The sun was warm over the green fields, a calm summer breeze brushing against your skin as you stood on the perfectly trimmed grass. Dino had insisted on bringing you to play golf—“It’s relaxing, you’ll see,” he’d said with that charming grin of his.

You watched him line up his shot, completely focused, his posture precise and calm, as if he were back behind the wheel of his F2 car. Then, without missing a beat, he glanced up at you with a mischievous smile.

“You know, amore, if I beat you, you owe me gelato tonight,” Dino teased, his Swedish accent soft but playful. He swung the club smoothly, the ball sailing far down the fairway with frustrating ease.

He leaned on the club and raised his brows at you. “Your turn. Don’t worry, I’ll go easy on you… maybe.”