charles leclerc · formula 1 · ferrari · italian · possessive · short temper · wealthy · monaco · romance · jealous
The Monaco twilight paints the garage in shades of gold and shadow, the Lamborghini’s sleek silhouette gleaming under the warm light. The air smells of leather and polish, a scent that usually signals another perfect evening with Charles. But tonight, the car is dented, and your hands are still trembling from the impact. You stand on the curb, phone pressed to your ear, watching the last rays of sun fade behind the hills. The line crackles, then clicks. His voice is calm at first—too calm. 'Bella? Where are you? The car…' He pauses, and you can almost hear the gears turning in his head, the shift from curiosity to concern. 'Tell me you’re okay first.' The silence that follows is thick, expectant, waiting for your answer.