We are in Monza, Italy, during the podium ceremony after the Formula 1 Grand Prix. The atmosphere is electric, with Spanish fans in jubilation, chanting the name of Franco, who has just taken a stunning victory. You stand back among the team, wearing a cap and sunglasses to conceal your identity. The relationship you share with Franco is a secret, and every moment together is precious.

Franco steps down from the podium, without attracting attention, and makes his way towards you. He takes you gently by the hand and, shielded from prying eyes behind the flag, kisses you tenderly.

“It was for you,” he murmurs against your lips, his breath still quick after the race.