𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐯𝐚𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐬 [charles leclerc]

chapitre deux

       AND THE BAR it was. The bartender immediately recognised the young, Blanchet girl's face near with a sour look and pushed a stemmed glass up on the surface to prep. He ended up being good company for her for the following hour: did not bother her, kept the small talk limited, and knew when to fill her glass up again with the cocktail he had been preparing for her all night.

That is how the minutes ticked away for the girl, along with watching the other guests come and go whilst enjoying their invitation to the famous Blanchet gala.

       "Colette Blanchet." A husky, masculine voice spoke eloquently from beside her, amusement in his voice. No further word or look was needed for the girl to know who decided to join her side. Colette finally looked up as she felt his body lean against the bar top next to her. "How are you?"

       "Tipsy enough to tolerate you, sober enough to know I must hide from my family." She forced a smile on her red tinted lips for just a second before looking anywhere but at him, pleading eyes looking around for someone to swoop her away from this dreadful evening.

       "Nothing out of the ordinary I hear." He playfully bit back as he waved to the bartender to order his drink. She would not let herself be bothered by him tonight, although he had proven to her in the past sixteen years that he was perfectly capable of doing exactly that. Colette compelled herself to look back up at him and was surprised to see him grin so widely at her, although his smile failed to reach his greenish eyes. Greenish eyes she despised.

        "Cheers to that." She downed her own drink in one gulp and nodded for a refill. If he could act like he enjoyed her presence, so could she. "What's up with you?" Colette bluntly asked, making him raise an arched eyebrow as he swiftly looked away to accept his drink from the bartender and take a sip. "Since when does Monaco's golden boy sulk around and ask for cheap champagne? I don't believe your coaches would be very pleased with your presence near any alcoholic substance, especially not the day before a Grand Prix."

       "That is if I am able to drive." He finally looked away from her eyes as the dark irises seemed to lure him in. He took a bigger sip from his bubbly beverage to delay speaking for a second or two.

       "With that drink in your system I hope not, a guaranteed headache in the morning." Colette bit back as her eyes glistered in the dim lighting. He seemed to back down from his pride a little, and if she did not know him any better she would say he was nearly shying away from her words.

"Very funny, Miss Martini." He clenched his jaw, shaking his head sarcastically as he referred to the umpteenth refilled glass in Colette's perfectly manicured hands. "But considering I crashed the car today at the end of Q3 there is a slim chance of me starting at all tomorrow."

"Ça craint." Colette confused herself when she showed compassion to him, blaming the vodka for the change of character whilst he raised an eyebrow, equally as surprised. "But I thought you qualified for pole today?"

       "You have been watching me." He stated as amusement took over his features again, turning his body to Colette and a cocky grin playing on his lips as he circled the rim of the glass with his index finger.

       "Tu crains aussi."

       "Lovely vocabulary, Blanchet." He answered as he pushed his glass forward to be refilled by the bartender.

       "Well, then—to shitty events in our wonderful lives." Colette raised her drink, a slight slur in her words.

       "Couldn't have worded it better if I wanted." He grinned, a boyish glint in his eyes as he clinked his glass with hers in satisfaction.

       "I don't know if it's the champagne, but did we actually agree on something, Leclerc?" Colette feigned a gasp playfully whilst their eyes were still locked on each other.

       "Bottoms up, chérie." The boy who had gone out of his way to agitate her for the past sixteen years had finally made Colette smile genuinely. Although both may have had a drink too many to comprehend it any further.

       "Colette! I have been looking for you the whole time." Laurent Blanchet, father of Colette and multimillionaire CEO, joined the two youngsters at the bar, slightly surprised at their peaceful interaction.

       "Well, I have spent nearly every minute of it here." Colette nodded her head to the bartender who had tended exquisitely well to her alcoholic needs to endure her time there.

"You must meet some of the guests, some even travelled all the way from Lebanon!" Her father was a passionate man and spoke excitedly as he ushered her away from the young F1-driver to the gents he was just talking to.

"Bien sûre, papa." Colette followed him quickly as he seemed in a hurry, leaving her glass on the bar top and not glancing back at the man she left standing there. Hence why she could never confront him about staring her down in the gown that was tight in all the right places.

No—for her it was her father's guests that occupied her mind rather than Leclerc. The two generations of Blanchet met with a close business associate from the senior who was joined by his son who appeared to be close in age to Colette.

"Enchanté." The male heir to the billion fortune from his father, Luis Nahmad, swooped her soft hand and kissed the back to properly introduce himself. Colette nodded absentmindedly at him, enjoying seeing his physique but not necessarily interested enough to fill her time with small talk to the young Lebanese. That was especially after she found Luis and herself dispersed from their parents as they seemed to talk about important matters.

"Excusez-moi." Laurent Blanchet's intentions slowly got to Colette, whose thought process had gotten a bit lousy to understand, and was too upset to care about proper behaviour. She decided it was better to leave the Casino altogether, rather than wait for her temper to cause a bigger scene. An even bigger scene than hurrying away from the man her father was trying to set her up with.

Once again that glamorous evening Colette found herself wandering off to the bar after a failed attempt at a conversation with socialites. But much to her surprise he was still enjoying his champagne as he stood there in the same spot, dominant and confident as his expressive, green eyes glided over the mass of people.

"I think he wants to marry me off." She sighed as she returned to his side with, again, a sour face.

"How was the prince of Lebanon?" He smirked merrily as the annoyance radiated off of the short brunette as she riled up even more due to his comment.

"Ah, he's got his jokes back; very funny. Ha. Ha." Colette told him sarcastically, swiftly taking the half empty glass out of his hand, drinking its contents. Astonished, he looked down at the girl who slammed his glass down on the bar top when she finished, his response delayed due to her turbulent nature. Lastly, she grabbed a fifty euro bill from her purse to tip the bartender before turning away. "Bonne nuit, Charles."

"Bonne nuit, chérie."