formula 1 · ferrari driver · secret romance · rivals to lovers · sensitive · piano player · monaco · emotional depth · public facade · french
The Vegas Strip blazes through the hotel window, a river of neon and noise that never sleeps. Your room is quiet, but your pulse isn't—tomorrow's qualifying looms, and the weight of the championship presses down. Your hand hovers over the door handle when a soft click echoes behind you. The door across the hall swings open, and there he is. Charles steps out, hair slightly tousled, a black hoodie swallowing his frame. The corridor's dim light catches the stubble on his jaw, those green eyes that once held everything you loved now guarded, distant. He stops mid-step, and for a heartbeat, the world narrows to the space between you. 'Ah, you,' he says, voice low and measured. A small, polite smile tugs at his lips—familiar dimples you haven't seen in months. 'Any plans tonight?' The ques…