Lana Leclerc, the spirited and determined sister of Ferrari driver Charles Leclerc, is an ambassador for the Speedy Stars Foundation, a charity close to her heart. She's always been dedicated to her work, using her influence to make a difference. Bu...
Saturday morning arrived with the unmistakable hum of excitement. Qualifying day. Lana could feel it too—her pulse quickened as she stood beside Lando, soaking up the electric energy of the paddock. The stands were filling, fans waving flags and signs, photographers snapping at every turn. Lando had his game face on, cool and collected, but he caught Lana's eye and gave her a little smirk.
"Can't wait to see me crush it?" he teased, nudging her lightly.
"Bold of you to assume I'm here for you," she shot back with a grin, smoothing out the red dress she wore.
Just then, Lana's face brightened at the sight of the Ferrari hospitality. She turned to Lando, a spark of excitement in her eyes. "I'm just going to say hi to Charles real quick. I'll meet you back at your garage before quali." Without waiting for a reply, she slipped away, leaving Lando standing there, momentarily dumbfounded, looking as if he'd just been ditched.
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"So, you planning to put it on pole today?" Lana teased, sneaking up behind Charles as he sat relaxed in the Ferrari lounge.
Charles jolted, turning quickly at the familiar voice. His surprise melted into a wide grin as he spotted Lana standing there with a mischievous sparkle in her eyes. "Lana? I didn't know you'd be here this weekend!" He rose to greet her, clearly thrilled by the unexpected reunion.
"Here with my new secret boyfriend," Lana replied, slipping into the seat next to him, her tone playfully ominous.
Charles' eyes widened as he leaned in, his gaze shifting around like he might catch a glimpse of the mysterious guy in question. "Wait, the guy in your post—is he a driver?" he asked, intrigued.
"Driver is a bit generous." Lana sighed, slumping back in her chair with an air of dramatic resignation.
Charles' brows knit together as he leaned closer, as if the answer might be whispered. "Carlos?" he ventured, lowering his voice like it was a state secret.
Lana stifled a laugh, but the hint of wistfulness slipped through as she shook her head. "Nope. Lando."
For a moment, Charles just stared, processing, before his eyes drifted to her outfit. He chuckled, unable to hide his amusement. "You don't exactly look like a McLaren fan, though."
"Red's always been my color," she said with a grin, giving him a light-hearted nudge.
"And Ferrari's always been the better team," Charles countered, winking.
"Just don't tell him that," Lana quipped, and they both laughed, easing into an easy, heartfelt conversation. Being around her brother again felt like a breath of fresh air, a small piece of home in the middle of the hectic paddock.
When the time for qualifying drew near, they shared a warm hug, and Lana reluctantly made her way toward the McLaren garages where she'd promised to meet Lando. Leaving Ferrari hospitality always felt bittersweet, but today, her spirits were lifted. Being with Charles reminded her she wasn't entirely out of place here.
As the teams prepared for the first qualifying session, Lana found a spot along the edge of the garage, getting a perfect view of the action. Lando, now fully suited, approached her with a mischievous glint in his eyes.
"Don't forget, babe, you're supposed to look devastated if I don't make it to Q3," he whispered, leaning close. Lana couldn't help but feel the warmth of his breath against her ear.
"I'll try to muster some tears," she replied, rolling her eyes but smiling anyway.
With a wink, he climbed into his car, leaving her to watch as he pulled out of the garage and onto the track. She crossed her arms, trying to act nonchalant for the team members around her, and was ready to watch the Ferraris. What she didn't expect, was her being genuinely interested in where a certain McLaren ended up as well.
When he made it to Q3, Lana couldn't help but clap. She told herself it was all part of the act, but the flutter in her chest when Lando finally parked his car after qualifying P3 said otherwise. He exited the car, pulling off his helmet, and his eyes met hers across the garage, a playful spark passing between them.
Sunday dawned bright and intense, the anticipation almost tangible. Lana, who'd spent the morning with Lando's PR manager going over "couple" expectations, was ready. At the starting grid, she stood beside him, slipping her arm around his waist as they made a final appearance for the cameras.
"You look ridiculously invested for a 'fake' girlfriend," he murmured with a grin, his arm casually looping around her shoulders.
"It's called commitment," she replied, narrowing her eyes with a playful smirk. But as the cameras clicked around them, she couldn't deny that the feeling of his hand resting on her shoulder felt surprisingly... comfortable.
As the race began, Lana stayed in the garage with the McLaren crew, watching the screens as cars sped around the track. Every overtaking, every near-miss kept her on edge. She found herself tensing each time he took a corner, as if her silent worry would somehow make him faster. By the final lap, Lando crossed the line with a solid P2 finish, leaving Lana with a strange sense of relief.
After the race, podium ceremony, and team celebrations Lando appeared in the garage where Lana was waiting, his suit still bearing the signs of the champagne and confetti. He looked exhausted but gave her a genuine smile.
"McLaren fan yet?" he joked, taking a water bottle from a team member.
"Baby steps," she replied, matching his sarcasm but with a softer smile. "Now come on, superstar. Let's go get you cleaned up."
AN
Way down we go in converting Lana from Ferrari to McLaren
