apocalypse | charles leclerc ✓

chapter 4 | another monaco

Second as in her first one had been asking to postpone a fitting so she could attend the Monaco Grand Prix because it's his home race, she'd told Vivianne almost whining over the phone a few days ago. The first rule of working with someone like Vivianne was simple: full responsibility. If the woman got her the jobs, she took advantage of them by not wasting her potential. Now she was breaking that rule not once but twice.

Fuck.

"I'm sorry. I don't—I don't really know what to say. My head's somewhere else and I truly apologise for this." The words weighted with sincerity. "It won't happen again, I promise."

"I won't reprimand you for this, that's not how things work, but I don't want to think this will be a continuous thing from now on." She paused. She was using the tone. The one that denoted a hint of exhaustion and severity. "Sloane, you're doing well, and I'd hate to think you might backtrack over distractions."

Her brows furrowed a little at that. Two slips wouldn't stall her career. There was nothing to worry about.

She blinked. "I really mean it when I say it won't happen again. It was a mistake on my part, and I take full responsibility for it, but I swear I'll be more attentive with all this from now on. You don't have to fret."

"I'm not fretting, Sloane. And I trust you, but please sync your calendar. That'd be appreciated."

"I'm sorry."

Vivianne asked for her to stop apologising, what was done was done. Nevertheless, there were more sorries from Sloane, which in the end, her manager accepted. She promised to set reminders for the schedules Vivianne always sent over email, and added more apologies and regrets just in case. Vivianne insisted it was fine — although she had a hunch it wasn't — and told her to take care of herself and greet Charles for her. Sloane hesitated for a few seconds before saying she would and thanked her again for being so understanding.

While they bid their farewells, she made sure to sneak one more sorry in there before they hung up. When she opened the door to head back into the room, Charles was awake, resting his weight on one arm and checking his phone. He flickered his focus at the sound of the door and smiled brightly noticing her.

It did fade rather quickly due to her troubled expression.

"Is everything alright?" He sat straight on the bed, the sheets pooling around his waist. He extended a hand and beckoned her closer to him.

Sloane dragged herself towards the bed, grabbing his hand and sitting on the space where she'd been sleeping. Her face twisted into a grimace, huffing. "I fucked up. Or I didn't but I did. I," Charles tilted his head, analysing. "I had a shoot today but missed it, and Vivianne sounded awfully disappointed. This is the first time something like this happens, and I—ugh, I should've set a reminder or something. I don't know."

He squeezed her hand in reassurance, the other one reaching to stroke the skin of her leg with circular motions. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have asked you to go out yesterday."

"No, come on. It's not on you." She softly smiled and reached to touch his face. The stubble felt funny. "I have to be more organised and get my head out of my arse. I've been too distracted lately."

"I tell you what," He lifted their hands and placed a kiss on the back of her hand. "We'll set the reminders together, so if you forget, I'll refresh your memory." Charles offered with one of those charming smiles of his. "No more problems with Vivianne."

Something fluttered inside of her. Feelings turned into butterflies. "You're too cute, god, but seriously don't worry. I'll sort myself with this, I can be more organised." She put on her best-committed expression. He chuckled, the adoration pouring through his gaze. "Vivianne told me to greet you."