Chapter Text
I sat on the sofa, staring blankly at the rows of flashing cameras and reporters with the flood of questions.
I didn't want to be here.
Hell, I wasn't even here. My mind was still in the McLaren hospitality, stuck on the image of Olivia's face right before she turned and walked away. That was a look I never saw on her face.
Shining with something that had nothing to do with the Monza sun and everything to do with me being a complete fucking idiot.
"Oscar, great result for the team but probably not the position you've wanted." one of the journalists said. "But it's another double podium. How are you feeling about the performance today?"
"Good" I muttered.
A beat of silence.
"Anything in particular that stood out for you?"
I shrugged. "The car felt decent and I managed to held my position."
Beside me, Lando and Charles side-eyed me for a second. Then, Lando grabbed the mic to answer the next question which was adressed to him, like the press darling he was. Joking about the strategy that didn't kinda work for him.
Something about the tires, and something about Monza magic.
I sat there like a statue. Just picking up few words from the whole sentences.
More questions came. I gave them the bare minimum. Monosyllabic replies.
Nothing to dissect.
Nothing to give away how absolutely fucking miserable I was.
Because I blew it.
Because I let jealousy and ego cloud my mouth and the second I opened it, I threw knives instead of sense.
Eventually and mercifully, it ended.
I didn't stick around.
The second we were excused, I jumped off and stormed out of the room, ignoring the swarm of PR handlers and journalists trying to get last-minute opinions.
My phone was already in my hand before I cleared the hallway.
Still no reply.
No new messages.
Nothing.
Just the last thing I sent her.
I ran a hand through my hair, dragging it down my face as I turned the corner toward the driver's area.
"Oscar!"
I turned, biting back a groan.
Lando was jogging after me, half out of his race suit, sweat still glistening on his neck. He caught up fast.
"What's going on with you, man?" he asked, keeping pace beside me. "You barely spoke in there."
"Just tired" I muttered, eyes ahead.
"Bullshit" he said. "You always give polite and nice answears. Did something happen?"
I shook my head and pushed the door open to the driver's lounge. "It's nothing."
Lando stopped at the threshold, hands on his hips, clearly unconvinced. "Alright, moody. See you at Andrea's, yeah?"
I didn't reply, just nodded vaguely and let the door fall shut behind me.
I peeled off the race suit and threw it in the corner of my driver's room. Then, dressed up quickly in my casual clothes. I walked straight to my car and then to the hotel. No other delaying, not even stopping to some fans who were shouting my name.
Back in my hotel room, I was pacing barefoot on the cold tile floor, like that could help my brain settle.
It didn't.
All I could hear was her voice.
"I crossed every line for you."
"I came because and for of you."
And I ruined it. I should've pulled her aside. I should've said I was glad she was there. I should've kissed her like I wanted to, instead of acting like a prick.
But no.
I let my pride speak louder than my heart and now she was...
Where was she?
I paused at the window, heart pounding.
I didn't even know where she was staying. Milan was massive.
She could be anywhere. And she was probably blocking me right now or throwing her phone across some fancy hotel suite, cursing my name in those multiple languages she can speak.
I checked my messages again. Still nothing.
I called her and then another text:
Me:
Olivia, please, let's talk. I want to fix this.
I wanted to fix it. Do something.
But what?
Should I go to Andrea's party?
The idea felt ridiculous. A team principal's birthday wasn't exactly the romantic backdrop for mending the biggest fuck-up I'd made since this thing with Olivia began.
And yet...There was a slight chance she might be there.
If Lando had written her name down, if she hadn't changed her mind, if she wasn't halfway back to....I paused thinking about the countries she said her booktour will be... maybe.
I stared at my reflection in the mirror. Eyes dark with frustration, jaw clenched.
I have to go. If she was there and I didn't show up, I'd never forgive myself.
Even if I didn't deserve her attention right now, I wasn't about to let this end like that.
Not because I let my jealousy speak for me.
I stared at my suitcase for another full minute before I finally gave in.
Finally, pulling out a pair of dark casual trousers and a crisp white shirt. Safe, simple, like myself. I didn't have the energy to think about style tonight, not that I had one.
The uber took me straight to the location Andrea picked.
It was private rooftop bar tucked in the heart of Milan. The place was buzzing. Mellow lights. Laughter echoing between champagne flutes. A whole chunk of the McLaren crew already three drinks deep, celebrating another double podium and Stella's birthday like we just won the whole championship.
I nodded to a few familiar faces as I stepped inside. Smiled briefly at one of the engineers. A polite wave to the PR manager, who was already taking pictures of me for the McLaren social accounts.
But I wasn't here for small talk. Certainly not for posing at photos.
I walked straight to the bar.
"Whiskey" I said.
The bartender blinked at me. "Neat?"
"Strong."
The glass slid into my hand a moment later. I took a sip and let it burn, slow and sharp, right down my throat. Just enough to dull the pressure still building in my chest.
My eyes scanned the crowd.
Looking for brown hair and a flash of blue eyes.
Even Lando's curls would have helped...because he would have know where she is, or worse, he would have been with her already…
Neither of them were there.
Fuck.
I turned back to the bar, clenching the glass in my hand as if it could somehow distract me from the thousand thoughts spinning in my head.
A loud voice boomed behind me.
"There he is! My Aussie assassin!"
I barely had time to brace before Zak Brown's arms came around me in a bear hug that almost cracked my ribs.
"Jesus...Zak..." I coughed.
He finally let go, eyes shining, face already flushed with wine. "You were bloody brilliant today. Both of you. But you...hell, Oscar, I knew we struck gold with you. We're lucky to have you. Very fucking lucky."
I gave a small smile. "Thanks, Zak. Means a lot."
He patted my shoulder with all the subtlety of a freight train and disappeared into the crowd, humming some Bruce Springsteen song.
I turned back to the bar, downed the rest of my whiskey, and opened my phone.
Please Olivia, talk to me.
I whispered more to myself and without caring of how desperate it sounded anymore.
And then...
I saw her.
Just walking in.
Like something that came straight out of my best dream ever.
Her dress was a deep, light blue...strapless, tight on her chest and waist, hugging every curve, but loose from the waist down.
Classy but also sexy.
Hair down on her back.
Every part of me went still. Except my pulse, which shot straight through the roof.
She hadn't seen me yet.
But Lando, out of nowhere, apperead too. And he saw her too.
The fucker moved fast, crossing the floor like a man on a mission. I saw it unfold in slow motion: the way she smiled politely, the way he grinned wider.
He took her hand and kissed it.
Unbeliveble…
My jaw tensed. I didn't move. Couldn't. I stood rooted to the floor, fingers tightening around the empty glass to the point it could easily crack in my hands, as I watched them exchange words. She said something. He laughed.
My blood boiled quietly in my veins.
By this point, I didn't know if I wanted to strangle Lando, or myself.
I should've been the one greeting her. I should've been the one kissing her hand. I should've been the one making her laugh.
And now, I was standing on the edge of the party, watching the woman I couldn't get out of my head become the center of someone else's attention.
And it is killing me.