Charles Leclerc has his mind set on getting his second WDC, and it all starts at the pre season testing in Bahrain. Charles has his mind set on beating Max and nothing else.
Soleil Senna is the daughter of Ayrton Senna, the late 'King of Monaco'. Sh...
Charles and I flew to Monaco hungover. As usual, Charles looked better than I do in our hungover state. It reminded me of the text Daniel sent in the group chat, Mr. Sunshine x Ms. Grumpy. Arthur was fine, he didn't drink much. He was more excited to see his long distance girlfriend back home. Lissie was staying with Lando. I've asked Charles for his address and realized it was a walking distance from Lando's place, which is very convenient if anything happens.
Charles' car was ready the moment we got out of the airport, we hurriedly placed our luggages in the boot and hopped on his matte black 488 pista. There were already some paparazzi waiting outside as we get onto his car, the media will eat this up. He drove us to his apartment, unloaded the car for the both of us, insisting to bring my luggage like in Maranello. We got in the lift and Charles pressed the number 16.
"Of course you'd live on the 16th floor," I commented.
"What? It is my number." He defended.
He entered the passcode to his apartment, revealing to be a spacious condo decorated with paintings. I followed him in, feeling a bit awkward in this unfamiliar environment. His infamous white piano was facing the city, placed by the window next to the living room. The kitchen wasn't far away, I could tell that the apartment was quite new from his electric stove. The white walls complimented his old racing helmets, now used as decorations. He had some photographs on the hallway too, pictures of his father, Jules Bianchi and his family. Charles wheeled his luggage to his walk in closet, which was located next to his room, the en suite at the end of the first corner of the hallway. I waited by the door as he did so.
"You can come in, you know."
"Oh. Didn't wanna intrude."
"You'd never intrude, Sol." And he grabbed my luggage once more, bringing me to the end of the hallway. I realized that his hall was shaped like the letter L. The curtains were up, allowing sunlight to enter from the balcony. The room was painted grayish green and white stripes, with a queen bed in the middle and two lamps on each side. Right across the balcony was the closet, for anyone who was staying long term and facing the bed was a TV.
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"This is your room," Charles stated, "The bathroom is just outside to the left. Laundry is across my closet."
I gave him a faint smile, my head was still pounding, "Thanks Charles."
"Anytime, chérie. I'll let you unpack." And he left for his room.
I didn't even bother to open up my luggage and immediately closed the curtains. I took off my shoes and laid on the bed, ready to take a fat nap on top of the bed cover, which I realized was one of those big weighted blankets. Knowing I was not in my pyjamas, I decided to just lay on top of the bed.
*
I was woken up by the sound of the piano filling up the apartment. I checked my phone, replied to all the texts that went through when I was asleep.
