#monte carlo cocktail

[crownedstoat]

Cold and frosty tonight’s libation is a Monte Carlo cocktail.

2 oz Old Tub BIB bourbon

1/2 oz Benedictine

2 dashes Angostura bitters

Built in the glass with ice and garnished with an orange peel because sometimes you are out of lemons.

[easternbloc1985]

Cocktail - Monte Carlo Cocktail The Monte Carlo cocktail is similar to a Manhattan, but Benedictine replaces sweet vermouth and Peychaud's bitters replaces Angostura.

[acocktailmoment]

Monte Carlo !

Ingredients:

2.25 oz. rye whiskey

0.5 oz. Bénédictine

2 dashes Angostura bitters

Method:

Stir on ice in a rocks glass, the bigger the ice, the better. Garnish with a lemon peel. Sip slowly, and enjoy.

Photo : geckophotos

This article was not sponsored or supported by a third-party. A Cocktail Moment is not affiliated with any individuals or companies depicted here.

[kreuzfahrttester]

Crystal Cruises bringt das Casino de Monte-Carlo an Bord der Crystal Symphony

Crystal Cruises hat mit einer glamourösen Eröffnungszeremonie in Venedig das Casino de Monte-Carlo auf See eingeführt. Dieses spektakuläre Debüt fand an Bord der Crystal Symphony während des Eröffnungsabends der Chairmen’s Cruise statt und markiert den Beginn einer exklusiven Partnerschaft mit der Monte-Carlo Societe des Bains de Mer (SBM). Das neue Casino bringt das luxuriöse Flair und die…

[fanfictionismyaddiction]

Charmed in Monte Carlo

Word count: 1.2k

Pairing: Lando Norris x reader

Summary: During a solo vacation to Monaco, Y/n's evening at the Monte Carlo Casino takes an unexpected turn when a mysterious flirtation leads to a charming and playful encounter

______________________________________________________________

Y/n had been planning this solo trip to Monaco for years. No one had ever been available to join her, but this time, she wasn’t going to let that stop her. She booked the trip, packed her suitcase with the finest summer outfits, and hopped on a plane to the luxurious city she had long dreamed of.

When she arrived, the bright Mediterranean sun greeted her, casting a golden hue over the pristine streets and sparkling water. Y/n immediately felt at peace, like she’d made the right decision to come here on her own. The first few days passed in a blissful blur of exploration. She strolled through Monaco's elegant boulevards, shopped at chic boutiques, dined in gourmet restaurants, and sat at sun-soaked cafés, content to people-watch as life unfolded around her.

Each café stop became its own little adventure. She sipped espresso in Le Café de Paris while tourists flocked to the nearby casino, and at a quieter spot near Port Hercules, she watched as yachts sailed in, glittering against the sapphire waters. She couldn’t help but imagine the lives of the people who owned them—what their stories were, how they spent their days. There was something about Monaco, the intersection of old-world charm and modern luxury, that felt intoxicating.

On her fourth evening in Monaco, she decided to visit the famous Monte Carlo Casino, the ultimate symbol of the city’s elegance and charm. This was the part of the trip she had been most excited about. She wanted to experience the casino’s history, glamour, and its opulence firsthand, even if she wasn’t much of a gambler.

Dressed in a sleek, fitted black dress with a plunging neckline that showed off just enough to be intriguing, she felt a surge of confidence. She paired it with strappy heels and a bold red lip, knowing she looked good but not caring if anyone else noticed. This trip was for her, after all.

The casino’s entrance was grand, with an air of exclusivity, but Y/n walked in as if she belonged there. Inside, the crystal chandeliers sparkled like diamonds, and the floor was abuzz with the sound of laughter, the clatter of chips, and the whirl of roulette wheels. Y/n’s breath caught in her throat for a moment, taking in the sight of it all. The grandeur was even more overwhelming than she had imagined.

Not wanting to jump straight into the gaming tables, she headed to the bar and ordered a cocktail—a French 75 to match the elegance of the night. She found a spot by the side, leaning against a pillar, the perfect vantage point to indulge in her favorite pastime: people-watching. From her spot, she observed glamorous couples dressed to the nines, elegant women draped in couture, and men in sharp tuxedos throwing around bets like they were nothing. It was fascinating.

"Looks like someone’s lost in thought," a smooth, amused voice said from behind her, startling her slightly. She didn’t turn around, deciding to play along.

"Is it that obvious?" she replied, taking another sip of her drink, a slight smile tugging at her lips.

"Only because you’re doing that classic lean against the pillar, drink in hand, gazing out like you’re in a Bond film," the voice continued, warm and teasing. "All you’re missing is a tuxedoed guy with a bad poker hand."

Y/n chuckled, keeping her gaze fixed ahead. "Are you volunteering for the role?"

There was a brief pause, then the man behind her laughed, the sound rich and genuine. "Not unless you’re looking for someone to dramatically lose all his money at blackjack. Though, I’m better company than most Bond villains."

"Confident, aren’t we?" she mused, entertained by his playful banter but still not turning to face him.

"Confidence is key, or so they say," he responded smoothly. "Besides, I couldn’t help but notice you standing here, looking like you belong in a movie yourself."

Y/n raised her glass to her lips, hiding her smile. Whoever this was, he was good—too good. The kind of flirtation that felt practiced but was enjoyable nonetheless. "A movie, huh? Does that mean you’re the mysterious stranger who makes me an offer I can’t refuse?"

"Something like that," the voice agreed, now sounding closer, almost as if he’d shifted behind her. "Though, I’d settle for a laugh and your company over a drink."

"Well, you’ve managed to get me to laugh already," Y/n replied, feeling a warmth in her chest that had nothing to do with her drink. She glanced sideways but still didn’t turn around, enjoying the anonymity of their conversation.

"I’d call that a win," he said, clearly smiling now. "Do I get a bonus if I keep you laughing?"

"Maybe," she teased. "But it depends on how good you are at keeping the mystery alive."

"Oh, I’m very good at keeping secrets," he said, his tone dropping playfully. "But I’ll let you in on one: I’m not usually this charming. I’m just trying to impress the most captivating person in the room."

Y/n snorted softly. "You’re laying it on thick now."

"Hey, if it works, I won’t apologize."

They went back and forth like that, the conversation flowing so naturally it felt like they’d known each other for ages. Y/n was curious but also didn’t want to break the spell by turning around. Whoever he was, he was making her laugh, and she liked the mystery of it all.

Eventually, though, her curiosity got the better of her. After yet another playful jab from the man behind her, she finally turned around, ready to face the charming stranger.

Her breath hitched when she saw who it was.

"Lando Norris?" she blurted, her eyes widening in disbelief.

The British Formula 1 driver stood there, leaning casually against the bar, a cheeky grin spreading across his face. "In the flesh," he said, raising an eyebrow. "You weren’t expecting me, were you?"

Y/n stared for a second, still processing the fact that one of the most famous young drivers in the world had been flirting with her for the past ten minutes. "I… definitely wasn’t," she admitted, her surprise morphing into laughter.

"Well, I’m glad I could provide some shock value," Lando teased, clearly enjoying her reaction. "But if it helps, I was enjoying being the mysterious guy behind you. You know, no fame, no racing cars—just a guy in a casino."

She shook her head, still smiling. "And here I thought I was just talking to some regular guy trying his hand at flirting."

Lando’s grin widened. "Oh, I am definitely trying my hand at flirting. Famous or not, that part’s all me."

Y/n laughed again, this time more relaxed. "Well, you’re doing a pretty good job. I’ll give you that."

"Only pretty good?" Lando raised his eyebrows in mock offense. "I was hoping for at least 'very good.'"

"Let’s just say the jury’s still out," she teased back, feeling a lightness in the air between them.

Lando tilted his head, considering her words. "Alright, fair enough. But how about I buy you another drink, and we’ll see if I can sway the jury in my favor?"

Y/n smirked, raising her glass. "You’ve got yourself a deal, Mr. Norris."

[chilling-seavey]

Winter Warmers: Day 31 — Overstimulation & NYE Countdown

↳ A/N: Thank you all for sticking with me through my first writing festival! It was certainly a challenge but a fun one and I hope you enjoyed reading these little daily blurbs. Here is a doubly long final blurb to close out our festival x Happy new year, everyone :)

↳ Summary: New Years Eve in the Monte Carlo clubs is a force to be reckoned with.

↳ Word Count: 2070

↳ Warnings: 18+, exhibitionism, grinding, fingering, countdown 

↳ Winter Warmers Prompt List | The Way It Goes Masterlist

The thudding of the music from the club echoed in your skull with every beat. Around you, bodies swayed and danced under strobing neon lights that flickered through thick haze of shadows and fog. You couldn’t tell if you couldn’t see straight from your alcohol consumption or from the smoke machine that was positioned uncomfortably close to the corner of the dancefloor where you and your group had claimed. Even still, your attention was far more focused on the man in front of you, chest to chest with you, hands all over you. 

In your short shimmery cocktail dress, you had somehow stumbled yourself into some club with your boyfriend to ring in the New Year. It wasn’t generally your scene but with your group of friends with you and George never leaving your side, it felt drastically more enjoyable than you had once remembered. George in his black slacks and white button up tucked into them, two buttons undone from the top—he had a tendency to start to unbutton his shirt the drunker he got. 

All of your senses were peaked in the insanity that was the Monte Carlo club scene and the expensive alcohol that just kept coming. From the music that rendered conversation impossible to the limited visibility in the shadows and flashing neon lights to the ache of your feet in your heels and the stickiness of your skin from sweat and spilled drinks. Everything was so much. 

But George was all you could focus on, keeping his gaze and sharing in his smile, dancing ungracefully together in a way that you would look back on with a sober mind and cringe. His hands were on your waist, sliding over your hips and dangerously close to your ass, holding your body against his to move in rhythm. You couldn’t get enough of him, hands gliding up his chest and over his shoulders and biceps, accepting his lead and the gyrations of his body until you were arching into him. 

Somehow you ended up turned away from him, his hands yanking you back against his front. In any other mindset maybe one of you might have been concerned over someone from the public being nearby to snap a picture but your cares had long since disappeared that night. Instead, you let yourself grind back on your boyfriend to the rhythm of the beat-heavy song, following the greedy guidance of his hands. His breath against your neck was hot and sticky—everything felt sticky—and you tilted your head back with your eyes fluttering closed to bask in his fiery touch and the feeling of his semi pressing against your ass in your tight dress. 

You hardly remembered leaving the dancefloor before your back was pressed hard against the dark painted wall of the club hallway that led towards the bathrooms, George’s lips chasing yours as he leaned in after you. Your hands framed his face, kissing him like he was the sweetest drink of the night, an intoxicating concoction mixed just for you. The flood of music chased after you into the hallway; still just as loud and just as throbbing. You couldn’t hear your kisses, your moans, the way George spoke into your mouth in words you would never hear. 

His eyes locked on yours as if expecting an answer. All you could do was nod.

Bursting into the bathroom; it was a momentary refuge from the club music, your ears ringing from the sudden quiet as the door shut behind you and muffled the sound. In the single room bathroom that was no larger than a closet with just a toilet and the smallest sink known to man, you had no choice but to be in each other’s personal space. It was where you both much preferred to be anyway: impossibly close to each other. 

George’s hand was clammy on the back of your neck as his lips captured yours in a filthy kiss again, his tongue pushing its way into your mouth. Your fingers gripped onto the damp fabric of his shirt, creasing it in your grasp in your feverish need to get him closer. He already had you trapped back against the graffitied wall of the cramped bathroom, pinned there by his body, the sequins of your dress scratching against the poorly painted drywall. 

You could taste the bitter alcohol on his tongue and as you grabbed onto the edge of his collar, you couldn’t help but suck on his tongue a little to taste every ounce of him. George groaned lowly into your mouth, eyes half-lidded and full of lust, his thigh shoving between yours in an unspoken need to get you closer. That simple action was all you needed to start to grind on his thigh, causing the tight fabric of your dress to ride up up to your hips. George bit your bottom lip between filthy kisses, giving it a tug as he pulled away for just a moment. 

Both of you were breathing hard and had yet to speak a proper word to each other but, after almost two years together, words weren’t necessary in moments like this. Instead, George helped himself up your dress and he linked his fingers in the edge of your underwear and shimmied them down your legs. You held onto his shoulders as you stepped out of them—and only got one heel stuck in the leg hole in the process but your balance was kept by your boyfriend so close to you—and then George was slipping them into the pocket of his slacks. 

And before you knew it, he had his lips back on yours and two fingers knuckle deep inside you. The thudding music rattled the wall on which you were pressed back against, muffled by the bathroom door but still strong through the foundation of the club, setting your senses ablaze with a reminder of where you were. George kissed you breathless, your arm slung around his shoulders with your other hand grasping his bicep and pressing your nails into his muscle. He swallowed your moans and whimpers up with his plush lips and tongue, tilting his head to deepen the kiss until you were almost licking into each other’s mouths. 

Your hips kept nudging towards his hand as if trying to path the pace of his fingers and their firm but gentle curls. Being intoxicated, his movements weren’t as entirely practiced and precise as they otherwise might have been but you were also too drunk to notice. Everything felt so good. You felt like you were tingling all over. All of your senses were on overdrive, succumbing to him with ease, kissing him back like your life depended on it no matter how clumsy it was. 

When you finally had to break away to breathe, you tilted your head back against the wall behind you with a pitchy groan, eyes fluttering shut. The single light bulb from the ceiling that illuminated the cramped bathroom had you sheltered in the shadow from George’s body, only the sequins of your dress along your sleeves shimmered in the warm light as you held him around his shoulders. George breathed against your cheek, hard panted breaths that reminded you of his presence. 

“That’s it…” George spoke lowly, barely heard over the muffled music through the walls as he fingered you a little faster, “Fuck, that’s it…”

“Yeah—” you choked out in encouragement. “Yeah, baby, please—”

At that moment, George raised his left hand up to check his watch—classic George to wear a $80,000 watch to a club but perhaps that was normal in Monaco. He then looked back at you, setting his hand flat against the stick wall beside your head, announcing, “One minute to midnight.”

“Ohh,” you writhed against his hand still up your bunched up dress, his fingers still working magic inside you, and you slurred out a pitchy, “I don’t care.”

“Uh huh? Yeah, you do.” George said firmly, staring at every expression your face made, “Because I’m gonna make you cum for me in sixty seconds.”

He checked his watch again.

“Fifty seconds now.”

Your fingers tugged at the fabric of his shirt, whining and whimpering to the walls of the cramped bathroom. Your hips pushed towards him, wanting and needing more, entranced by his determined pitch.

And then his lips were back on yours and your hand tangled in the back of his hair, right at the nape of his neck where the soft brunette waves were damp with sweat. Despite the fact that every ounce of the club had your senses on high alert, at that moment all you could focus on was George. He fingered you a little harder, a little faster, building that burning warmth in the pit of your stomach like a man on a mission. 

You broke away from his kiss to press your cheek to his, crying out his name with a gasp, toes curling in your heels. George groaned against your ear, pinning you right against the wall with his body so you could hardly move, his fingers meeting all the right spots and the heel of his palm giving you just the right friction against your clit. 

“Fifteen seconds.” he spoke lowly, “Are you close? Can you cum for me?”

“Uh huh!” you answered quickly, clinging onto him. 

“Yeah? Gonna be a good girl for me and cum all over my fingers at midnight?” he taunted, “Welcome the new year in with a nice little orgasm?” 

“George—” you quivered. 

“Ten…” he started, eyes focused on his watch as he leaned on his forearm against the wall beside your head, his other hand keeping its pace between your legs, “Nine…eight…”

Through the bathroom door, you could hear the music fading slightly to be replaced by the crowded club starting their own countdown to the new year. Despite how the music quieted, your ears continued thudding but this time with your pulse, fast and anticipatory. Your arm tightened around George’s shoulders.

His voice was rich against your ear, “Seven…six…five…”

You almost had to hold yourself back to make it through the countdown, trying to squirm under his strong presence and the rising pleasure. His two fingers deep inside you had your thighs quivering, struggling to stay standing in your heels. 

“George—” you cried again, all you seemed to be able to say was his name. 

“Four…” he continued, a hint of a smirk in the sound of his voice, as if he could feel you throbbing around his fingers and knew just the effect he was having on you, “three…two…”

“Yes—” you squeaked, fingers tugging at the roots of his hair, “Yes, please—”

“One…”

And as the crowd shouted “Happy New Year!” from the dancefloor, you clung onto George in the privacy of the cramped club bathroom and came on his fingers. He groaned into your neck at the pressure of your embrace and the way your body squeezed around his fingers as he kept them going inside you, desperate to work you through it and addicted to the way he could feel you drip down his hand with every thrust. 

You shuddered in his arms, hips jumping in sensitivity, but he just kept fingering you. Despite how sensitive you were, you didn’t stop him. Instead, you sunk your teeth into his shoulder to smother your cries, tugging at his hair and his shirt and anything you could reach, torn between wanting him close and pushing him away in oversensitivity. He made you come again in a few seconds, a little weaker than the first but just as enjoyable until you felt like you were completely hazy and dreaming. 

George let you ease out of it and he pulled his fingers out of you and tugged down your dress back into place, smiling at your expression. You slumped back against the wall as your face broke into a pleasured grin, legs trembling in your heels and still needing something to keep you standing. Unbothered by the dampness of his fingers, he grabbed your waist over your dress and leaned in to steal a breathless kiss from you.

You shared a few soft kisses like that before he pulled away again and rested his forehead against yours, whispering out a gentle and yet somewhat prideful, “Happy New Year, my love.”

With an intoxicated but love-sick smile, you stroked your thumbs over his flushed cheeks, “Happy New Year, sweetheart.”

♡ Enjoying my content? Support my writing here :)

♡ None of the original writing on this blog may be reproduced, reposted, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the author.

[pumpkennpie]

ken my love could i interest you in [CINEMATIC KISS] for landoscar? xxxx ellie 💖

YES you absolutely can omg!! tyyyyy for the prompt <3

[CINEMATIC KISS] ft. landoscar prompt fill from this list wc- 492

When Oscar and Lando entered Jimmy’z earlier in the night, there were dark, heavy clouds beginning to gather over the picturesque mountains that shield Monaco from the rest of the world.

Now, as Oscar bursts through the door and out into the glittering city, he finds that the heavens have opened up. The rain beats down on him, soaking him to the bone in seconds. Where he was overheated from the press of bodies in the club, he’s now freezing from the cold rivulets falling on him in buckets.

“Oscar! Wait!” Lando’s voice is all but drowned out by the constant thrum of the deluge, but it’s so familiar to Oscar that he’s sure he would still hear it if they were in the eye of a hurricane.

He stops in his tracks, already half a block away from the club, and turns his attention to Lando. The pounding of his footsteps grows louder and louder as he runs toward him, and Oscar only has a few seconds to brace before Lando launches himself into his arms.

“I meant it! I meant what I said,” Lando gasps out. 

His curls are plastered to his forehead, and there’s water dripping from the delicate tip of his nose. His large hands come up to cup the sides of Oscar’s face, warm and pleading against his rain-cooled skin. Oscar is holding him off the ground, his arms bracing Lando’s weight easily.

Oscar has to tilt his head back to meet Lando’s eyes. They’re sparkling in the night, bright from the few cocktails he’s had, and shimmering with unshed tears. There’s a streetlight illuminated behind him, creating a glowing golden halo around his head.

Lando looks angelic, like something holy made to be worshipped. Oscar wants to drop to his knees and pray.

“Please, just say something,” Lando whispers.

Oscar doesn’t have any words to convey the feeling of love and pure relief flowing through his veins. Lando said he loved him, and now, wrapped in his arms, he’s saying he means it. 

There is nothing Oscar can say, so he does the next best thing.

When their lips meet, it feels like something straight out of a movie. Oscar can practically hear the rising orchestral soundtrack crescendoing to a climax, its rhythm matching that of their mouths moving against each other. 

The rain intensifies, crashing down around them like the waves of the ocean to their left, loud and all-consuming. Oscar’s shirt is stuck to him in all the wrong places, but he’s numb to any sensation other than the feeling of Lando stripping his soul bare in the streets of Monte Carlo.

This feels like something they’ve done a million times before, like they’ve loved each other in every other universe and are finally coming together in this one. 

Oscar’s cheeks are wet, and at this point he can’t tell if it's from the rain or tears. It’s probably a sweet mix of both.

[feraltwinkseb]

Fernando Alonso attends a Richard Mille cocktail reception May 28, 2016 - Monte-Carlo, Monaco Source: Pascal Le Segretain/Getty Images for Richard Mille

[byronic-mess]

Fireworks

relationship: charles/lewis

rating: gen

additional warnings: none

Charles had spotted Lewis a few moments ago in the club.

Last he knew, Lewis was snowboarding somewhere, so Chares had assumed he wouldn’t be in Monte Carlo for new year’s. Apparently, that assumption was wrong, as he’d seen him in the same club as him earlier in the night, he wouldn’t say he was looking for him, but he was. He’s not sure why. Maybe he just wants to be near him. There’s something about Lewis that just draws you in, and Charles is a victim of it the same as everyone else,

He steps into the cool winter air outside for a few moments, catching his breath and turning down a cigarette that’s offered to him. He’s not even that drunk, he’s just not really feeling the party tonight, even though it’s new year’s eve and the countdown will be starting soon.

The door next to Charles opens and music comes spilling out onto the street with whoever opened it. Charles is too busy staring up at the stars to really pay attention, even as the person stops next to him and leans back against the dirty brick of the club. Charles turns his head when they clear their throat and comes face to face with Lewis. He links a few times, and Lewis smiles.

“Pierre mentioned you were looking for me.”

Charles blushes, because he wasn’t aware it was that obvious. He hadn’t said anything out loud, so it was just Pierre’s freaky power of seemingly always knowing what Charles is thinking.

“I wanted to see if you’d join us, that’s all.”

Lewis looks like he doesn’t believe him, but nods anyway. The two of them go back to staring at the stars in silence. Around them, people start to count down, and Charles can’t help but lean into Lewis’ warmth slightly. Lewis clears his throat again to catch Charles’ attention before drawing him into a slow kiss just as fireworks burst across the sky and behind Charles’ eyelids. The kiss is soft and sweet and perfect, tasting slightly of whatever cocktail Lewis had been drinking earlier. 

Lewis pulls away after a few seconds and Charles blinks at him, dazed.

“Happy new year, Charles.”

[cieloclercs]

𝐬𝐚𝐮𝐝𝐚𝐝𝐞 | chapter three

pairings: charles leclerc x senna!oc part: 3/? warnings: swearing i think? charles is a bit of a dick, they finally meet again so angstttt, seb and kimi the best boyfriends!! word count: 6.8k

SAUDADE. in which childhood rivals turned best friends realise they were always meant to be something more

03. wishful thinking

author’s note: sooo they’re meeting this chapter 🫣 sorry guys it’s gonna be pretty tense from here, the slow burn starts now!! 🥳🥳

read it on wattpad!

previous: chapter 2 next: chapter 4

20 January 2021 Rolex Monte Carlo Sponsor’s Gala                                                            Monte Carlo, Monaco                                                                                       

EMERALD GREEN IS becoming more familiar to Noa as the days pass, and she nears making her debut in Formula 1. It’s the colour of her evening gown, the one Raffaella had delivered to her Monte Carlo hotel room earlier that evening inside a sleek Chanel gift bag. She has to admit, if they’re trying to convince her to sign that contract, they’re certainly doing a good job, because this dress is one of the most beautiful she’s ever worn. It feels like a second skin, like ribbons of water flowing through her fingers when she hitches up the skirt a little, walking slowly up the steps to the venue. Camera lenses click and flash all around her. Even if her confidence is shredded by anxiety, dressed like this, Noa feels like a million dollars.

Just like the rest of Monaco, the Salle Belle Epoque is ludicrously expensive, lavish beyond anything she’s seen before. This is the playground of the rich, after all. Its ceilings are high, marble pillars framed with gold stretching far upwards, where they meet the ceiling, like a work of art painted across the sky. It reminds her of Versailles, Noa thinks, the image and embodiment of wealth. It’s intimidating to stand amongst it all, harsh golden lights from chandeliers glaring down upon her. But she keeps her head up high, and clutches at Sebastian’s arm a little tighter. He smiles over reassuringly. He must have done quite a few of these galas in his time. Noa trusts he won’t let her flounder.

The itinerary for the night is planned out to a tee and expected to be followed. First, the press have their fill of pictures outside the venue, something which she is, thankfully, already accustomed to. She’s the showstopper of the night in her emerald dress, and it seems the cameras can’t get enough of her. Noa has to bite back her laughter at Sebastian’s forlorn expression as he’s momentarily pushed to the side. Though he may be a four-time World Champion, he doesn’t exactly try to carry himself with much glamour anymore; much more comfortable with his unruly, one-with-nature kind of look (meaning that Britta almost had to fight him to get him to drag a comb through his hair for the night). “I’ve had my heyday in Monaco.” he tells Noa later, in the car on their way to the venue, “Those years were enough to last me a lifetime.”

Second comes the cocktail reception, in which they await the arrival of all the guests. She has half a mind to call Sebastian out on his earlier statement, as the way he’s going through already his third glass of the night is strikingly similar to his days of partying with Red Bull. Noa holds her tongue though, when they are approached by some of the other guests in attendance. She’ll remind him later, when he’s inevitably struggling to walk in a straight line.

Rolex has branched out further into Formula 1 to mark the beginning of the new season. Looking around, Noa can already spot a lot of familiar faces. There’s Lewis Hamilton, of course, over near the bar talking to the ever-smiling Daniel Ricciardo. As an old family friend, she makes a note to pull the seven-time World Champion aside to catch up before the end of the night – she hasn’t seen him in almost six months, after all. Noa has spotted Seb shooting looks at Kimi Räikkönen from across the room who, like his former teammate, is indulging perhaps a little too much on the complimentary cocktails. Then there’s Max Verstappen, who is standing stoic as ever in a corner with a familiar looking blonde woman. Noa hasn’t seen much of him since her karting days, but she thinks – looking at the slightly uncomfortable expression he wears – he might appreciate seeing a familiar face. She certainly would: well, depending on how familiar, that is.

The one person she really doesn’t want to see appears not to have arrived yet. She isn’t naïve enough to believe he won’t show up; considering he practically rules Monaco, it would be unheard of for him to not be here. Noa can’t see his new teammate, Carlos Sainz, amongst the crowd either, so she assumes the Ferrari representatives simply haven’t arrived yet. She makes a mental note to keep an eye out for the Spanish driver – that way she’ll know roughly when she needs to take herself to the bar to prepare for the undoubtedly awkward few hours ahead.

“Hey, do you mind if I leave you for a bit?” Sebastian turns to ask, eyebrows arched questioningly. Noa smiles, shaking her head. She isn’t blind – her teammate has clearly been dying to go and see Kimi, who is stood, serene as ever, by himself. He tries to play it off, assuring her that he’s more than willing to stay if it makes her feel more comfortable, but once again she shakes her head.

“It’s fine, Seb.” Noa chuckles, “Go see your boyfriend.”

He merely grins at her teasing, leaving her with a wink before making a beeline towards the Finnish driver. She watches with a smirk as they greet each other enthusiastically, a rare smile, which is mostly only reserved for Seb, taking over Kimi’s face. Then she’s at a loose end. She could go and mingle with some of the other guests, put herself out there a little bit, but with the prospect of what is about to come, Noa isn’t sure she has the energy. Maybe she needs a drink to build up her confidence first.

The bar it is, she thinks. Slowly, she begins to make her way through the crowd, stopping to say brief hello’s to those she recognises and to those who greet her first. Their faces only seem to blur together, even though she tries to hold on to them – anything to distract her from her growing anxiety. The bar is almost in sight when Noa is stopped for the final time by a very familiar voice, which brings a surprised, yet grateful smile to her face. She turns to face Max Verstappen, and for a moment all her worries seem to be forgotten about.

“Hi!” she says brightly in response to his equally enthusiastic greeting, wasting no time in wrapping him up into a friendly hug, “Long time no see.”

“Yeah, you don’t say.” Max chuckles dryly. In fact, the last time they saw each other was also the last time Noa stepped foot in the Formula 1 paddock. It feels like an age ago, but at the same time, she knows once she’s back again it’ll feel like she never left.

Hovering to Max’s left is that same familiar-looking blonde woman, smiling hesitantly as Noa pulls away to study her with curiosity. Now, close up, she realises exactly who this is. It takes a moment for the name to click with the face, but as soon as it does, her face lights up into the widest grin of the night.

Max watches this moment pass, deciding now is the time for re-introductions, “Obviously, you already know my –“

“Annie?” Noa cuts him off. His mouth snaps shut with a faint huff, “Annie Beaumont?”

The blonde woman beams ecstatically, “Hi! Oh my God, you remember!” she laughs, hands flying up to cradle her face briefly.

“Of course I do!” Noa cries. In unison, they both surge forwards at the same time, falling into a tight, familiar hug. The Brazilian squeezes her eyes shut briefly, taking in the moment, trying to commit it perfectly to memory. It was strange how she hadn’t even realised how much she missed her paddock best friend until now, when she finally got to hug her again.

“I can’t believe it.” Noa laughs incredulously as they both pull away, “It’s been years!”

Anneliese Beamount had been a near-constant presence at her side around the paddock, when they were both in their pre-teens. Noa would often go to watch Charles’ races, which more and more tended to take place separately from her own as he moved up the age groups, leaving her behind. Annie’s older brother, Luc Beaumont, was a kart racer in the same category, so many of her weekends were spent trailing along after him and their devoted parents. At the same time, Noa was often left at a loose end when Charles raced and she didn’t. So when she bumped into Annie one day at the International Circuit of Zuera in Spain, they immediately hit it off. From then on, at every race they would meet up in the paddock, tormenting Luc, Charles and their other driver friends at every opportunity they got. Noa misses those days now. It was a time where she didn’t have to worry about anything except her next race. A simple time.

“How have you been?” she asks. Annie steps back, glancing up at Max. It clicks in Noa’s head, as the Dutch driver takes her hand in his and gazes back down at her lovingly. She can’t help but let her mouth drop open ever so slightly.

“I’ve been great.” Annie grins, “I am great. We both are. Right, babe?”

Max says something in reply, but she doesn’t hear it. She’s too focussed on the way he leans down to press a kiss to Annie’s cheek, and the way his eyes light up brighter than she’s ever seen them as he looks at her. Slowly, a massive grin spreads across Noa’s face.

“This is so surreal.” She breathes, “I’m so used to you two biting each other’s heads off all the time.” the couple laugh softly, shaking their heads at the remembrance of their former, much more oblivious selves, “This is…it’s different. But I love it.”

One of her prevailing memories from all those years in the paddock is the large amount of time that teenaged Annie Beaumont and Max Verstappen spent getting on each other’s nerves. As one of Luc’s main rivals, she always tried her best to derail the Dutch driver in any way possible. It had led to more than a few very public arguments, and scolding from their parents (as well as a few paddock officials when things really got out of hand). Though, with the benefit of hindsight, Noa begins to remember things a little differently – the way that Annie somehow always managed to bring Max up in conversation, whether positive or negative; the way Max would search for her gaze across the paddock, just to give her a dirty look. Noa isn’t sure how she never saw it before. Thinking back, it was all so obvious. They never hated each other. They were just too proud and scared to admit their feelings.

“I guess you’ll have a lot of questions.” Annie giggles, noticing the still present look of dazed bewilderment on Noa’s face. The Brazilian woman nods her agreement almost instantaneously.

“You have no idea.” She chuckles.

“We should meet up some time.” Annie then suggests, her tone quietening with her slight nerves, “I can give you all the details then?” Noa’s gaze softens. It’s been far too long since they last saw each other. After the nightmare that was 2018, she all but cut everyone off; not just Charles, but everyone who had ever been connected to or associated with him. She just didn’t want to be faced with the reminder of seven years of friendship, poured straight down the drain in one night. It hits her now that in doing that, she also lost the one friendship that may have been able to lift her out of the hole she dug herself into. Noa is ashamed to say that she’s hardly thought of Annie since that day. It’s selfish, she knows, but she needed to wallow in her own grief for a little while, to let it sink in, so she could finally begin to accept it. Well, there’ll be no more wallowing from now on, Noa tells herself. She’s done letting Charles Leclerc ruin her life.

“Sounds perfect.” she grins back at the woman, another former best friend, and Annie’s face lights up like the pitch black sky in a fireworks display, “There’s a lot we need to catch up on.”

“You don’t say.” she smirks. It’s familiar, a memory from the past when they were close enough to tell each other their darkest secrets. Noa has missed it desperately, “You’ve got some explaining to do.” Annie raises an eyebrow. It doesn’t take a genius to interpret what exactly she means. The Brazilian driver grimaces; but really, an explanation is the least she can offer to Annie after everything. She owes her that, if nothing else.

Noa is about to speak again, to ask her what she’s been doing all these years that they’ve been apart, but Max suddenly calling to someone across the other side of the room makes her freeze. He moves slightly away from the pair, as if he’s giving them the option to keep talking, and waves both of his hands over his head. He’s trying to summon whoever it is. Noa’s blood runs cold. Somehow, she knows exactly who Max Verstappen is calling. It’s as if she can sense him.

“Charles! Carlos! Over here!” he yells, seemingly indifferent to the disapproving looks he gains from some of the other guests. She watches as his arms drop, and a bright smile overcomes his face. That means they’ve seen him. It means they’re walking over. Noa’s head drops for a moment to rest her chin on her chest, as she sucks in a deep breath.

“Shit.” She hisses to no one but herself. Annie hears it, and flashes her a sympathetic look. She is the only one of the three faced away from where the two Ferrari drivers are now surely fast approaching. No doubt, Annie can see them. Maybe she can see Charles, and how reluctant he is to walk over while she’s there. Maybe Carlos is all but dragging him. Or maybe he hasn’t even noticed she’s there. That might hurt her more than anything, if she’s still so torn up about the death of their friendship, and he no longer cares.

“You want a drink?” Annie whispers to her. Noa feels a sudden, overwhelming sense of gratitude. She’s quick to nod, the corners of her lips tugging upwards gratefully.

Annie calls over one of the waiting staff in an instant, who are milling around the guests with trays of cocktails balanced precariously in their arms. She takes a glass with gracious thanks, and hands it to over. As soon as the cold neck of the glass in her hands, Noa downs its contents in a single gulp. She lets the liquid burn her throat with a satisfied hum, before dropping her arm and turning to stand beside Annie, who is staring at her in shock. She knows if she looks up now, she’ll see him, probably now standing all but five metres away. But something is stopping her. So Noa instead focusses her attention on her friend – not one of the former nature. At least not any longer.

“That bad, huh?” Annie whispers again. She grimaces.

“You have no idea.”

It’s clear there can be no backing out or running away from this when Max steps forwards to embrace the two drivers, beginning first with Charles before moving onto Carlos. Though Noa still doesn’t look up, she can hear his voice. It sounds exactly the same as the last time she heard it over two years ago; just as smooth and soft, but all she can hear are the harsh words he spoke to her on that night. They’ve tainted every memory she has of him now. It’s all overshadowed by the betrayal.

Noa is snapped out of her thoughts when Carlos approaches, moving away from Max to where she and Annie are stood side by side. He greets the Belgian woman first with a familiar, friendly hug, before turning to her. He smiles, even though she can already tell he knows everything. Noa can somehow always tell. There’s something knowing glinting in his eye, not anything obvious, but just enough to be recognised. It’s the feeling of knowing something about a person that you maybe should not necessarily know. He’s not trying to show it, and he’s probably not even aware of it either – but Noa always has been. Perhaps because her paranoia searches for it.

She pushes the thoughts from her mind, stepping forward with as bright a smile as she can muster to meet the Ferrari driver in the middle. “Hi, I’m Noa.” she introduces.

Carlos’ eyebrows arch, “Oh, I know.” He chuckles, “It’s wonderful to finally meet you.” She doesn’t have time to think about the many possible implications of his words before he’s stepping forwards to wrap her into a hug. Noa accepts it, and it doesn’t feel strange or forced as she may have feared. The exchange is as normal as any other, like there is no tension hanging in the air at all. When she pulls away, she even manages to smile at him, properly this time.

All that evaporates in an instant when she turns, her gaze locking onto those green eyes she’s both been dreading and longing to see for over two years. Charles Leclerc is watching her intensely, his lips ever so slightly parted. For a moment, all Noa can think to do is stare. Though it seems he’s suffering from the same dilemma.

He looks older than when she last saw him, which isn’t a massive surprise, considering it’s now been well over a year since the 2019 season ended. He’s lost most of the soft, childish curves to his face, replaced by sharp, high cheekbones and an angular jawline. The navy blue suit framing his body only adds to this newfound maturity he seems to have gained. It’s fitted to barely within an inch of the limit, tight in all the places it should be, accentuating the muscles in his arms, legs and chest which hide beneath the fabric. Charles has always been attractive – it’s simply a fact she learned to accept as a teenager – but now that seems to have been multiplied tenfold beyond anything she remembers. He looks impossibly good: annoyingly. She’s supposed to be upset with him, yet all she can focus on in those first few seconds are the depth of his eyes and his cupid’s bow lips.

Then she spots the Ferrari logo emblazoned on the breast pocket of his suit. Like someone clicking their fingers in front of her face to snap her out of her daydream, any tenderness or familiarity she may have been feeling towards him in her moment of weakness suddenly fades. All that remains are the familiar flames of anger, licking at her belly. Noa’s eyes narrow. Charles notices the change immediately.

“Uh, we’re going to get drinks from the bar.” Max says, clearing his throat awkwardly in the tense silence. He takes hold of Annie’s arm gently, ready to pull her away with him to give the two some space, “Carlos, do you want anything?”

“Actually, mate, I think I’ll come with you.” the Spanish driver announces hastily, hurrying away from Charles’ side before his teammate can attempt to drag him back. He shoots him a look over his shoulder. Noa can’t quite read it.

“We’ll see you in a bit!” Max calls brightly. The other two cringe at his forced enthusiasm, but follow him towards the bar anyway. As she leaves, Annie looks back at Noa, offering her an apologetic smile. She grimaces, her heart sinking low into her stomach. Now she has no line of defence, no one to fall back on if this conversation – or whatever it is Charles is trying to do by being here – becomes too much. Noa stares down at the empty bottom of her glass until she’s sure they are gone. Only then does she look up, finding a pair of green eyes already watching her.

She doesn’t know it, but Charles’ head is spinning. Everything he’d done to hype himself up before walking over here, and even before, to prepare himself to see her again, quite frankly, goes to absolute shit. He’s completely forgotten how he planned to start this conversation. The words are lost to the uncomfortable silence.

Noa Senna looks almost nothing like the young girl he last saw at the end of 2019, and even less like the one crushed on that awful day the year prior – one of the worst days of his entire life. He supposes it’s to be expected. She is twenty one now, a fully fledged adult now living an adult life. But it’s not just the face that she’s grown up that hits him hard. It’s how much she’s matured; how beautiful she’s become. Charles had always thought she was beautiful, even when they were kids, but nothing quite like this. Noa, stubborn, headstrong, fierce Noa, is now almost nowhere to be seen. A young woman stands in her place, stripped of all her childlike innocence. On the one hand, Charles is in awe of her. But on the other, she’s almost unrecognisable as the Noa he knows – or used to know. Undoubtedly breath taking, yet somehow less full of life. At least as he remembers her. Then again, it has been over two years since he truly saw her, and people can change a lot in that time.

Either way, the combination of shock and awe inside him is killer. His eyes are caught on the way her dress dips with every natural curve of her body. It fits her like a glove. Charles curses himself. He’s making this much harder for himself than he wanted it to be, because suddenly his mouth is dry and he’s too wracked by nerves to formulate any kind of situation-appropriate greeting in his head. He is, to put it simply, lost for words.

“Hi.” He speaks eventually. The moment the words leave his mouth, he cringes. Noa stares back at him in disbelief.

“Hi?” she returns. It comes out as more of a scoff than anything else. For the moment, Charles chooses to ignore it, pushing forwards with a strained smile.

“You – uh – you look beautiful.” He says, gulping when Noa’s expression remains perfectly impassive. He’s not sure what’s worse: gaining no reaction, or gaining the reaction he initially feared when he blurted the words out. Disgust. At least then he’d know what she is thinking.

Noa simply doesn’t quite know what to say. She’s too angry, too wracked with disbelief to find herself flattered by his compliment as she may have been a few years ago, or if she was thinking straight. How does he have the nerve to approach her, after two years of absolutely zero contact, and say something like that? It simply doesn’t make sense to her. The only think she can make sense of is the anger it sends coursing through her veins.

“What do you want, Charles?” Noa asks, a tired sigh slipping past her lips. Her mind flickers back briefly to the promise she made to her father, but in the moment, engulfed by flames, she is blind to it; wanting nothing more than to get as far away as possible from this man and his piercing green eyes. Charles feels his heart sink.

He’s pushing back all the questions he wants to ask her, trying to respect her wishes – to get straight to the point. But oh how he longs to simply sit down and talk to her again: to ask her about her day, to catch up on everything he’s missed in his absence. Instead, Charles focusses on the pressing matter, the one he originally intended to discuss with her, but seemed to forget all about as soon as he caught sight of her once again.

“I take it you know about the Chanel contract?” he asks after a moment of internal debate. Something heavy settles over his heart.

“Yes.” Noa replies. She ignores the flash of disappointment that flares up in her chest at his seeming indifference. But it’s not like she expected him to strike up a friendly conversation – that’s not how things work between them anymore.

Charles nods. He’s fighting for his concentration, mind racing as he tries to remember the rough script he came up with in his head on the car journey here. Yet no matter how hard he tries, the words just don’t seem to want to come to him.

“Do you want to go somewhere a bit quieter?” he speaks up again finally, ignoring the strange look Noa is giving him after his prolonged silence, “So we can talk.”

The Brazilian woman sighs. There are people all around her whom she either knows well or has at least been acquainted with before. Some are even strangers, and at this moment, she’d rather throw herself into a conversation with them than do this. She can see Daniel Ricciardo has joined Seb and Kimi now, not that far away from her, and Lewis is just across the room, talking to newly arrived Mark Webber. Of course, Max and Annie are only at the bar too. She could easily blow Charles off to join them. It would certainly be a much more comfortable situation for her.

But then she’s reminded of her father. Noa makes a point of keeping his trust in her as secure as a lockbox at all times, because he’s done so much for her over the years, she can’t even imagine lying to him. Besides, she knows for a fact that he would never lie to her. Noa has made a promise. As much as she wishes she could go back on it now, she needs to do this. Both for the sake of her potential contract with Chanel, and more importantly, for her father. She’ll just have to grin and bear this one.

“Alright, fine.” She concedes. Charles tries to hide the relief that flashes across his face. Luckily, she’s too preoccupied looking around the room for a quiet place to sit down to notice it, “There are some empty seats over there?” she suggests. He follows her gaze to a small, two-person booth in the corner of the room. It’s both far enough away from the majority of guests for them to be able to have a conversation in private, while also being close enough so they won’t look too out of place. Convenient. Silently, he nods, and they both make their way across the room to the booth.

Charles grabs a drink each for the both of them on the way. He hands one to Noa as she takes the seat opposite him. She doesn’t thank him, but he’s not surprised.

“This is a big opportunity for me.” the Brazilian woman speaks first. He’s a little relieved at that, but only because it means he has to struggle again to find the right words, “I don’t have to tell you how important a sponsorship like this is. I want it to work.” Noa pauses, sucking in a deep breath, “But I don’t know how it’s going to with you there.”

Charles’ eyes narrows. He feels the pain of her words like a dagger, but he feels the accusation stronger.

“They want us both, Noa.” he shoots back. She tries to ignore the way her stomach flips to hear her name spoken from his mouth. “Not just you. This is a package deal. Do you not think I need this as much as you do?”

Her heart drops. A scowl overcomes her face. Those all-too-familiar flames of anger seem to be making a reappearance, despite her desperate efforts to tame them.

“No, actually. I don’t.” she all but spits in reply, “You’re Ferrari’s golden boy. You can do no wrong.” Her voice drops dangerously low, eyes darkening until they’re almost black, “But I’m the first woman to drive in Formula 1 in almost thirty years. I need the safety net.”

Exposure like this is the best thing she can gain at the moment. That way, she builds a loyal fanbase before the season starts – a fanbase that will stand by her, even if things don’t always run smoothly. Noa knows how delicate this whole situation is. She knows that the second her performances start to dip, Chanel and any of her other sponsors could drop her in a heartbeat. That’s why she needs their backing now. Charles on the other hand, is already one of the most popular drivers on the grid. In the eyes of the Tifosi, he really can do no wrong. Sure, he may benefit from the money a deal like this will bring to both him and his team, but he doesn��t need the security like she does. Without it, he’ll still go on to keep his seat without a struggle. Noa might not.

“Are you serious?” Charles hisses under his breath, “Are you really going to make this all about you again?”

His words send her reeling. Her mouth falls open in shock and outrage, but for a good few seconds, no sound comes out. This reminds her so much of the night their friendship ended. The way he’s looking at her now, eyes blazing with anger and frustration, lips pursed as if to hold back the torrent of hurtful words he no doubt wishes to say to her. Noa won’t let it affect her anymore. She refuses to let her eyes prickle and flow with tears as they did then, even if Charles is making the same mistake that cost them seven whole years of friendship.

“Do you really want to start this argument again?” she says, as calmly as she possibly can. The softness of her voice snaps Charles out of whatever spell he is under. Immediately, the anger and frustration, remnants from two years prior, flows straight out of him. All it leaves behind is regret. But he’s past the point of being able to apologise, he knows that. After everything he’s done, no matter how many times he says I’m sorry, Charles doubts there is anything he can do to make it up to her. If the look in her eyes isn’t testament to that fact, then he doesn’t know what else is.

“No” he sighs, running a hand through his hair, “I don’t.”

“Good.” Noa shoots back. Her voice is as cold as ice, “That’s not why I agreed to talk to you. I’m doing it because I care about my career, and I don’t want our past getting in the way of it.”

Charles nods. He can barely even bring himself to meet her eyes now. The fear of what he will see in them overwhelms him.

He wonders how they managed to get themselves into this situation. Besides the obvious, of course (his own stupid pride). Once – not so long ago in the grand scheme of things – Noa had been everything to him. She was his best friend, his confidant, his biggest supporter, and most of all, the one person he always believed would stay by his side. But, like so many others who came before, he lost her. It may be different, because she’s still alive and well, sitting before him now, so close he can see her rosy cheeks where her blood flows steadily beneath her skin. Noa is still with him on earth, but she’s never felt so distant. It’s a different kind of loss. In a way, it hurts just as much.

The tense silence between them feels so wrong. For two people who had once been the most important presence in the other’s life, this fall from grace is the most dramatic of all. The most heart-breaking.

Someone is calling them before they have the chance to speak again. It’s Sebastian, with a half-full glass balanced precariously in his hand, looking both apologetic and curious. Noa stares at him. She’s torn between feeling grateful that he’s cut this excruciating exchange short, and feeling irritated that he’s interrupting just as she feels they’re finally about to get somewhere.

“We’re going through for dinner now.” he tells them. They both nod in reply, but make no move to stand. Sebastian turns on his heel after that, marching back towards where Kimi is waiting for him. Noa catches her teammate grimace at the Finnish driver, shaking his head. She sighs.

“We should probably go.” Charles speaks up first. A hum is all he receives in reply, yet still, neither of them make the move to stand. This conversation is still very much unfinished. They’ve got a lot to work through if they’re ever going to be able to work together comfortably. One night simply isn’t going to be enough, they realise that now.

Noa watches with raised eyebrows as Charles reaches to pull his phone out of his pocket. He punches the passcode in quickly, tapping a few more buttons before he places it face up on the table and spins the screen around to face her. It’s open on the contacts app. Her gaze snaps up to watch him with an expression he can’t quite interpret.

“If you give me your number, we can arrange another time to meet up.” he explains, “I’ve got some testing to do in Maranello next week, so maybe after that?”

Noa doesn’t reply. She simply continues to stare down at his phone, her eyebrows knitted together ever so slightly.

“You deleted my number?” she asks quietly.

Charles’ lips part, but no sound comes out. His mind stutters for a moment, trying to come up with an explanation. He’d deleted her number almost immediately after their fight, too overcome with fury to pause and think about the potential consequences of his actions. But once he’d done it, there was no going back. In the moment, he’d wanted every trace of Noa out of his life. If only he’d known then how much he would later come to regret that decision.

“It’s fine.” Noa waves him away as he begins to stammer out some kind of excuse, “I deleted yours too.”

Only after she’d tried to call him about a hundred times, but she’s sure he doesn’t need to know that part. It perhaps explains why she never received any answer, but for some reason, that only makes her feel worse. The anger is gone, replaced by the sadness and regret she’s been trying to ignore for months. Noa just hopes Charles can’t sense the change in her demeanour. Though, if he’s still the same Charles she remembers deep down, he’ll be just as in-tune with her emotions now as he was back then.

Silently, she types in her number into the new contact on his phone. It feels strange to simultaneously add her full name into the empty space, rather than one of her many childhood nicknames he’d given her when they were young. It’s so formal – so unlike them, as they used to be, anyway. Noa’s heart is heavy when she slides the phone back across the table towards him, and he takes it, fitting it back into his pocket.

This time they do stand up. The other guests are beginning to file into the dining hall by now, a low hum of chatter settled amongst them which gradually grows softer as each person moves out of the room one by one. Noa notices that Sebastian is waiting for her by the bar. She smiles over at him gratefully. At least she knows he’ll have her back this season, whatever happens.

Just before she can walk over to her expectant teammate, a gentle hand on her arm halts her in position. She freezes, turning slowly at the sound of Charles murmuring her name in a tone so soft she can barely hear it. He hasn’t touched her in over two years, she realises. Not since that night has she felt the warmth of his hand on her skin. Noa hates that it still manages to send sparks coursing through her body, a pleasant shiver shooting up her spine. After all this time, all the heartbreak, and she’s still as weak as ever.

“Noa.” Charles repeats, just as softly as before, snapping her out of her trance. She looks away from where his hand rests on her arm, gaze lifting to meet his eyes. They’re wide, shining with something she thinks is…hope? He takes a small step away from her, clearing his throat nervously. There’s a lot he wishes to say to her right now; some bad, some good, but all of them honest. One thought pushes his way to the front of his mind. I’ve missed you, he thinks. But he can’t say something like that to her, not now. So he settles for another truth; one not quite so risky as the admittance that he’s spent every single day of her two year absence wishing she was there by his side.

“It’s good to see you.” Charles says finally. Even if she’s changed almost beyond recognition, even if it seems as though she’d rather be anywhere but here with him right now, he’s glad she is. It’s been far too long.

Noa can do nothing but stare. She’s not angry anymore, but she’s not sad either. She just feels empty. Charles Leclerc has lost his power over her, just as he lost her friendship over two years ago. Maybe it is a good thing she’s seeing him now. Maybe this will begin the process of gaining closure: of letting him, and whatever they used to be go. Without a word, Noa turns away, striding across the room to where Sebastian waits for her, not even sparing Charles a second glance. He watches the emerald of her dress slide along the floor, and closes his eyes. When he opens them again, she’s gone. Too late to see the regret he wears, his heart out on his sleeve.

“How did it go?” Sebastian asks as they walk side by side into the dining hall. He glances back towards the door, from which Charles has still not emerged.

“It was ok.” Noa murmurs in reply, “All things considered, it could have gone a lot worse.” She lets her eyes wander the room, searching briefly for their assigned table. When she finds it, she taps Sebastian on the arm, and they make their way quickly over, weaving between the other tables so as to cause as little disturbance as possible, “I think we’ll be meeting again to talk in more detail about what we’re going to do, though.” She admits. Sebastian looks to her with raised eyebrows.

“And how do you feel about that?” he asks. He’s not stupid – he can sense the lingering animosity between the two former friends (or at least, Noa’s animosity towards Charles) as clearly as anything. As much as she’s fierce and headstrong, Sebastian has also come to learn that his teammate does not enjoy confrontation. No doubt, they’ll be quite a lot of that in the time it takes for them to figure out how they’re going to move forward.

“It needs to be done.” Noa says with a resigned shrug, “The contract is pretty clear – either we’re both in, or neither of us are. As much as I wish I never have to speak to him again, I care about making this work more.”

Sebastian hums. They’re nearing their assigned table now, where most of the other Formula 1 drivers in attendance are also sat. Just as they approach, he steals a glance at Noa, trying to read her expression in the few moments he has before she catches him. It’s impassive to the untrained eye, but Sebastian has always figured himself to be someone who’s very good at reading other people’s emotions. Despite her callous words, he can see she’s hurting. Noa believes she means it when she says she never wants to see him again. Sebastian knows she doesn’t really. She’s simply telling herself she does.

They take their seats around the table where their name places are set out. Luckily, they are next to each other. Noa is pleasantly surprised to find Max Verstappen seated on her left, with Annie on his other side shooting her a look that says, ‘As soon as this is over, you’re telling me everything.’ Sebastian looks like he’s just won the lottery when he sits down next to Kimi Räikkönen, whose blank expression lifts for only a split second when he sees his former teammate. For a moment, Noa doesn’t even spot the empty seat in front of her on the other side of the table. She’s perfectly oblivious, wrapped up in the distraction of conversation with her fellow drivers.

Then another round of greetings ripple across the table, and she looks up. Charles makes his way towards the seat in front of her, next to his teammate who waits to pat him on the back and shoot him an encouraging look. Noa sighs. Her eyes find Sebastian’s.

It’s going to be a long night.

liked by f1wags and 1,354 others

noasenna_updates Noa at the Rolex Monte Carlo Sponsor’s gala tonight! She’s wearing a custom made emerald Chanel formal dress, which was apparently especially designed for the occasion! 😍

view all comments…

username it’s noa’s world, we’re just living in it

username oh she KNOWS everyone’s obsessed with her

username she’s so beautiful it hurts 🥲

username isn’t charles there too??

taglist: @harrysdimple05 @ricciardosheart @azxulaa @dakotali @hopingforpeace @flowerchild-96 @destourtereaux @wordsthatwaterflowersinyoursoul @luckyladycreator2 @roseamongthorns13

if you’d like to be added to the taglist, just comment on this post!

[ifreakingloveroyals]

17 June 2015 | Prince Albert II of Monaco and Princess Charlene of Monaco pose with actors Lindsay Wagner, Stephanie Powers, Bo Derek and Lee Majors during the Monaco Palace cocktail party of the 55th Monte Carlo TV festival in Monte-Carlo, Monaco. (c) Olivier Huitel/ PLS Pool/Getty Images

[gracie-bird]

INSIDE GRACE'S WARDROBE 🪡 COCKTAIL DIOR BLACK DRESS WITH SILK RIBBON AND LACE.

I only have records of Princess Grace wearing this dress in 1966: at a reception (probably in Monte Carlo) in early 1966 (second row left) and on May 16 at the Ball of Smiles in Monaco (right).

[dear-science]

Week in Youtube 🍋🍸🎾

Whitney Port | Reacting to 'THE HILLS' S3E7

Morgan Riddle | MONTE CARLO: a few days in my life, tennis, q+a get ready with me!

The Local Mangaka | Tatami Galaxy: Depression and Absurdity

Molly Baz | The Key To The Moistest Cake Ever Is...

Hailey Rhode Bieber | what's in my kitchen? passionfruit spritz cocktails & layered dip with kenny!

[lepetitlugourmand]

Le Nouvel Art de Vivre @montecarlosbm dévoile trois nouvelles adresses contemporaines et enjouées pour une saison estivale festive, chic et glamour. Tout d’abord, sur la Place du Casino, le très attendu @amazonico_montecarlo et son rooftop de 1000 m2 niché sur le toit du nouveau Café de Paris, entièrement repensé et magnifié. Une ambiance survoltée brésilienne-latino, ses cocktails et ses plats à partager seront une véritable samba de saveurs et un carnaval de surprises, tout comme le décor rythmé de jungle et d’exotisme. Puis, à deux pas de la plage du Monte-Carlo Beach, Maona, une villa-terrasse posée sur les rochers clamera un « revival » de liberté et d’insouciance des années 60-70 incarné par les personnalités les plus iconiques de l’époque qui prenaient leurs quartiers d’été à Monaco. « Ma » comme Maria Callas et « Ona » comme Aristote Onassis (célébrités à l’origine du tout premier Maona. Le nouveau Maona Monte-Carlo sera un véritable cabaret d’été sous les étoiles à l’ambiance Riviera étonnante, qui mettra à l’honneur, non seulement la musique live, entre pianiste, Diva et DJ au fur et à mesure de la soirée, mais également le patrimoine culinaire familial monégasque avec des recettes authentiques de partage (Gambas flambées au pastis, Tagliolini au chapon, marjolaine et citron et une Pêche Melba hommage au grand Auguste Escoffier qui a marqué l’histoire gastronomique de Monaco). Et enfin, à partir de début juin, l’emblématique écrin de verdure posé sur la mer : La Pointe de la Vigie, ce petit paradis, retrouve son ADN originel pour devenir le nouveau rendez- vous des après-midis et sunsets festifs de la Riviera : Club La Vigie. Dans une ambiance élégante et effervescente, il combinera l’esprit beach club, restauration méditerranéenne, cocktails créatifs et programmation musicale pointue. L’été sera à la fête en Principauté avec les adresses exclusives de la @montecarlosbm un choix varié pour chacun et toutes les envies musicales et gourmandes du jour et de la nuit entre les nouveaux lieux et les déjà très plébiscités @coyamontecarlo @buddhabarmc @jimmyzmc #mymontecarlo #montecarlosbm #visitmonaco #cotedazurfrance #luxurylifestyle #monaco (à Café de Paris Monte-Carlo) https://www.instagram.com/p/Cow1RtbISXM/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[rampoldirestaurant]

Discover the Elegance of Bar Restaurant Rampoldi

Located in the heart of Monte Carlo, Bar Restaurant Rampoldi is a gem that combines luxury, culinary excellence, and sophisticated ambiance. With its rich history and a reputation for delivering unforgettable experiences, Rampoldi is more than just a dining destination—it’s a lifestyle choice.

The Legacy of Bar Restaurant Rampoldi

A Heritage of Excellence

Bar Restaurant Rampoldi has been a cornerstone of Monte Carlo’s fine dining scene since its inception in 1946. Known for its timeless charm and elegance, it has attracted a distinguished clientele over the decades. From Hollywood stars to royalty, Rampoldi’s tables have hosted countless luminaries, making it an iconic establishment in Monaco. Learn more about Monte Carlo.

Commitment to Quality

Rampoldi’s longevity is a testament to its unwavering commitment to quality. Every aspect of the experience—from the meticulously crafted dishes to the impeccable service—is designed to exceed expectations. This dedication has cemented its place as one of Monaco’s most esteemed dining establishments. Explore Rampoldi’s official website for more details.

A Culinary Journey at Bar Restaurant Rampoldi

Exceptional Cuisine

At the heart of Bar Restaurant Rampoldi is its exceptional menu, which seamlessly blends tradition and innovation. The culinary team, led by renowned chefs, takes pride in crafting dishes that celebrate Mediterranean flavors while incorporating modern techniques.

Signature Dishes

Lobster Tagliolini: A decadent dish featuring fresh lobster and house-made pasta, infused with the flavors of the sea.

Tuna Tartare: Prepared with the finest ingredients, this dish is a perfect balance of freshness and umami.

Truffle Risotto: A creamy masterpiece that highlights the earthy, luxurious taste of truffles.

Check out the menu for more culinary delights.

Seasonal Ingredients

Rampoldi places a strong emphasis on using seasonal, locally sourced ingredients. This approach ensures that every dish not only delights the palate but also supports sustainable practices. Discover more about our philosophy.

The Bar Experience

A Celebration of Mixology

The bar at Bar Restaurant Rampoldi is a haven for cocktail enthusiasts. Its team of expert mixologists crafts innovative drinks that are as visually stunning as they are delicious.

Must-Try Cocktails

Monte Carlo Mule: A refreshing twist on the classic Moscow Mule, featuring local ingredients.

Lavender Martini: A floral delight with a hint of citrus, perfect for an evening of elegance.

Signature Negroni: A bold, timeless cocktail reimagined with Rampoldi’s unique flair.

Learn about our signature drinks.

A Curated Wine List

In addition to its cocktail offerings, Rampoldi boasts an extensive wine list that caters to even the most discerning oenophiles. From rare vintages to contemporary favorites, there’s something for every palate.

The Atmosphere at Bar Restaurant Rampoldi

Timeless Elegance

The interior of Bar Restaurant Rampoldi exudes sophistication. With its plush seating, ambient lighting, and tasteful décor, the space strikes a perfect balance between luxury and comfort.

Outdoor Terrace

For those who prefer dining al fresco, the outdoor terrace offers a stunning view of Monte Carlo’s vibrant streets. It’s an ideal spot for soaking in the Mediterranean atmosphere while savoring a meal or a cocktail. Explore our gallery to see the beautiful settings.

Events and Private Event

Memorable Celebrations

Bar Restaurant Rampoldi is the perfect venue for hosting special occasions. Whether it’s a wedding, a birthday party, or a corporate event, the team ensures that every detail is meticulously planned and executed. Contact us to plan your event.

Exclusive Experiences

For an intimate gathering, Rampoldi offers private dining options that guarantee privacy and exclusivity. Guests can enjoy a bespoke menu tailored to their preferences, making every event truly unique.

Sustainability and Community Engagement

A Focus on Sustainability

Bar Restaurant Rampoldi is committed to sustainable practices. By sourcing ingredients locally and minimizing waste, the restaurant contributes to a healthier planet while maintaining the highest culinary standards.

Supporting Local Artisans

Rampoldi also collaborates with local artisans and producers, showcasing the best of Monaco’s craftsmanship. This not only enhances the dining experience but also supports the local economy. Learn about our sustainability efforts.

Why Choose Bar Restaurant Rampoldi?

A Unique Blend of Tradition and Modernity

What sets Bar Restaurant Rampoldi apart is its ability to seamlessly blend tradition with modernity. While honoring its storied past, the restaurant continues to innovate, ensuring that every visit is fresh and exciting.

World-Class Service

From the moment you step into Rampoldi, you’re treated like royalty. The staff’s attention to detail and genuine warmth create an inviting atmosphere that makes every guest feel special.

Plan Your Visit

Reservations

Given its popularity, it’s recommended to make a reservation in advance. This ensures you secure your spot and enjoy a seamless experience. Book your table now.

Location and Accessibility

Conveniently located in Monte Carlo, Bar Restaurant Rampoldi is easily accessible by car, taxi, or public transportation. Its central location makes it a must-visit for both locals and tourists. Get directions.

Conclusion

Bar Restaurant Rampoldi is more than just a place to dine; it’s a destination that captures the essence of Monte Carlo’s elegance and charm. Whether you’re seeking a romantic dinner, a casual lunch, or a venue for a grand celebration, Rampoldi promises an experience that will linger in your memory long after the last bite. Don’t miss the chance to indulge in this extraordinary blend of luxury, flavor, and hospitality. Visit us today.

[rampoldi]

Experience the Elegance of Rampoldi NYC: A Culinary Gem

Nestled in the heart of New York City, Rampoldi NYC embodies sophistication, luxury, and exceptional culinary artistry. Renowned for its impeccable menu inspired by Mediterranean and Italian traditions, Rampoldi NYC offers a dining experience that is unparalleled. Let us take you on a journey through the exquisite flavors, opulent ambiance, and the unmatched hospitality that defines Rampoldi NYC.

A Culinary Haven for Food Connoisseurs

Rampoldi NYC is not just a restaurant; it is a haven for those who appreciate the art of fine dining. The restaurant's menu is a masterful blend of traditional Italian dishes and contemporary Mediterranean influences, curated to tantalize even the most discerning palate. From the delicate handmade pastas to the rich flavors of fresh seafood, every dish is crafted with precision and passion.

Signature Dishes That Delight

Truffle Risotto: A decadent blend of creamy risotto infused with the earthy aroma of fresh truffles.

Lobster Tagliolini: Perfectly cooked pasta with succulent lobster, tossed in a flavorful bisque sauce.

Veal Milanese: A classic Italian delicacy, prepared to perfection with tender veal and golden breadcrumbs.

The use of locally sourced ingredients ensures that every bite bursts with freshness and authenticity, elevating each meal to a gastronomic masterpiece.

An Ambiance of Timeless Elegance

The allure of Rampoldi NYC extends beyond its menu. The interior design reflects a perfect harmony of modern elegance and classic luxury. Soft lighting, plush seating, and intricate decor create an ambiance that is both intimate and grand, making it an ideal setting for everything from romantic dinners to celebratory gatherings.

Outdoor Dining in the Heart of NYC

Rampoldi NYC also offers an exquisite al fresco dining experience, allowing guests to enjoy their meal under the stars amidst the vibrant energy of New York City. The meticulously landscaped terrace enhances the charm, offering a serene escape from the hustle and bustle of the city.

Impeccable Service with a Personal Touch

At Rampoldi NYC, service is not just a function; it is an art form. The staff's dedication to providing an exceptional dining experience is evident in every interaction. From personalized recommendations to prompt service, guests are treated like royalty. The team’s expertise ensures that every detail, no matter how small, is attended to with care.

A Legacy of Excellence

Rampoldi NYC is the New York chapter of the legendary Rampoldi Monte Carlo, a name synonymous with culinary excellence. Carrying forward its legacy, the NYC establishment brings the same level of prestige and refinement, making it a sought-after destination for gourmands and celebrities alike.

Wine and Cocktails: A Perfect Pairing

The restaurant’s extensive wine list is a testament to its commitment to excellence. Featuring a selection of the finest Italian, French, and American wines, it is curated to complement the rich flavors of the menu. For those who prefer cocktails, Rampoldi NYC boasts a bar where expert mixologists craft bespoke drinks to suit every mood and occasion.

Why Rampoldi NYC Stands Out

Culinary Expertise: A fusion of tradition and innovation in every dish.

Sophisticated Ambiance: A luxurious yet inviting environment.

World-Class Service: Attention to detail that ensures a memorable experience.

Prestigious Legacy: A continuation of the celebrated Rampoldi Monte Carlo.

Plan Your Visit to Rampoldi NYC

Whether you are a local or a visitor, dining at Rampoldi NYC is an experience that should not be missed. Conveniently located in a prime NYC neighborhood, the restaurant welcomes guests for lunch, dinner, and private events. Reservations are highly recommended to secure your place at this culinary gem.