«And the funny thing is I would've married you...»
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They never had any need to come announcing their relationship with great fanfare as an official thing. After they were seen for the first time, the maths were pretty clear. She continued going to races and they were photographed together whenever they went out on dates and so on. They didn't hold hands in public unless it was necessary, and they walked like two friends who were keeping each other company, but she knew she was doing it with Charles, Ferrari driver Charles, so people noticed all the time. Sure thing, they did.
The first few times didn't take a genius to comprehend what two attractive people were most likely doing with one another, and now it was just usual for everybody. People said things about her, of course, how she wasn't actually that pretty or that his ex-girlfriend seemed far nicer and more beautiful. That she came across as a bit mean by plain sight. Others decided to come to the conclusion that she was using Charles, after learning about her modelling career and all that, but she always brushed it off because out of all the reasons to be with someone like him, that had to be the last one for her. Both sides of her family were a household name in their country and her parents were economically well-settled so if one day she did need something, she could seek it somewhere else, not with him.
Like, she was doing fine on her own. Thank you very much. Did he bring a new wave of attention to her life? Yes, but not one she had asked for or tried to take advantage of.
Vivianne and Aurora always asked her not to pay attention to the negativity, and Sloane promised not to, but if sometimes she did, that was between her, her phone and her inner thoughts. It wasn't always bad though, because with negativity also came positivity, and a fair share of people were nice about her. They mentioned how she was stunning and that she and Charles were cute, all of those aspects. That she seemed supportive of him.
She was learning, step by step, how not to care about those things, but her mother...oh her mother was on a roll with it. It started when Charles invited her to one of those fancy Formula 1 events, a sort of gala with sponsors, big names, drivers...this and that. Sloane saw it as another outing with him, but her mother took it as a reason for her to look presentable and proper because she was Sloane Devrij above everything else and she carried a name. She'd planned on wearing one of the many dresses she already had in her closet.
The ones she got gifted from designers, she purchased herself or her parents had given her as a present, but instead of that, her mother surprised her with a brand new Valentino. At first, she didn't complain, because duh, who would? Nobody in their sane mind would reject a Valentino, especially if it came from her mother.
When she tried on the dress for the first time, it felt a little tight. Her mistake was mentioning this detail to her mother who used the opportunity to tell her: maybe it's a sign you should drop some weight. She regretted talking to her about it after those words. In the end, she managed to squeeze into the dress just fine. Her mother was a cunt, but at least the woman had great taste. In everything except men probably.
And not that Sloane needed to inflate her ego a bit more — it was already big enough — but she looked pretty hot, in her totally humble and unbiased opinion. It felt funny, she thought, how something could make someone feel insecure and confident at the same time.
"My god, you're so beautiful." Charles placed a hand on his chest, staring at her from head to toe. Sloane struck a funny pose, the ones reserved for photoshoots.
She gave him a once over, looking all cute with his suit. They matched flawlessly together. "You look so handsome." Her fingers reached to play with his tie, and he beamed proudly.
Everything about the whole thing made perfect sense. Like she could picture her mother saying: this is where Sloane should be. The elegant dress, expensive car, fancy event, all of it. She was designed for that, but she didn't think of it that way. She was happy to be by his side, holding his hand and smiling at whoever she got introduced to, sharing complicit glances with Charles whenever something made them laugh but they couldn't make it obvious. They had their own little interactions, the touches, all of it. They were enjoying it because they were together.
And because there was champagne. A lot of champagne. The flutes came and went, and they looked at each other whenever they were sipping from another glass, smiling like it was the most entertaining thing happening during the evening.
In the midst of all this, Charles, who was too engulfed in having a staring contest with Sloane, didn't notice when he knocked one of the champagne glasses with his empty one when the waiter slid his tray closer to him, offering a new one. The glass fell to the marbled floor, breaking loudly and making a mess of champagne. Some of the people around turned to take a look at the situation but continued in their business when they noticed it'd been nothing but broken glass.
The moment Sloane caught a glimpse of the panic settling in his face, she felt the giggles bubbling in her throat. Charles gestured with his hands whilst apologising in a combination of French and English, slurring and rushing the words, even crouching down to assist the waiter with the broken pieces of glass. She pressed a hand to her mouth, trying not to chuckle. The waiter, aware of the state of Charles and how he'd been having fun with the champagne, tried not to let himself laugh as well, she could tell it by the way his smile twitched, and how he kept telling him that it was alright, it happens, prompting Charles to stand up, warning with a kind tone that he could get hurt with the sharp remains of broken glass.
She reached to hold him by the arm and help him up to her level, nearly dropping the content of her glass to the floor as well. When Charles met her gaze, he looked like a deer caught in the headlights. Sloane pressed her lips together, forcing herself not to giggle at the expression.
"They'll kick me out." He said, taking a quick glance at the waiter who was finishing picking up the mess.
Shaking her head, with a clumsy hand, she reached to stroke his cheek. "No, they won't. You're Charles Leclerc, stop." His eyes widened a little. "Maybe we'd been having too many of these." She waved the flute in her hand. Charles still seemed in panic mode.
The waiter straightened back up. A bunch of broken glass lay on his tray now. "It was nothing." He said with politeness.
"I'm sorry, fuck. I was...sorry." He apologised for it one more time.
The other guy smiled with courtesy. "It's alright, no problem. You won't get kicked out." He funnily said, and sadly, it did get a giggle out of Sloane. The champagne she was taking a sip from almost came out of her nose.
Charles turned to her. "Ma belle..."
"Thank you for your assistance, we'll be more careful." She told the waiter, who only replied with a slight nod before wandering away from them. Charles was still in his nervous state, she forced him to face her by holding his face. "See? You didn't get kicked out." Her smile was very nice, he thought. He could feel his face relaxing. "Why don't you go clean your jacket and I wait for you here? Then we can stay away from the champagne for a bit, yes?" They got a little excited with the free drinks.
In their defence, the staff did make a lot of rounds around them. It was hard not to take one every time they got offered a drink.
He nodded. "Yes, yes. You're right." After grabbing her hand, he kissed her palm, lips curving into a lopsided smile. "Wait for me."
"I will."
Of course she did snort a little laugh when he bumped into someone the moment he started walking away because he wanted to keep an eye on her and was too distracted. Once he was out of sight, lost in the swaying bodies, she downed the rest of the champagne in her glass and put it away. Alright, things were getting quite dizzy after that.
She waited for twenty minutes and there was no sign of Charles returning. After ten minutes more, she got rather confused. He couldn't have spent that much time in the bathroom. All the drinks taken were starting to settle apparently. She felt the warmth in her cheeks, and her dress a bit too tight again, tighter than when she'd tried it on the first time, but not for the same reasons her mother had suggested. It was just hot all around. And still no sight of the Ferrari driver. She put a hand over her mouth when a hiccup escaped, resisting the urge to laugh at the sound.
Okay, yeah, she was a tiny bit drunk.
With a quick look around the room, she attempted to spot Charles, but all she could see were more suits and fancy dresses, people she could not remember being introduced to or simply didn't know.
Sloane turned on her heels, scanning the other side of the room. Her eyes slightly widened, and gleamed when she distinguished a group of guys she could definitely recognise. Max, who was the one she could identify first, was having a conversation with Daniel and Lando somewhere by the nearest exit to the gardens. They had to know where to find Charles.
She wedged her way in their direction, profusely apologising when colliding shoulders with another woman in a beautiful blue dress. Said woman didn't even spare her a second glance, and she just shrugged it off, resuming to her expected destination.
The first one to notice her presence was Lando, who set his drink by the window and stopped listening to whatever Max said to share a friendly smile with her. The guy was nice, they didn't interact a lot but he'd been nice with her.
It took two seconds more, but when Daniel saw her, he gestured with his hands the same way someone who just received a surprise gift would and grinned, drifting his attention away from the conversation they were having. This served as a cue for the Red Bull driver to stop talking and turn to look at her as well. In her tipsy state, she could only focus on one out of the three.
"Sloane!" The Australian enthusiastically said when she was close enough, standing in front of him. "Look at you," His hand motioned at her frame. "You clean up nice." He bantered.
Because she was feeling pretty lightheaded and loved receiving compliments anyway, she struck a ridiculous pose. Nearly the same one she'd given Charles earlier before they left for the event. With less grace though. Daniel chuckled, the corners of his eyes crinkling a little. He was always so nice to her.
"It's the Valentino." And of course, she bowed, holding the sides of her dress like she was a princess out of a movie. The piece was made for that thing alone.
The movement, and the wobbliness from the many champagne glasses shared with Charles, caused her heel to twist to the wrong side when she tried to place herself, making her lose balance and stumble to the side. The closest one to her was Max, who stood by her right, and he aimed to steady her by reaching to hold her arm. Except, she extended the same arm he tried to hold seeking support on his shoulder at the same time and placed a hand there. The situation ended with him holding her by the waist instead of the arm, but managing to help her recover balance with no problem.
Sloane counted two seconds, perhaps three if her brain worked well, before Max let go of her as if he'd been touched with something similar to acid. It wasn't like he'd get into trouble for helping her, she thought, pressing her lips together and trying not to chuckle at the reaction from the driver because he seemed caught off guard.
In the end, she resorted to a friendly smile. "Thank you. It's the champagne...oh, wait," She hadn't just held onto his shoulder, she'd full-on gripped his jacket. "I wrinkled your suit, I'm so sorry."
For a millisecond she almost considered reaching to smooth the fabric with her hand but abstained from doing so because he didn't look like the kind who enjoyed getting touched by random people. Personal spaces, she could respect those.
Max dismissed it with a hand motion, giving her a side smile. "It's alright, don't worry."
Daniel, who was a second away from cackling at the stiffness of the interaction, raised his eyebrows and addressed her. "Too many sips?"
She scoffed but nodded to confirm. It was easy to tell anyway. "Tonight yes, but I haven't forgotten you promised free cocktails."
The Aussie clicked his tongue. "Ah see, Max here," He swung an arm around the aforementioned's shoulders, patting him on the chest. "Has cut our budget so we might not get any more free drinks, I'm afraid."
"Really?" She looked at Max. The poor guy was nowhere near close to relaxing anytime soon. "But you've been winning all the races lately. Isn't that how it works? The winner invites the drinks?"
It did sound like an unfair deal if she came to think about it.
"That's not how it—I..." Sloane blinked confused when Max looked at her. His words never found an end to it. "No, I mean, we can get free drinks. You two can get free drinks." He gestured at both Daniel and her. The Australian raised his fist in the air celebrating getting that small victory.
Lando scoffed from his own side. "Are you offering free drinks to Sloane, Max? What's Zoe going to think about this?"
"Seriously? Fuck off. It's not like that."
Despite enjoying the bickering, she felt the need to interfere there. "I was kidding, by the way. If anything, you should be the one getting free drinks when you win. I'll get you one next time you win a race!" Truth be told, she would most likely forget the offer the following day, but the intentions were there. And as much as she enjoyed free drinks, she'd deviated from the main goal of the conversation. "I just came here to ask if you guys have seen Charles. I lost him."
"Saw him with Carlos and Mattia, they were talking to some guy from Pirelli."
"Oh, that's—"
Daniel took a quick glance over her shoulder before interrupting her. "Nevermind, I think you manifested your Romeo."
Her brows creased in confusion at first, until she felt a hand on her waist a minute later. Charles appeared by her side, fully wrapping her with an arm when he was close enough. His first reaction was to look at her, and hers to look at him. They smiled at each other like they hadn't been together the entire day and this was the first time seeing the other in hours.
"I'm sorry for leaving you alone, ma belle." And he proceeded to kiss her...hard. Not really giving a second thought to the audience before them. It'd taken her aback as well because her eyes went wide before she closed them to accept the kiss.
One of them asked 'did he just call her my beauty in French?' while other lowly whistled and chuckled. In a corner of her mind, she could only imagine it'd been Lando and Daniel with the reactions. When he pulled away, it seemed to dawn on him that his fellow drivers were in front of them. She could see how he flustered a little when his eyes met them, and nodded in acknowledgement with embarrassment.
The champagne was doing numbers on them.
"Enjoying the drinks tonight, aren't we?" Daniel asked with amusement. They looked pretty happy and out of it.
"Yeah."
"Nope."
Both of them snorted a laugh at the same time, exchanging a look.
Someone cleared their throat. "She was searching for you," Max told him.
"I'm sorry, I ran into Mattia on my way out of the bathroom." He explained to her, using his apologetic tone.
All she could do was dismiss it with a shrug and a smile. They tried to keep up with the conversation between the other three drivers, but in the end, after sneaky hand touches and random laughs, Charles excused them and grabbed her hand to walk away from the others. She waved repeatedly, and so did Charles. They looked a bit confused when trying to find some privacy.
The smartest thing would've been to cut it on the champagne, but if they picked a few more glasses when waiters and waitresses wandered around them with their trays, neither made a comment and just kept enjoying the night.
—
The half-empty bottle of champagne almost slipped past his fingers, but with his good reflexes, or the ones he had left in that state, he managed to catch it, trying not to let go of Sloane at the same time. How he'd gotten that bottle? Charles couldn't quite remember. Either he bribed a waiter for it, or Pierre had helped him, the memory was lost somewhere in his brain. He also couldn't recall where his tie was — probably lost in the taxi, he thought — or how they'd gotten into a taxi in the first place. He should've told Pierre, or anyone else for that matter, to take care of his car whilst he ventured with Sloane to god-knows-where.
A beach. It was a beach. Larvotto was the option that made more sense if he gave it some thought.
"Wait, wait, wait." She said in between laughs, forcing him to stop walking and losing balance a little. Charles rocked to the side but managed to keep both of them steady enough not to fall to the ground. "My heels are digging into the..." First two seconds and she couldn't remember the word in English. Something in her face lit up when she did. "Into the sand. Into the sand."
She let go of him to try and get out of her shoes, but with the current situation, it was hard to. Not only was the dress too long for her to attempt anything, but she would probably fall face-first into the sand if she did. As she looked down at it, her lips formed a pout. The ends of her Valentino were full of sand, and dirt...and who knows what else. She'd also spilt champagne all over it. It was a mess, to say the least. And to think she'd been taking care of it like a holy gown at the beginning of the evening.
It almost made her chuckle. The irony of it all. She probably also looked as much of a mess as the dress. Her hair and make-up, that was.
"I can't take them off." She told him with big eyes and still slightly pouting.
Charles felt something pull in his heart, and he smiled with fondness. "I'll help you, ma belle."
He bent down on one knee, for a moment nearly losing balance but recovering enough to keep himself in place. After setting the bottle of champagne aside, he reached to lift the fabric of her dress in order to find her heels and unclip them. She tried to help by gathering parts of the ends of it so he wouldn't have too much trouble with his task.
Her gaze was on him the whole time, as he worked on the clips of the heels, and she grinned. The scene was a bit funny if she thought about it. An empty beach in the middle of the night, or early morning she couldn't remember well what time it was, and a guy down on one knee in front of her. Anyone would think he was proposing.
"You look like you're proposing." She told him, containing a scoff from leaving her lips.
He looked up at her, all smiles and sparkly eyes. One of her heels was set to the side. "Oh no, you just discovered my plan."
"Before we settle anything...do I have to sign a prenup?" She raised an eyebrow, joking.
Charles snorted and shook his head. "What's mine is yours and what's mine is min—no, wait," It took him a couple of seconds to untie the right words. "What's mine is yours and what's yours is mine. That is how it goes."
And he finished undoing her other heel. He didn't stand right away though, and maintained his position there. The execution of the idea was perhaps more romantic in his mind, and he could've used one of his rings to make the little scene a bit more realistic, but his brain wasn't processing everything correctly at the moment so he ended up pretending to hold up an imaginary ring in between his fingers before her. She laughed first, then placed a hand on her chest, her lips parting in mock surprise.
"Sloane Devrij," When he was sober he didn't butcher the pronunciation anymore, but with a few drinks in, his accent made every syllable stand out. "You and I are going to marry one day. I'm so sure."
She wanted to reach and touch his face. His dimples were on full display. "Is that so?"
He confirmed with an overly eager nod. "In five years, ten years, fifteen years...whenever you want." He offered the invisible ring again. "And when we're sober because we have to remember it."
"Unless we're in Las Vegas." Her cheeks hurt from how much she'd been smiling the whole time.
Some people slept together when they were drunk, and others kissed random strangers, they just jumped straight to a fake proposal.
There was no tangible ring, and the promise wasn't real, of course. But they made sure to pretend it was because their tipsy selves were having fun with it. When he stood up, coming face to face with her, she leaned in to kiss him, holding his face with her hands. They couldn't last a lot doing that without one of them smiling or chuckling in the middle of the kiss. Whenever they pulled away, they looked at each other like they'd been dazzled.
"Where is your tie?" She played with the collar of his shirt.
Charles grabbed her hands, kissing each one, then shrugged unconcerned by that. "I have no clue."
He nearly tripped with the champagne bottle he'd placed on the sand while undoing her shoes when he tried to drag her closer to the shoreline. There were no waves, the water was very calm. He splashed her once, with barely any water, Sloane raised her hands to protect herself and laughed. Loud and breezy, but that was how happiness sounded like. His suit and her dress were now a mess, full of sand, and champagne, and drenched on the ends of each piece. Despite the many times she continued saying oh no, my Valentino, she kept walking wherever he wanted her to.
They weren't giving a lot of thought about how to return home either, and they were exhausted, but in a good way.
"We should go back home...or try to." She said once they sat on the sand, staring at the sea before them. Her head rested on his shoulder.
Charles sighed. "Just a bit more." She smiled and nodded. They were silent for a few seconds until he decided to speak again. "These things, the events I mean, are usually pretty boring but it was fun this time."
"Because you got drunk?" She teased, gently nudging him with her elbow.
"Yes," He chuckled. "And Silvia will probably kill me next time she sees me." He'd been talking with sponsors and every important suit while not in all his perfect senses. It surprised him she didn't murder him right there at the event. "But also because of you."
Sloane lifted her hand, offering him her pinky finger. "Then let's hope for many more boring events together."
When he locked his pinky with hers and kissed the top of her head, it was a promise made.
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a/n:
charles after introducing sloane to racing: