Luca couldn't help but chuckle as he reflected on his encounter with the scrawny young man from the bar. His name was Ollie. Luca wasn't sure if it was short for Oliver or if "Ollie" was simply his actual name.
Ollie had started the conversation with an unexpected question that both caught Luca off guard and piqued his curiosity. When Luca confirmed his ambition to make it to Formula 1, Ollie casually took a sip of his drink and replied, "Yup, that's every Formula 2 driver's dream, isn't it?"
Luca was stunned as he didn't know what to make of the man's words. To add to that, Ollie began asking about his journey, how he got to Trampos and how everything had been working out for him.
Luca shared what he felt was appropriate for someone as unfamiliar with him as Ollie seemed to be. Despite his initial reservations, he found Ollie surprisingly approachable. The young man's relaxed demeanor and occasional use of slang made the conversation flow naturally.
Eager to know who the heck he really was, Luca shifted the inquiry to him and first asked if he was club or FIA-present on the night's occasion.
Judging by Ollie's casual yet sharp appearance, Luca anticipated he might represent the Federation. However, considering the informal tone of their conversation, he leaned toward the possibility that Ollie was simply a club member.
Ollie answered club, specifically Crown Hospitality club.
Luca then asked him why he was here and why he was asking him questions.
Before Ollie could answer, two figures approached them, catching Luca's attention. He turned his head to see none other than Mr. Lemaître and Marco Rossi himself.
Without hesitation, Luca quickly stood up, his heart racing as he extended his hand to greet the legend. Marco Rossi, with a warm smile, graciously shook Luca's hand, while Mr. Lemaître still introduced them formally.
Marco knew who Trampos' Luca Rennick was obviously, and he was delighted to meet the growing talent of the sport just as he was retiring.
Marco surprised Luca by recommending Jackson Racing, expressing his hope to one day see Luca driving a Jackson Racing Ferrari and continuing the team's legacy of dominance.
Luca absorbed every word with admiration, each one igniting hope for his future among the sport's elite. He thanked Marco Rossi sincerely as the man announced his departure.
Mr. Lemaître offered to escort Marco out, leaving Luca to turn his attention back to Ollie. However, it seemed Ollie had his own plans to leave.
Before Luca could speak, Ollie slid a sleek white card across the bar toward him. "Be on the yacht this Thursday," Ollie said curtly, then disappeared into the crowd without another word.
Caught off guard, Luca picked up the card and examined it:
—Crown Hospitality Club Presents
An Exclusive Evening on the Crown Pearl
Location: Marina Pier 8—
Another invitation to a more exclusive gathering in France?
Luca couldn't quite wrap his head around what was happening. First Marco Rossi's unexpected recommendation, now this mysterious yacht event. He slid the card into his pocket and headed off to find Sophia and Sara so they could leave together.
After a successful Daily Routine with a self-driven gym session, Luca had fun with the team and narrated to them everything that had happened in the dinner night most especially Marco Rossi's farewell speech which they had all watched.
He didn't leave out his encounter with the fat man, Charles.
It seemed some of the crew knew who he was and the simple description "fat" was enough, especially when Luca told them that someone mentioned he was one of the owners of Bueseno Velocità.
Mr. Charles Durand was a name that carried weight in the motorsport world, quite literally and figuratively.
He was well known for his robust figure and sharp tongue and being one of the co-owners of Bueseno Velocità. They all said that he got a share of Velocità when Velocità had long established itself as a powerhouse in both Formula 1 and Formula 2. So, he really didn't do much to bring Bueseno Velocità to where it was today. But he might have some hand in maintaining Velocità in what was today.
His involvement in the team was not merely financial as Charles had a reputation for being deeply entrenched in the decision-making processes, from driver contracts to strategic partnerships.
Perhaps, he was the reason Max hadn't been promoted.
Everyone continued to commend Luca for effectively rubbing his victory in Charles's face, even days after the race on Saturday. It was becoming increasingly clear that Trampos might be the reason Velocità Jnr would fail to clinch the F2 championship this season.
To make matters worse for Velocità, their senior team faced an uphill battle in the upcoming Mega Prix, with their chances of success looking slim. If things continued on this trajectory, Mr. Charles and his fellow owners could be staring down the devastating reality of a trophy-less season in both their junior and senior teams.
Luca wondered why Mr. Lemaître was part of the same hospitality club as Charles. Weren't they rivals, given the opposing teams they owned?
Perhaps hospitality clubs weren't exclusive to team owners but instead brought together influential individuals with shared interests beyond racing victories. After all, it wasn't called the Velocità Club or the Squadra Club—it had an entirely different name, hinting at a broader purpose.
Luca carried the same discussion to Mallow and Sara, this time, adding the yacht invitation Ollie had given him.
"You are going, right? I mean, he started the conversation with something about Formula 1, and we really need connections here, Luca," Sara urged without hesitation.
Luca glanced at Mallow.
"Does the invitation say you can bring someone?" Mallow asked.
"Yes," Luca replied. "One person—must be your spouse."
Mallow grunted and sank into his chair. "Do you want to go?"
Luca smiled. "I'm glad I got two suits."
Luca could remember everything clearly as he stood before the yacht at 7:30 PM. He was early.
The sky above had transitioned to a deep navy, with faint stars beginning to sparkle. A perfect atmosphere for the occasion, as a cool breeze brushed past the coast.
Luca glanced up at the towering silhouette of fine metal polished to the taste of eccentricity, illuminated by string lights and soft golden spotlights.
"A floating masterpiece," Luca muttered, wondering how much the yacht had cost the owner.
Guests were already boarding, moving in uniform and in pairs—definitely spouses.
Still officially single, Luca would enter alone. Isabella wasn't in France; otherwise, he would have definitely invited her to join him.
Neither was she in the UK. She was in Italy.
Mr. Schafer had been having serious legal problems concerning him and the FIA. Not only that, even Miles had decided to drop him from his personal team.
She had followed her father to Milan to resolve the issue and settle the case.
Luca sighed and glanced around, his eyes scanning the finely dressed crowd—men in tailored tuxedos with pocket squares so precise they looked machine-folded, women draped in flowing evening gowns glittering with gemstones that caught the light.
He then put his hand in his pocket and pulled out the white card in case there was security demanding an invitation.
Luca adjusted the lapels of his tailored, expensive suit and began walking toward the gangway, the ocean breeze playing with his neatly combed hair.