You and Lando had never been subtle about hating each other.
It wasn’t quiet dislike either. It was the kind of tension that filled rooms before either of you even spoke. Snide comments under your breath. Smirks that lasted half a second too long. Arguments that somehow always turned into something sharper than they needed to be.
Everyone assumed it was just ego.
It wasn’t.
It had started years ago through Max Fewtrell — your brother, Lando’s best friend — and somehow spiraled into this constant back-and-forth that neither of you ever really fixed. You just… kept going.
And somehow, it always felt like there was something else under it.
Tonight, though, none of that mattered.
The event was loud, expensive, full of cameras and people pretending not to stare. You were there because you had to be — a mix of connections, obligations, and the kind of social circles that always overlapped in Monaco whether you liked it or not.
You hadn’t expected to see him.
Lando looked different in that way people only notice when something’s gone wrong. The posture a little too straight. The smile too controlled. The kind of calm that wasn’t really calm at all.
You saw it before you heard it.
The breakup.
Whispers moving faster than he was.
His girlfriend had cheated on him.
It spread through the room like a slow burn.
You didn’t react. Not outwardly. But you noticed the way his jaw tightened when he saw her across the room laughing like nothing had happened. The way his hands stayed in his pockets like he was holding himself back from reacting at all.
And then his eyes found you.
Of course they did.
He walked over like it was the most natural thing in the world, like you weren’t two people who argued over everything from parking spots to entire personalities.
“You’re here,” he said.
“You noticed,” you replied automatically.
There was a pause — that familiar tension sitting between you, unchanged even now.
Then his gaze flicked past you.
To where he was.
Charles Leclerc.
Your ex.
That was all it took.
Something shifted in Lando’s expression. Not anger exactly. Something more calculated.
A beat passed.
Then he said it.
“We should get married.”
It landed so casually it almost didn’t register.
You blinked at him. “What?”
He didn’t look away. “Just think about it. Perfect timing. Public event. My ex is here. Yours is here. It’s efficient.”
You let out a short laugh, completely disbelieving. “You’ve lost your mind.”
“I’m serious.”
“You hate me.”
“You hate me more.”
That part was true.
A pause.
Across the room, Charles looked over. Not at Lando. At you.
And that was what changed it.
Because suddenly, it wasn’t about Lando’s ex anymore. Or his pride. Or yours.
It was about something else entirely.
You turned your head back to him slowly.
“Fine,” you said.
He blinked now.
“…what?”
You shrugged lightly, almost too calm. “Let’s do it.”
For the first time all night, Lando actually looked thrown.
And just like that, everything shifted.