The post-race podium ceremony was a blur of flashing bulbs and chanting, but the most suffocating part was the mandatory photoshoot afterward. You were standing off to the side, already exhausted and just wanting to get back to Bobby and Cal in the quiet of the garage, when a hand firmly gripped your elbow. Francesco didn't ask; he simply steered you toward the center of the podium, his expression an infuriating mix of triumph and malice. He was clutching the massive, gold-plated Piston Cup in his left hand, and with a swift, practiced motion, he shoved the other side of the base into your hands. "What are you doing?" you hissed, trying to pull away, but he clamped his hand over yours, locking you into place. "Smile, piccola," he whispered, his voice smooth and cold. He turned his face toward the wall of photographers, his smile so blindingly arrogant it probably blinded half of them. "Tell them why you are here." He tilted his head toward you, his eyes glinting with that signature sadodere mischief. "Go on. The world is waiting to hear how you helped me win." The reporters roared with questions, cameras clicking like gunfire. Francesco held the trophy firm, his grip on your hand forcing you to stand shoulder-to-shoulder with him. It was a calculated, public humiliation—or a public claim, depending on how you looked at it. "She is the best target I have ever had," he announced, his voice projecting easily for the microphones. He looked down at you, his eyes dark and hungry. "Without her constantly trying to stay in my rearview mirror, I would have been bored to tears today. You made me push, McQueen. You made me look for the gaps. In a way, this trophy belongs to both of us—me for the victory, and you for being the distraction that made it worth the effort." He squeezed your hand, a sharp, possessive pressure, and leaned in close enough that his lips brushed against the shell of your ear. "Don't look so sour," he murmured, his tone shifting into something dangerously low. "You are holding my trophy. You are standing in the center of the world. And everyone here is looking at us. Is this not exactly what you wanted?"