Intimate Conversations [Sebastian Vettel feat. Jenson Button]

CHAPTER FOUR

AN: Our guest, Mr. Button, makes an appearance...
(And don't be shy, you can leave a comment, I promise I don't bite! 🤭)

It was easier to get things rolling than it seemed at first.

Ascension Day meant that, as tradition dictated, no cars ran on track on Friday and therefore Thursday night would be popular, with various parties in yachts and exclusive clubs. Jimmy'z, however, remained the hotspot for most drivers and former stars who wanted a night out - including one Mr. Button, according to what Sebastian had gathered during a brief chat in the paddock.

Stella watched the interview live on Sky, in the privacy of their hotel. The wink at Sebastian and affectionate arm around his shoulders while bumping their sides when they met; the bright grin her boyfriend offered in return that reached his blue eyes and made them twinkle, with a slight blush on his cheeks. All in front of the cameras. There was no way she was imagining things.

Off camera, Jenson apparently had insisted Sebastian should turn up, claiming that he had to stop being elusive. If he felt any awkwardness around the British driver in light of their plans, he didn't say; but it didn't look like it, he seemed as committed to it as before, accepting Stella's suggestion of putting forward the invitation herself if the opportunity arose.

With Lance taking over promotion duties for his father's party at the Stroll's superyacht, Sebastian was left without team commitments. He negotiated media duties with different goals anyway and more than ever, it came in very handy that he was free at night, as they could now pick their destination.

Stella posed in front of the mirror. Black faux leather leggings, paired with a shimmery, triangle, strapless top and stiletto heeled ankle boots. She opted for sleek, straight hair, and make-up was on point with a classic smokey eye; she finished off her look with sparkly earrings and a combination of bracelets and necklaces. Nothing groundbreaking fashion wise but she was on a mission and had a simple goal: a figure flattering outfit. By the way Sebastian was devouring her with his eyes, so far, so good.

"Thought I was your boyfriend, not your wingman."

"You're supposed to be arm candy."

Wearing dark jeans, her favourite long sleeved henley shirt and the Pumas he packed for the week, he seemed to have started well. But the slightly scraggly facial hair had her on the edge of despair.

She rubbed his chin. "You didn't even bother with a shave, Seb..."

"Honestly." He looked up at her - her heels making her the tiniest bit taller than him - and raised a petulant eyebrow. "I don't look different than normal, what is the problem?"

"You look delicious as always, love, and you can charm anyone. But making an additional effort goes down well, you know?" She elaborated, patiently. He didn't seem at all convinced by her explanation. "Christ, let's just go. Next time I will be in charge of your full look. And you will wear eyeliner."

"Hah!"

The evening began with the dinner the team had scheduled, after which everyone was in control of their own fates. Sebastian declined the van ride to the club with other party goers. Instead they rode together in the motorcycle the team had brought him from Switzerland for the European races. He barely used it, favouring the bike, but for two passengers it was convenient. A myriad of cameras were flashing, lenses pointed in their direction as soon as they parked and turned up at the entrance with their helmets hanging from their arms. Grand Prix weekend was peak glamour and glitz in Monte Carlo and it showed.

They met up with Matt and his husband, easing their way in. The entire club was packed, the tables that sold for several thousand euros, full. The waitresses were wearing uniforms inspired by race suits but with sexy cut outs in strategic places and the resident dancers were presenting a burlesque show. On stage, her countryman Black Coffee performed his set, serving the crowd his distinctive brand of house music, as magnums of Armand de Brignac with sparklers were carried across the main floor to the cheers of the patrons. Stella could recognise showbiz celebrities, fashion icons and sports stars left, right and centre. A few heads turned as they passed, some greeting Sebastian who politely nodded or shook hands. When they reached the VIP lounge by the artificial lagoon, Stella couldn't help but remember the tequila shots from the last time. Had it really been three years?