VIPER || Oscar Piastri

Chapter 49

[POV: Narrator]

"Yes, Dad, I know. We literally just got here."

Andi held her phone to her ear, having tucked herself into a quiet corner of the open deck where the breeze was sharper and nipped at her bare arms.

The party was in full swing; a lavish post-race celebration aboard one of the sleekest yachts in the harbour— where even the scent of sea-salt smelt expensive. It was the kind of event that only happened in Monaco. The highest of high-end, the snobbiest of snobbery. The richest of the rich. And yet... the drinks were still lukewarm.

The crowd inside were a mix of racers, sponsors, and socialites who hadn't a clue about the sport but wanted to be seen on a big-fancy boat. Andi was just outside the main gathering, away from the noise of the party. People passed by her, their faces vaguely familiar—the kind of familiar that you know you definitely know but you still aren't completely sure so you just flash them a polite smile to avoid confrontation.

As she tugged at the hem of her dress, the rapid-fire interrogation on the other end of the line ensued.

"Yes— Yes, Dad, I already told him that. Yep. Twice." She glanced over at Oscar, who was being patted on the back by someone with another one of those vaguely familiar faces over by the bar. No doubt they were telling him the exact same thing her dad was adamantly repeating: Congratulations. "He said thank you really really enthusiastically. He even put his hand on his heart like he was genuinely—"

"Yes, I'm lying."

"Yes, he's with me."

She pressed a finger against her temple, closing her eyes. "No, I drove here."

Her patience was thinning.

"No— No, Dad, I'm not passing him the phone," she turned away from the crowd, lowering her voice. "No! I told him I'd drive so that he could drink." She sighed, adjusting her grip on the railing as the boat rocked beneath her. The golden lights that were strung across the deck cast a warm glow, but she felt anything but relaxed.

"Yes, Oscar drinks."

"No, I'm not lying."

She then pinched the bridge of her nose, praying for an exit.

"Any more questions?"

Silence. Finally.

"No? Okay. Okay, yes. Okay, bye— Bye, Dad— bye."

The second she hung up she exhaled dramatically and leant her entire body weight onto the railings for support. She cradled her head in her arms, groaning in exhaustion before feeling something brush past her. The kind offer of a champagne flute from one of the staff members — who'd no doubt recognised her miserable state — made her remember where she was. She straightened up, slipping her phone back into her bag and politely declining the drink.

She cast a glance back into the boat, where the main portion of the party was. Above the bar, there was a large LED light that read out 'It's Five O'clock Somewhere'. It gave a pink glow, then a purple one. Then back to pink. But then it flickered— like it was dying. For the briefest second, the room appeared darker.

Her stomach twisted.

Fidgeting, she ran her fingers over the fabric of her dress, tugging at the hem again, tracing invisible patterns. Her nails then pressed into her palm, hard enough that she could feel their sharpness.

She'd painted them red.

Her neck ached, so she looked down.

When she looked back up the sign was pink again. Not wanting to meet anyone's eyes as she stepped back inside, her gaze fixed ahead. Still at the bar, Lando and Carlos were stood either side of Oscar, clinking their three shot glasses together, grinning as they knocked them back in unison.