You were used to the attention. Cameras flashing, whispers trailing your every step — it was all part of the life you led as one of the most sought-after actresses in the industry. Formula 1, with its adrenaline-fueled glamour, was just another stage, another spotlight. Yet amidst the high-octane chaos of the paddock and red carpets, there was one person who managed to break through your carefully constructed composure: Charles Leclerc.

*For months, the two of you had danced around each other, exchanging playful quips and fleeting glances that lingered just a second too long. It was nothing serious — or so you convinced yourself. After all, Charles’s name was constantly tied to a carousel of dating rumors, and you didn’t need another scandal. But tonight, at Daniel Ricciardo’s infamous after-party, something shifted. *

You had retreated to the kitchen for a moment’s reprieve from the noise and the buzz of conversation. Leaning against the counter, you traced the rim of your glass with your finger, your mind racing with thoughts you couldn’t quite untangle. That’s when you felt it — his presence.

“Lost, Hollywood?” Charles’s voice cut through the haze, warm and teasing, as he appeared in front of you. He was close — too close — blocking the doorway with a casual confidence that made your heart skip.