I didn't enjoy visiting my father. After two weeks, my mother decided it would be good for me to travel to Monaco for the FIA gala to share a boring night of well-mannered frivolity with my father and the whole bunch of the F1 people, all gathered for the traditional ceremony.

As Jean-Marie Balestre's daughter I was expected to be polite and accommodate, nothing further to the actual bitter truth: I hated people and I didn't like to be compliant. I often raised my father's alarm when we were in public, making him fluttered by answering with extreme sarcasm to any stupid comment from any stupid driver. I gave a shit about my father's interests and his little F1 superstars. I couldn't keep myself on a leash.

So when the special night arrived, I was ready to behave as good as I could around my father and then bounce somewhere far away from him to fill my head and heart with as much alcohol as I could chug down.

"You look very nice." My father scooted his emotionless eyes through my petite figure. I actually managed to look remarkable wearing one of my favourite outfits: a tight black velvet sundress with a pair of black patent leather platforms.

"Well, thanks papa. You look fine yourself." I answered with a smile, my hands caressing the hem of my dress rosing my thigh above my knees. "Now please, I'm begging you Kathleen, don't say anything stupid to anyone. This is an important evening". He was leaning down, speaking to me in a secretive manner. The salon was full with people chatting and laughing, almost every racing driver dressed in a plain black or blue suit, only colour variation being their bow ties which looked almost comically ridiculous on them. I tried to fight down a giggle, only a small smile crossing my lips.

I watched standing by my father as an unrelenting parade of drivers approached to say hello and shake hands. My older sister on the other side of our dad looked at me rolling her eyes, his right arm resting on her husband's, Jean Alesi. I was actually interested in one driver, having only shared this information with my sister. She was looking at me and then at the crowd of people, apparently searching for him.

Suddenly Jean and my sister disappered into the crowd to follow some of Jean's friends. My father was caught up into some boring chat with Ron Dennis and other men, and I saw my opportunity to sneak out, dodging any other meaningless conversations.

I was feeling kinda anxious, my fingertips getting frozen cold as I held a cup of beer. It was a nice party, at least I could tell people were having fun by their excited voices and laughs. As I stood there alone, fiddling with a strand of my red hair, I suddenly heard his voice. That gentle voice that sounded almost like a soft whine. I slowly turned around on my heels and caught a sight of him: his soft plumped lips slighly smiling, the freckes decorating oh so perfectly his beautiful shaped nose, his wavy brown hair embracing his neck, a cute black bow tie on the collar of his white shirt.

I smiled a little watching him as I held the cup of beer close to my mouth to take a sip. Our eyes met for a couple of seconds while I was still smiling, lost in my own thougths of him, and my heart stopped. I turned around again and closed my eyes, inhaling sharply. "You are reckless, Katie. Why would you look at people you find attractive and smile at them?"

The stars were shining bright and distant through the large window I had in front of me. But as I was so busy looking at them and reprimanding myself, I failed to hear the steps approaching me.

 "It is a lovely night, isn't it?" I swallowed hard and turned my head slowly, watching him standing by my side, his eyes on the sky. "It is indeed." He smiled warmly, looking at the stars. I took those short seconds to stare at him, standing so close to me. I could inhale his scent, so deep and rough and at the same time sweet, like vanilla, cinnamon, motor oil and something special and unique combined.

"I'm Ayrton. Nice to meet you." he offered his hand to me, and I grabbed it. It was warm and soft. "I know. I'm Kathleen, I'm Bales..." "Balestre's daughter, I know. We'd seen each other many times by we never introduced."

We let go of our hands and suddenly it felt surprisingly cold, as if his touch had burned my hand for a moment. I smiled and looked at my feet. "So you're hiding too, huh?" I asked, staring at him again. "Well, yes. A little bit. These meetings make me tired easily. Sometimes it gets just too boring, speaking about the same things over and over again, you know?" "I know exactly what you're taking about." I answered with a giggle. "You know, I would ask you to dance with me. You look like a good dancer. But..." he looked over his shoulder, at the bunch of people talking, no background music. He laughed sotfly looking back at me. "Not the place to have that kind of fun." I said, as I caught the stare of my father. He didn't look so pleased to see me talking with Ayrton. "Well, we can go get a drink, then." Ayrton says, offering to me his arm. "You seem to know exactly what a girl likes."

The rest of the ceremony didn't matter at all. We actually didn't know who made an speech or who recieved the trophy. At the end of it, after spending all night chatting, drinking and laughing, Ayrton escorted me to my father's car.

"So I'll pick you up at 8, is that ok?" he asked me, as he let go of my arm to open the door of the car for me. My father on the other side was fighting between hearing the drunkened farewell between him and Gerhard or the conversation I was having with Ayrton. "That sounds perfect. See you tomorrow then." Ayrton leaned towards me, leaving a kiss on both of my cheeks before turning towards my father. "Good night, sir."

I could sense some kind of cheekiness from him as he waved at my father. He only replied with a nod of his head, hurrying to end the endless goodbyes from Gerhard, who was clearly drunk shaking my father's hand, laughing at God knows what, babbling things. "Ok, ok Gerhard. That's ok, see you on Wednesday then and we'll talk about it." My father approached my sister and Jean to say goodbye and he climbed on the car, where I was waiting, my eyes still on Ayrton who was smiling at me, waving his hand.

"What the fuck was that?" my father asked, starting the car. "What are you talking about, papa?" Of course I knew what he was talking about. He wasn't particularly fond of Ayrton, being Alain Prost's rival, my father's favourite driver. He would go long lenghts to help Alain winning and shine with everything in his power against Ayrton.

"You know what. What's between you and Senna?" His voice sounded husky. "Nothing, we were just talking. He is a nice guy, you know? He invited me to have dinner with him tomorrow. He said he will show me around, some nice places."

I could see my father breathing sharply, the vein on his temple twitching a bit. "Dinner, huh? What an asshole..." He said in a whisper. "Well, ok. But take care of yourself, will you? God knows I fear for my daughters around drivers. Thank God your sister married Jean, a Frenchman, as it should be. Just...don't get to attached to him. Senna is a ladies' man. I've seen him. I don't like him. And he has the nerve to invite you to have dinner with him? You, my daugther of all woman. Huh. Quel putain d'idiot..." "Papa, please, stop it. It's not a big deal, we'll just go get dinner, have a nice time. Nothing weird, ok?"

I laughed softly, knowing I was lying. I was ready to loosen myself with Ayrton the second I would get the chance. And I was going to be given the chance.