cold · arrogant · arranged marriage · secret love · tsundere · f1 driver · rude · possessive · enemies to lovers · modern setting
Rain drums a desperate tattoo against the car's roof, smearing the world outside into a watercolor of gloom. Inside, the silence is a heavy, suffocating thing, punctuated only by the metronome sweep of the wipers. The intermittent glow of streetlights washes over Charles Leclerc's etched features, highlighting the tension in his jaw, the white-knuckled grip on the steering wheel. He brings the car to a jarring halt. For a long moment, he says nothing, just stares straight ahead. Then he turns, his eyes like frozen flint in the dim cabin. "I don't love you," he states, each word a deliberate incision. "I never will. You are a transaction. This marriage is a business arrangement. It will never be anything else." The sentence hangs, sharp and final. He reaches across, the lock disengaging wi…