F1' The Alchemy of Us

Chapter 11: THE MONACO AIRWAVES

The private jet touched down in Nice at 6 AM, and Alessia didn't know whether to blame jetlag or nerves for the nausea pooling in her stomach.

"Welcome to the French Riviera, ladies," Marcus announced from across the aisle, looking far too awake for someone who'd just crossed half of Europe. "Monaco awaits."

Sophie was already taking selfies through the window, the sunrise painting her face gold. "This is insane. Like, actual movie insane."

"Try not to fall off a yacht before we even start filming," Isla teased, stretching her arms overhead.

Hailey groaned, face still buried in a neck pillow. "Can someone wake me when we're rich enough to own the yacht?"

"You're already rich, i***t," Anya said softly, but she was smiling.

Alessia stayed quiet, forehead pressed against the cool glass. The coastline was a blur of blue and white, yachts dotting the harbor like toys. Somewhere down there, the world of Formula 1 was waking up too. Engines. Speed. Precision.

And him.

She didn't know why that name — Leo Voss — kept circling back in her mind like a song she couldn't finish.

"Alessia." Marcus's voice cut through her thoughts. "You listening?"

She blinked. "Yeah. Sorry."

"We've got two hours to settle in at the hotel, then straight to the Falcon Motors HQ for the campaign briefing. Tobias wants you all camera-ready by noon."

"Of course he does," Sophie muttered.

Marcus ignored her. "This is huge exposure, girls. Don't mess it up."

"When do we ever mess up?" Isla shot back.

Marcus just raised an eyebrow.

The drive from Nice to Monaco was surreal. Winding roads hugged cliffs that dropped into impossibly blue water. Alessia watched it all pass in silence, earbuds in but no music playing. Just the hum of the van and her own heartbeat.

When they finally pulled up to the Hôtel de Paris Monte-Carlo, Sophie nearly screamed.

"This is where we're staying? Are you kidding me?"

The lobby was all marble and chandeliers, bellhops in pristine uniforms, guests dripping in designer everything. Alessia felt out of place in her hoodie and sneakers, but she lifted her chin anyway. She'd learned long ago — confidence was half the armor.

"Room keys," Marcus said, handing them out. "Two hours. Shower, change, look alive."

Alessia's suite was ridiculous. Floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the harbor, a bathroom bigger than her childhood bedroom, a bed that could fit six people.

She dropped her bag and walked straight to the balcony.

Monaco stretched out before her — sunlight glittering off the water, the hum of the city waking, boats drifting like dreams. For a second, she let herself breathe.

Then her phone buzzed.

Elijah: You there yet?

She typed back quickly.

Alessia: Yeah. It's... a lot.

Elijah: You'll kill it. You always do.

She smiled faintly. Elijah always knew what to say. He'd been writing with Aurea since their debut, and somewhere along the way, he'd become more than just their songwriter. A friend. Maybe more, if she let herself think about it.

But she didn't.

Not now.

Another buzz.

Sophie: GET READY FASTER I WANNA EXPLORE

Hailey: same but also food first

Isla: both of you are children

Anya: I'll meet you in the lobby in 90 minutes.

Alessia laughed under her breath and tossed her phone onto the bed.

Monaco. Formula 1. A campaign she didn't fully understand yet.

And a name she couldn't stop hearing in the back of her mind.

Across the city, inside Falcon Motors' headquarters, Leo was already regretting everything.

"Stand here. No, here. Tilt your head slightly — yes, like that. Now look... brooding."

"I'm not brooding," Leo said flatly, arms crossed. "I'm standing."

The photographer sighed dramatically. "You're a nightmare, Voss."

Caleb snorted from the sidelines, leaning against the wall with a protein shake in hand. "Mate, just give them the smolder. You've got like, one expression anyway."

Leo shot him a look that could cut glass.

"There it is!" the photographer exclaimed. "Perfect. That's the one."

"I hate this," Leo muttered.

"You hate everything," Amara said, appearing beside him with a tablet in hand. She looked annoyingly put-together in a blazer and heels, hair tied back in a sleek ponytail. "But you'll smile for the cameras anyway because it's your job."

"I don't smile."

"Then smolder. Brood. Whatever you call that thing you do with your face."

Caleb barked out a laugh. "She's got you there, mate."

Leo ignored them both and turned back to the photographer. "How much longer?"

"Just a few more shots, then you're free until the Aurea team arrives."

That stopped him cold.

"They're coming here?"

Amara glanced up from her tablet. "Yes. Didn't you read the brief?"

He hadn't. He never did.

"They'll be here by noon for the campaign kickoff meeting. You'll meet them, do some promo shots together, then we'll schedule the actual shoot for later this week."

Leo's jaw tightened. "I don't do group photos."

"You do now." Amara's voice was firm, no room for argument. "This campaign is worth millions, Leo. Falcon needs this. You need this."

"I need to race."

"And you will. But first, you smile for the pop stars."

He didn't respond, just turned back toward the camera with that same unreadable mask.

But something twisted in his chest. He didn't like crowds. Didn't like noise. Didn't like people who performed for attention.

And from what he'd seen, Aurea was all of that and more.

By 11:45, Aurea was standing in the sleek glass lobby of Falcon Motors HQ, and Alessia felt like she'd stepped onto another planet.

Everything was chrome and carbon fiber, sleek lines and sharp edges. Trophies gleamed behind glass cases. Posters of past champions lined the walls. The air smelled like leather and ambition.

"This is so cool," Hailey whispered, eyes wide.

"Try not to touch anything," Anya murmured.

Sophie was already fixing her hair in the reflection of a trophy case. "Do I look okay?"

"You look fine," Isla said. "Relax."

But Alessia could feel it too — the weight of being somewhere they didn't quite belong. This wasn't a stage. This wasn't a studio. This was speed and danger and control.

And she wasn't sure where she fit in that equation.

"Ladies." A woman's voice, crisp and professional. They turned to see Amara approaching, heels clicking against the polished floor. "Welcome to Falcon Motors. I'm Amara Lennox, PR manager. We're so glad to have you here."

She extended a hand, and Marcus stepped forward to shake it. "Marcus Rowe, Aurea's manager. Pleasure."

Amara smiled politely, then turned her attention to the group. Her gaze lingered on Alessia for half a second longer than the rest.

"The team is ready for you upstairs. Follow me."

They moved through hallways lined with racing memorabilia, past engineers in headsets, past walls covered in telemetry data that looked like modern art. Alessia's heart thudded harder with every step.

Then they entered a large conference room.

And that's when she saw him.

Leaning against the far wall, arms crossed, expression unreadable.

Dark hair. Sharp jawline. Eyes like winter storms.

Leo Voss.

He didn't look at her right away. Didn't look at any of them. Just stood there like he was carved from stone.

Caleb, on the other hand, grinned immediately. "Well, hello! You must be Aurea. Heard a lot about you."

Sophie smiled back, easy and bright. "Good things, I hope."

"The best." Caleb walked over, shaking hands with each of them. "I'm Caleb Rhodes, Leo's teammate. That grumpy statue over there is Leo."

Leo's gaze finally shifted. It landed on the group — cold, assessing, brief.

Then it found Alessia.

For one heartbeat, the room went quiet.

She didn't know why, but something about his eyes made her forget how to breathe. Like standing too close to the edge of a cliff.

Then he looked away.

"Let's get this over with," he said, voice low and flat.

And just like that, the moment shattered.

Amara cleared her throat. "Right. Let's begin."

But as they all moved toward the conference table, Alessia's pulse was still racing.

And across the room, Leo's hands were clenched just a little too tight.

Neither of them said a word.

But something had already begun.