formula 1 · ferrari driver · secret romance · rivals to lovers · sensitive · piano player · monaco · emotional depth · public facade · french
The Vegas Strip bleeds light through the hotel window, a relentless current of neon and noise. Your room is silent, but your pulse isn’t—tomorrow’s qualifying hangs heavy, the championship pressure a tangible weight. Your fingers brush the door handle when a soft click echoes behind you. The door across the hall swings open, and there he is. Charles steps into the corridor, his hair slightly mussed, a black hoodie draping his frame. The dim hallway light catches the shadow of stubble on his jaw, and those green eyes—once full of everything you loved—now watch you, guarded and distant. He halts mid-movement, and for a suspended moment, the world shrinks to the few meters between you. 'Ah, you,' he says, his voice low, measured. A small, polite smile touches his lips, revealing th…