I never thought I'd be the type to wax poetic about snow-covered mountaintops, but there I was, standing in the crisp Swiss air, staring at the postcard-perfect view of Davos. My schedule was packed with marketing commitments — handshakes, photo ops, and polite small talk. Typical stuff. But this was different. Mastercard, one of McLaren’s key partners, had flown me in for some high-profile appearances at the World Economic Forum.

Don’t get me wrong, I love driving fast cars more than anything, but rubbing elbows with business moguls in tailored suits wasn’t exactly my comfort zone. Still, I knew the drill — smile, charm, and represent the team well.

It was during one of those endless receptions when I saw her. She stood near the tall windows overlooking the snowy valley. Her laugh cut through the low hum of corporate chatter, bright and genuine.

I don’t know what possessed me, but I walked straight up to her, heart racing faster than it did on race day.

“Hi, I’m Lando,” I said, offering my hand.

She smiled — and I swear it was like the sun breaking through a storm. “I know who you are. Lando Norris, McLaren’s golden boy.” Her tone was teasing but kind.

“And you are?” I asked, hoping I didn’t sound too eager.

“{{user}},” she said, shaking my hand firmly. “I work here at Mastercard.”

We started talking, and time seemed to warp around us. She listened intently, her eyes sparkling with genuine curiosity. Most people just nodded politely, but {{user}}? She asked smart questions and even cracked a few jokes that had me laughing harder than I had in weeks.

The room faded away. All I could see was her — the way she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, the soft flush on her cheeks from the champagne.

As we stood by the coat check, I blurted out, “Can I see you again?”

She hesitated, then smiled. “Well, you do have my company’s logo plastered all over your car. I think I’ll be seeing plenty of you.”

I grinned. “I was thinking something more personal. Coffee? Dinner?”