CHAPTER THREE. ❦︎

"He's my job. That's it. I talk about him
because he's literally my entire day."

The city lights of Singapore sparkled like scattered diamonds against the dark velvet of the night sky. From the rooftop terrace of a restaurant, Valeria could see the iconic Marina Bay Sands glowing in the distance, its laser beams cutting through the humid air.

It was now evening, the calm before the storm of the rest of the race weekend ahead, and Valeria had finally managed to steal a few hours for herself.

The day had been relentless—meetings, schedules, and, of course, putting out fires caused by a certain driver who seemed incapable of keeping his mouth shut.

She was exhausted, but as she stepped into the restaurant's soft ambiance and spotted her dear friends already at their table, a wave of relief washed over her.

Catia Ferreira, a rising model and Valeria's closest childhood friend, lounged effortlessly in her chair, scrolling on her phone with the ease of someone becoming accustomed to the world's attention. Her golden bangles jingled softly with every slight movement, catching the dim restaurant light like flickers of sunlight.

Across the table sat Marisol Auclair, Valeria's partner-in-crime since her brief studies at college. They've been inseparable ever since. Marisol, with her sharp eye for detail and innate ability to capture raw emotion, had quickly made her mark as one of Formula 1's most valued photographers.

The three of them, now settled into demanding yet thrilling careers, shared more than just a love for fast-paced environments—they also shared a home. Back in Spain, they lived together in a chic apartment that served as a sanctuary between races and shoots.

Though their travels often took them to different corners of the globe, more like Catia on her own modeling adventure while Marisol and Valeria travelled by the F1 schedule, they always came home to each other no matter what.

But lucky enough, Catia found time in her busy life to be able to attend this race weekend, a common interest she shared with the other two. F1 was loved dearly by the trio.

"There she is," Catia called out, her smile warm as she spotted Valeria. "Looking like she's just survived a world war." She stood up to greet her friend with a cheek kiss.

"Sit down, amor. You need this wine more than I do."

"Don't get me started," Valeria replied, letting out a tired laugh as she slid into the chair Marisol had saved for her. "If I hear his name one more time today, I might actually lose it."

Marisol passed her the wine bottle without a word, her smirk doing all the talking for her. Valeria poured herself a generous glass, taking a long sip before exhaling slowly.

"Better?" Catia asked, raising a perfectly shaped brow.

"Getting there," Valeria admitted, the faintest hint of a smile tugging at her lips.

The chaos of her day was already beginning to fade into the background, replaced by the comforting buzz of friendship and the promise of a long night filled with good food, great wine, and even better company. This was her sanctuary, a rare pocket of calm.

The restaurant exuded quiet luxury: soft golden lighting, crisp white tablecloths, and the faint clink of glasses and murmurs of conversation filling the space. Valeria relaxed into the plush chair at their reserved table.

She could feel the tension of previous events start to wither away, soothed by the warm ambiance and the company of her closest friends, chatting her head off, venting and giving a long debrief.

"So then, Alex actually stopped by to check on me earlier," Valeria said after walking the girls through her entire day.

Marisol tilted her head, intrigued. "He did?"

"Yeah. Felt like an intervention almost," Valeria quipped, a smirk tugging at her lips. "He walked in, saw me half-dying over emails, and said something like, 'You're the only one who can handle Franco. If it were anyone else, he'd be off the team by now.'"

Catia gasped dramatically, pressing a hand to her chest. "Wait, that's kinda sweet." She laughed. "Did you cry? Because if I were on my last straw and someone said something like that, I'd lose my mind..."

"Almost," Valeria mumbled, earning laughter from both of them. She shook her head and continued, "And then he goes, 'Franco listens to you. He just doesn't show it the way you want him to.'"

Marisol snorted. "Is Alex delusional, or is he just an optimist?"

"I don't know.. Both?" Valeria sighed, resting her chin in her hand. "He said I'm doing an 'awesome job' for my age, which, thanks, I guess. But managing Franco feels like trying to put out a fire with hot oil."

Catia reached across the table, patting her hand. "If anyone can put out a fire with hot oil, it's you. And if not, at least you'll look stunning doing it."

Marisol raised her glass. "To our sexy assistant." She teased.

Valeria laughed, clinking her glass with theirs, rolling her eyes. "I'll drink to the sexy part." She smiled before bringing her glass back to her lips.

Going on with the night, they continue to chat, going in turns as Valeria finally went down a deep tangent about how much stress Franco has caused her in the last two weeks.

Two.

"My god." Catia began, her Spanish accent making her words sing, "If I had to deal with what you deal with for even an hour, I'd quit on the spot."

Valeria groaned, letting her head fall briefly into her hand. "I've been close. Trust me."

Marisol, sitting beside Valeria, laughed softly as she poured herself another glass from the bottle the waiter had just left at their table. "He's like a toddler with a driver's license," She said, shaking her head. "But a very, very fast toddler. Which I guess... counts for something since he's employed."

"Sure," Valeria replied dryly. "It also counts for my blood pressure skyrocketing every time he opens his mouth in a professional setting."

Catia reached for a piece of fresh bread from the basket between them, spreading butter with precision. "Honestly, though, I kind of admire it. He doesn't care what people think—he's just himself."

"Annoying?—"

"—And let's face it, Vale. You're way too good at cleaning up after him. It's a dangerous combination." Catia cut off Valeria's attempt in cutting her off.

Valeria gave her a pointed look. "That's the problem. I don't think changing his natural self is ideal, and it's so hard to work around it, but when he's representing a multimillion-dollar team. There's just sacrifices you have to make..."

"... Like at least fake it better."

Marisol sipped her wine, giving Valeria a knowing glance. "You don't hate him as much as you let on, to be honest."

"I never said I hated him," Valeria shrugged, though she could feel her face heating up. "But I'm getting there.." She paused.

"Drives me insane though? Yes."

Marisol smirked, raising a perfectly arched brow. "Insane... or something else?"

"Please. Not this again." Valeria reached for her glass, taking a long sip to avoid answering.

"Well," Catia chimed in, her tone teasing but gentle, "You spend more time with him than anyone else. And you're always talking about him, whether you're complaining or not. Are we sure this is all just professional frustration?"

"Yes," Valeria replied quickly, gritting her teeth. "He's my job. That's it. I talk about him because he's literally my entire day. Doesn't mean I enjoy it."

Marisol's grin widened as she leaned forward, resting her chin in her hand. "Sure, sure. You keep telling yourself that."

Valeria sighed, shaking her head. "Can we talk about literally anything else?"

Catia let out a dramatic sigh, pushing her hair back and glaring into her wine glass. "Fine." She paused.

"Pedro is driving me insane," She muttered, a mixture of frustration and affection in her tone. "We're in the middle of another fight, and he's acting like he did nothing wrong."

Marisol rolled her eyes, her fingers tapping rhythmically against the edge of her glass. "Again? Didn't we hear this exact same story last week?"

Valeria snorted, clearly entertained. "I think we've heard it every week, honestly."

"You assholes, I'm serious!" Catia continued, now crossing her arms. "He said I was dramatic for wanting to talk about it."

Marisol groaned. "Okay so, what did he do?"

"He let this fan of his—who was like, super pretty—kiss his cheek for a photo." Catia grimaced at the thought. "And I was right in front of him."

"Okay, now that is justifiable. He did WHAT..." Marisol practically gawked. "What a whore." She sarcastically insulted, facepalming.

Valeria shook her head, internally judging the Barcelona player for doing that. "He's so stupid." She sighed.

"Yeah, so I've been trying to talk to him about but he brushes it off like it's no big deal and then he just smiles."

Marisol briefly snickered, tilting her head back as if she was exasperated by the whole situation. "He's kinda funny for that. He knows you love that smile." She laughed.

"Uses it to get in your good graces and between your—"

"Marí." Valeria stopped her friend from continuing.

Catia scoffed, hiding her rosy cheeks before clearing her throat. "He's always doing that—making everything seem like it's no big deal. It's like he doesn't hear me."

"Sounds familiar," Marisol muttered under her breath, sarcastically rolling her eyes as she swirled her wine with a smirk. "Men are all the same."

"We've been fighting for days. I just want to talk things out." Catia huffed a breath. "But, he just brushes it off like I'm insane and there's 'nothing to talk about.'" She paused.

"Plus, don't get me started on how stubborn he is. It's like I'm talking to a wall."

Marisol snorted, clearly amused. "Well—"

Catia shot her a sharp look. "Don't piss me off with whatever you're about to say—"

"Okay! Tell me if I'm wrong," Marisol grinned, tapping her glass with a playful grin as she cleared her throat. "He knows how to make you forget you're mad with one of his little smiles, right?"

Catia groaned. "Yes, it's infuriating! I'm so mad at him right now, but I can't even stay mad for long.... Because, you know.... it's him."

Valeria chuckled under her breath. "You're hopeless."

Marisol leaned back in her chair, glancing between the two of them with a knowing look. "Honestly. It's staring to sound a little too familiar... like someone else we know."

Catia raised an eyebrow. "Who?"

"Franco." Marisol gestured casually toward Valeria, causing Catia to bite down a laugh. "The guy never takes anything seriously, is always off doing his own thing, acting like nothing matters—until it blows up in your face." She sipped her wine.

"And then when you finally get upset, he just flashes a stupid, shit-eating grin of his and expects you to forget it all." She paused. "Am I right or am I right? Let me know."

Valeria froze, her eyes widening just slightly. "What?"

Marisol smirked, wanting to tease Valeria. "I mean, Franco does stuff like that to you, no? He pisses you off, then suddenly, he's all charming and goofy."

Valeria let out an incredulous laugh, but there was a subtle shift in her voice. "Well. A pain in my ass like Pedri is to Catia."

"Honestly? I think it's exactly the same." Catia continued. "You're just as exasperated by him as I am by Pedri, but the moment he flashes a dumb smile or anything, you cave. You can't stay mad at him because...well, he's him."

Valeria shook her head, trying to keep her composure, biting down a laugh because they were being ridiculous. "Unfortunately, amor. I don't fall for that kinda stuff. I usually want to kill him more when he does that!"

"But you're still putting up with his nonsense," Marisol teased, tapping her fingers on the table. "That's the first step, you know? You even make excuses for him. 'Oh, it's Franco, he didn't mean it, he was just being Franco!'"

Valeria rolled her eyes. "That's literally my job???"

"Whatever!" Marisol couldn't find an immediate response so he gave up on the banter, snickering.

The laughter at the table was in full swing, with Catia and Marisol teasing Valeria relentlessly, when her phone buzzed loudly against the table. She ignored it at first, letting the vibration rattle against the glass, but then it buzzed again—and again.

Catia noticed, mid-laugh, and pointed at the phone. "Uh-oh. Someone's in demand."

Marisol leaned closer to read the screen. "If that's Franco, My condolences to you, amor."

Valeria sighed, picking up the phone to glance at the notifications. Her face fell almost immediately, her body stiffening as she scanned the series of frantic texts.

"Oh God." Valeria's stomach sank.

"What is it?" Marisol asked, though her grin hinted she already had a good guess.

Valeria scrolled further, muttering as she skimmed through. "I have to go." She grimaced, gathering her purse, and getting up without a second thought.

Catia's eyes widened. "Marisol wasn't right, was she? There's no way."

"It's Franco." Valeria grimaced, annoyed as she shot down the rest of her wine glass—she was gonna need it.

"Whatever it is, nobody on the Williams PR team is happy with him." Valeria's heart pounded as she ran through worst-case scenarios in her head.

"Wait, you're really leaving?" Marisol asked with a sigh. "Come on, it's just Franco being Franco."

"That's exactly why I have to leave," Valeria said, exasperated. She slung her bag over her shoulder. "I can't let him be an idiot while I'm away, drinking wine."

Catia shook her head, grinning. "You're too good to him, you know that?"

"Well, that's what they pay me for," Valeria said, her tone dry as she shoved her phone into her pocket and walked off.

Never a dull or free moment when working for him.

vera's voice! 💌 ( 2.3k words )
instigator!bffs re my fav ever. ofc.

ok yeah, that's all. idk if i liked this. but Lmk.
next two chaps are being written in my head.

love u smsmsmsmsm

From, Vera.
Bellita & Elenita Hai.