ℂ𝕆𝕃𝕃𝕀𝔻𝔼 // ℂℍ𝔸ℝ𝕃𝔼𝕊 𝕃𝔼ℂ𝕃𝔼ℝℂ

𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓵𝓲𝔃𝓮𝓭

Athena Schumacher

I groaned as the sunlight pierced through the thin hotel curtains, stabbing into my pounding skull. Every throb of my head was a painful reminder of the absurd amount of alcohol I'd consumed the previous night. The sheets felt too smooth, too unfamiliar.

Where the hell am I?

I blinked my eyes open, squinting at the bright room. The decor was clean and modern—definitely not my place. And then I felt it. The unmistakable presence of someone else in the bed.

My heart froze, and I turned my head ever so slowly.

Charles. Fucking. Leclerc.

I stared at him, my breath caught in my throat. Of all people, it had to be him. What the hell had I done?

Charles stirred beside me, eyes fluttering open. As soon as they locked on mine, his expression shifted from sleepy confusion to sharp disbelief. He shot up in bed, his hands immediately grabbing the sheets to cover himself.

"You've got to be fucking kidding me," he muttered, glaring at me like I'd just committed some unforgivable crime.

I sat up, gripping the sheets to my chest. My body ached in places it shouldn't. The reality of the situation was starting to hit me, and I felt my face heat with embarrassment.

"Oh, trust me, I'm not thrilled about this either," I snapped back, rolling my eyes. "But, here we are."

Charles scoffed, dragging a hand through his tousled hair. "What the hell happened last night?"

"I don't know, Leclerc, I was drunk." I rubbed my temples, trying to massage away the growing headache. "How about you figure it out? You were there too."

His jaw tightened as he threw off the covers and stood up, yanking on his clothes. "You're unbelievable."

"Me?" I laughed bitterly, getting out of bed myself and reaching for my clothes. "This wasn't exactly part of my grand plan either. I didn't exactly wake up hoping to see your stupid face."

Charles glared at me as he zipped up his pants. "You're such a fucking mess, you know that? This whole thing is classic you."

"Oh, don't start with me," I shot back, my voice rising. "Like you're so perfect? Mr. Golden Boy who can do no wrong. Piss off, Leclerc."

Charles's face darkened, and he took a step closer to me, his voice cold. "You know, if you hadn't sabotaged that race in Monaco, maybe I'd think twice before calling you a complete trainwreck."

I felt a wave of red-hot anger flood my veins. "You're still on about that? I didn't sabotage shit."

"You bumped me off the fucking track," Charles hissed, his eyes blazing. "That was my race."

"Oh, cry me a river," I shot back, pulling on my shirt. "You act like one race ruined your entire career."

"One race that mattered," he snarled. "But why would you care, right? You've never cared about anyone but yourself."

I shoved him, hard, my patience snapping. "Fuck you, Charles."

He stumbled back slightly but didn't back down. Instead, he stepped right back into my space, glaring at me with pure hatred. "You're nothing but a spoiled little bitch who thinks she's invincible because of her last name."

My fist flew before I could stop myself, connecting squarely with his jaw. The impact sent a jolt of pain up my arm, but it was worth it. Charles staggered back, grabbing his face.

"You don't get to talk about my family," I growled, my whole body shaking with fury.

Charles straightened, rubbing his jaw as he glared at me, his eyes filled with contempt. "I'll talk about whatever the fuck I want. Especially when it comes to you, Schumacher."

My heart was pounding, my breaths coming fast as I squared off against him, the tension between us like a lit fuse ready to explode.

"You know what?" Charles said, his voice low and dangerous. "Last night was a mistake. I should've never gone near you."

I crossed my arms, my expression cold. "Good. Because it sure as hell won't happen again."

Without another word, I turned on my heel and stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind me. I didn't need this. Not from him. Not from anyone. But the knot of anger in my chest wouldn't go away. Charles Leclerc—arrogant, insufferable Charles—was still in my head.

And that pissed me off more than anything.