George Russell needed a break. The Italian Grand Prix paddock was buzzing with fans, and everywhere he turned, someone wanted a photo or autograph. He managed to slip away, taking a quiet shortcut to avoid the crowd. As he hurried around a corner, he crashed into someone—hard. Before he could react, something cold and sticky splashed all over him

“What the—” George looked down at his shirt, now soaked with iced coffee. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry!” a girl blurted out, eyes wide as she clutched her empty cup. “Seriously?” George said half-angry and amused

George looked up to see a girl, her hand still holding an empty cup, eyes wide with shock “You just ran into me!” she said frowning

“I ran into you?” George shot back, wiping the cold coffee from his shirt. “You were just standing in the middle of the path!” She interrupted, clearly outraged“Standing? I was walking!”

“You know what, forget it,” George said with a sigh, throwing his hands up in defeat. “I’ve got better things to do than argue about a coffee spill”

He stormed off to the Mercedes motorhome, wiping at the coffee stains, still annoyed about the encounter. As soon as he got inside, he found Toto Wolff in conversation with some mechanics

“Rough day, George?” Toto asked, eyeing his stained shirt. “You could say that,” George grumbled “Some girl just bumped into me and spilled her coffee all over me”

Before Toto could respond, George noticed movement from the corner of his eye. He turned to see the girl from earlier walking into the motorhome. His stomach dropped. She walked straight up to Toto, smiling as she gave him a quick hug. “Hey, Dad.” George’s mouth hung open in shock. Dad?! Toto glanced at George, then back at his daughter. “Ah, I see you’ve met my daughter, Y/N”

Y/N smirked at George. “Met? More like collided” George’s face flushed with embarrassment as he struggled to find words. Toto’s daughter?! Of all the people he could have had an awkward coffee encounter with.

Toto gave George a stern look. “Just so you know, she’s off limits"