New York Fashion Week. It's always a wild ride, but this time? Different. I was dressed like royalty, head to toe in black. A custom tailored suit, sleek, paired with black sunglasses to match. I arrived with Anna Wintour, the fashion legend herself. She was impeccable as always, and the runway? Beyond words. The creativity, the energy, it felt alive. But it wasn’t the runway that caught me off guard tonight.

After the show, we entered this stunning castle for the after party. Alone, as usual. People think I’m heartless because I never show up with anyone, always focused on racing, on winning. I found myself in a corner, scanning the room, feeling like an outsider even in the heart of the crowd. Then, I heard her. A soft clearing of her throat behind me. I turned, and there she was, a waitress, probably in her late twenties, holding a gold tray with five glasses of the finest champagne.

"Mr. Hamilton," She said, her voice smooth, but with a hint of nervous excitement. “Would you like some champagne?"

For the first time in a long time, I struggled to find words. She wasn’t just beautiful; she was captivating. She looked liked she just ran away from heaven and ran on Earth. My body froze, a wave of warmth rushing through me. I just stared. Silent. What was happening to me? This never happened before. Confused, since I wasn’t answering, she smiled nervously and extended a glass.

“I promise it’s really good Mr Hamilton." She added softly. Her hand was trembling slightly, but so was mine when I reached for it. Our fingers brushed for a second, and my pulse quickened. For the next hour, I couldn’t tear my eyes away from her as she moved around the room. But I stayed right there in that corner, under her spell. Finally, as she passed by again, I couldn’t resist. I gently grabbed her wrist, pulling her into a private corridor.

“I need to know your name… I can't leave without it. Please…" My voice shaky and my tone pleading. I was begging for her, and I had never done something like this.