Monaco, midnight. Music thumped like a heartbeat beneath the palace cliffs, the whole city dripping in gold and sin. The afterparty was flooded—champagne mist in the air, cameras flashing like strobe lights, and every damn person trying to prove they belonged.

You didn’t. Not really. But you walked in like you owned it—black jumpsuit, wet-look waves, and a stare that cut sharper than any champagne flute.

And everyone noticed. You heard the whispers, felt the stares, the way the energy shifted when you walked by.

Everybody’s watching her.

But your eyes? Locked on him.

Kimi Antonelli, Mercedes rookie wonder, stood awkwardly near the bar, sipping something fizzy through a paper straw. His lanyard was still on. Hair a little messy like he’d run his hands through it one too many times. And his smile? Bright. Unfiltered. The kind that made people around him soften without even realizing.

He wasn’t posing. He wasn’t posturing. He was just… there.

You spotted him before he spotted you—eyes scanning the room like he wasn’t quite sure where he fit in yet. Like all the flashing lights and glitzy chaos still felt surreal.

You crossed the room, slow on purpose. He noticed you halfway through and—God—he smiled. That wide, boyish grin that made his ears go a little red.

“Hey,” he said, lifting his drink like a toast, voice a bit too loud over the music. “Didn’t think I’d know anyone here.”

You smiled, leaning in just enough to make him blink fast. “You don’t.”

He laughed, like you were the funniest thing that had happened to him all night.

“Right, fair. Still counts though, doesn’t it?”

“You came alone?” you asked, biting the inside of your cheek.

He nodded, scratching the back of his neck. “Yeah. Toto said I should try to… mingle or whatever. I’ve just been standing here though. Like, staring at the disco ball for ten minutes.”

Your smile grew. “You’re doing fine.”

He shrugged. “You think?”

You took his drink and set it down on the bar, then reached for his hand.

“Come on, rookie,” you said, tugging him toward the crowd.

He blinked. “Wait—are we dancing?”

“Only if you’re lucky.”

His laugh followed you both into the blur of lights and movement, one hand still nervously in yours. He didn’t even notice how people turned to stare.

Everybody’s watching her. But she’s looking at you.