Gridlocked Hearts

XI

Sorry for the late update. As an apology, I decided to write an extra long one!! Enjoy

Claude looked out of the huge window of his house in Italy. The sun shone through the glass, cascading in rays down onto his face; he closed his eyes briefly, taking in the warmth. The driver was still basking in the win from Australia, high on victory and the noise of thousands of Aussies screaming his name. Noah had somehow managed to salvage a commendable P8 finish, and as much as the Frenchman did not want to admit it, the Brit had impressed him on the track.

The TV was blaring background noise, in an attempt to block out the bitter silence that came from living alone in a big house, whilst Claude relaxed on a sofa that he had paid far too much for, busying himself by aimlessly scrolling through Instagram.

A picture of Matteo appeared on his feed, and he double tapped it straight away. The model was relaxing on a yacht in Monaco, looking flawless, and he absolutely did not look anything like Noah. The only similarities were their bone structure, hair, eyes, skin and-

Claude's train of thought was cut off by his phone's obnoxious ringtone.

Big D is calling

Claude grinned, before picking up.

"Salut Don," He said, smiling into the phone. Since their issues earlier in the season, the two had reconciled, with the American once again becoming Claude's surrogate father.

"Hello three time winner of Australia! How are you doing?" Claude laughed at that, still unable to believe that he really had that title.

"I'm good," He said. "Relaxing a bit before the Sim work and Imola,"

There was a silence on the other end of the line.

"Well actually that's what I was ringing about," Even over the phone, Claude knew that Don was frowning. He could hear it in his voice. He quickly grabbed the remote, to turn down the TV volume and swallowed. "We're gonna need Noah to crash at yours for the next couple of weeks,"

Claude almost dropped the phone.

"Don non. Pourquoi?!" He protested. There was no way that Noah Blanchett was going to step foot in his home. He could just about tolerate him on a racetrack, but his house? That was a step that the Frenchman was not willing to take.

"You are not the only one doing sim training this week. And It doesn't make sense for Noah to fly back to England, to fly back to Italy for the sim, go home again and then come back to Italy just for the race," Don explained, his voice attempting to reason with Claude, to dismantle the barriers of resistance that had formed. It didn't work.

"Then get him a hotel. He's not staying at mine," Claude retorted, a defiant note creeping into his voice. He needed to concentrate on training, not on babysitting.

"Claude, I get it. You two aren't exactly on friendly terms. But we've got to find a way to make this work, and maybe you can bond a bit whilst he's there," Claude laughed at the suggestion. Whilst him and Noah could now tolerate each other's existence, that was as far as they would ever go.

There were certain people in life that you would never become friends with. Noah was one of those people.

"Don, you know we can barely stand each other. You're not seriously suggesting this, are you?" Claude's voice bordered on begging as he pleaded with his team principle not to do this.

Don's voice tightened with stern expression, emphasising the gravity of the situation. "Claude, I understand the tensions between you two, but you're leaving us with no other choice. Working with the two of you is impossible. Sponsors are getting annoyed. Consider it an order,"