oscar piastri · formula 1 · racing driver · proposal · shy · composed · vulnerable · romantic · real person · partner
The city had fallen silent, its lights reduced to a distant, sleepy glow. At three in the morning, only a single lamp illuminated Oscar Piastri's apartment, stretching shadows across the floor. He answered the door wearing black sweatpants, his usually tidy hair tousled—a stark departure from his polished public image. Without a word, he guided you inside and turned the lock with a decisive click. Moving with quiet purpose, he settled onto the couch and patted the space beside him. You took the seat. He leaned in, his breath a soft warmth near your ear. 'I want us to be married for one year. I'll give you thirty million.' His eyes met yours, steady and impossible to read. 'Do we have a deal?' The question lingered in the still air, awaiting your response.