was a struggle, maintaining that constraint, but they knew it was necessary for this to work. So, despite the pull to stay, he needed to leave.

“Let me clean you up before I go,” he whispered, his voice heavy with the dread of having to leave her. He lifted her off him gently and laid her down on the couch, her body still humming from their intimacy.

Renn watched him as he left to get a cloth from her bathroom, her heart aching at the thought of him leaving. The physical separation always felt like a small death, a reminder of the boundaries they had set for themselves. She sighed, trying to steel herself for his departure, knowing it was the only way to keep things from getting too complicated.

Lando returned with a warm, damp cloth, his expression tender as he knelt beside her. He began to clean her with careful, gentle strokes, his touch soothing and intimate. She closed her eyes, savouring the last few moments of their closeness before reality would force them apart again.

“There,” he said softly, finishing his task and pressing a kiss to her forehead. “All clean.”

“Thank you,” she murmured, opening her eyes to meet his. The tenderness in his gaze made her heart ache, but she forced a smile, not wanting to make this harder for him. “You should go.”

“Yeah, I should,” He nodded, though his reluctance was evident. 

They both knew it was for the best, even if it didn’t feel like it at the moment. Lando stood, pulling on his clothes and gathering his things. Renn sat up, wrapping herself in a blanket and watching him, trying to memorise every detail of the moment to hold onto until they could be together again.

“I’ll see you in Montreal, yeah?” he said, pausing at the door. “Text me when you’re done with your shoot tomorrow.”

“I will,” she promised, giving him a small smile. “I’ll see you in Montreal.”

With one last, lingering look, he left, closing the door softly behind him. Renn let out a long breath, the silence of the apartment settling around her like a heavy blanket. She missed him already, but she knew this was the only way to keep things from spiralling out of control. She got up, moving to the window to watch him as he walked down the street, his figure growing smaller until he disappeared around the corner to his car. When he was well and truly out of sight, her chest tightened, and tears welled up in her eyes. She had tried so hard to keep their arrangement simple, to keep her emotions in check, but seeing him walk away brought a flood of feelings she couldn't ignore.

Renn sank back onto the couch, her heart heavy with the weight of unshed tears. She had been so sure that keeping things casual would protect her, that it would keep her heart safe from the complications of love. But now, as she sat alone in the quiet of her apartment, she couldn't deny the truth any longer.

Has she fallen in love with him?

She sighed, turning away and heading to the bathroom to finish cleaning up. The echoes of their time together lingered in the air, a bittersweet reminder of what they shared. But as much as she tried to convince herself otherwise, she couldn't ignore the truth. She had fallen for Lando, and the realisation left her feeling both exhilarated and terrified. She didn't know what to do with these feelings, how to navigate the complexities of their relationship now that her heart was fully involved.

She needed time to process, to figure out what her heart was telling her. Maybe she could find a way to keep things as they were, to enjoy the moments they had without letting her feelings complicate everything. But deep down, she knew that pretending was no longer an option. Her heart had spoken, and there was no turning back. She loved Lando, and that truth would shape everything from this moment forward.

Back in the living room, she collapsed on the couch, pulling the blanket tighter around her. The intensity of their connection, the depth of their emotions, made it hard to stick to their agreement. But she knew they had to try, for the sake of their friendship and their sanity. Perhaps they needed to stop things before she got too attached. Maybe that was the solution.

------------------------------

Charles desperately needed advice from Lorenzo on what to do, but he didn’t want to implicate his brother, with a baby on the way, nonetheless. It was his problem and he needed to clean up his mess. But more than that, he knew the person threatening him could do quite a bit of damage, because unlike Marie, this person had video footage. Worst of all, the video contained enough footage to clearly identify Marie, who would be seen as an accomplice to the murder since she didn’t report it.

Chapter 6

Just when Charles thought the damage control was done, he received word through one of his guards that someone else witnessed the murder. Not only did they see Charles kill a man in cold blood, but they saw Marie. They saw Marie run away and they saw that Charles did nothing to silence her permanently. They saw Charles take pity on her because he wanted to protect himself and his family.

Charles knew that he needed to protect her, whether she liked it or not. So, he sent his men out to keep an eye out for her, to steer any potential threats away from her. Of course she picked up on it after a day, but she tried her best to ignore it. She assumed he wanted to remind her of her promise to not tell anyone. Charles needed to speak with her too, to explain why he had his men following her again, that he wasn’t threatened by her, but that he wanted to make sure she stayed safe.

Perhaps it wasn’t the smartest idea to approach her late at night after her shift as she walked home. She could hear his footsteps behind her. She knew his men would never let someone follow her so closely in the dark without making their presence known. She could only assume it was Charles himself who was walking a few metres behind her. She came to an abrupt halt and spun around before stalking towards Charles who she could now make out under the misty moonlight.

“Is there a reason you’re following me in the fucking dark, Mr Leclerc?” She snapped at him once she was face-to-face with him.

“I realise this may look suspicious,” he began, but she interrupted him.

“Is this how it ends? Will you be bludgeoning me to death as well or have you found some other way to dispose of me?” Marie countered, but once she saw the colour drain from his face and his small smile fade, she knew she had overstepped. “I’m sorry. It’s been a long day and I’m tired. I didn’t think you’d be following me tonight.”

“You have every right to be mad at me, but please know that I will not be harming you at all, Ms Dupont. I assure you,” Charles insisted, his voice soft and tender as he spoke to her. “But, that doesn’t mean someone else won’t.”

“What do you mean?” Marie asked, confused.

“It has come to my attention that there was a third individual in the area that night who… witnessed the murder. They saw me. They saw you. And, now they are threatening me with video evidence if I don’t pay them quite a handsome amount of money. They are also painting you out to be an accomplice because there was no police report filed,” Charles explained.

“So, that’s why you have your men stationed around me?” Marie realised.

“It’s the least I can do after everything,” Charles replied. “You were an innocent witness, you shouldn’t have to be punished for something I did.”

Marie remained quiet for a moment as she contemplated his admission. She appreciated the fact that he was upfront about the blackmailer.

“How much do they want in exchange for their silence?” Marie wondered.

“5,000,000 Euros” Charles mumbled.

“Damn,” Marie muttered before scratching around in her purse. “I have 2 Euros to help you out, you know, since I’m an accomplice now. I’m sure you can handle the rest, no?”

It took Charles a few seconds to register her attempted joke before he chuckled at her making light of the situation.

“If I had my way, they wouldn’t get a cent, especially from you,” Charles informed her and attempted a half-hearted smile. Marie mirrored his weak smile and looked around, spotting several of Charles’s men nearby.

“Would you like to walk me home? We’re halfway there anyway,” she wondered.

“Of course,” Charles agreed before they started walking side-by-side in the direction of her apartment building.

She didn’t plan on drifting off to sleep, but there was something about the silence of the night and having someone in the apartment with her that made her mind relax for the first time in weeks. She may not have trusted Charles completely, but he had proven to her on several occasions that he was in fact not going to harm her.

He carried her to her bedroom and covered her with her blanket before retreating back into the living room area. He tried to tidy up a bit, but didn’t know where most of the things went, so he gave up and went to rinse out their coffee mugs. When he dried his hands, he turned around and surveyed the open plan apartment. The last time he was in such a humble home was when he was still a young boy before his parents made a name for themselves. He thought back to some fond memories of reading books with his mom and watching racing with his father in their first family home. He choked back his tears reminiscing of a life with no worry and pulled out his wallet. He left all the cash he had on him on the counter for Marie to find the following morning when she woke up. He also left a note with his phone number on it, just in case she needed to get hold of him for whatever reason.

He didn’t want to leave one of his men in her apartment, as much as he wanted to for her safety, but he respected her boundaries and privacy. Instead, he arranged with the building manager that one of his men disguise himself as a roaming security guard on her floor while a second guard remained stationed in the building lobby, observing the people coming and going and a third guard at the building’s back entrance for good measure. There was no way he was going to let her get hurt because of him.

---------------------------

Chapter 5

It took a week of surveillance around the old town for Charles’ men to find Marie. He had men stationed everywhere from her apartment block to the casino. They managed to get her shift schedule and full address from her manager, who was reluctant to share the information, but when he heard Charles was the one asking, he handed them a full copy of her personnel file with all of her information included in it.

Marie was a lot of things, but she wasn’t daft. She saw the same men at similar spots over the course of the week. They tried to disguise themselves and pretend to be occupied with things around them, but she knew what was happening. She didn’t bother with hiding or deviating from her usual schedule anymore. She knew if Charles wanted to find her, he would.

What she didn’t expect was finding him outside her apartment door when she returned from her late Thursday night shift.

“Mr Leclerc,” she greeted him as she turned the corner and spotted him.

“Ms Dupont,” he greeted her back.

“Did your men tell you I took an extra shift tonight and you felt you needed to check in on me?” She unexpectedly retorted at him as she unlocked her apartment door.

Charles was taken aback by her abruptness. He didn’t think she would notice his men.

“You might need to relook your surveillance team, they’re not very discreet,” she added as she beckoned for him to enter her apartment and he did.

“Noted,” he nodded as he took a look around her apartment while she placed her handbag on the kitchen counter.

“Mr Leclerc, if you’re here to harass me about that night, there is no need. I still have nightmares about it,” she pointed out.

“Not here to harass you, Ms Dupont. Simply here to explain myself,” Charles responded, turning around to face her.

“Explain, then,” she said, her voice firm. Charles took a deep breath, trying to find the right words.

“I know you have no reason to trust me, but I want you to know that what happened that night was... an accident. I lost control, and I've regretted it every day since. I'm not a monster, and I never wanted you, or anyone for that matter, to see me like that.” He started. She listened, her expression unreadable.

“Why should I believe you?” She wondered.

“Because I have nothing to gain from lying to you,” he replied. “If you go to the police, my life as I know it is over. My family’s reputation will be tarnished. But more than that, I don't want you to live in fear because of me. I just... I need you to know the truth.”

Silence stretched between them, heavy with unspoken fears and questions. She could see the anguish in his eyes, and for a moment, she felt a flicker of sympathy. But she couldn't forget what she had witnessed.

“Witnessing a murder isn't something I can just... move past,” she finally responded.

“I understand. Just know that I'm truly sorry.” Charles nodded, relief and sadness mingling in his expression.

“But, wait. You haven’t actually told me why you did it,”  Marie reminded him, her voice steady despite the underlying tension.

Charles looked at her, the weight of her question pressing down on him. He hadn't planned on explaining himself tonight, but he knew he owed her some kind of answer. He took a deep breath, trying to find the right words.

“I... I was protecting myself,” he began slowly, his eyes searching hers for any sign of understanding. “That night, in the alley, the man tried to rob me. It wasn't supposed to go that far, but he was... aggressive. I didn't mean to... it just happened so fast.”

Marie listened, her expression a mix of scepticism and curiosity. She had seen the brutality in his actions, the uncontrolled rage.

“Protecting yourself?” she echoed, her voice tinged with disbelief. “You beat him to death, Mr Leclerc. That wasn’t just self-defence.”

Charles flinched at her words, the truth of them cutting deep.

“I know. Something snapped in me. I've never... I’m not like that. But at that moment, I lost control,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. 

Marie studied him, searching for any sign of deception. She wanted to believe him, to find some sense in what she had witnessed. But the fear and the horror of that night were still too fresh in her mind.

“Why should I believe you?” she asked, her tone more accusatory now. “You could be saying anything to get me to keep quiet.”

Charles sighed, running a hand through his hair.

“I know it’s hard to believe. But I’m telling you the truth. I’ve been trying to find you, to explain, because I don’t want you to think I’m some monster. I’m not,” he said. Marie’s gaze softened slightly, though her guard remained up.

“Why did you even bother looking for me? Why not just hope I never show up again?” she asked, genuinely curious.

“Because I can’t live with the thought of you out there, terrified of me, thinking the worst. I don’t want you to live in fear. I want to make it right, somehow,” Charles replied earnestly.

Marie didn’t know what to say. Part of her wanted to trust him, to believe that he was more than the violent image seared into her memory. But the other part of her, the part that had been running and hiding, couldn’t shake the fear.

“I would like for you to leave, please,” Marie's voice was firm, though a tremor of lingering fear was evident. “And, you can have your guard dogs rest. I won’t be telling anyone about what you did.”

Charles felt a pang of guilt as he registered her words. He hadn’t realised just how much his presence, and the unspoken threat of his family's power, had weighed on her. He nodded slowly, accepting her decision.

“Alright,” he said softly. “I understand. I’ll leave.”

He turned to go, but hesitated at the door, glancing back at her one last time.

“Marie, I’m truly sorry for what you’ve been through. I know my words don’t mean much right now, but I hope someday you'll see that I’m not just the man you saw that night,” he added, almost defeated in a way.

She stood silently, her arms crossed defensively over her chest.

“Good evening, Mr Leclerc,” she nodded.

“Please, call me Charles,” he insisted. She didn’t respond, but her eyes held a mixture of relief and exhaustion.

Charles took that as his cue to leave. He stepped out of her apartment, closing the door quietly behind him. The weight of the encounter settled heavily on his shoulders as he made his way to the car. He signalled to his driver and the guard waiting by the car, waving them off with a tired gesture.

“No need to follow her anymore,” he told them. “She’s not a threat.”

The driver nodded and got into the car, while the guard looked momentarily confused before complying with Charles' instructions. Charles watched as they drove away, feeling a strange mix of relief and unease. He knew this wasn’t the end of his troubles, but it was a step towards resolving them.

Marie, inside her apartment, leaned against the door, her heart pounding. She had stood her ground, but the encounter had shaken her deeply. She knew she couldn’t trust Charles fully, not yet, but there was a small part of her that wanted to believe he was sincere.

She sighed, pushing herself away from the door and heading to her bedroom. She needed rest, and more than that, she needed to think. The days ahead were uncertain, but for the first time since that horrific night, she felt a glimmer of control over her own fate. As she lay down, her thoughts were a chaotic swirl, but amidst the turmoil, there was a faint hope that maybe, just maybe, things could change for the better.

---------------------------

Chapter 2 - Monaco 2023

Decisions were made impulsively. Neither regretted it. In the dim glow of the hotel room, they had let go of all pretences, lost in the raw intensity of their connection. They had shared a night that left them both breathless, filled with a mixture of passion and comfort that neither had anticipated. Yet, come morning, reality intruded, and they agreed to leave it at just a one-night stand between good friends.

But it wasn't that simple. The regret settled in, not because of what they had done, but because they had confined it to a single night. It sucked even more because they were always around each other due to their tight-knit friend group. Every gathering, every shared glance across the room, only served to remind them of what they had experienced and what they had tried to bury.

Lando didn't intend to remember every inch of her body, but he did. The way her skin felt under his fingertips, the curve of her waist, the sound of her breath catching in her throat - it was all imprinted in his mind. He found himself replaying the night in his head, the memory clinging to him like a second skin. Renn didn't intend to mishear him every time he mentioned her name in conversation, but she did. Each casual utterance took her back to the way he had moaned her name that night, his voice husky with desire. She found herself daydreaming about the feel of his hands, the taste of his lips, the way they had moved together in perfect harmony.

They had been too thorough that night, exploring each other with an intensity that left no inch untouched, no desire unfulfilled. The memory of that night haunted them in the best way possible, a tantalising ghost that refused to fade. The only way to solve the problem, they both knew deep down, was to do it all over again. And again. They craved that connection, the release, the comfort of being with each other. It was a need that gnawed at them, a hunger that could only be sated by giving in to their desires once more.

Their resolve broke one evening, weeks after their initial encounter. The group had gathered at a friend’s apartment for a casual night in, filled with laughter and easy conversation. Lando and Renn kept their distance, the unspoken tension between them a blinding force. As the night wore on, their friends gradually began to leave, trickling out until only Lando, Renn, and a few others remained. The air was thick with unspoken words and lingering glances. Finally, Lando stood, the need to be close to her overwhelming. He walked over to where she sat on the couch, his heart pounding.

“Renn,” he said softly, his voice tinged with the weight of everything they had left unsaid. The sound of her name on his lips was a whisper of desire and regret, a plea and a promise all at once.

She looked up at him, her eyes filled with the same longing that burned in his chest. Her heart raced as she met his gaze, the intensity of his stare making it clear that he felt it too - the unquenchable need to be close to her, to relive the connection they had shared.

“Lando,” she breathed, her voice barely a whisper, a soft acknowledgment of the bond that tethered them together.

"Shall we go, too?" he asked her, extending his hand for her to take. His eyes searched hers, hope mingling with uncertainty.

She didn’t hesitate, not for a second. The moment his hand reached out, she grasped it, their fingers intertwining in a firm, reassuring hold. The touch sent a shiver through her, a silent affirmation of their mutual desire. They stood up together, their movements synchronised as if they had rehearsed this a thousand times in their minds.

They exchanged quick goodbyes with their friends, the smiles and waves masking the electric undercurrent between them. Their friends barely noticed as Lando and Renn slipped out the door together, their departure blending into the natural ebb and flow of the evening.

The night air hit them as they stepped outside, cool and refreshing after the warmth of the apartment. The city lights glowed softly around them, casting an almost magical sheen on the world. They walked hand in hand, the silence between them comfortable, charged with anticipation. Renn and Lando walked side by side, the hum of the city a gentle backdrop to their conversation. Renn glanced at Lando, watching as he took in the familiar sights of the Monaco Grand Prix circuit.

“How are you feeling about the race this weekend?” she asked him, her voice soft but curious. Lando sighed, his gaze drifting over the tight corners and narrow streets that made up the most famous circuit in Formula 1.

“Honestly, it’s a mix of excitement and nerves,” he admitted. “Monaco is always a challenge. It’s so demanding, both mentally and physically. One small mistake and it’s all over. But it’s also one of the most exhilarating races of the season.”

“You’ve done well here before. You have the skill and the experience. You just need to stay focused,” Renn nodded, understanding the pressure he was under.

“Thanks, Renn. Your confidence in me means a lot,” he looked at her, a small smile playing on his lips. 

They continued walking, the conversation flowing easily between them. They passed by the famous Casino Square that always sent a rush of adrenaline through Lando’s veins. Renn could sense his anticipation and the intensity of his focus, but she also felt the underlying tension.

“Do you ever feel overwhelmed by it all?” she asked gently, her eyes searching his face. Lando considered her question for a moment.

“Sometimes. There’s so much at stake every time I get in the car. The pressure from the team, the expectations of the fans, my own drive to succeed - it can be a lot to handle,” he confessed. Renn squeezed his hand, offering silent support.

“You’re not alone in this. You have a whole team behind you, your friends, your family. We all believe in you,” she gently reminded him. He smiled, squeezing her hand in return.

“I really appreciate you being here this weekend,” he told her, his expression growing a tad more serious than she expected.

“I’m happy to be here supporting you, Lan,” she assured him.

And so, they found themselves entangled once more, unable to resist the magnetic pull between them. The allure of each other was too powerful, too consuming to ignore. The night had drawn them together, their unspoken desire igniting like a spark catching flame. They had walked all the way to his apartment, the tension between them growing with each step.

The moment they crossed the threshold of his apartment, it was as if a dam had broken. They stripped each other of their clothes with a desperation that spoke of pent-up longing. Jackets were shrugged off, shirts unbuttoned, and shoes kicked aside in a flurry of movement. The air was charged with electricity, their breaths coming in rapid, heated bursts. Lando guided her to his bedroom, his hands roaming over her body with a mix of urgency and reverence. Their lips met in a messy, hungry kiss, their bodies crashing against walls and furniture as they fumbled their way toward the bed. They stumbled and laughed breathlessly as they fell onto the bed.

“I’ve missed you,” he told her, his voice thick with emotion, before bringing his lips to hers yet again.

The words hung in the air, adding a layer of bittersweet longing to their heated reunion. Renn’s response was a soft moan as she melted into the kiss, her hands tangling in his hair. Yet she couldn't bring herself to say those words to him too. The fear of vulnerability held her back, a nagging voice in her mind reminding her of the risks. She hated the war within her, the battle between her desires and her fears. She tucked her fears away as she continued to kiss him, pushing aside any romantic attachments she may have been developing, to simply enjoy the intimacy with the person she was most comfortable with. Lando had become a significant part of her life, a source of joy and comfort amidst the chaos. And for now, that was enough.

“Fuck, Renn,” he moaned, his voice rough with desire, ripping her back into the moment. She felt his hardened shaft pressing between her legs, a stark reminder of the physical need that consumed them both. The intensity of his gaze, dark with longing, sent a shiver down her spine.

The urgency in his voice ignited a fire within her. She arched her back, pressing her hips against his, feeling the heat of his arousal against her skin. Their breaths mingled in the scant space between them, the anticipation building like a storm.

Lando’s hands moved with a frenetic energy, sliding down her sides to grasp her hips, pulling her closer until there was no space left between them. His lips crashed against hers, the kiss searing and desperate, conveying the depth of his need. She responded with equal urgency, her fingers digging into his shoulders as she clung to him.

Their bodies moved in sync, a rhythm born of familiarity and intense desire. Lando’s mouth left a trail of kisses down her neck, his breath hot against her skin, each touch sending waves of pleasure coursing through her. Renn’s head fell back, a moan escaping her lips as he lavished attention on her sensitive spots.

His hands continued their exploration, fingers brushing over her breasts, teasing and kneading until she was gasping for more. He moved lower, his mouth following the path his hands had taken, lips and tongue worshipping her body. Every touch, every kiss, stoked the flames of her arousal higher, leaving her desperate for him. When he finally settled between her thighs, his breath ghosting over her most intimate places, she thought she might come undone from the anticipation alone.

“Lan, please,” she whispered, her voice trembling with need. He looked up at her, his eyes blazing with an intensity that made her heart race.

“I’ve got you,” he murmured, before lowering his mouth to her clit, his tongue flicking out to taste her. The sensation was electric, and she cried out, her hands fisting in the sheets as pleasure washed over her in waves.

He took his time, bringing her to the edge again and again, only to pull back and leave her wanting more. It was sweet torture, and by the time he finally moved up to kiss her again, she was trembling with need. His lips were slick with her arousal, the taste of her still on his tongue as he kissed her deeply.

“I need you,” she whispered against his lips, her hands roaming over his body, feeling the hard planes of muscle and the rapid beat of his heart.

“Then take me,” he growled, positioning himself at her entrance, his eyes locking onto hers. The connection between them was palpable, a thread of understanding and mutual desire that left no room for hesitation.

With one powerful thrust, he was inside her, filling her completely. The sensation was overwhelming, a mix of pleasure and completeness that made her gasp. They moved together, finding a rhythm that spoke of their need for one another. Each thrust, each movement, brought them closer to the edge, their bodies communicating in a language all their own.

His hands gripped her hips, guiding her movements as they rode the waves of their passion. She wrapped her legs around him, pulling him deeper, her own moans mingling with his as they spiralled towards their climax.

The world outside ceased to exist; it was only the two of them, lost in a sea of pleasure and need. When they finally reached the peak, it was with a shuddering intensity that left them both breathless. They cried out each other’s names, their bodies tensing and then relaxing as the waves of orgasm washed over them.

They collapsed together, a tangle of limbs and sweat, their breaths coming in heavy pants. Lando pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead, his hand stroking her hair as they came down from their high.

Once she had gathered herself and steadied her breathing, Renn sat up and started collecting her discarded clothes to get dressed again. The room was thick with the aftermath of their intense encounter, the scent of their passion still lingering in the air.

“Why’re you getting dressed?” Lando wondered as he propped himself up on one elbow, his expression a mix of confusion and disappointment.

“Well,” she hesitated once she met his eyes, “uh, you should rest up before the weekend.”

“Renn,” he sighed, realisation dawning on him as he read the determination in her gaze.

“It was supposed to be casual, Lando, and not the stay over and cuddle kind of casual. Remember, after Miami?” she countered, slipping her dress on again, her movements deliberate and almost mechanical as she tried to mask the emotion threatening to break through.

“I know, I know. Sorry, I just… Sorry,” Lando quickly apologised, his voice tinged with regret as he got out of bed to help her find her shoes, pulling on his boxers that lay nearby.

“It was great, Lan, but we can’t do all of that,” she reminded him, her tone firm yet gentle, trying to keep the moment from becoming more painful than it already was.

“I know. I just like having you here and you always keep me grounded. I’m just being selfish,” Lando quickly retorted, his eyes flickering with vulnerability.

She paused for a moment and caressed his cheek, seeing the inner turmoil swirling in his green eyes. Her touch was soft, reassuring, but it also carried the weight of their unspoken agreement to keep things simple.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?” she said to him, her voice softening as she picked up her handbag, trying to ease the sting of their impending separation.

“See you tomorrow, Rennie,” he mumbled, watching her leave his apartment, the door closing behind her with a finality that left him cold and alone, like she was never there to begin with.

As she walked down the hallway, Renn felt the ache in her chest intensify with each step. She hated leaving him like this, but she knew it was necessary to maintain the boundaries they had set. Casual, no strings attached - that was the deal. Anything more would complicate their lives and the delicate balance they had found in each other.

Lando, back in his apartment, ran a hand through his hair, frustration mingling with the sadness in his eyes. He knew Renn was right, but it didn’t make it any easier. Their connection was undeniable, but the fear of ruining what they had kept him from pushing for more. He valued her presence in his life too much to risk losing her entirely.

He sat down on the edge of the bed, staring at the empty space where she had been moments before. The scent of her perfume still lingered in the air, a bittersweet reminder of what they shared. He sighed, lying back down and staring at the ceiling, trying to shake off the loneliness that crept in now that she was gone.

Renn, meanwhile, walked through the quiet streets of Monaco, her mind a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions. She replayed their conversation, the way he looked at her, the vulnerability in his eyes. It took everything in her to stick to their agreement, to not let her heart overrule her head.

As she reached her hotel, she paused before unlocking the door, taking a deep breath to steady herself. She knew she would see Lando tomorrow, and the day after that, and the day after that. They were intertwined in each other’s lives, and that was both a blessing and a curse. She pushed open the door and stepped inside, closing it behind her with a sense of finality. She leaned against it for a moment, closing her eyes and letting the silence of the room wash over her. It was easier this way, she told herself. Keeping things simple, keeping their hearts safe.

But as she climbed into bed, alone and wrapped in her thoughts, she couldn’t help but feel the weight of their actions, the lingering touch of his hand, and the echo of his voice saying her name. She buried her face in the pillow, trying to chase away the ache that settled deep within her chest, but it ended up just another sleepless night thinking about him.

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The sun began to set, casting a warm golden tint over the sprawling vineyard that stretched out like a lush, green ocean. The air was filled with the sweet fragrance of blooming roses and lavender, mingling with the rich aroma of oak barrels from the nearby winery. Fairy lights twinkled overhead, strung between the towering olive trees, creating a canopy of stars that shimmered against the dusky sky. 

Guests mingled and laughed, their voices a pleasant hum that blended with the gentle strumming of a guitar from the live band positioned near the rustic, wooden dance floor. The band, dressed in casual, bohemian attire, played a melodic tune that invited everyone to sway and move to its rhythm, including the bridal pair, Pierre and Kika. Elegant tables draped in crisp white linens were scattered around, each adorned with delicate floral centrepieces and flickering candles. A long, beautifully decorated table stood at the heart of the venue, laden with an array of gourmet dishes and fine wines, reflecting the celebratory spirit of the occasion.

Charles stood at the edge of the dance floor, a glass of champagne in hand, his eyes fixed on the centre of the activity. There, illuminated by the soft, warm glow of the lights, was his partner, dancing with carefree abandon. The music seemed to flow through her, her movements fluid and graceful, her laughter a bright, contagious melody that added to the joy of the evening. She wore a flowing, navy dress with a slight glitter to it that caught the light with every twirl, the fabric rippling like water. Her hair, adorned with a wreath of wildflowers, cascaded down her back in loose waves. There was a radiance about her, a pure, unfiltered joy that made her stand out to him among the other guests. Her smile, wide and genuine, was the kind that made anyone who saw it smile too, spreading happiness like ripples in a pond.

Charles watched her, his heart swelling with love and pride. She moved effortlessly from dance partner to dance partner, drawing everyone into her orbit, making them feel like they were the only person in the world at that moment. Her energy was infectious, her spirit indomitable. It was moments like these that reminded him why he had fallen in love with her – her ability to find joy in the simplest of things and to share that joy with everyone around her, even at their friends’ wedding.

He took a sip of his champagne, savouring the crisp, bubbly liquid as he continued to observe her. She caught his eye and her face lit up even more, if that was possible. She beckoned him with a playful wave, her eyes sparkling with mischief and love. Charles couldn’t help but grin back, feeling the warmth of her gaze wash over him. He set down his glass and made his way towards her, weaving through the clusters of guests. As he reached her, she took his hand and pulled him into the dance, her laughter ringing out like music to his ears. He spun her around, the world narrowing to just the two of them amidst the joyful chaos of the wedding celebration.

They moved together, in perfect harmony, their steps synchronised like a practised dance. Charles held her close, feeling the beat of her heart against his chest, matching his own. The world faded away, and for a moment, it was just the two of them under the canopy of stars and fairy lights.

“How long is forever?” he wondered aloud, his voice a soft murmur against the backdrop of laughter and music.

“Huh?” she asked, tilting her head slightly, her brows knitting together in confusion. She had been so lost in the moment, twirling in his arms, that his sudden question caught her off guard.

“How long do you think forever is?” he repeated, his gaze drifting towards a newlywed couple dancing nearby. “They promised to love each other forever, so how long is forever?” 

His eyes, filled with curiosity and a hint of vulnerability, returned to hers. She chuckled softly, shaking her head as she studied his face.

“Are you having some existential crisis, baby?” she teased. There was a playful glint in her eyes, but she could see that his question was genuine, not just a passing thought.

“I'm just curious,” he said, a slight shrug accompanying his words. He looked down, his thumb gently tracing circles on the back of her hand.

“I think forever is everything and more,” she began, her voice thoughtful and tender. “It's not just a timeframe, but all the small moments in between. The laughter, the tears, the joy, the sadness, the anger, the patience, the kindness, the forgiveness. It's how even when you're both long gone, your story will still be told and sung, swept away in the wind, etched in the Milky Way, so no one could ever forget it.”

He listened intently, her words resonating deep within him.

“Mmh,” he murmured, letting the weight of her words settle in his heart.

“What? Is that too philosophical for you?” she asked, a hint of concern in her voice.  He shook his head, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips.

“I think that's exactly what forever is for us,” he replied, his voice filled with a quiet certainty. “You know I'd love you forever and a day.”

“And I'd love you forever and a day, too, baby,” she whispered, her eyes shining with love. She leaned in, their foreheads touching, and in that intimate space, the promise of forever felt as real and as tangible as the stars twinkling above them.

Chapter 4

When Marie returned to her apartment after her shift, she immediately got her laptop out and started an intense search on the Leclerc family. Her fingers flew over the keyboard, pulling up articles, news reports, and any available information she could find. She wanted to know everything she could about them, especially Charles. He knew her name now and where she worked. It was only a matter of time before he found out where she lived. She needed to be prepared. She needed to make sure things were in order if he were to cause her any harm.

Her search revealed a web of wealth, power, and influence. The Leclerc family was notorious, their reputation built on both legitimate businesses and whispered rumours of illicit activities. Charles, the middle brother, was often seen as the charming face of the family, handling public relations and negotiations. But beneath that polished exterior was a man capable of brutal violence, as she had witnessed firsthand.

She found photos of the brothers—Lorenzo, the eldest, with a stern, calculating look; Arthur, the youngest, always seen partying; and Charles, his handsome smile and dimples hiding the darkness she knew lurked beneath. The more she read, the more her anxiety grew. This was a family that could make people disappear, that could cover up their tracks with ease. She realised just how precarious her situation was.

Marie paused to take a deep breath, trying to steady her racing heart. She couldn't let fear paralyse her; she had to be proactive. She made a list of precautions to take: changing her daily routines, varying her routes to and from work, and ensuring her apartment was secure. She even contemplated moving to a different place, but that would mean starting over yet again, and she wasn’t sure she could handle that right now.

As the night wore on, Marie's exhaustion began to take its toll, but she refused to sleep. Not yet. She needed to feel some semblance of control over the situation. She bookmarked several pages, printed out articles, and took notes. If Charles Leclerc was going to come after her, she would at least be prepared.

In the quiet of her bedroom, surrounded by the glow of her laptop screen, Marie felt a mixture of fear and determination. She wasn't going to let herself become another victim. She had already lost so much—her parents, her sense of security. She wouldn’t let the Leclerc family take any more from her.

As dawn approached, she finally closed her laptop and sat back, rubbing her tired eyes. The city outside was beginning to wake up, but for Marie, the night had been long and filled with revelations. She knew now what she was up against. And she knew she had to stay one step ahead if she wanted to survive.

Charles took advantage of his brother's severe intoxication to elicit information from him. Arthur, slumped against the plush leather seat of the limo, was more than happy to ramble on in his inebriated state. The neon lights of Monte Carlo streaked past the windows as they drove back to Charles' apartment, the city's nightlife still in full swing.

“You don't perhaps know the girl who works at the blackjack table?” Charles asked, trying to sound casual, though his heart raced with anticipation. Arthur blinked blearily and tried to focus on his brother.

“Blackjack table? Which one, bro?” he slurred, fumbling for clarity. “There are lots of girls at the tables.”

“The one we saw tonight. Brown hair, dark eyes. I think her name is Marie,” Charles pressed on, keeping his tone light. Arthur's face lit up with a lopsided grin.

“Marie! Yeah, I know Marie. She's good, really knows her stuff. Why? Are you interested in her or something?” He laughed, a loud, drunken sound that filled the limo.

“Just curious. She seemed... interesting,” Charles forced a chuckle, playing along. Arthur leaned in closer, his breath reeking of alcohol.

“Oh, she's a good one. Pretty, too. But she's a bit of a mystery, keeps to herself mostly. Works hard. Heard she’s been here a while, probably has some story,” Arthur added. Charles nodded, filing away the information.

“Do you know anything else about her? Where she might live or who she hangs out with?” Charles continued to question his brother.

“Hmmm... not really. She’s friends with some girl who works on yachts, I think. They live together, I heard. Near the old town, maybe?” Arthur frowned, trying to concentrate. “Why all the questions?”

“I want her to teach me how to play blackjack,” Charles lied smoothly, keeping his tone light and casual. Arthur laughed, a deep, hearty sound that filled the limo.

“Mate, you're going to struggle with that,” he said, shaking his head with amusement.

“What do you mean?” Charles asked, trying to keep his voice steady, though his mind raced.

“We've all asked for private lessons, and she's always said no, if you get what I mean,” Arthur smirked and wiggled his eyebrows suggestively, his hidden meaning clear. Charles felt a wave of irritation mixed with a bit of relief. At least Arthur didn't know the real reason for his interest.

“No, 'Tur. That's not - nevermind,” Charles stated firmly, shaking his head in disgust at his brother's implication. Arthur laughed again, seemingly oblivious to Charles's disapproval.

“Good luck with that one, then. She's a tough nut to crack,” he said, leaning back and closing his eyes, the conversation clearly over for him.

Charles sat back as well, his thoughts now even more tangled. Arthur's comments only made him more determined to find out more about Marie. If she was as elusive and independent as Arthur suggested, she might be even harder to reach. But he had to try. He needed to know what she knew and what she intended to do with that information. For now, he had a place to start. He would have to find a way to approach her, in a setting where she might feel more at ease, and he could speak to her without the prying eyes and ears of the casino.

-------------------------

You loved Lando's apartment, from its scenic views over the city to the beautiful features. The large floor-to-ceiling windows provided a breathtaking panorama of the bustling city below, each sunrise and sunset painting the sky in hues of orange and pink. It was a beautiful home, blending modern aesthetics with a touch of rustic charm, perfectly embodying Lando's refined yet adventurous spirit.

The open-plan living area was your favourite, with its sleek, contemporary furniture and tasteful decor. The walls were adorned with art pieces that told stories of far-off places and thrilling adventures. You especially admired the collection of Lando's helmets on display, each one a testament to his daring exploits. The helmets, meticulously arranged on custom-built shelves each with its own unique history.

You were more than happy to move in with him in that stunning home when he asked. The thought of sharing such a magnificent space with someone you loved was beyond thrilling. It was a dream to live with him, to wake up every morning to the sight of his smile and the breathtaking view of the city. The spacious kitchen, with its state-of-the-art appliances and cosy breakfast nook, became a place where you both enjoyed cooking, or at least where you cook and he watches offering limited help.

In the evenings, the living room transformed into a haven of relaxation. You and Lando would cuddle up on the plush, oversized sofa, the city lights twinkling outside as you watched movies or discussed your day. The ambiance was always warm and inviting, thanks to the soft lighting and the gentle hum of the city below.

Living with Lando was an adventure in itself. His spontaneous nature meant that some days were often filled with impromptu trips or fun activities. Yet, there was also a comforting routine to your lives. The morning runs through the nearby park, the coffee brewed just the way you liked it, and the quiet moments of shared contentment made it all the more special. Lando's apartment was more than just a place to live; it was a home filled with love, laughter, and countless memories waiting to be made.

You had spent ample time in his apartment before, but when you moved in, things were just a little bit different. The first couple of weeks were fine, then suddenly, you heard doors slamming shut whenever Lando was away for a race weekend. The sound echoed through the empty apartment, sharp and jarring, disrupting the peaceful silence you had come to cherish. You couldn't explain or justify the sounds, since nothing seemed out of place, so you let it go, brushing it off as your imagination playing tricks on you. Then you would enter the kitchen or bathroom and find cupboard doors and drawers open, items seemingly displaced from where you remembered leaving them. You wrote that off as you forgetting to shut it previously or perhaps absentmindedly leaving things open. It was little, subtle things, but it was wearing you out. Each unexplained occurrence chipped away at your sense of security.

You could barely sleep at night because it sounded like someone was walking down the hallway. The soft creaks of the floorboards, the subtle shifts in the air, all played into your growing unease. Your mind conjured images of shadows lurking just out of sight, the hairs on the back of your neck standing on end at the slightest noise. Your paranoia was out of hand, a constant, nagging presence that gnawed at your peace of mind. You didn't know how to tell Lando that you now hated the apartment, that the once beautiful home had become a source of dread and anxiety. The fear of being seen as irrational or overly sensitive kept you silent, even as the unease grew.

You tried to rationalise it, to find logical explanations for the things happening around you. Maybe the building was settling, you told yourself. Maybe there were drafts causing the doors to move. But the explanations felt hollow, unable to quell the growing sense of something being off. Lando's absence during race weekends only exacerbated the feeling of isolation. The once thrilling independence now felt like a burden, the empty spaces of the apartment amplifying your fears. You longed for his presence, for the comfort and reassurance he brought, but you didn't want to add to his stress or distract him from his career.

Every time he asked how you were, you forced a smile and said you were fine, hiding the sleepless nights and the creeping dread. It became a silent struggle, one you faced alone, hoping desperately that it was all in your head and that things would go back to normal.

The strange thing was, whenever he was home, nothing would happen. It would be the most peaceful time, the apartment returning to its former serene and welcoming state. The sounds that haunted you, the mysterious movements, all ceased as if banished by his presence. You found solace in those moments, the warmth and safety of his company dissolving your fears.

When Lando was home, you felt the apartment's true charm come alive once again. The panoramic views of the city seemed even more breathtaking, the gentle hum of the urban landscape outside a comforting background to your conversations and shared laughter. His presence brought a sense of normalcy, making you question whether the unsettling events were just figments of your imagination.

Yet, this peace came with a shadow of dread. You knew that the tranquillity was temporary, lasting only until his next departure. Each time he prepared for a race weekend, a knot formed in your stomach, a mix of anxiety and reluctance to face the eerie silence alone. You dreaded the moment he had to leave you there by yourself, the impending solitude amplifying your fears. As he packed his bags and went through his pre-race routine, you tried to mask your apprehension, offering supportive smiles and encouragement. Inside, though, you braced yourself for the nights ahead, mentally preparing for the return of the inexplicable disturbances.

When the door closed behind him, the apartment's atmosphere seemed to shift almost immediately. The once cosy and inviting space took on an unfamiliar, almost oppressive feel. You tried to keep busy, filling your days with work and hobbies, but the quiet evenings brought back the unsettling sensations. You avoided certain areas of the apartment, particularly the kitchen and bathroom, where the unexplained occurrences were most frequent. Your nights were restless, every creak and groan of the building fuelling your paranoia. You kept the lights on, hoping that the brightness would ward off whatever seemed to lurk in the shadows.

During one of Lando's streams, you were in the kitchen preparing some of his favourite snacks. The familiar hum of his voice filtered through the apartment as he interacted with his fans, his enthusiasm infectious even from a distance. You felt a sense of pride and contentment, knowing how much joy he brought to others.

As you sliced some vegetables, your mind wandered, replaying the inexplicable events that had been plaguing you. Lost in thought, you didn't notice a knife teetering on the edge of the countertop. Suddenly, it slipped off, crashing to the floor with a sharp clatter. The unexpected noise jolted you, and a scream escaped your lips before you could contain it. In an instant, the peaceful moment shattered. Lando's voice cut off mid-sentence on the stream, and you heard the hurried sounds of him abandoning his setup. Within seconds, he burst into the kitchen, eyes wide with concern. He found you shaking, still reeling from the shock, tears brimming in your eyes.

"What's wrong?" he asked, concerned.

"We need to move, Lando, for fuck's sake. I can't anymore," you tell him, your voice shaky and with tears threatening to fall.

"What happened?" he asked again, trying to understand your reaction. "Are you hurt?"

"We have a ghost in the apartment," you inform him.

"A ghost?" he repeated, almost chuckling at the thought of you being scared of a ghost.

“Lan, now is not a good time to patronise me,” you warned him. “Things keep moving or blowing over. There are no windows open and the wind is not blowing, so what could it possibly be?”

His expression shifted, the hint of a smile fading as he saw the genuine fear in your eyes.

“I'll start looking for a new apartment, I promise,” Lando countered, seeing the turmoil brewing in your eyes. You wouldn't have reacted that way if you weren't truly freaked out.

“You believe me?” you asked, confused by his sudden change of heart.

“Honey, if you say there is a ghost, there's a fucking ghost, and we're not staying with a ghost,” Lando told you and cupped your cheek, calming your restlessness with a minor touch.

His words and touch brought a wave of relief. You leaned into his palm, feeling the warmth and comfort that only he could provide.

“Thank you,” you whispered, feeling a weight lift off your shoulders. Lando pulled you into a tight embrace, his arms a fortress around you.

“We'll find a new place, somewhere you can feel safe and happy,” he assured you. “In the meantime, I'll stay with you as much as possible. If not, we book you into a hotel or get someone to stay over with you.”

As your heartbeat slowly returned to normal, you felt a mix of relief and embarrassment. You looked up at him, your eyes searching for reassurance.

“I'm sorry for interrupting your stream,” you apologised.

“Don't worry about that,” he said, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “You come first, always.”

CHAPTER 1 - Miami 2023

Lando had invited all of his closest friends and the Quadrant team out to Miami for the Miami Grand Prix. The city buzzed with anticipation, the atmosphere electric with the excitement of the upcoming race. The streets were alive with the hum of engines and the vibrant energy of fans from all over the world.

For Lando and his friends, it was more than just a race. It was a week of fun, filming content, and partying until the sun rose over the glistening Miami skyline. Amongst the attendees was Pietra’s best friend, Renn. When Pietra moved to London, Renn was the first person she met and they instantly became good friends. It was a natural introduction to Max, Pietra’s boyfriend, and then Lando, Max’s best friend. Lando and Renn were quite literally cut from the same cloth in terms of their humour and banter. There was natural chemistry from the get-go between them.

The sun was setting over Miami as the group gathered at a beachfront bar, the warm breeze carrying the sound of laughter and music. Lando, with his infectious grin, was in the centre of it all, regaling everyone with stories and jokes. Renn, standing beside him, matched his energy effortlessly, their banter a seamless dance that had everyone in stitches.

“Remember that time we tried to film that prank video and ended up getting chased by security?” Lando said, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

“How could I forget? I still have a scar on my knee from hiding in that hedge!” Renn laughed, shaking her head. Pietra, sitting nearby with Max, watched the exchange with a knowing smile.

“You two are a dangerous combination,” she said, raising her glass in a mock toast. “But I have to admit, it’s entertaining.”

The days in Miami were a blur of excitement. The group spent their mornings filming content for their respective channels, capturing the essence of the city and the thrill of the Grand Prix. They interviewed drivers, explored the paddock, and even managed to get a few laps in on the track.

In the afternoons, they lounged by the pool or explored Miami’s vibrant neighbourhoods, soaking in the culture and cuisine. Renn and Lando often found themselves paired up, whether it was trying out the latest food trucks or challenging each other to a game of beach volleyball. The week culminated with the much-anticipated Miami Grand Prix. However, the race did not go according to plan for Lando or McLaren. Technical issues plagued the car, and despite his best efforts, Lando couldn’t climb the ranks. He finished far lower than he had hoped, and the frustration was evident as he stepped out of the car.

In the garage, Lando was a mix of frustration and devastation. His usually bright demeanour was clouded with disappointment. Renn, always the one to lighten the mood, tried to joke around, but Lando was not feeling it. Sensing his need for support, she shifted from humour to empathy, offering a listening ear and comforting presence.

Throughout the afternoon and early evening, they had a few moments alone. Lando vented to her about his frustrations with the car, his feeling of inadequacy as a driver, and the pressure he felt to perform. Renn listened intently, offering small touches on his arm, reassuring words, and a calm presence.

Deciding to forget the entire race weekend and write it off as one to learn from and move past, Lando and the group decided to go out clubbing. The vibrant Miami nightlife beckoned, promising an escape from the day’s frustrations. The city’s pulsating energy was the perfect antidote to their subdued spirits. They headed to one of Miami’s hottest clubs, a place known for its electric atmosphere and celebrity sightings. As they entered, the thumping bass of the music enveloped them, and the flashing lights painted the scene in vibrant colours. Lando led the way, determined to let loose and shake off the negativity of the race.

On the dance floor, the group immersed themselves in the music, moving to the rhythm and letting the beat drive away their worries. Lando and Renn danced together, their chemistry undeniable as they laughed and moved in sync. For a while, the frustrations of the day melted away, replaced by the sheer joy of the moment. At the bar, they ordered rounds of exotic cocktails, toasting to friendship and resilience. Lando, his spirits lifted by the music and the company, found himself smiling and laughing more freely. Renn stayed close, her presence a steady source of comfort.

Later, as the night deepened and the club continued to buzz with life, Lando and Renn found themselves on the rooftop terrace, looking out over the city. The Miami skyline was a breathtaking sight, a sea of lights stretching out into the horizon.

“I needed this,” Lando admitted, leaning on the railing. “Just to forget about today, even if it’s just for a little while.”

“We all need to let go sometimes. You’ll come back stronger, Lando. I know it,” Renn nodded, her gaze fixed on the distant lights.

Despite her reassurance, the disappointment in his race result lingered. Lando couldn't shake the frustration gnawing at the back of his mind. As the group continued to revel in the club’s intoxicating atmosphere, one drink led to the next and the next. The flashing lights and pulsing music blurred together, creating a haze that Lando eagerly embraced, hoping to drown out the nagging sense of failure.

Renn stayed by his side, matching him drink for drink, her laughter and energy unwavering. She knew he was still struggling and wanted to be there for him, even if it meant getting a little too drunk herself. Their friends cheered them on, oblivious to the deeper emotions at play. At some point, the decision to leave was made - perhaps unspoken but mutually understood. They stumbled out of the club, giggling and leaning on each other for support. The cool night air hit them, a stark contrast to the club’s warm, enclosed chaos. They ordered an Uber, collapsing into the backseat in a fit of laughter, still trying to keep the party going.

As the car sped through Miami’s neon-lit streets, the city’s energy seemed to pulse in time with their still-racing hearts. They exchanged slurred stories and jokes, but beneath the surface, Renn could see the tension in Lando’s eyes. The alcohol had numbed the sharp edge of his disappointment but hadn’t erased it. When they reached the hotel, they managed to navigate the lobby with a mix of stealth and stumbling, trying to keep their giggles under control. Renn’s hand was a steadying presence on Lando’s arm, guiding him towards the elevator and up to his room.

Inside, the room was dark and quiet, a stark contrast to the vibrant noise they had left behind. Renn flicked on a lamp, casting a soft, warm glow across the room. Lando collapsed onto the edge of the bed, his shoulders slumping as the weight of the day settled back onto him. The party, the drinks, and the laughter had been a temporary reprieve, but now reality crept back in. Renn watched him closely, her own drunken haze giving way to concern. She could see he was still not himself, the disappointment etched in his features despite his attempts to mask it.

“Lan,” she said softly, sitting beside him and placing a hand on his back. “You don’t have to hold it all in.”

He looked at her, his eyes tired and a bit glassy from the alcohol.

“I just... I wanted this weekend to be different,” he admitted, his voice cracking slightly. “I feel like I let everyone down.”

“You didn’t let anyone down. Things just didn’t go as planned. It happens. But it doesn’t define who you are or what you can do,” She shook her head, her hand rubbing gentle circles on his back.

“I know that, but it’s hard not to feel like I’m not good enough sometimes,” Lando sighed deeply, his gaze dropping to the floor.

“You are more than good enough. One bad race doesn’t change that. You’ve got so many people who believe in you, who see how incredible you are,” Renn moved closer, her hand shifting to hold his.

She leaned her head against his shoulder, the closeness providing comfort to them both. For a moment, they sat in silence, the room’s quietude enveloping them. The world outside continued its frenetic pace, but in this small bubble, they found solace in each other’s presence. The alcohol’s numbing effect was beginning to wane, but the warmth of Renn’s words and touch remained, helping to ease Lando’s troubled mind.

“Are you going to be okay tonight?” she asked, her voice soft with worry. Lando sighed, the weight of his emotions evident in his response. 

“No,” he admitted, his voice tinged with vulnerability. “Not at all.”

Renn’s heart ached for him.

“Should I stay with you until you fall asleep?” she offered gently. He looked up at her, a flicker of gratitude in his eyes.

“I’d like that,” Lando conceded.

The next moments were a blur of movement and quiet coordination. Lando stripped off his shirt, the sight of his toned torso briefly catching Renn’s attention. He then grabbed his sleep trunks and disappeared into the bathroom to change. Meanwhile, Renn began discarding the thousands of pillows that adorned the bed, creating a comfortable space for them to settle in. When Lando returned, he held out one of his shirts for her.

“Here, you can change out of that,” he said, gesturing to her sequined dress that shimmered under the soft light.

“Thanks,” she replied, taking the shirt with a grateful smile.

Renn went into the bathroom to change into the cool cotton shirt, a welcome relief from the constricting dress. It smelled faintly of him, a comforting blend of cologne and something uniquely Lando. When she emerged, she found Lando already in bed, looking slightly more at ease in his sleep trunks.

She slid into bed beside him, the mattress dipping slightly under her weight. Without hesitation, Lando moved closer, laying on top of her, his head resting on her chest. The proximity was intimate, yet felt completely natural. She began brushing his hair back, twirling his curls between her fingers in a soothing rhythm.

They stayed like that for a while, the silence between them comfortable and warm. Renn’s touch seemed to calm Lando, his breathing slowing as he relaxed against her. She could feel the tension leaving his body, replaced by a soft, sleepy tranquillity. Eventually, Lando looked up at her, his eyes meeting hers with a vulnerable intensity. Without a word, he leaned in and pressed his lips to hers, a gentle, heartfelt kiss that conveyed all the emotions he couldn’t put into words. Renn kissed him back, her fingers still tangled in his hair, her heart swelling with a mix of tenderness and affection. When they finally pulled apart, Lando rested his forehead against hers.

“Thank you,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. Renn smiled, her hand caressing his cheek.

“Always,” she replied softly.

As the minutes passed, their quiet touching took on a different quality. It was still gentle, but there was an undercurrent of something deeper, something more intense. Lando’s hand began to move, tracing slow, deliberate paths up and down her side. His fingers grazed her ribs, slipped under the hem of the shirt she wore, and rested on the smooth skin of her hip.

Renn’s breath hitched slightly, her heart beating faster in response. She continued to twirl his curls, her other hand drifting to his back, where she traced light patterns with her fingertips. The tension between them grew, an unspoken understanding passing through their shared glances and touches.

Lando’s hand ventured further, moving up her inner thigh and over her underwear, pausing briefly at her hip bone before slipping under the shirt yet again. The sensation sent a shiver through Renn, her body reacting to his touch. She looked down at him, their eyes locking in a moment of mutual recognition. His fingers continued their exploration, brushing against the sensitive skin just below her ribs. Renn’s hand stilled in his hair, her breath catching as his touch sent sparks of sensation through her. The room seemed to grow warmer, the air thick with the tension building between them.

Slowly, Lando shifted, lifting himself slightly to look into her eyes. His gaze was intense, filled with a mix of vulnerability and desire. He leaned in, their lips meeting in a kiss that started soft but quickly deepened, fueled by the emotions they had been holding back. Renn responded eagerly, her hands sliding down his back, pulling him closer. Their kisses grew more urgent, a silent communication of their need for each other. Lando’s hands roamed under the shirt, finding the curves of her body and memorising every inch with his touch.

With a gentle but insistent tug, Lando pulled the shirt up and over her head, discarding it to the side. He paused to take in the sight of her, his eyes filled with admiration and desire. Renn reached up, cupping his face and pulling him back down for another deep, passionate kiss. While their kisses intensified, Lando’s hands continued their exploration, his touch sending waves of pleasure through Renn. She arched into him, her body responding to his every movement. His mouth left hers, trailing kisses down her neck and across her collarbone, each touch igniting a new flame of sensation.

Renn’s hands were not idle either. She traced the lines of his muscles, her fingers memorising the feel of him. She slid her hands under the waistband of his sleep trunks, encouraging him to shed the last barrier between them. Lando complied, kicking off his trunks and returning his attention to her. She pushed her panties to the side before he pushed his tip through her folds. He moved slowly as he entered her, savouring each moment of contact. Their bodies pressed together, skin against skin, the warmth and closeness intensifying their connection.

The intensity between them surged, and suddenly they were fucking like prisoners who had just been released after a ten-year sentence. Their movements were frantic, fueled by a desperate need to feel each other fully. There was no room for hesitation; only raw, unfiltered desire. Lando's hands gripped her hips tightly as he thrust into her with a fervour that spoke of all the emotions he had bottled up throughout the day. Renn matched his intensity, her nails digging into his back as she arched against him, meeting each of his powerful thrusts with equal force.

Their breaths came in ragged gasps, the sound of their bodies colliding filling the room. The bed creaked under the strain of their passion, but they paid no mind. Every touch, every kiss was a release, a cathartic expression of everything they felt for each other. Lando's mouth found hers again, their kisses bruising and desperate. He moved faster, deeper, their shared rhythm driving them both to the edge. Renn cried out his name, her voice a mixture of pleasure and urgency, urging him on.

The tension built to a breaking point, their bodies trembling with the force of their connection. They came together in a shattering climax, their cries mingling as they clung to each other, riding out the waves of pleasure that crashed over them. Afterward, they lay tangled together, their bodies slick with sweat and still trembling from the intensity of their lovemaking. Lando rested his head on Renn's chest, listening to the rapid beat of her heart as their breathing slowly returned to normal. It had been the first time something like that had happened between them. Sure, they shared a few kisses every so often when he would be gone for a few weeks, but nothing like that, never full blown, passionate lovemaking.

“Fuck,” Lando moaned, the tension gone from his body. He hesitated for a moment, not wanting to break their skin-to-skin contact, but he also wanted to clean her up after cumming inside her. Renn felt his hesitation and gently cupped his face.

“It's okay,” she whispered, smiling softly, her fingers brushing over his cheek. He nodded, kissing her tenderly before reluctantly pulling away.

“I'll be right back,” he promised, slipping off the bed and heading to the bathroom.

Renn watched him go, feeling a strange mix of contentment and vulnerability. The intensity of their lovemaking had left her breathless, but she also felt a deep sense of connection with Lando that went beyond physical pleasure. Lando returned with a warm, damp cloth and a look of tender concern on his face. He carefully cleaned her, his touch gentle and reverent. It was a quiet, intimate moment that spoke of his care and respect for her.

Carlos hadn't been on a date in what felt like years. The string of awkward silences and forced conversations had left him jaded. So when his friends, bless their persistent souls, convinced him to meet their friend for a blind date, he went in with the enthusiasm of a slug crossing a salt flat.

The tiny Italian restaurant buzzed with conversation, the air thick with the aroma of garlic and basil. Carlos fidgeted in his chair, replaying every embarrassing first-date anecdote in his head. Then, she walked in, a whirlwind of laughter and sunshine in a yellow sundress.

The conversation started easily, like a worn path they'd both walked before. They discovered a shared love of terrible puns and a mutual disdain for reality TV. Before he knew it,  hours had melted away, the clinking of plates replaced by their easy laughter. As Carlos walked her to her car, a warm, unfamiliar feeling bloomed in his chest.  He was surprised, not just by the connection, but by how quickly he let his guard down.  Maybe, just maybe, this wasn't another bad date after all.

Butterflies danced a frantic jig in Carlos's stomach as he pulled into the parking spot behind her car. Three dates, weeks of stolen glances and playful texts, and there he was, parked outside her apartment building. It wasn't a fancy high-rise, but a well-maintained brick building with overflowing window boxes and fairy lights strung across the balconies. A hint of jasmine, maybe from the blooming climbers by the entrance, tickled his nose. He wasn't sure if “coffee” was the only thing brewing tonight, and the uncertainty sent a thrill through him. He took a deep breath, the air thick with anticipation, and stepped out, ready to see what awaited him behind that unassuming door.

Carlos found her waiting by the building's entrance, a curious smile playing on her lips. Together, they navigated the slightly creaky elevator to the fifth floor, the silence comfortable as their hands brushed, sending a spark through him.

Reaching her door, she fumbled slightly with her keys before unlocking it with a laugh. Inside, the warm glow of fairy lights strung across the ceiling cast a whimsical light on the room. Carlos's eyes adjusted, taking in the cosy space adorned with mismatched furniture and bookshelves overflowing with novels. Yet, an unexpected detail snagged his attention. Nestled by the doorway sat two small, vibrantly coloured food and water bowls, a splash of lavender against the wooden floor.

Carlos froze, momentarily thrown. Weeks of flirting hadn't prepared him for the realisation that dawned on him slowly. He hadn't considered the possibility of her having a pet, and the bowls, clearly meant for something much smaller than a dog, left him confused. His gaze darted around, searching for a furry companion, but the apartment remained curiously devoid of chewed toys or the telltale signs of a playful canine.  A blush crept up his neck as the truth, both hilarious and slightly embarrassing, began to settle in. These weren't dog bowls – they were for a cat.

Reaching up, she retrieved a kettle from a shelf and filled it with water.  With a practised flick of her wrist, she pulled open a cupboard and retrieved a small, foil pouch adorned with a cartoon cat. With a satisfied smile, she ripped the top open, a pungent aroma of tuna wafting out.  Unaware of the revelation dawning on Carlos, she began meticulously scooping the wet food onto a dish by the door – the very one that had thrown him into a moment of confusion. A strangled laugh escaped Carlos's lips. 

“So, you have a cat?” he asked, the question laced with a hint of amusement that both surprised and relieved him. Sarah's smile widened, her eyes sparkling with delight.

“I do,” she confirmed, “though she's mastered the art of invisibility apparently.”

“What's, uh, she called?” Carlos continued to probe, his gaze scanning the room for any sign of movement.  He was starting to feel a little foolish for his initial confusion over the bowls.

“You're going to laugh,” she chuckled, a hint of mischief in her eyes.

“Please tell me it isn't like Carlita, or something like that,” Carlos retorted, trying to regain some composure. He secretly hoped for a normal, elegant cat name.

“When I rescued her, she was so small, we didn't know what her sex was, so I just named her Bean,” she explained, a warm smile gracing her lips.

“Bean?” Carlos asked, almost cackling as he watched her in amazement. The name did not quite match the image he'd conjured. Just then, almost on cue, a tiny, pitch-black cat emerged from under the couch. It wasn't your average house cat – its sleek form and patterned coat were more reminiscent of a miniature leopard. The little feline brushed against Carlos's leg, startling him with a soft purr. Bean, it seemed, was anything but ordinary.

“There she is,” she commented with a delighted giggle as Bean continued to weave her tiny body around Carlos's ankles, purring like a tiny motor. “And, I think she likes you.”

“Mmmh,” Carlos mumbled, his initial surprise morphing into a hesitant amusement. He glanced down at the cat, who tilted her head up at him with wide, emerald eyes. The little panther-like creature paused mid-rub, seemingly evaluating him in return.

Internally, Carlos was waging a battle. Part of him wanted to melt into a puddle at the feline's apparent affection. Cats, especially aloof ones, were notoriously difficult to impress, and here was Bean, practically begging for his attention. The other, more cautious part, was screaming at him to gently shoo the creature away. He wasn't particularly fond of cats –  childhood memories of getting scratched by his neighbour's tomcat were still vivid. Why hadn't Sarah mentioned she had a cat? Not that it was a dealbreaker, but the whole situation felt...unexpected.

Sarah noticed the almost pained expression flicker across Carlos's face.

“I take it you're more of a dog person, huh?” she wondered, her voice laced with a hint of curiosity. Carlos winced internally. He hated to disappoint her, but honesty seemed to be the best policy.

“Yeah,” he finally admitted, offering a sheepish smile. “Cats… not usually my go-to pet.”

A flicker of something akin to disappointment crossed Sarah's features, but it was quickly masked by a determined smile. Was this going to influence their relationship at all? She really liked Carlos, but if her having a cat deterred him so much, perhaps he wasn't the guy for her.  She excused herself to the restroom, needing a moment to take a deep breath. Surely her choice of pet shouldn't be an issue, but a knot of uncertainty tightened in her stomach.

Her brief absence stretched a little longer than expected, leaving Carlos in a peculiar situation. Bean, the tiny panther in disguise, continued her mission of feline affection. With a soft purr that rumbled in his chest, she hopped onto the couch, her gaze fixed on him. Carlos, still wrestling with his internal conflict, sighed helplessly. This wasn't how he envisioned the evening going. Cats, in his experience, were furry bundles of chaos – all claws, hisses, and disdainful glances. Yet, here was Bean, a picture of feline tranquillity, nuzzling his leg and gazing at him with those emerald eyes that seemed to hold a surprising depth.

He hesitantly reached out a hand, prepared for the inevitable withdrawal or worse, a swipe. But to his surprise, Bean leaned into his touch, her tiny body vibrating with contentment as he stroked her soft fur. It was surprisingly pleasant, the gentle rasp against his palm a far cry from the sandpapery texture he remembered from childhood encounters. A hesitant smile tugged at the corner of his lips. Maybe, just maybe, cats weren't so bad after all.  This Bean, this miniature panther with a heart of gold, was slowly chipping away at his preconceived notions.

A surprised chuckle escaped her lips as she peeked around the corner and saw Carlos, the self-proclaimed dog person, cradling Bean contentedly on his lap. The tiny panther, usually a whirlwind of energy, was nestled against his chest, a rhythmic purr rumbling through her small body. His hand, the one that had hovered hesitantly just moments ago, now stroked her back with a gentleness that surprised even Sarah.

“You're not so bad, Bean,” he whispered to the cat, his voice barely a murmur. “You think your Mom would mind if I called you Chili Bean?”

The question hung in the air for a beat, and then Bean, as if on cue, let out a contented chirp and nuzzled further into Carlos's embrace. A genuine smile bloomed on his face as he continued to stroke her, the warmth of her tiny body radiating against him. Sarah couldn't help but grin. Maybe, just maybe, this wasn't a dealbreaker after all. In fact, it seemed like Bean had a new favourite human. Sarah's surprise melted into pure delight as she witnessed the unlikely pair cuddled on the couch.

“Look at you two,” she gushed, a wide smile gracing her features. It was astonishing how quickly Carlos and Bean had become comfortable with each other.

“She's the loveliest cat I've ever met,” Carlos admitted, his voice laced with a newfound affection. He stroked Bean's soft fur with his fingertips, his earlier apprehension replaced by a genuine fondness.

“Told you she liked you,” she teased playfully, already heading towards the kitchen to make coffee.  The tension from earlier had dissipated, replaced by a comfortable ease.

“Does her Mom like me too?” Carlos countered, a mischievous glint in his eyes.  He was starting to enjoy this dynamic.

“Her Mom most certainly does,” she confessed with a sheepish grin as she grabbed mugs, "”especially after seeing you with her like that.”

Carlos chuckled, basking in the warmth of the moment. 

“Good, because I've kind of already, sort of, dubbed her Chili Bean and I want to take her home with me,” he blurted out in a rush, causing her to erupt in laughter.

"Problem is, we're a package deal," she countered, her eyes twinkling as she moved to take a seat beside him on the couch.

CHAPTER 3

The youngest Leclerc brother, Arthur, was the wildest one. Known for his insatiable appetite for adventure and thrill, he thrived in the vibrant nightlife of Monaco. He had a habit of dragging Charles to parties, clubs, and casinos when Charles would have preferred a peaceful night in with a glass of wine and a good book. Arthur’s energy was infectious, his charm undeniable, and he revelled in the attention their family name commanded.

Tonight was no exception. It was a Saturday, which meant the city was alive with the promise of excitement, and Arthur had already set his sights on the night’s itinerary. He burst into Charles’s apartment, grinning from ear to ear, a spark of mischief in his eyes.

“Come on, Charles! You can’t hide away tonight,” Arthur declared, his voice bubbling with enthusiasm. “I’ve got us on the guest list at the hottest club in town. Everyone’s going to be there!”

“Arthur, I really don’t feel like going out tonight. I had a long day, and I just want to relax,” Charles sighed, switching on his television and clicking on one of the motorsport channels.

“Relax? You can relax when you’re old and grey. We’re young, rich, and Leclercs! The world is our playground, brother,” Arthur rolled his eyes dramatically, grabbing the remote from Charles’s hands and tossing it onto the couch. 

Despite his reluctance, Charles couldn’t help but smile at Arthur’s infectious enthusiasm. It was a losing battle, as it always was when Arthur set his mind on something. Resigned, he stood up and grabbed his jacket, knowing there was no point in arguing.

“Alright, alright. But just for a few hours,” Charles conceded. “I have some business to take care of tomorrow.”

“That’s the spirit! Trust me, you’ll thank me later. There’s nothing like a night out in Monaco,” Arthur clapped him on the back, his grin widening.

Arthur kicked the night off with a rented limo, already downing shots like nobody's business. The air inside the limo was filled with the sound of laughter and clinking glasses as Arthur entertained himself, his spirits high. Charles, ever the responsible one, watched his brother with a mix of amusement and mild concern, knowing how wild Arthur’s nights out could get.

The limo took them to a restaurant, an upscale place known for its gourmet cuisine and sophisticated ambiance. The plan was to have a meal before diving into the night's festivities. As they arrived, Arthur, already a bit tipsy, made a beeline for the bar. Charles sighed, resigning himself to a quiet meal alone.

Charles found a quiet table and ordered a hearty meal, intending to line his stomach properly for whatever the night would bring. The restaurant's dim lighting and soft music provided a stark contrast to the wild energy Arthur radiated at the bar. Charles watched his brother from across the room, seeing him animatedly talking to strangers, charming everyone in his vicinity.

Charles savoured his meal, enjoying the brief moment of solitude. The rich flavours of the food helped to ground him, a small comfort amidst the chaos Arthur had undoubtedly planned for the night. He glanced occasionally towards the bar, where Arthur continued to entertain, his laughter echoing through the restaurant.

As Charles finished his meal, he reflected on how different he and Arthur were. Arthur's zest for life and adventure often pulled Charles out of his comfort zone, dragging him into nights filled with unpredictability. Yet, despite the exhaustion these nights brought, Charles couldn't deny the bond he felt with his brother, a bond that often made him go along with Arthur’s wild plans.

Once Charles was done, he walked over to the bar, where Arthur was still in high spirits, flirting with the bartender and regaling a small group with some exaggerated story. Charles placed a hand on his brother’s shoulder, giving him a look that conveyed both amusement and readiness for the next part of the night.

“Ready, big brother? The night’s just getting started!” Arthur grinned, downing another shot before clapping Charles on the back. 

“Lead the way, Arthur. Let’s see what you’ve got planned,” Charles nodded, a smile tugging at his lips. 

The night was still young, and Charles knew better than to underestimate Arthur’s knack for creating unforgettable experiences. From there, Arthur dragged Charles and his friends to his favourite casino, a lavish establishment with opulent décor and a vibrant atmosphere. As they entered, the group filtered through the other guests and diplomats to the bar, the clinking of glasses and low murmur of conversations adding to the casino’s lively ambiance. Some of Arthur's friends gravitated towards the slot machines, their excited chatter blending with the mechanical sounds of the games. Others headed for the roulette table, eager to test their luck.

Charles, however, remained withdrawn from the main group. He slowly made his way around the casino, observing the scene with a detached curiosity. He watched as some fools gambled away their trust funds, their faces a mix of hope and desperation with each spin of the wheel or roll of the dice. The flashing lights and the cacophony of sounds seemed to create a world of their own, one where fortunes could change in an instant.

Occasionally, Charles would take a seat at one of the tables, nursing a drink and simply watching the guests move about the dimly lit room. The casino was a microcosm of Monaco’s elite, a place where power and money intersected in a dance of chance and skill. Despite the bustling activity around him, Charles felt a sense of isolation, his thoughts drifting back to the incident and the woman he was desperate to find.

As he continued to observe, he felt a tug of responsibility and protectiveness towards Arthur. His younger brother thrived in this environment, effortlessly charming everyone around him, but Charles knew the dangers that lurked beneath the surface of their glamorous lifestyle. He needed to keep an eye on Arthur, ensuring that he didn’t get into too much trouble.

Arthur, meanwhile, was in his element, moving from group to group with an easy confidence. His laughter echoed across the room, drawing people to him like moths to a flame. Charles couldn’t help but smile at his brother’s antics, even as he felt a pang of worry. Arthur’s reckless nature was both his greatest asset and his biggest flaw.

She had perfected the art of the serene smile, a mask she wore to hide the turmoil churning inside her. Her hands moved deftly, expertly shuffling and dealing the cards with practised ease. The table was surrounded by a mix of regulars and tourists, their faces a blend of hopeful anticipation and steely determination.

“Place your bets, please,” she announced, her voice steady despite the nervous flutter in her stomach. She swept her gaze over the players, taking in their expressions, their tells. She had learned to read people well in this job, to see beyond the surface.

The cards were dealt, and she watched as the players assessed their hands. A middle-aged man in a tailored suit tapped his fingers on the table, a subtle signal for another card. Next to him, a young woman with a wide-brimmed hat and oversized sunglasses nervously bit her lip before deciding to stand. The tension was palpable, each decision a potential turning point in their fortunes.

As she revealed the next card, a murmur of excitement rippled through the crowd. The man in the suit smiled triumphantly, his pile of chips growing with his win. She congratulated him with a nod, keeping her expression neutral. The casino's glamour masked the desperation that often lurked beneath the surface, and she was all too aware of the fine line between triumph and ruin.

Her shift progressed in this rhythm of bets and deals, wins and losses. She maintained her composure, but the memory of that fateful night lingered at the edges of her mind. Every face in the crowd was a potential threat, every moment a chance for her past to catch up with her.

A sudden shout from across the room jolted her from her thoughts. A commotion at the roulette table drew the attention of the patrons, and for a brief moment, the blackjack table was deserted. She took a deep breath, allowing herself a moment of respite. The noise of the casino faded to a distant hum, and she felt the tension in her shoulders ease slightly.

But it was a fleeting reprieve. As the players returned, she resumed her role, her eyes scanning the crowd with renewed vigilance. She couldn’t afford to let her guard down, not when the threat of being discovered loomed so large.

A new player approached the table, a tall man with a confident stride and an easy smile. She forced herself to meet his gaze, her heart pounding in her chest. For a split second, she feared it was him, the man she had seen that night. But it wasn’t. Just another stranger in a city full of them.

“Good evening,” she greeted, her voice betraying none of her inner turmoil. “Care to try your luck?”

The man nodded, taking a seat and placing his bets. As she dealt the cards, she couldn't shake the feeling that her time in Monaco was running out. The sense of being hunted, of danger lurking just out of sight, was ever-present. But for now, she had a job to do, a role to play in the glittering spectacle of the casino.

She watched as the players made their decisions, her mind drifting slightly as she mechanically performed her duties. The table was busy tonight, a mix of regulars and tourists, their expressions ranging from confident to anxious.

As the night wore on, Charles’s attention was drawn to the excitement at the blackjack table in the corner of the room. The dealer, a young woman with an air of calm professionalism, skillfully handled the cards, her movements precise and practised. Something about her seemed familiar, but Charles couldn’t quite place her. He decided to approach, drawn by a sense of curiosity and an inexplicable pull. As he got closer, the woman looked up, their eyes meeting for a brief moment.

Her heart skipped a beat, a faint sense of unease creeping in, but she dismissed it as the usual paranoia that had plagued her recently. Charles took a seat at the table, his gaze fixed on the dealer. There was something about her, a nagging feeling that tugged at his memory. He watched as she dealt the cards, her hands moving with practised grace. The way she moved, the set of her shoulders, it all seemed so familiar.

“Place your bets,” she repeated, her voice steady but her pulse quickening.

She sensed his eyes on her, a penetrating gaze that made her skin prickle. She focused on the cards, trying to shake off the feeling. Recognition flickered in her gaze, and suddenly, it all clicked in her mind.

Charles studied her face, the way she focused intently on the game. And then, like a flash of lightning, it hit him. Her face. It was her. The woman from that night. The memory of her terrified expression, her wide eyes frozen in shock, came rushing back. His breath caught in his throat, his heart pounding as recognition settled in.

“Hit or stand?” she asked, her voice wavering slightly as she met his eyes again. The look in his eyes made her stomach drop. It was a mix of shock and realisation, a look she had seen before, in a dark alley under the rain. Charles swallowed hard, struggling to maintain his composure.

“Stand,” he said, his voice rough with the weight of his discovery. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from her, the woman he had been searching for, now standing right in front of him.

She dealt the next card with trembling fingers, her mind racing. He recognized her. She could see it in his eyes, feel it in the tension that now crackled between them. Her carefully constructed world began to crumble, the walls of safety she had built around herself now seeming paper-thin.

The game continued, but the atmosphere at the table had shifted. The other players sensed something was off, casting curious glances at Charles and the dealer. She forced herself to focus, to complete the hand, but her mind was spinning with fear and uncertainty.

While she was frightened, he was overwhelmed. He wasn't sure how to approach the subject with her without scaring her any further. He wasn't a horrible person and he hated the fact that she caught him at such a brutal moment in his life. He kept watching her, his mind racing with thoughts of how to handle the situation. He couldn't speak to her openly about it in front of so many people, so when the game ended and she quickly rushed towards the staff rooms, he caught up with her.

“Excuse me, Miss,” he called after her.

She stopped and hesitantly turned around. Her eyes were wide with fear, and she seemed ready to bolt at any second.

“I'm not quite sure how to go about this, but I would appreciate a moment to speak with you…privately,” he tried to keep his voice as gentle and non-threatening as possible, aware of the tension in the air.

She looked around, clearly nervous about being seen talking to him. Her mind was a whirlwind of conflicting emotions—fear, curiosity, and a sliver of defiance. She had seen him at his worst, and now here he was, confronting her in a way she hadn't anticipated.

“Why should I?” She asked, her voice shaky but with an edge of determination.

“Please,” Charles said, lowering his voice even further. “I just want to explain. I need you to understand that what you saw was not who I am.”

Before she could answer, her manager strolled by and spotted Charles and her.

“Mr. Leclerc!” Her manager bellowed, interrupting the two.

She had to stop her jaw from falling to the ground when she heard his last name. Leclerc? The realisation sent a shiver down her spine, and the pieces of the puzzle began to click into place. This man, the one who had haunted her nightmares for days, was one of the notorious Leclerc brothers.

“Is there something Marie or I can assist you with?” the manager asked, his tone shifting to one of eager politeness.

“Marie?” Charles repeated, turning to look at her with a mixture of surprise and recognition.

“Yes, sir,” she nodded.

“No, thank you. I, uh, was just looking for the restroom,” he lied, his voice steady despite the tension radiating from him.

“Right this way, sir. Marie, you can return to your station.” The manager smiled, oblivious to the undercurrents in the exchange.

Charles gave her a lingering look before following the manager down the hall. She watched them go, her heart pounding in her chest. The shock of his identity and the suddenness of the encounter left her reeling. She took a deep breath, trying to steady herself before heading back to the blackjack table.

As she resumed dealing cards, her mind raced with the implications of what had just transpired. Charles Leclerc now knew her name, and she knew his. The stakes had just gotten infinitely higher. She had seen a side of him that no one else had, and now he was aware of her existence in a way that made her feel exposed and vulnerable.

She had to figure out what to do next. Reporting the incident seemed even more complicated now, knowing the power and influence the Leclerc family wielded. But staying silent felt like a ticking time bomb. She was caught in a dangerous game, and she had no idea how to play it.

For Charles, the encounter left him equally unsettled. As he walked towards the restroom, guided by the manager, he couldn't shake the feeling of fate's cruel irony. The girl from that night was named Marie, and now she worked in a place he and his brothers frequented. He needed to speak to her, to explain himself properly, but the opportunity had slipped away.

Once he was alone, he splashed cold water on his face, staring at his reflection in the mirror. He had to find a way to reach her again, to make her understand. The fear in her eyes haunted him, and he couldn't let things remain as they were. Not knowing how she might react, not knowing if she might go to the police, was a risk he couldn't afford to take.

He returned to the casino floor, his mind made up. He would find Marie again, and this time, he would make sure they had the conversation he so desperately needed. The game had begun, and he was determined to see it through, no matter the cost.

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