Hot off the Press | Charles Leclerc | F1

t w e n t y - n i n e

The rest of the race weekend passed in a blur. Fia was too preoccupied with the thought of spending a week alone with Charles to pay much attention to what was happening around her—she walked through the paddock in a daze, utterly on autopilot. Part of her still couldn't believe she'd said yes. It was so unlike her. But if this was what it took for them to get over whatever weird sexual tension was between them, she was willing to try.

On Sunday morning, Charles sent her a text letting her know that a car would pick her up after the race, but he refused to tell her where it would take her.

I'm supposed to get in a car without knowing where I'm going? You could be kidnapping me, she texted.

His reply came back a few seconds later: Trust me.

For whatever reason, she did trust him. But that didn't make her any less nervous. After a disappointing race, she left Adam and Claudia, who were heading out with the rest of the team for a pint and went back to her room to pack.

She hadn't told any of her friends about her plans, not even Sadie. She wanted to make it as easy as possible for her and Charles to have a clean break after the week was up, which would be nearly impossible with friends pestering her for details about what had happened. She would tell them after the fact when it was too late for them to talk her into another bad decision. At the end of the week, she and Charles needed to be done with each other. They had to be. And she was sure they would. After all, Leclerc could have almost any woman he wanted. She thought he'd probably get over it soon enough.

It didn't take long to pack her suitcase; the hectic race calendar involved so much travelling that team personnel couldn't bring much luggage. Not that she'd had many possessions when she lived in Clapham, either. She'd spent the past five years unmoored, flitting from place to place without feeling at home. Being assigned a new room each year had been a part of university life, and living on Sadie's sofa had felt like a natural extension of that. Fia found it almost too easy to adjust to living out of a suitcase. The downside, she now realised, was that she had few truly nice items of clothing. Her wardrobe mainly consisted of her work uniform, denim shorts, bikinis, a few linen shirts, and tank tops. She wished she had time to go shopping.

With everything packed, Fia checked out at the hotel reception and wheeled her suitcase outside, taking a seat on the top step by the entrance. The sun was low in the sky, and the air was just cooling slightly. Cicadas hissed in the nearby pine trees. A few minutes later, a sleek car pulled up bearing the number plate Charles had told her to look for. The back windows were tinted; it was impossible to see inside. The driver climbed out and leaned on the bonnet. "Fia?" he asked, studying her as she approached. When she nodded, he held his hand out and said, "I'm Joris."

Realising that she recognised Joris from around the paddock, Fia relaxed a little. "Nice to meet you," she replied, shaking his hand.

"I'm Charles' assistant and friend," he explained. "Judging by your expression right now, I'm guessing that he didn't tell you. Typical." He grinned. He was a similar height to Charles, with straight dark hair cropped close to his head and deep-set brown eyes.

Shifting her weight on her feet a little awkwardly, Fia smiled. "He wouldn't even tell me where we're going."

"Ah, unfortunately, I'm also sworn to secrecy."

"Damn it."

Suddenly, the rear window of the car rolled down, revealing an impatient-looking Charles. Even wearing a Ferrari cap and dark sunglasses, Fia was struck by how handsome he looked. She folded her arms, suddenly nervous. "Are you two going to stand there all day talking?"

Turning around, Joris pointed at the window. "I thought you wanted to avoid being recognised."

Charles held his hands up in surrender and closed it again.