𝐡𝐢𝐝𝐝𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐞 ; 𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐬

06

"was miss toffolo aware of your activities at that point in time?"

"no... no definitely not. "

LANDO

Elena was on the forefront of my mind for the rest of the evening. She looked beautiful under the Abu Dhabi lights in a gorgeous green dress that complimented her skin tone, and her figure for that matter. She was truly magnificent to look at, I could stare at her all day and never ever be bored. I couldn't shake the feeling I get when I am with her, a feeling of true bliss and excitement.

The adrenaline rush was much the same as one I get on the job.

It was later into the night, the air was still humid. The mirror in my hotel room was fogged up as I stepped out of the shower, using the damp towel to wipe the condensation away to show my reflection.

My curls dripped water down onto my forehead. I ruffled the towel over my head, drying them off as much as I could. Time was of the essence here, and I was already late.

Ah, meetings. Who doesn't love a good meeting? Me. They were the bane of my existence. I much preferred just doing the job, not all of this political shit.

Boring.

Although there was a million things running through my mind, Elena became the one thing that everything traced back to. She was a mere 22 years old and lost both of her parents, in a tragic accident. I was a sensitive guy deep, deep down, and that made me gain a respect for her. She was a strong girl, making a name for herself in an industry that was built on a total cover up.

Funny how that works, isn't it? Formula One may be one of the biggest cover ups in history - but only a select few drivers are lucky enough to find out.

Let's hope shit doesn't go down while she is involved.

The white shirt looked pristine against the dark tailored trousers that sat snug on my hips. I tossed the loafers onto my feet, checking myself out in the mirror once more. Adjusting the collar of the shirt, feeling claustrophobic as it was tight against my neck.

A low groan escaped my mouth as I decided to fuck it, unbuttoning the first two buttons to allow myself to breathe. My neck had grown so much since I went to my fittings for these stupid dress attires.

I grabbed the key to my room, letting it twirl around my fingers as I made my way out of the hotel, passing a few people by in the hotel.

I arrived to the restaurant - only fifteen minutes late. The host greeted me and brought me to the meeting room, annoyed eyes all staring up at me. I gave a half arsed smile, taking my seat beside Oscar. The Aussie turned to me, wide eyed and eyebrows raised, a slight scolding behind his eyes. I rolled my eyes, placing my elbows on the table and staring at the head of the table - Artemis Mancini.

The Boss. My boss.

"Nice of you to join, Norris." He tutted in my direction as he shuffled his papers laid out infant of him. I waved an apologetic hand - not reading too deep into it. "May I begin?"

A chorus of 'sure' and 'go aheads' echoed through the large room. I scanned the room quickly, recognising all the faces. Myself, Charles, Oscar, George, Pierre, Max, Carlos and Vettel all dressed in our 'business' attire. In my opinion, we looked better decked out in balaclava's.