Battle of The Gods

Quattordici

She quickly pressed on the message bubble, typing out her reply, wanting to fall asleep as soon as possible so she could stop thinking about him.

Toto Wolff

That's good

I'm already in bed, about to fall asleep

But your text prevented me to do so

She didn't know what came over her to let him know that she was in bed too, cursing at herself for giving out so much information. It may not seem much, but they are team principals, two of the biggest rivals of the season. They wanted to beat each other, come out on top victorious and take it all. And yet here she was, letting him know that she was in bed as if she still doesn't want to smack his face when she sees him tomorrow.

Toto Wolff

Go get your rest, you need it for this weekend ;)

Buonanotte, Principessa di Maranello

A groan threatened to leave her mouth, and it wasn't from frustration at him, but the contrary. Bidding her goodnight in Italian, then calling her princess of Maranello, remembering what they discussed a few days ago when they were in her Testarossa showing the Mercedes team principal around her hometown, it made her lower abdomen burn up.

Toto Wolff

Buonanotte, Torger.

She closed her phone, not wanting to continue the conversation further and put it on her bedside table once more, diving her head into her pillow and finally letting the deep slumber she's been dreaming off for the past few hours accumulate her.

She knew that Mick was right when he reminded her what her focuses should be for the weekend, and that's what she did on Friday and Saturday. During the first two practices, she watched closely how the cars were performing, pleased that the new set of upgrades were showing the improvements they were hoping for.

She spent a couple of hours in her office, communicating with the team in the factory to give them the data of Friday, however, when the Monegasque finished with his interviews, he pulled his boss out of her office, and dragged her to her car - which for the day was the Ferrari Enzo - where Mick was waiting for her. Charles got into his custom 488 Pista and followed the team principal, who had the German with her as passenger, back to Maranello, with Carlos following the two cars in the Ferrari Portofino he had for the weekend.

The four spent the evening eating Charles's famous pasta, listening to the two drivers argue about who makes the best carbonara, and then listened to Alessandra give them a rundown on what happened during the meeting. Max was also having dinner with them, but on video call, as he didn't want to risk being in Maranello during a race weekend.

"I have never been more grateful to not have Christian as my team principal!" Charles exclaimed as Alessandra finished the story of what she's calling the Meeting Chronicles, "no offence Max, I know you're close and all, but if I was at the meeting he would not be making another step inside the sport."

"You have every right to be angry, Charles. I am too," Max sighed, running a hand through his blonde hair, "Christian needs to be humbled big time. Almost having a remake of 2014 and all he cared about was the awarding of the points because we only races a couple of laps? Jesus christ."

"Otmar's an idiot, unfortunately I'm not surprised with his comments even though it was idiotic and ignorant," Mick muttered as he sipped on his beer, "I can't believe Toto would say that you were making a fuss and that you need to control your temper?"