solo / carlos sainz

fourteen

It feels wrong how peaceful the outside world is as we drive to the office.

Usually, I'd walk or take the metro but considering the way the Spanish media's been behaving since latching onto this story, it'd seemed safer to drive.

Carlos hadn't given us any other option when we'd stepped into the elevator, pressing the button for the garage and giving me a stern look when I'd tried to protest. Elsie's thrilled, though, bouncing around and yanking on Amira's hand as we walk to my car.

Well, it's sort of my car.

While it's technically a company car, Amira's usually the only one that drives it. She has to clear out some fabric samples from the backseat, not bothering to apologise when she's well aware my own car back in the UK is an even bigger mess.

"Can I drive?" Carlos asks, looking a bit anxious at the idea of Amira driving instead of him.

Amira levels a blank stare in his direction, pointing her keys at the man in what I assume is meant to be a menacing way. "If you scratch my car, I'll key every car in your collection."

"Who told you about my collection?"

She smirks at him then, their volley of responses back and forth a welcome background noise as I buckle Elsie into her seat.

"You did, just now. Thanks for that." The keys are tossed into the air, the two of them trading places. When I moved to sit in the backseat with Elsie, Amira shuffled me up to the passenger seat. "I've got her."

Despite the car being an automatic, Carlos keeps a hand resting on the centre console as he pulls out of the garage. And it keeps drawing my attention.

Every time he lifts it to turn a corner or to gesture at another driver on the road, I take note, watching the movement of his hand from the corner of my eye. Elsie's plenty occupied in the back with Amira, chatting in her steadily improving Spanish as my assistant struggles to keep up.

When he sets it down the next time, I reach for it, lacing our fingers together with the slightest semblance of a smile on my face when he gives my hand a squeeze. "Tardaste mucho," he laughs.

"¿Debo hacer yo todos los primeros movimientos a partir de ahora?" I'm only half teasing. The other half of that question is genuine curiosity. I don't really know how to approach flirting with someone I have a kid with. Add in the fact he's admitted to essentially pining after me all these years and it makes for a very lopsided relationship.

Carlos laughs, squeezing my hand again. "No todo, no."

In the back seat, Elsie's quieted down, likely trying to parse out what we've said. While I'm looking forward to speaking with her in English and Spanish, the loss of privacy will take some getting used to.

Before she can butt in with what I am sure is a variety of questions, we're pulling up to the office garage and her focus shifts to excitement as she realises where we are.

"Mummy, we're going to work!" She kicks her legs in her carseat, turning as much as she can to stare down Amira, "Auntie Ami! We're going to work!"

Amira smiles, reaching to fix Elsie's hair where she's messed it up. "We are. You and I are going to visit Jon and Alejandro, does that sound like fun?" Elsie smiles back, her eyes lighting up at the mention of my two in-house photographers.

They're among the select few people I've left Elsie with in the past, seeing as they have a daughter of their own a year and a half older than my daughter that views her as the sister she never got. A chance to see Jon and Alejandro on the weekend means Alessia will most definitely be there.

"Carlos, ¿conoces Alessia? ¡Alessia es mi mejor, mejor, mejor amiga! Tiene blonde hair como Mummy y tiene iPad y ¡tiene dos papás! Me gustan los papás de Alessia, I wish her papás were my papás."

Carlos had withdrawn his hand from my grip when we'd pulled into the garage so he could manoeuvre through the tight space, now gripping the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles have gone white.

It isn't often that Elsie brings up the fact she doesn't really have a dad, at least, not one she knows about. It happens occasionally, usually after she's spent time with Alessia and her fathers, but I've never discouraged her from making those kinds of comments.

She's got a right to have those kinds of desires, especially considering how many of her friends have two parent figures in their lives.

"Estoy deseando conocerla." Carlos responds. When Elsie makes a noise of confusion, he glances up to make eye contact with her through the rearview mirror. "I'm excited to meet her," he repeats in English, a small smile coming across his face as Elsie tries to repeat what he'd said in Spanish.

She's still working on it once I've unbuckled her from her seat and we're in the elevator up to the floor that houses Oceá's Madrid office.

"I'll see you two later," Amira whispers as she takes Elsie down to where the photography studio is. "Good luck."

I glance over to the full conference room, its glass walls giving me a clear look in to see that everyone's already here. They've all got their own briefs sitting in front of them, each person having drafted a different response to what the media's been saying.

Mikael, an advisor I'd hired out from under Edelman three years ago, makes eye contact with me through the glass. He looks to Carlos, raises a brow, and looks down at his papers. He shuffles through them, collecting a pile of papers in his hands as he rises from his seat and walks over to the trash can in the corner.

Still making eye contact, he drops the pile into the trash, returning to his seat to close his laptop and fix the one remaining brief left in front of him.

Before Carlos can walk into the conference room, I reach for his hand, "There's a reason Oceá had such a rapid rise. Those people in there are the best at what they do and they don't care if they step on a few toes while doing it."

"I can handle a few harsh words, Mara, trust me."