Charles, a Formula One driver nearing the end of a season without yet another championship. Desperately hoping that next year's season will be the one, he knows that nothing can stand in his way.
Hayley, a singer with a troubled past, desperately ba...
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"Charles, right?" Hayley smiled ads she held out a polite hand for Charles to shake.
He had two choices in this moment, greet her politely or attempt to charm the pants off of the woman. He wasn't French, though he'd grown up with enough Frenchmen to know what the correct choice was. Taking her hand in his, he relished how dainty and soft her skin was as he brought it to his lips,
"Oui, and you are Hayley," He spoke once he pulled her hand away from his mouth. She flushed a pretty shade of pink as he released the grip on her fingers, and pressed her hand to her chest as she blinked up at him.
Carlos' booming laugh interrupted Charles' smooth moves, and he shoved Charles a little harder than was truly necessary to get his point across, "Leave the poor girl alone, Char."
Hayley let out a breathy laugh as she regained her breath, watching Carlos call his friend out on his blatant flirting. She couldn't say that she didn't enjoy the thick charm that Charles was laying on, but it had came about a little unexpectedly. Still, the warmth in her cheeks revealed to the world how much she'd enjoyed being fussed over for that brief moment,
"Go," Hayley forced herself to say softly as Charles tried to find the words to reply to his friend and keep his charm with the English woman - it was a hard line to find the middle of. He wished that he could tell Carlos to go and fuck himself, though that wouldn't keep his image of charm and grace with the lady, would it? As he looked to Hayley after her her simple word, he felt almost dismissed, before he realised where he was and what he was here to do, "You've got a race to win."
