𝑰 𝑾 𝑨 𝑵 𝑵 𝑨 𝑩 𝑬 𝒀 𝑶 𝑼 𝑹 𝑺

𝑶𝑵𝑬

_______________

WHAT WAS DONE WAS DONE.
The speakers still broadcast the music loudly throughout Lewis Hamilton's mansion, bringing back dull memories in the early hours of the morning.
Complete disarray, drinks spilled on the floor, broken glass bottles, condoms lying on the floor matching with some g-strings not far from them. Pieces of memories of everything that happened at that party â€" It was almost impossible for there to be no consequences.
After everything that happened in that mansion, it was what was expected.

Walking in an irregularly awkward manner, with a red-bottomed heel on her foot and the one missing in her hand, hungover from the drink mix she had spilled down her throat during the party, Mercedes Wolff â€" The first name given to her by her father in honor of his love for the brand to which he had dedicated so many years â€" she was heading towards the entrance of the house that she so eagerly hoped would be her EXIT â€" as soon as the young woman walked through that door, all the problems brought on by that shitty party would disappear.
She wouldn't have to explain anything to the world and most of all, to her father â€" How could she tell him the truth?
But hopes are often nothing more than that and perhaps this exit that Mercedes was looking for was just the ENTRANCE to all her problems.

MERCEDES WAS ASHAMED, NOT ABOUT WHAT HAD HAPPENED, BUT HERSELF.
She knew Charles Leclerc â€" better than anyone.
She knew how he acted, how he treated girls with affection and desire only to crush them and throw them in the trash later.
She knew what he was like â€" Why on earth did she give in to Leclerc's games last night?

"You forgot this"

HIS VOICE AS SEDUCTIVE AS SIN but at the same time as irritating as nails scraping a chalkboard â€" Charles Leclerc caught her right before she left the house.

Half turning to face him, Mercedes observes her enemy at the top of the stairs. His malevolent smile that seemed to have been tattooed on his face since he was little.

"What the hell do you want?"

"Me? nothing... except the fact that you forgot this in the room" Mercedes' eyes widen when she sees the underwear she had brought with her the night before twirling between Charles' fingers like a hula hoop "Are you so hungover that you don't even notice you're wearing no underwear?!"

"You bitch!"

"You act like I was the one who took off your panties" He huffs "I remember it was you who took them off... willingly, or don't you remember?"

"Shut the fuck up and give me my panties before I go over there and break the shit out of your face!!" Mercedes says revolted while Charles laughs â€" That damn laugh.

"Hmm... I kind of like them. Red like Ferrari" He murmurs before putting his eyes back on Mercedes "Celebrating your friend Hamilton's departure to my team or just because you'd see me last night?"

"I can't leave here without my panties, so give them to me now!"

"Only if you say please" Charles walks slowly down the stairs, each step more agonizingly slow than the last, as he heads towards Mercedes.

SHE COULD NOT MOVE, as if Charles had trapped her in that very spot.
He had this control over her â€" And she hated it and him.
She hated how eagerly she waited for his touch and she hated even more that he knew it.

"Please say. Just like you said when I was on top of you" He stretches his hand slowly before Mercedes' eyes, her missing panties dancing between his long, slender fingers.

"Fuck you" Mercedes says, her teeth grinding together with built-up anger.

"You've already done that" He responds "Come on, grab your panties and go home"