VIPER || Oscar Piastri

Chapter 81

[POV: Narrator]

The rest of the week in Monaco was... oddly fine.

Not completely neutral, but not passive-aggressive, either. Just plain, straightforward, fine. No one tiptoed. No one overreacted.

Andi didn't bring up the fact she'd slept half on top of Oscar. Not that night, not the next morning, not even as she stood brushing her teeth with one hand and trying to scrub sleep lines from her cheek with the other. When she'd woken up draped across him, all she did was blink at him, sit upright, and say, "Right. Tea?"

She made some.
He drank it.
And that was that.

Whatever the moment had been, it passed between them like steam through a kettle—hot, brief, and gone.

The whole week, they played modern suburbia. She stretched out on the hotel balcony while he folded his laundry nearby; she offered him half of her croissant without blinking; he even went grocery shopping by himself.

If they felt awkward, they didn't show it—and maybe that was the whole point.

They'd gotten good at playing normal.

So good they didn't need to try.

... And, so—

They didn't need to acknowledge the fact that since arriving in Hungary, neither had bothered to separate the beds, either.

*

As usual, on race-day, Andi followed Oscar through security, past the press clusters, and into the paddock. She only split off from him when she spotted her dad waving her over from the Ferrari unit, lanyard in one hand, phone in the other.

"There she is," he said, pulling her into a half-hug, his other arm still texting.

Before she could respond, a hand brushed gently across her lower back. She didn't flinch — she just assumed that it was Oscar coming to say Hello to her dad, too.

But then a voice — not an Australian one — cut in behind her. Andi turned, caught off guard, to find Charles standing a little too close, red polo crisp, lanyard tucked, sunglasses dangling from one hand.

"Hello, Andreanna," he said smoothly.

Andi tensed.

The second she heard it, she knew he was up to something.

He only calls me that when he wants something, she thought. Never, ever, in casual conversation, never without motive.

She blinked. "Hello."

He looked past her at the garage. "Alex was asking if you'd be around. Thought I'd come find you before someone else stole you."

She raised an eyebrow. "Because I'm in high demand?"

Charles smiled like he hadn't heard that. "Mm." He tilted his head. "Well, she was also asking me, if it isn't too much of a breach in team loyalty... or, whatever, to ask you if you'd like to watch the race with us. With me, with—"

"Mmm, kinda hard when you're driving in said race—"

"With Ferrari."

Andi hesitated. "Uhm, I'm already set up at McLaren, so..."

"Come on," her dad chimed in, though he wasn't really listening. "You've always preferred Ferrari, anyway. Oscar will be fine without you for one race. It'll be lovely!"

Andi looked at Charles again, trying to read something underneath the smile—some angle, some reasoning—but he gave her nothing. Just a steady, charming look that didn't blink.