Hot off the Press | Charles Leclerc | F1

t w e n t y - s e v e n

Once the door had slammed shut behind Charles, Claudia spun around and looked at Fia. "Well?"

"Well, what?"

"Go after him!"

Fia frowned. "Why the hell would I go after him?"

Claudia put her hand on her hip. "You know why."

"You basically rejected him," Adam chimed in.

"I did not." She folded her arms. She'd had perfectly legitimate reasons for not going to Italy, and none of them had to do with her not wanting to be with Leclerc. Claudia's expression was unconvinced. "Did I?"

"Either way, I need him back to finish this video."

"Go and tell him that, then." Fia couldn't imagine he'd take it very well if she followed him, judging by how cold he'd acted with her over the past few days.

"He won't listen to me. You, on the other hand..." Claudia and Adam exchanged a pointed glance. "Please, Fia? I don't want to give Silvia any more reasons to fire me. And I'm sure Leclerc doesn't want to give Ferrari any more reasons not to renew his contract."

Damn it, she had a point. Fia sighed. "Fine."

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Charles had to get out of that room. He couldn't bear to be around her for a second longer. It was torture having her right there, looking up at him with her big green eyes and being unable to touch her or ask her what she was thinking. Even worse was knowing that she didn't want him the same way he wanted her—why else would she have gone M.I.A. after he suggested spending the week together in Italy?

It had been a stupid idea; he knew that now. He'd let himself get carried away with the thought of finally being alone with her, having a normal, quiet life hidden away together, even if it was just for a week. But his life wasn't normal. Maybe she'd been right to run.

His excuse about meeting Mia had been a lie. He headed outside, desperate for fresh air, and watched the other drivers and team personnel rushing around the paddock. Everyone was always in a rush. They always had somewhere to be. It made Charles' head spin. He wished his life would slow down, just for a second. Being a racing driver was the best job in the world—of that, he was sure—but it could also be incredibly lonely.

"Charles?"

And now he was imagining her voice. Great, he thought, she's finally driven me insane.

Then he felt a hand on his arm and realised he wasn't imagining it after all. Fia had followed him. Her cheeks were slightly flushed, and she was breathing heavily like she'd been running. "Can we talk?"

He studied her for a moment—he couldn't help it. The pull of her beauty intrigued him because he couldn't put his finger on what he found so alluring. It went deeper than surface level. She was pretty, that much was obvious, but she didn't have the perfect symmetry or camera-ready angles of a model. There was just something more about her.

The sun caught her hair and eyes just right, revealing that both were flecked with strands of gold. He hadn't noticed that before. He needed to stop noticing. She had made her stance very clear—she wasn't interested in pursuing anything with him.

"I don't think that is a good idea," he said, trying to keep his voice flat. He wanted to make this situation as easy as possible for her. She'd made her decision last week—he didn't need her to reiterate it, which would be awkward and uncomfortable for them both.

Fia looked down, a flash of hurt crossing her face. At least, that's what he thought it looked like. But why would she be hurt? This was what she wanted, wasn't it?