It's Lights Out - Mick Schumacher X OC

Part 8

Mick comes into the office, I'm guessing Tom sent him in here to apologise.
"Fuck off, Mick." 
"Look Mila, I'm sorry." He says, trying to come towards me. 

I put up my hands to act as some sort of barricade between us. He stops and doesn't move any further.
"What the fuck? You've been so nice to me since that meeting a few weeks ago. Being all nice to me at breakfast this morning. Telling me my fucking bacon isn't gonna be nice. Sending me flowers talking about doing our rookie season together. You and I finally seemed chill with the fact that this is how it was gonna be, and then when I ask you to do one thing in the first 20 minutes of the session, you completely disregard it?" I say, basically shouting at him at this point. 

He seems taken aback at how angry I am. 

"Out of everyone to undermine me because of me being a girl in Formula 1, you were the last person I thought would do that. The extreme, very last person. But, that's what I get for thinking that maybe we could make things work, move the past behind us. Not happening anymore. My guard is back up and is staying there."

Mick looks increasingly distressed at my rant, like he can't fully compute what's going on. 

"Me and you aren't going back to anything. We are strictly work colleagues. I ask you what to do and you'll do it. And that's it. We're not talking apart from over that damn radio, okay?" I say. 

Mick has realised how fucked he is, and how one stubborn mistake from him and messed everything up. 
"i'm sorry, Mila. I just didn't know whether it was a good idea or not. It shouldn't have happened. I should have trusted you. I'm sorry." He says. 

I sigh. 

"I don't want to talk to you right now. Please leave." I say.

Mick looks at me, nods and leaves the room.

I hang my head in defeat, and text Tom saying he's gonna need Wes to cover me for FP2 before I puncture Mick's tire before he goes out. He replies with a thumbs up and I go back to the hotel to have a cool down before coming back this evening for the team dinner.

---

After sitting in bed with a bag of popcorn watching trashy TV to calm down and chill out, I finally get up and start getting ready for the dinner. Mick messages me a couple of times on my work phone but I leave him on read but don't even bother to read what he has to say for himself.

After an hour long everything shower, I stick my hair in rollers and put some basic glam makeup on, as well as a little tight two piece set and some small wedge heels. After taking the rollers out, my hair falls and is bouncy, curly and the shorter pieces of my hair frame my face well. Shame that the humidity will probably ruin my hair in a matter of minutes after stepping outside. 

After getting ready, I head down to the lobby where I meet up with the rest of the team, and a few people from the garage. We all get into a car together and head to the restaurant.

While in the car, Tom starts speaking.
"You feeling better now, Mila? Not an amazing start to the season." He says.
"He got a mouthful from me after you sent him to the office, that's for sure." I reply. Tom giggles.
Ella raises her eyebrow.
"What happened?" She asks, moving her glances between Tom and I.
"About 5 minutes into FP1, Mila asks Mick to change the config of the car and he literally just flat out refuses to do it, until I ask him to." Tom replies, rubbing his temples in frustration. 
Ella then looks confused. 
"I thought things were going well between you guys?" She asks, moving her eyes to me.
"So did I. He sent me flowers this morning while I was at breakfast." I reply, sighing.
"Oh. That's strange, then." Ella says, as the car pulls up to the restaurant. 

We all step out and this place is fancy for a team like ours. We're lead out onto a patio, where there's fairy lights strung all around the walls and the canopies above us, drink stations and a massive "HAAS' logo made of ice. We all get our phones out and start posting about it on our social media pages.

We all walk around the decorated tables, and find our seats, which have a little piece of card with our names neatly written on them. I'm on one of the first tables, with my team, some other senior staff, and.. the drivers. Great.

As I stroll around the table to find my name, I see Mick's, and then Mine, next to each other. So much for me staying away from him for as long as I can until qualifying tomorrow. However, to the left of me is a name I've never heard before. 'George' is neatly written on the place card. I gesture for Ella to come over to me, and I point to it.
"Who the fuck is George?" I ask. 

"That would be me." A deep, British voice says, and I immediately regret every single thing that has led me up until this moment, and I feel the urge for the ground to swallow me whole.

I turn around and a very tall, muscular, with fluffy brown hair is standing there.
"I am.. so. sorry. I didn't mean for it to come across-" I stutter.
He laughs.
"Not to worry. A lot of people don't see me here a lot. I'm just here for this weekend, I'm usually away for all sorts of business projects. I'm the senior sponsorship manager. So, I go around and help get some more money for the team, basically. I'm just here to see the season kick off and then I have some meetings in Canada." He says, pulling my seat out and gesturing me to sit down in it.

I kinda drop my jaw.
"Oh, thank you." I say, and sit in it. He then proceeds to tuck my chair with me on it, effortlessly.
Me and Ella make eye contact and she winks at me, and walks away. 

George sits down next to me, and the champagne starts to be poured.

This is going to be one very interesting night.