Vettel One Shots

Heartbroken 5

Britta sighed as she put her phone down on the table after reading yet more headlines about her married driver and his strategist lover. News of his affair had broken less than twenty-four hours after Scarlett had been taken to hospital in Belgium and just a week after that the breakdown of his marriage had graced the front covers of every celebrity magazine in Germany and Italy as well as making headlines in tabloid newspapers. Over the last few weeks there'd been numerous stories saying that Seb stood to lose everything; that his wife was going for a megabucks divorce settlement, that she wanted every penny he had, the house, the cars, that she was trying to stop him from seeing his kids and then there were stories flying around that he was going to lose his seat at Ferrari and that Scarlett had been sacked due to the scandal that surrounded them both. Of course, Britta knew that the majority of what had been written was nothing more than lies, all made up to boost sales. She knew what was really going on, and so did Seb. The last four weeks had been difficult and she'd seen him suffering under intense strain and pressure while feeling desperately worried about Scarlett as details of her health had been incredibly hard to come by and no one really knew where she was. It meant that his win in Singapore last weekend was a much needed boost to his confidence and spirit. This weekend, though, she knew could be another difficult time for him, because only a short time ago a keen eyed race fan had spotted Scarlett here, in Sochi and she needed to warn Seb.

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Sitting next to Lewis, who was driving the black Mercedes AMG GT R towards the circuit, Scarlett looked down at her hands. The nasty scar on her left hand was the only physical reminder of what had happened just four weeks ago, but her mental scars still ran deep. Lewis glanced at her as she reached forward and turned the music up. Despite her assurances, he wasn't convinced that coming to Sochi was a good idea. He'd have been much happier if she'd stayed in New York at the rehabilitation centre he'd been paying for her to stay at. There she was cared for and nurtured, not only by the medical staff but also by himself as he'd been visiting her there as much as he could. She was safe there, hidden away from prying eyes and prying lenses, no one had known who she was there and she'd been protected from all the stories and headlines, she'd been recovering well; so well that she'd begged him to let her come to Sochi with him and with agreement from the medical staff, he'd agreed that she could come. He had to admit that he'd felt bad lying to Seb for the last few weeks. As he'd been the last person to see Scarlett before she'd disappeared, Seb had been asking about her whenever they'd seen each other at race weekends and had often texted to see if he'd heard from her. He'd seen how frantic with worry Seb was about his pretty strategist and he'd been unable to put the poor German's mind at ease. Seb was not going to happy with him today when he found out that she'd arrived with himself today and that he'd known all along where she was and how she was doing. As they reached the circuit and entered the car park, he could sense her anxiety. She'd spent the last day or so catching up on the furore her affair with Sebastian had caused, now she knew the full extent of what had been written and she also knew that the German's marriage had broken down. It seemed that Seb was now a single man and had even been pictured without his wedding ring. Lewis parked the car, turned the music off and turned to look at her.
"Scarlett, I don't think you're ready for this."

"The longer I stay away, the harder it will be to go back to work." She replied, almost robotically.

"You're thinking of going back already?" He asked in disbelief, watching as her fingers traced over the scar on her left hand. "For Ferrari?"

"Yes. I've missed too much time as it is."

"They won't be expecting you to go back yet, you know that." He put his hand on her knee. "You shouldn't be putting yourself under pressure like this."

"I'm not." She opened the car door, her FIA pass glinted in the sun as she moved, catching her eye. "I'm just here as a guest." She got out of the car and shut the door and he watched as she walked off ahead. He rolled his eyes and got out of the car too, shutting the door and locking it before jogging to catch her up. As they got to the paddock gates, she stopped, hesitating for the first time. Through the electronic gates she could see photographers and tv cameras, and they'd all want their pound of flesh, her flesh.