The engine to the Mercedes turns off. "We're here Sayd" ,Lewis says as he unbuckled mine and his seatbelts, opening the car door and getting out. I let out and annoyed sigh, I hate parties, and got out. We park next to lots of other expensive cars. Range rovers, Audis, Ferraris, Porsche, Bugattis, Lamborghinis, you name it. All cars are surrounding a fountain in the middle. White pebbles covering the driveway. Marble steps leading up to the front door.
Security is seen holding back paparazzi as we all head up the steps. Me and Lewis walk up the steps, the front door in our sights. It's a massive steel door, definitely useful for zombie attacks.
I think I've got away with it. The press don't seem to have noticed me and Lewis or commented about yesterdays run in with Charles. I smiled to myself until I was proven wrong.
"Sadie how are you and Leclerc after that run in yesterday"
"Have you got something against Charles Miss Brando?"
"Are you and Lewis secretly dating" - I try my hardest not to laugh out loud and that one. Lewis seems to hear it too and chuckled to himself quietly.
The reporters these days can't seem to get enough of f1 drivers' lives. And I've only been in the spotlight for a matter of months and I'm already sick of it. Think of how poor Hamilton must feel.
"Ignore them Sadie." Lewis whispers to me putting an arm around me, resting his hand on my shoulder, giving it a tight, reassuring squeeze. Who knew Mr. Hamilton could be so sweet.
We get up to the door at the top of the stairs. Two men, butlers I believe are waiting for us one holding a tray of drinks and one that must be on door duties. This guy must be loaded. "A drink for you Miss Brando and Mr Hamilton", one of the men ask. Lewis reaches both arms out and grab two glasses. He says thank you and he passes one to me. The man opens the door and we carry on into the house. I'm met with lots of loud noises and bright lights shining everywhere. Yep this is definitely a party alright.
"Hey Lewis how you doing mate!?" I hear a voice to the right of me. That Belgian accent. I know exactly who it is. I turn to where the voice came from. And I am correct it is none other than Max Verstappen. I put on the biggest smile I could muster up. I haven't really spoken to this guy before.
"Hey how you doing? You did so well at qualifiers yesterday mate." Hamilton replies, handshaking and then patting each other on the back.
"Oh thanks Lewis I really appreciate it." He turns to me, oh no. "Sadie Brando right?" I try to open my mouth but nothing came out. I mean can you blame me. He literally won the Abu Dhabi Grand Prix and his dad is Jos Verstappen.
"Yes this is her, in the flesh." Hamilton replies for me, trying to not humiliate me in the process.
Verstappen flicks from Lewis to me, "I love your racing. Good luck next week Brando!" He says before dragging Lewis away. What a shit show of a introduction that was.
I decide to go sit in a booth, gulping down my Prosecco. Definitely going to get another in a second. I get my phone out of my purse, seeing all of the articles that was wrote about me yesterday. About me and Leclerc. One even wrote they could sense sexual tension. Haha get over yourselves.
The booth I'm sat in seems to have two occupants not just one now. I flick my eyes up to come to find a dark haired man sitting across from me, flashing me a big grin.
"I saw your conversation with Max, you couldn't have been any more awkward could ya. HAHAHA" he shouts over the music that's blasting.
"Fuck off Leclerc."
"Erm first - rude and second - I apologise, just trying to make conversation Sadie. And third - the guys a total dick anyway." Charles replies, I can't help but think there's some sort of seriousness and genuine in his eyes - especially the "hating Max" part.
We're sat staring at each other way longer than I expected. But I was just so drawn to those light brown eyes of his. "Hey baby, so this is where you've been hiding." I hear an annoying American voice call out towards us. And before I knew it she planted her lips straight down onto his.
"And this is my queue to leave." I say as I get up and walk off wanting to get another drink. Talk about being in a shit show.