𝙾𝚛𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚊𝚛𝚢┃ Charles Leclerc┃

Chapter Forty One - The Offer

"Ana, Fred wants to see you." Mel said casually over breakfast, not lifting her eyes from her phone.

I nearly choked on my toast. "Fred Vasseur? As in, the team principal of Ferrari?"

Mel nodded, finally looking up at me with a blank expression. "Yes, that's the one. That Fred Vasseur."

My stomach immediately tied itself into knots. "Why does he want to see me? Did something happen with Charles? Is it about our relationship? Oh God, Mel, what if he's angry and thinks we're a distraction to each other? Was this your bloody 'surprise'?!"

Mel reached across the table, placing a reassuring hand on mine. "Anastasia Henderson, calm down. I don't know the details, but I'm sure it's nothing bad. Just go and hear him out."

But calming down was easier said than done. The entire morning, I felt a sense of impending doom. My mind was a whirlwind of worst-case scenarios. I could hardly focus on anything as I got ready, my thoughts constantly drifting back to the meeting with Fred. I had seen how influential he was in the F1 world, how a few words from him could sway opinions and make or break careers.

As we walked towards the Singapore paddock, I tried to steady my breathing. The familiar sounds of the racetrack – the hum of engines, the clatter of tools, the chatter of the teams – usually brought me comfort. Today, it all seemed distant and muted, overshadowed by my anxiety.

When we reached Fred's office, I hesitated at the door. Mel gave me a gentle nudge and a supportive smile. "You've got this, Ana. Just go in and be yourself."

I took a deep breath and knocked. Fred's voice came from inside, inviting me in. I opened the door and stepped inside, my heart pounding. The room was cool and well-lit, a stark contrast to the humid heat outside. Fred was seated behind his desk, looking over some documents. He looked up and smiled warmly as I entered.

Fred Vasseur was a man of average height, but his presence commanded attention. He had a sturdy build and a slightly rounded face, framed by thinning, silver hair that added a touch of distinguished age. His eyes were sharp and observant, always seeming to take in more than he let on. His skin was fair, and his complexion bore the signs of years spent under the sun at countless racetracks around the world. He often wore a neat, tailored shirt under a Ferrari-branded jacket, which lent him an air of casual authority. His demeanor was calm and composed, yet there was an underlying intensity in his gaze that spoke of his deep passion for the sport. Despite his professional exterior, there was a warmth to his smile that made him approachable, and when he spoke, his voice carried a reassuring confidence that put those around him at ease.

"Ah, Anastasia, please sit down." He said, gesturing to the chair opposite him.

His Singapore office, despite being temporary, was an epitome of understated elegance and functionality. The walls were adorned with a mix of framed photographs and memorabilia from his long career in motorsport, each telling a story of triumphs and challenges faced on the racetrack. A large mahogany desk dominated the room, its surface meticulously organised with neatly stacked papers, a sleek laptop, and a couple of framed family photos. Behind the desk, a tall bookshelf stretched to the ceiling, filled with an eclectic mix of technical manuals, biographies, and racing trophies. The floor was covered in a deep, plush carpet that muffled footsteps, adding to the room's tranquil atmosphere. A couple of comfortable leather chairs sat in front of the desk, inviting visitors to sit and discuss matters of importance. The large window on one side of the room offered a panoramic view of the bustling paddock below, the constant reminder of the high-octane world just outside. The overall ambiance was one of quiet authority and meticulous attention to detail, reflecting Fred's own personality.