Montero - Toto Wolff

9: Gala Party

The knocker is soft in your hands, warmed from whoever used it previously, and you knew that you weren't the first person in the house. But you couldn't see any other cars parked where you had parked your own.

You let the metal slam into the wooden door, and almost immediately it swings open, Bono greeting you in his Black suit. His glasses are on the edge of his nose, and looked as though he had already drunk some alcohol.

"You're early!" He smiled at you, stepping aside and welcoming you into his home.

Peter Bonnington was a man with many talents, his main one being the most amazing race engineer for the Seven Time World Champion, but his lesser known talent was that he was an amazing husband, and father.

He placed his hand on the small of your back as he lead you through the entryway and into the larger sitting room where some guests already sat, their eyes bright with glee, and one pair in particular caught you by surprise.

Dark curls fell over his tanned forehead as he furrowed his brow. He watched you from his hazel eyes, tracking your movement as you swayed your hips and walked over to the man that was Daniel Joseph Ricciardo.

It was bizarre seeing him here but you knew how close he and Bono were, so it wasn't fully surprising to see him here.

Daniel stood up, and offered you his hand, "I don't think we've met yet, I'm Daniel," He introduced, pressing your knuckles to his lips.

You shuddered at the contact of his lips on your skin, "I know who you are." you deadpanned, voice soft at the sight of Daniel's brows furrowing. You thought about the Red Bull Rookie he had a rivalry with, Ryan Bradford you think her name was.

"You're gorgeous." He spoke his mind, causing a blush to spread across your cheeks.

You sat next to him, your knee brushing his as you sat there with barely any idea of what to do. This felt awkward, and you were never the sort of person that enjoyed small talk, if anything it just made you more nervous.

He chuckled to himself, "I'm an open book, ask me anything," he repeated your name as an offer, wanting you to ask him something.

You bit the bait, "What's Daniel Ricciardo's favourite food?" you smiled, resting your hand on his thigh. Manicured nails teasing just above where you knew his tattoo would be.

"Fried chicken sandwich," He smiled at you, this big charming smile that looked almost lopsided. His nose crinkled at the corners, which stretched up to his eyes and spread through fine lines.

He was handsome, and charismatic as he did it. A notorious playboy at heart, but a notoriously good fuck... if you chose to believe those rumours.

A laugh bubbled in your throat, "Out of everything you've ever eaten, you choose to favour a KFC?" you closed your palm, allowing your nails to drag up his thigh until you rested your fist on his pocket.

You managed to ignore the man who had just entered the room, despite the fact that half of the sitting room were looking at him.

"What about yours? Surely you have a favourite food," He chimed, fingers ghosting over the skin of your forearm until he settled on toying with your bracelet.

A smile grew on your face, "I do, but I much prefer it when pretty men feed it to me," you flirted with the driver, and stopped short the second Bono cleared his throat.

"Dinner will be ready in five minutes, so am I alright to ask everyone to sit at the table? Name cards have been set out where everyone is to be seated," He addressed the room and Daniel stood up almost immediately.