Luca's feet sank deep with focus into the red rug below him and Adrian as they got ready for another round of fencing.
He adjusted his grip, rolling his wrist to test the balance of his own blade while keeping his stance firmly in place. He was no fencer, but he knew the aim was to stick the other with the tip of the thin blade.
"You're too confident. I will win against you this time," Luca said behind his mask.
"That's what you said some minutes ago. And Friday too," Adrian replied mockingly. "Reflexes here are a different kind than the ones you have for the track."
Luca didn't reply; he just watched Adrian lower his mask, ready to defeat him again.
Two weeks after the finale in Monza, Luca had begun searching for recreational activities to keep him engaged with life and not end up the victim of one of Karl Marx's quotes.
Adrian introduced him to fencing, and fencing looked really cool, so Luca hopped on the train, just to find out Adrian was basically a professional at it.
This was an advantage, though. Learning from a good fencer would make one a good fencer.
In Luca's case, he needed to land at least one stab on Adrian for him to consider himself a fencer. Right now, he was just a fellow wearing a white sophisticated suit.
The moment Adrian took the first step forward, Luca lunged, trying to catch him off guard. But Adrian sidestepped like he had all the time in the world, his blade flicking out with a tap against Luca's shoulder.
"Point," Adrian announced casually.
Luca exhaled sharply, resetting his stance.
Going again, he refused to let Adrian's confidence in his perfection rattle his amateurism.
This time, he feinted left before sweeping his blade in a diagonal strike, which was illegal in fencing but surely unexpected enough to land a hit—at least one hit.
Adrian, however, just laughed and effortlessly twisted away, his blade snapping out to touch Luca's chest.
"Did you really just try to slash me?" Adrian chuckled, stepping back. "This isn't a sword fight, Luca. Stick to the rules. It hasn't been a month since you began training here. It'll take time."
Luca rubbed the tip of the blade, wondering how dangerous it was and to what extent it could injure a person. "If this were a real duel, you'd be missing a limb by now," he said.
"And yet, here we are, with me still undefeated." Adrian flicked his blade playfully. "Come on, champion. Again."
Luca promised himself that today's session wouldn't be over until he landed one hit.
They reset their stances, foils raised, bodies poised. The red rug muffled their quick, calculated footwork as Adrian advanced with precise, effortless movements.
Luca did his best to mirror him, trying to anticipate the next strike, but Adrian was too fluid, too experienced, as if he were a professional fencer in the first place.
Adrian parried easily every time Luca lunged, evading with a grace that made it seem like he wasn't even trying. Luca pushed harder, adjusting his rhythm, searching for an opening.
But it was always going to be a repeated pattern of attack, evade, counter—until he would feel the familiar tap of Adrian's blade against his shoulder, chest, arm.
"No, don't have that perspective. Have this: I'm still a newbie," Adrian replied. "How does that sound now?"
Luca shrugged, rolling his shoulders as they reset their stances again.
They raised their foils, ready to engage, when the door creaked open, and a small figure waddled in.
It was Harry, little Spot.
Adrian's little brother, barely past Luca's waist, stood in the doorway, his tiny hands clutching a toy sword far too big for him.
Luca and Adrian looked in his direction.
Harry waved his plastic weapon excitedly, silently telling them he wanted to join.
Luca seized the moment.
Without hesitation, he lunged, his foil slipping past Adrian's defenses for the first time all day—for the first time ever! The tip landed clean against Adrian's torso.
Adrian blinked, then looked down at where he had been struck. Slowly, his head lifted, meeting Luca's gaze through the mask.
"...Did you just hit me?"
Luca stepped back triumphantly, raising his foil. "Point for me," he said with exasperation. This was literally victory for Luca.
Harry cheered, waving his toy sword like he had just witnessed some legendary duel.
Adrian exhaled, shaking his head with a laugh. "Cheap shot. But fine. You got your hit."
"Gracias," Luca replied, bowing dramatically. He then turned his attention to Harry again. "You guys are back?"
"Yes," Adrian answered for his little brother, who, as always, remained quiet.
Adrian stepped toward the window, parting the curtains just enough to confirm what he had suspected. A polished car had pulled into the mansion's courtyard, joining the other exquisite vehicles parked there.
Their mother, Mrs. Hawthorne, had returned from her outing with Harry and their sister, Charlotte.
Luca hadn't come to the Hawthorne mansion just to fence. He was here because Mrs. Hawthorne had personally invited him over, wanting to congratulate him face-to-face.
This was the first time she would see him since his victory in Monza, and she insisted that such a moment warranted an in-person celebration.
And yes, Luca was currently in London. He had been here for six days now—almost a week—after the finale that ended the entire season: the Formula 1 Italian Mega Prix, where Marcellus Rodnick walked out victorious, winning the F1 championship over his rivals for the second year in a row.
Everyone would soon be in the UK because the FIA Prize Giving Gala was just around the corner, and it would be held in London.
Additionally, the Federation made a statement that next season's overhaul and changes would be announced at the gala. So, this year's attendance would definitely be high.
Luca removed his mask and hung it on a nail on the wall, also carefully replacing his foil. Still in their suits, he then followed Adrian out of the room, taking Harry along.
Mrs. Hawthorne's main mansion—the one for the family living—was very big and grandiose, having more aesthetic appeal and a sense of warmth than her other mansions.
Luca was starting to know his way around, but that was because he only had a few routes in the massive place.
Routes like the main living room to the upper living room, the fencing room Adrian arranged, the dining hall, the study where Mrs. Hawthorne often entertained guests, the billiard room where Adrian sometimes played with his brother, and the glass-roofed indoor garden that connected to the rear courtyard.
That was like 15% of the house.
They arrived at the living room, and Mrs. Hawthorne was just settling into a sofa with one of her friends she had brought along, her security slowly dispersing to leave.
"Oh! There you are, Luca!" Mrs. Hawthorne exclaimed, pausing halfway through her sitting. "Champion of Formula 2! Come on, come on."
She opened her arms, and Luca stepped forward like a stick before she embraced him in a hug.
Pulling back, she placed both hands on his shoulders and smiled. "I watched the race live, of course. Absolutely marvelous. I knew you'd do well, but this? A championship? Trampos Racing must be ecstatic."
Luca chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. "They are… I guess."
Mrs. Hawthorne gestured to the woman seated beside her. "This is Evelyn Beaufort, a friend of mine," she said. "I don't know if you remember her from the day we met in Monaco?"
Luca quickly remembered the woman, although she had a lot of makeup now. She was the one spinning her drink with her index finger back then.
"She says she's slowly getting intrigued by motorsport. We've been discussing it all month."
Luca extended a polite hand, which the woman shook with a knowing smile. "A pleasure, Luca. I must say, your performance in Monza was impressive. You have a sharp racing mind," Evelyn said.
"Thank you, Mrs. Beaufort," Luca replied, glancing between her and Mrs. Hawthorne. "I appreciate it."
Mrs. Hawthorne called for Adrian and asked him to bring two bottles of wine since there were no servants currently around.
Adrian returned moments later, carrying four elegant glass cups and two pristine bottles. He set them neatly on the coffee table, pouring generous amounts before taking a seat beside Luca.
As they settled in, Charlotte passed by, likely heading to her room after a long day.
Mrs. Hawthorne's eyes lit up, and she called out to her daughter. Charlotte stopped in her tracks, turning back with a neutral expression. Then, Mrs. Hawthorne turned to Luca with an almost casual air.
"Would you take my daughter Charlotte's hand in marriage if I offered her to you?"
What the—?! Luca choked on his drink.
Luca's gaze darted around the room. Adrian and Evelyn were already laughing, thoroughly enjoying his reaction. He set his glass down, regaining composure. "Pardon?" he asked, even though he had heard her perfectly.
Mrs. Hawthorne leaned back gracefully against the arm of the sofa, swirling the deep red liquid in her glass. "I see a good pairing. And it would be a way to solidify our relationship into something unbreakable for the future."
Luca blinked. Was this really happening? He knew the wealthy often arranged marriages like business deals, but he never expected to be on the receiving end of such a proposal.
Mrs. Hawthorne, noticing his stunned silence, turned to Charlotte. "Charlotte, would you like to wed Luca?"
Charlotte answered without hesitation. "Yes, Mother."
Luca's brain short-circuited.
Mrs. Hawthorne carried on as if she hadn't just thrown an anvil onto his lap. "You see, Luca, we're about to finalize a seven-year deal. We're all in agreement. And don't you think something as long-term as this should be… eternal?"
Luca flicked his gaze to Adrian, silently pleading for help, but Adrian—of all times—chose to find this amusing.
"Marriage? Ma, she's what? Twelve?"
Mrs. Hawthorne smiled, pleased. "Good guess. She is twelve, and you're nineteen. A perfect seven-year gap for a healthy marriage."
Luca choked again. "Ma—"
"Obviously, this isn't happening now. Consider it a future project for our future together," she interjected smoothly, as if she were discussing an investment portfolio.
Luca exhaled, setting his glass down carefully before rubbing his eyes. "With all due respect, ma, I already have someone else I'm interested in," he said. He risked a glance at Charlotte, curious about her reaction. She seemed indifferent, her expression unchanged.
A brief silence fell over the room. Mrs. Hawthorne actually looked surprised, her eyebrows slightly raised. "Oh? And who might that be?"
"I doubt you'd know her, ma. But she's a good woman," Luca said firmly. "Charlotte is a beautiful girl, meant for a calm prince. Not a rough Formula driver."
Mrs. Hawthorne scoffed, taking a sip of her drink. "I highly doubt she's more beautiful than my daughter," she murmured to Evelyn. Then, she turned to Charlotte. "You may go. The first proposing rejection is never the last."
Luca wondered what that was supposed to mean.
Charlotte left without a word, and he let out a long sigh, rubbing his temple. He redirected the conversation.
"I've agreed personal terms with Outback Performance over Iberia," he announced, shifting the topic. "But there are rumors that Nevada and Nordvind might make late moves."
Evelyn perked up. "Nordvind is the likelier option, correct?"
"Statistically, yes," Luca nodded. "But Nevada HanSama is currently lacking prodigies. So if those rumors are true, they might not be baseless."
"But for now, everything's in the hands of Trampos."