heatwave | Charles Leclerc | re-writing

Chapter 20

Milan, December 2022 - Victoria Marino

"So," I announced as I pushed the front door open with flair, "welcome to the Bianchi-Marino mansion."

Charles stepped inside and froze for a moment, his eyes scanning the room. "Oh, this is beautiful. I love the decor." He turned in place, visibly enchanted by the details.

"You've got Miss Rosalina to thank for that," I grinned. "My mom decorated everything herself. Every corner has a story."

"Aunt Rosa has always had amazing taste," Jeremy noted, taking off his shoes at the entrance like the polite guest he is. "She never misses."

"And don't be alarmed by the statues." I waved vaguely at the marble busts. "They're all philosophers. My mom's a history teacher - so it's kind of our thing. But if you go into the garage, you'll find a shrine of car parts instead. That's my dad's kingdom. He's a mechanical engineer."

Charles perked up. "I didn't know that, that's actually... really cool."

"Yup. He's the reason I love cars. Total daddy's girl energy."

We toured the ground floor, and then I lead them upstairs. Charles paused in front of my bedroom door, his lips curling into a smile.

"I've never seen anything scream your name louder than this door," he laughed. "Let me guess - your room?"

"No, it's my dog's," I deadpaned. "I just sleep on the floor."

He hesitated. "Wait, seriously-"

"Just open the damn door, Leclerc."

He swung it open and immediately stopped in his tracks, jaw slightly dropped.

"This is... so much... you."

"I know, right?" I stepped in proudly. "My mom nearly had a heart attack when she saw all the posters. I felt like such a badass. Anyway, welcome to my teenage fever dream."

"Why is there a mirrorball hanging from your ceiling?"

"Long story."

"I'll sum it up," Jeremy interrupted, walking in behind us. "She turned 18, had tequila for breakfast, threw a disco party, and now the mirrorball is her child."

Charles opened my closet, nosy as always. "And how did Rosalina react to this?"

"She lost it. Nearly murdered my dad for helping me install it. But, as always, she came around."

He sat down on the edge of my bed. "Okay, what's your favorite part of the house?"

"Hmm... maybe the spa. Or the art room. No, wait, the garden. Because of the pool. Actually, scratch all that - it's the garage. Because of the cars."

"You have a spa in here?"

"Yup. Come see it."

The three of us headed down the hallway to a room connected to a private bathroom. Inside is a gleaming hot tub and two massage beds. Charles whistles.

"This is wild."

"Wait until you see the garden."

We went downstairs and stepped outside. The pool was covered - it was winter, after all - but it's still impressive: nearly two meters deep, and wide enough to host a pool party for twenty. Six sun loungers sat neatly on the deck, and in the back, there was a barbecue area with plush outdoor sofas and two large tables. On the opposite end, a hammock swayed lazily between two trees.

Charles stared in disbelief. "Oh. My. God. Do you know how many people you could fit back here?"

I laughed. "I love how you're acting like you're not rich, too. Your house is the same size as mine."