GIMME!GIMME! | Lando Norris

Seven ✨

As much as it pained Isabela to admit it, she felt like a fourteen-year-old with a crush. Not that it was wrong, exactly, but she preferred not to dwell on it too much. After a quick stretch, she climbed out of bed, picking up a hoodie she'd found next to her pillow. She couldn't remember leaving it there, but the material was soft and warm, and as she pulled it over her head, she felt an extra layer of comfort. Only as she headed toward the kitchen did she finally look down, noticing the bold "LN4" printed on the sleeves. She paused, mid-step. So it was Lando's.

In the living room, Lando was already leaning against the kitchen counter, scrolling on his phone. He looked up, catching her gaze and giving her a slight grin.

"Good morning, sleepyhead. Nice hoodie you have there—is that your favorite driver?" he teased, dragging out the words with mock seriousness.

She blinked, caught off guard, before the realization hit her. Oh, so he noticed. But she pulled herself together quickly, rolling her eyes. "You would like that, wouldn't you? It was just lying on my bed. I didn't even realize it wasn't mine, but—"

"Keep it," he interrupted, waving off her explanation. "Looks good on you anyway!" He leaned forward a little, his eyes twinkling. "But come on, who is your favorite driver?"

"You'd like to know, wouldn't you?" she deflected, turning her back to him to grab a cup of water, hoping he wouldn't notice the blush heating her cheeks. "That's for me to know and you to wonder."

"Oh, come on—that's not fair." Before she knew it, he had stepped closer, blocking her against the counter. The butterflies in her stomach flared, and she quickly glanced away to keep from giving herself away.

But he was unrelenting. "I deserve to know."

She crossed her arms, trying to look composed, though her pulse was racing. "I can tell you where you rank on my list. And maybe even my favorite team."

"Wait," he said, feigning a hurt expression. "Isn't McLaren your favorite team?"

She shrugged, suppressing a mischievous smile. "I never said that. McLaren's in my top three, but I'm a Ferrari girl at heart."

"So let me get this straight," he said, leaning even closer, his voice low and playful. "I bring you into my house, and not only am I not your favorite driver, but I'm also not driving for your favorite team?" His gaze held hers as he added in a whisper, "Worse—you work for me and McLaren. Are you some kind of spy? Can I even trust you?"

She smirked, trying to act unfazed. "Well, look at the time. It's almost noon, and we have a meeting with Max. Wouldn't want us to be late." She attempted to slip past him, but he stepped forward, his mouth near her ear.

"I might not be first in your ranking, but I'm the only one to bring you home," he murmured, sending her heart pounding in her chest.

And just like that, he stepped away, heading out of the kitchen with a grin, leaving her rooted to the spot, her mind racing. What was he even playing at?

💨🏎️💨

When they arrived at Max's place, what she thought would be a quiet business meeting turned out to be a lively gathering of the Quadrant team. They welcomed her warmly, peppering her with questions about her background, her work, and what she thought of London. She felt a surprising sense of belonging here, among people who respected her for her work and genuinely wanted to know her.

After lunch, they all piled into the living room, scattering around the sofas. Max and P shared a love seat, while Isabela found herself between Lando and Ria on the larger couch, the rest of the group settling comfortably on the floor.