The secretive

Chapter 51

"I feel like I never actually got those sweets you promised", Lando accused the boy in front of him.

"And?" the boy cockily spoke, whilst throwing a bag of squashies around the eager brunette in front of him.

"Yeah, and it just so happens you have a full bag right in your hands... weird, right?" lando questioned.

"Oh yeah? Didn't see those," the boy smirked again before tossing the bag at Lando's chest.

"Guess they're yours now."

Lando grinned triumphantly. "Thank you, Maxie."
Max rolled his eyes. "You're lucky I'm too tired to argue."

"Or you're secretly in love with me," Lando teased with a wink, ripping open the bag and popping a Squashie in his mouth.

"In your dreams," Max muttered, walking off with a shake of his head.

The living room buzzed with laughter and half-finished conversations. Anna was curled up under a fleece blanket with Charles, scrolling through photos on her phone. Pierre and Yuki were bickering over whether pineapple belonged on pizza, and Daniel was being roped into one of George's Instagram Reels about "behind-the-scenes chaos."

Carlos entered, brushing his hands together. "Okay, guys, we've got a driver dinner booked in an hour, so if you don't want to show up in sweats and Crocs, maybe start getting ready."

"You say that like I don't show up in Crocs anyway," Yuki mumbled, not moving from his position.

Alex looked up. "Where are we going again?"

"Some fancy Austrian chalet that serves fondue," Mick replied, still absorbed in his phone. "You melt cheese, dip bread in it and pretend to be a Michelin-star chef."

"Oh, great," Max deadpanned. "Nothing like dipping boiling cheese with a room full of F1 drivers. What could go wrong?"

Forty-five minutes later, a convoy of sleek rental cars pulled up outside the glowing chalet perched halfway up a hillside. Inside, the atmosphere was cosy—warm wood, hanging lights, and the rich smell of cheese and roasted garlic. It looked more like a Christmas postcard than a race-week dinner.

They were shown to a long table where tiny copper pots of fondue simmered invitingly. Everyone sat in mixed clusters—Lewis next to Seb, Lando beside Alex, Max wedged between Pierre and Checo, who were already arguing over dipping technique.

"Alright," Pierre announced dramatically, holding up his skewer, "there is a science to this. You must twirl the bread slowly and deliberately—"

"You sound like a wine sommelier for cheese," Daniel interrupted.

"Don't disrespect the culture, Ricciardo."

"Hey! We all know I'm the one who can properly pour wine!" Dan complained.

Carlos, meanwhile, had taken on the role of wine-pourer. "Who wants red, who wants white, and who wants sparkling water because they're scared of making a scene?"

"I'll take the water," George said with a grin. "Not scared, just can't let you all get drunk before the race tomorrow.."

Max dipped a chunk of sourdough into the bubbling cheese and accidentally dropped it into the pot with a splash.

"Tradition says if you lose your bread, you owe everyone a round," Lando declared.

"What? That's not real." Max replied.

"It is now," Lando shrugged, already flagging down the waiter with a cheeky grin.

"Did no one hear Ihat i just said?" George whispered under his breath.

Across the table, Anna leaned into Charles. "So, did you ever imagine your racing career would lead to cheese-related extortion?"

"Honestly?" He looked around at their chaotic group, fondue flying, laughter everywhere. "Kind of. Is it when it's you guys? Anything's possible."

Halfway through the meal, Dan suddenly stood. "Alright, I've got a challenge."

Everyone paused.

"No way," George whispered. "This is how bad things start."

"No, hear me out." Alex held up one of the forks. "We do fondue jousting. Last one with cheese on their fork wins."

"I'm in," Yuki immediately declared, standing and grabbing his skewer like a sword.

"Are you all children?" Seb groaned from the end of the table.

"Absolutely," Carlos replied, raising his fork.

One by one, they all joined in indulging George, Max vs. Lando (again), Mick trying to disarm Pierre with a baguette. Chaos reigned until the manager gently reminded them this was, in fact, a public establishment and not a medieval reenactment.

Back at the hotel, the energy hadn't worn off. Somehow, someone (probably Dan) suggested they all play charades in the lounge. Anna took chargorganisingizing teams.

"Okay," she pointed around. "Boys vs. girls."

"You're literally the only girl," Charles objected.

Anna raised a brow. "Okay, British drivers vs. everyone else. You lot are too bad," Max laughed.

"Fine! Teams of two," she suggested with a smirk, knowing that would stir chaos.

Gasps. Groans. Laughter. Denials. Blushes. Max looked like he might throw something at her, but Seb just chuckled and muttered, "She's chaotic."

Eventually, they settled into mixed teams, and the games began.

"Pierre's miming... what even is that?" Lando squinted.

"I think he's being a croissant?" Dan guessed.

"No, I'm being a storm, you idiots!" Pierre shouted.

"You were flailing like pastry," Yuki confirmed.

When it was Anna's turn, she did an exaggerated runway walk, flung an invisible scarf, and blew kisses. Mick immediately shouted, "You're doing a fashion show!" and they erupted in cheers.

Somewhere in the second hour, Mick excused himself, pulling Alex aside.

"Come with me for a sec."

"Where are we going?"

"You'll see."

They walked to the rooftop, a quiet spot above the buzz. The stars were surprisingly bright, the mountains like shadowy guardians around them. Mick leaned against the railing.

"Hey," he said softly. "Thanks for the last couple of days."

Alex smiled. "For what?"

"For being easy to be around. For the dinner. For knowing when not to push."

Alex looked at him. "You'd do the same."

"I hope so." Mick hesitated, then added, "You think this year's going to change things?"

"In what way?"

"Between us. Everyone. The teams. People growing up, making choices."

Alex turned to face him properly. "Maybe. But change doesn't always mean breaking apart. Sometimes it means getting stronger."

Mick didn't answer right away, but when he did, he smiled. "Yeah. I like that."

They stood there a little longer, not speaking, just breathing in the quiet.