Inside, the restaurant was busier than Penelope expected. Groups of guests mingled as they nibbled on appetisers. The women were beautiful and the men were handsome, dressed in expensive clothing and doused in designer scents. Servers greeted Penelope and her friends at the door, inviting them inside with a smile and a glass of champagne.
Beside her, Logan raised an eyebrow. "There is a lot of money in this room," he whispered.
"Thanks," Charlotte remarked. "Didn't notice."
A set of hands brushed against Penelope's waist as the three of them made their way through the crowd, sending a swift shiver down her back. She knew just the type of men that went to events like these, and the last thing she desired was to be fondled by one of them, no matter how much money or influence they had.
Just as she was beginning to plot for an emergency escape, Penelope felt someone come up behind her. Strong cologne, a loud laugh and a confident aura gave way to reveal Steven Marks, Penelope's boss.
"Thank god you're here," he grumbled, looking between Penelope and her colleagues in turn. "Dinner is about to start. You're late."
Penelope's cheeks began to burn. "I'm sorry, Steven. There was, uh...traffic."
Steven's expression grew evermore dissatisfied. "Do you think I'm a fucking idiot? You kids always trying to get out of this stuff...You think I wanna be here? Kissing up to all these entitled pricks? But it's my job, and its yours too. So, stand up straight, laugh at some jokes, and go win over some car fanatics, before I fire you all on the spot. Understood?"
All three of the actors nodded. Without much more of an exchange, Penelope said goodbye and made her way into the crowd, smiling politely. Finally, she was stopped by a middle-aged gentleman in a black suit, a mop of curly hair and a warm smile. His face was familiar, but she couldn't quite place her finger on why.
"Good evening," he said, his accent low and Italian. "Enjoying the party, I hope?"
Fortunately, Penelope was no stranger to putting on a performance. "Absolutely. We were so honoured to be invited."
The gentleman sipped his wine, never breaking eye contact. "Ah, I'm sure. You are a big driving fan?"
"Not myself, but I grew up with brothers and they were always watching races. My brother Kevin always supported Ferrari. And Logan, he loves it."
"I'm pleased to hear that," he said, eyes twinkling. "Ah, forgive me. I forget to introduce myself - my name Mattia Binotto."
Penelope almost choked on her wine. Although she didn't know much about the sport, she had been briefed on who to watch out for, and Mattia was certainly one of them. He was the current team principle for the team, and that came with a lot of influence. If he decided he didn't like them, or if they made a bad impression, he could send word to the board and cancel the sponsorship. She cursed herself for not noticing before, but it was too late now.
"Mr Binotto, it is an honour to meet you," she said warmly, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "I'm Penelope."
He waved a hand in dismissal. "Please, call me Mattia. And I'm quite aware of who you are. I watched your performance at last years Nationals. You were excellent. I like your TV show, too, though I'd like to keep that quiet. My love of teen dramas could lead to, ah, how do you say...much laughter in the paddock."
Instantly, Penelope felt a little more at ease. "Of course. It can be our secret."
Mattia laughed. "Yes, yes. Now that I have the chance, I've always wanted to ask: how do you manage skating and acting? It seems like a full workload, no?"
"At times. But I love dance, and I love acting. I can't choose between them."
"I see. So instead, you do both?"
"Pretty much. It's a lot of work, of course, but I enjoy it"
Mattia opened his mouth to speak, but something across the room seemed to catch his eye. Discarding his wine glass on the tray behind him, he waved to someone in the distance, beckoning them over.
"Ah!" he called, smiling widely as a young man about Penelope's age stopped in front of them. "Charles, my boy, there's someone I'd like you to meet. This is Penelope, though I'm sure you already know that. Penelope, meet Charles Leclerc, one of our talented principle drivers. I think you two will get along quite nicely."
Penelope regarded the boy standing in front of her. He was handsome, with dark hair and a lean build. His suit was all black, ironed and well-fitting, like something straight out of a magazine. But it wasn't until she met his eyes that she actually felt something.
In that moment, Penelope felt like she was being hit with a jolt of electricity, shocking her awake and out of the daze of the party. She noticed the little details - the green of his eye, the splash of freckles across his nose, the warm smile he wore when he looked at her. She'd never met his boy, but just looking at him made her feel like they'd known each other for a hundred years.
"Nice to meet you, Miss Penelope," Charles murmured, holding his hand out to take hers in a greeting. She obliged, and his lips grazed her knuckles, the movement shooting another rush of adrenaline through her veins. "I'm a big fan."
For a moment, Penelope's words escaped her. Her brain went blank, like her head was full of fog, and she couldn't remember how to talk. A second passed before she recovered, trying to fight her blushing cheeks. "Gosh, you'll give me an ego," she laughed, her stomach fluttering as he smiled. "But thank you. You're pretty impressive yourself."
Charles raised an eyebrow. Beside them, Mattia seemed to have disappeared into the crowd, leaving the two of them alone. In another situation, that would have bothered her, but in truth she didn't mind the concept of being alone with Charles. "You're a fan of racing?"
Now it was Penelope's turn to smile. "Fan is perhaps a strong word. But I could be convinced to watch a race every now and then."
"Oh, really? And what would it take to convince you?"
"Ladies and gentlemen," an announcement boomed from behind them. When Penelope turned, she saw a group of waitstaff lined up against the wall, holding trays of drinks and looking to the hostess. "Dinner is served. Please make your way to the table."
Penelope turned back to Charles, who gave her a playful look. "Will you join me?" he asked, holding out his arm for her to take.
"I would love to," she said genuinely, lacing her arm through his and heading towards the dining room, trying to ignore the dancing butterflies fluttering in her stomach.
****************