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vettelsvee · 19 days

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FIRST VICTORY (PART 2) | Sebastian Vettel

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summary: seb and di wake up together after spending the night in di's hotel room speaking and getting to know each other more. rumors start going around the paddock about both of them being something, and people start making theories about that... including hanna, sebastian's girlfriend.

word count: 7050

warnings: translated german. race strategies that might not seem accurate but i tried my best. sexism, lots of sexism. bad language, curse words. mentions of sex and cheating. seb being a man; everyone being the man (friendly reminder that whatever you read here is fiction, and nothing that happens here or how characters act is real)

taglist: [@theseerbetweenus @annewithaneofthegreengable @vincentvanshoe] if you wanna be tagged in each part just tell me in the comments <3

¡! you can read the fanfic as diana or y/n, but the faceclaim will always be my girl emma stone :)

feedback is truly appreciated!

September 14th 2008

Italian Grand Prix Autodromo Nazionale Monza

Sunday

A buzzing sound echoed over the wood of one of the nightstands, followed immediately by an annoying melody that cut off after a few seconds.

Diana, still immersed in the dream she had where both her sister and her were attending a Grand Prix as Fernando Alonso and Jenson Button's partners, abruptly opened her eyes. She didn't recall the time she fell asleep, but she was aware that Sebastian did so before her.

Paling at the thought of the German sleeping next to her, she blinked rapidly, hoping to discover that everything was part of the alternate reality she lived in during her short night.

Realizing she couldn't move, she turned as much as she could, surprised by the scene not only in front of her but also of which she was part of. Sebastian laying beside her, arms wrapped around her as if he didn't want to let go. His hair was completely disheveled, and his mouth was slightly open, letting out occasional snores. The Austrian blushed and tried to prolong the moment, but a flash of light from Sebastian's mobile phone interrupted.

Once again, the ringtone filled the room.

"Seb, wake up, please," the blonde began, pushing him gently to awaken him. "You're getting a call, and I won't be the one to answer."

All she received from the driver were drowsy grunts and a request for five more minutes of sleep. The girl, a bit fearful and curious about whether it was someone important, approached the device and saw the name Hanna on the screen.

Hanna, Sebastian's friend. The one he stood up after the press conference.

Would a friend call you at eight-thirty in the morning on a Sunday? Shouldn't she be at church, studying, or something like that?

"Sebastian," Wagner whispered firmly into the blonde's ear, "Hanna is calling you."

The news seemed to surprise the boy, who quickly bounced out of bed, answering the call. Diana could see desperation in him but chose not to ask where he was heading when he took the phone in his hands and left the room, closing the door firmly behind him.

Sebastian ran out, head down in case anyone from the media recognized him. Hanna had called him twice, and he didn't answer either time, so he assumed she would be worried. He didn't want to imagine how she'd react if she caught him sleeping in his his new friend's hotel room...

No, he hadn't done anything wrong, so he shouldn't panic.

"Hello, Hanna!"

The German greeted his girlfriend, trying to sound as calm as possible, aware that the attempt was in vain. At the same time, he kept moving constantly through the corridors of the third floor.

"Hello, sweetheart! It took you a while to wake up today, right?" Prater replied sweetly, sensing her guy's nervous breathing. "Is something wrong? You sound a bit tense."

"No, no. I just went to bed a bit later than usual preparing some strategies with Alex for today's race," he explained, briefly altering what had actually happened. "I overslept, and they're about to close the buffet, so you might hear me a bit muffled."

Hanna, despite trying to believe her boyfriend, wasn't entirely convinced. She had known Vettel since they entered school. She could tell when something bothered him, especially when he lied. She would venture to say that this was one of those moments when Sebastian preferred to put on a mask and play the actor, as he did every weekend when he had to race.

That was what she liked least about her boyfriend being a Formula 1 driver, and it had become one of the reasons she didn't attend his races, along with the privacy they, especially her, wanted to maintain.

"Are you sure you're okay, Seb?" the German insisted. "Are you worried about today's race, or is there something else?"

"The race is the least of my worries, liebe," he quickly responded, trying to steer the conversation away from that topic. "I'm just nervous because the expectations on me are very high, and I don't want to disappoint anyone. I have so much on my mind right now..."

And that was true. Not every day did you race from your first pole position. Nor did you wake up in a girl's bed, holding her as if your life depended on it, especially when she wasn't your girlfriend and you had only known her for a few months.

The German sighed over the phone, knowing that if her boyfriend was nervous, there was no way to get him to talk. He tended to keep a lot of his feelings to himself, and this seemed to be one of those moments.

"Okay, but if you need to talk or anything, you know I'm just a call away," the girl said affectionately.

"I know, Hanna," Seb replied gratefully. "Don't worry, really. I promise if I win, I'll dedicate you the victory."

Prater accepted her partner's words though she knew something was amiss. Avoiding a conflict, she decided to move on without making a big deal out of it, discussing other matters such as his upcoming return home, whether he felt like going to the movies when they met again and, especially, when they would visit the apartment they had planned to buy in Berlin and liked so much last month.

Throughout the call, Seb tried to stay calm and, especially, forget about the great night he had spent with Di. He knew he had nothing to worry about because he hadn't done anything wrong, but the feeling of guilt for partially hiding the truth from Hanna didn't disappear, no matter how hard he tried.

His girlfriend wouldn't make a scene if she found out, but he was fully aware that it would hurt her because there was nothing she wanted more at that moment than to be there, in Italy.

With him.

Finally, after a few more minutes of conversation, the couple decided to end the call. As soon as he hung up the phone and put it in the back pocket of his pants, Sebastian quickly returned to Diana's room. She welcomed him with tiny spots of partially applied foundation all over her face, especially under her eyes. Their eyes met, and they couldn't help but smile at each other with a hint of shyness.

"We should hurry, Di. We can't waste too much time."

Vettel smiled at the girl and immediately entered the room to see if he had left anything behind. Diana still stood at the door, a bit embarrassed and, let's face it, confused by the pilot's behavior. She simply watched him while he carefully checked if he left anything. She didn't know if it was because of the race, the call from that Hanna person, or the night they had spent together, but the blonde felt the tension running through the guy in front of her.

"Everything okay?" she asked, finishing applying simple makeup while her gaze followed the German's movements. "You seem... I don't know... strange? You usually make jokes at all hours, but today it seems like you've had thirty coffees."

"Yes. Everything is... fine," the blonde replied, although Diana knew his words didn't convey sincerity, especially. "It was just a call from my friend Hanna. Nothing important for you to worry about."

You're acting as if this Hanna is more than just a friend so yes, I should be worried, thought the girl to herself, knowing there was more to that explanation. Even though she wanted to know more, she decided it was best not to press the guy. If he wanted to share something with her, he would do it when he felt comfortable.

"Are you ready to go?" Sebastian asked to change the subject.

"Yes, of course," Diana assured. "While you were on the phone I went down to the buffet and brought you something to eat," she pointed to some plates on the desk with croissants, cold cuts, some seasonal fruit, and two coffees. "I didn't know what you liked, so I chose a variety within your strict diet," she laughed. "I know you like to be calm before a race, and you wanted to leave already, but you should eat something before you go," the girl explained seriously. "I don't want you to leave with an empty stomach."

Sebastian laughed at the childish tone the blonde used while touching his stomach shyly. It reminded him of his mother when he was a bit younger, forcing him to eat before any karting competition.

Nodding in gratitude, the young man took a piece of pastry and filled it with a slice of mortadella. He took his coffee and sat on the bed, trying not to stain anything and eating more slowly than usual for someone in a hurry. Diana sat next to him, with a small glass in her hand filled with the same drink he was having.

"Aren't you eating anything? Do you want a piece? I can share with you. This is way too much for me" he offered, making a motion to cut his breakfast in half.

The girl shook her head and hands, thanking the driver for his offer.

"I already ate something downstairs before," Diana declared with a not very convincing sound. "Anyway, I wasn't very hungry."

Sebastian continued devouring his croissant as if his life depended on it. It seemed he was hungrier than he initially thought because he ended up eating the remaining loose pieces of cold cuts and even an apple and some peach slices. Diana seemed to have read his mind, even though she didn't want to admit it initially.

"Now we really should go, Di," Vettel said, getting up quickly and picking up everything from the belated breakfast. "If we keep delaying, Franz is going to kill me, and Alex, you."

"Do you think Fiori would be capable of killing me?"

Sebastian Vettel smiled at the girl as he put on his coat and took the belongings the girl usually carried with her.

"You have no idea what that man would be capable of, Di," he said, avoiding eye contact at all costs. "But you can't imagine what I would do to prevent that at all costs."

[…]

The journey to the circuit felt longer than the return to the hotel the previous day. This time, there was no soothing rain in the background, no blasting radio with Coldplay music to unwind and drift away. The only thing piercing the ears of Diana and Sebastian was the sound of the car engine, filling the silence within the vehicle.

Well, that and the cheers of thousands of fans waiting outside the circuit, hoping to catch a glimpse of their favorite drivers speeding by in a car. Well, and also photographers, journalists and anyone eager to extract interesting information or, which was the same, create chaos.

As flashes from cameras began to burst, reflecting on the car windows, Sebastian paled, knowing that what would come out of there wouldn't be good. Diana didn't know what to do. Anxiety attacked her gradually until it became almost unbridled. She had never experienced anything like it and she wasn't enjoying any part of the experience. As she watched Vettel rummage through the belongings he seemed to have in the glove compartment, she focused on taking deep breaths and exhaling slowly. She had had so many anxiety attacks since her early teenage years that she knew exactly what to do and how to do it to calm them as quickly as possible, even though it didn't make them easier to endure.

Fans, upon seeing the pole man arrive, started screaming uncontrollably, making it impossible for Sebastian and Diana to hear each other.

"What's going on? Could you tell me what you're doing, Vettel?"

The blonde raised her voice as much as she could so that the German could distinguish what she was saying. However, he didn't utter a word and continued searching for the unknown until he pulled out a pair of sunglasses, which he hurriedly handed to Diana. Slowly, they were entering the lion's den, and the blonde was aware that if he didn't do anything to remedy it, rumors would start spreading like a pandemic.

"Put this on, please."

Sebastian's face pleaded for mercy. Wagner, who understood nothing of what was happening and even less the mystery the driver had in his hands, just made a disgusted face.

"I'm not putting that on," the girl clarified. "So, don't even think about forcing me to."

"Di..."

The entrance to the paddock parking was getting closer and, with it, the possibilities of getting into trouble. The Austrian persisted, trying by all means to get Sebastian to drop that idea, who became fed up and a bit enraged.

"For God's sake, Diana!" he shouted, still trying to remain calm. He couldn't risk his relationship with Hanna that way, especially for going to a race with a friend, only that the friend was a girl. "I've met journalists in the hard way and I don't want you to become their invention of me hooking up with a girl and then brought to the race, okay?"

Relaxation exercises weren't working at all and, more than anxiety, what Diana was feeling at that moment was pure panic. The feeling of claustrophobia was growing, and if before she felt like she was suffocating, now she was sensing her death right there if no one hurried to help her.

Drawing strength from where she didn't have it, she took those glasses and put them on, lowering her head. Sebastian was right: a girl seen with a driver became the subject of rumors that they had hooked up and brought to the race. Diana Wagner was much more than a mere sex toy, although at Toro Rosso people thought otherwise.

The blinding lights passed quickly until they faded along with the cheers and chants. They had finally entered the private parking of the circuit, exclusively reserved for drivers, demonstrating the amount of security gathered in one place.

Diana hurriedly got out of the car, needing to breathe some fresh air even though they were underground. Sebastian spent a few seconds staying inside the car, trying to calm down from the madness they had experienced, and above all, hoping they hadn't taken a photo of him with his companion with enough quality to cause a sensation in news around the world.

"That was crap, Seb," the girl told him as he got out of the car. "Seriously, I don't understand how so many people can be gathered in one place. I'm sure they couldn't breathe! And isn't there any security? At least an ambulance should be there. You know, someone could..."

"Miss, can I know who you are?"

One of the security guards, of considerable stature and a very robust appearance, approached the girl aggressively.

"I'm Diana Wagner, sir. Race engineering intern, part of Toro Rosso's internship."

The firmness with which the Austrian said that while showing her ID was quickly blurred by the laughter of the men present there, except for Vettel, who wanted to say something even though he knew it wasn't the most appropriate. Finally, the twenty-year-old succumbed to the pressure and the murderous looks, joining the laughter even though he tried to do the opposite.

"Oh, I see," one of the men retorted, "Alex's little bitch. Isn't that right, Vettel?"

"Well, she's much more than that. If it weren't for her..." the German replied, cowed.

"Don't tell us stories, Vettel," another of them, albeit slightly more disheveled, approached the mentioned one. "Let's hope you made her scream so much last night that those are the same screams you make when you win today. And then you make her scream again tonight."

Maybe the intention was to say it in a whisper and keep it between them, but Diana heard it all, just like the rest of those present. Bewildered, she looked at Sebastian, who didn't know how to react, ashamed of his behavior and, above all, wanting to apologize to the girl. Then, she ran towards the team garage, trying not to be run over by the cars that were arriving.

Tears ran down her face as she went through the paddock, trying not to collide with anyone who got in her way. The curious looks didn't leave her alone, and Diana noticed that she didn't want anything more than to become as small as an ant and have everyone ignore her or even trample her, because that's what she felt they were doing. Lost in her thoughts, she jumped when she felt someone grab her arm.

"Who made you cry, beautiful?"

It couldn't be true.

It couldn't be Rosberg again.

Wouldn't he get tired of receiving a no for an answer?

"You as soon as you opened your mouth, to be honest," Diana said sarcastically. "Leave me alone, I already have enough dealing with a German, blond, blue-eyed idiot. I don't need to be enduring another one," she replied, changing the language to perfect Spanish and leaving Nico somewhat perplexed, even though he partially understood what she was saying.

Fernando Alonso, who was talking with Felipe Massa nearby, just laughed quietly, earning a few unfriendly glares from the German and a confused one from the Brazilian. The pair decided to approach the younger ones, who were engrossed in a heated argument.

"What are you talking about?" Felipe asked curiously, interrupting the conversation between the German speakers. "Is it about the rumors that have started circulating?"

"What rumors?"

Rosberg seemed to be having a great time trying to annoy Diana. The girl's face, due to anger, had turned a reddish shade similar to the color of the suit worn by those belonging to Ferrari.

"Those saying that Vettel and you spent the night together," added Alonso in his mother tongue. "I don't know the details, and I don't want to know them, but people can't stop talking about it. Be careful, Diana: what starts well, ends badly."

"And why the hell does anyone care who I spent the night with?" Diana shouted a bit louder than expected in perfect Spanish. "For God's sake, Sebastian and I are just friends... I think," she clarified. "There will never be anything between him and me because... I don't have to give you explanations. I'm done with the conversation."

"Can you talk in a language we all understand perfectly?" Nico pleaded, supported by the Brazilian driver. "Please."

In a matter of minutes, Wagner had gone from sadness to irritability, and in that situation, all she wanted was to hit someone. She didn't want to, of course, but containing her aggressiveness in those moments was becoming an impossible task.

Her entrance to the Toro Rosso garage was nothing special either. As always, glances over the shoulder and gossip was what she received from her colleagues. That day, more than sinking Diana's self-esteem a bit more, they managed to make, for the first time in the entire season, the blonde think about herself and go directly to where she usually spent most of her time inside, ignoring everyone.

As the hours passed, the garage filled with engineers engrossed in their monitors, mechanics focused on preparing the cars in perfect condition, and even some random celebrity who had no idea about the sport but was curious and eager to fiddle with everything, becoming a nuisance.

Wagner, absorbed in telemetry to see if she could come up with a plan B in case Alex messed up, despite the shitty behavior the German had had with her on arrival, began to notice that everyone's attention shifted to the entrance of the box. Curious, she decided to ignore Sebastian's data for a moment and imitate the rest.

Sebastian Vettel, already dressed in the appropriate attire to get into the car, entered the place confidently. Despite being hurt by his behavior, Diana couldn't help but make direct eye contact with the blonde, who gave her a remorseful smile. She did no less: smiled back at him.

Sometimes, she hated being a woman who succumbed to the slightest charms of men, especially when they were blond, of medium height, with clear eyes and, especially, treated her well.

Next to him was a man of short stature and a chubby figure, with little hair and a thick beard that gave him a Santa Claus vibe. By his side, tightly holding his hand, was a girl with long jet-black hair, shy and embarrassed in the crowd around her.

Vettel ignored all the calls directed at him and went straight to Diana, eager to introduce her to two of the most important people in his life:

"Di," he began in German, "let me introduce you to a quarter of my family... I think, Maths has never been my strong suit. This is my father, Norbert," he said, pointing to the man, who quickly shook her hand, "and this is Lara, my little sister," he added, pointing to the girl, who shyly nodded her head.

"It's a pleasure to meet you," the girl replied, nervously touching the headphones resting on her neck. "I hope today is lucky and you can see Sebastian take home his first victory."

Vettel's father nodded, very convinced that it would indeed happen.

"I trust my son more than the bank that gave me the loan to pay off our mortgage," he said, patting Seb on the shoulder. "And that's saying something when he's a useless twenty-one-year-old! Plus, having you as an engineer I'm sure everything will go great. Finally I see a girl doing something other than wearing suggestive clothes and applauding these Neanderthals when they step onto the podium!"

"Dad, behave yourself, please," Sebastian forced with a smile while not-so-subtly elbowing his father.

"I'm not Sebastian's engineer, Mr. Vettel," the blonde clarified hastily. "I'm just a team intern. I can't do much, but I promise I'll do my best to ensure your son's race goes as smoothly as possible and, above all, that you enjoy it to the fullest."

Suddenly, Franz appeared and got between them, putting his hands on the shoulders of father and son and leading them away. Sebastian's sister stood in front of Diana, wondering why her brother's boss was so stupid.

"I really wanted to come to a race, but it's all very weird. Mom warned me that this wasn't a good place for a girl like me, and now I see why! Everyone Dad and Seb have talked to seems very silly," she vented, "and you're the only one who has looked at me."

Finally, Lara had gathered the courage to talk to the blonde girl. In response, the girl crouched down to her level. She didn't know why, but that girl, who, despite being of the same blood as the driver, seemed to be the opposite of him, had taken quite a liking to her.

"You get used to it... Lara, right?," the girl nodded, seemingly happy. "I don't usually get much attention, but your brother always manages to make me smile and make me feel valued."

"What does it mean to make you feel valued? Is it something that cost money?"

"It's when someone puts in a lot of effort and you let them know," Sebastian said, reappearing. "Like when your Maths teacher puts a happy face sticker on your notebook when you solve an exercise correctly."

The conversation continued between the siblings and the intern in a more lively and relaxed manner. Lara started to feel more comfortable with the girl, even asking her a few questions about Formula 1 that seemed trivial to Vettel. "What happens if they run out of gas?" or "Can they stop if they need to pee?" were two of the many questions Diana had the pleasure of answering for the ten-year-old until they were interrupted by Alex, who informed Seb, ignoring the two girls, that he had to get into the race car and position it on the starting grid.

The driver apologized, quickly taking Lara's hand to lead her to where Norbert was. Diana simply returned to her seat and hid her head behind one of the screens, but before she could Sebastian spoke to her:

"I couldn't leave without saying goodbye to you. I'm sorry for how I acted earlier. I felt incredible pressure, even more than when I'm on the track! I know it's not an excuse because I could have shut them up as I always do, but...

Diana remained static, unsure of how to answer.

"Aren't you going to say anything?", Seb replied, trying to get a response. "I need my paddock girl to bring me good luck."

"Go get 'em, tiger."

"So now you're Mary Jane Watson, huh?" Sebastian confronted, raising an eyebrow and trying to keep Diana's shyness from escalating after that statement. "I didn't think you liked the geek with glasses who shoots webs, which I love, by the way," he explained, "I saw you more as Gwen Stacy actually. You know, since you're blonde and intelligent as fuck..." he pointed to the girl's hair.

Wagner refrained from biting her tongue. She wished she could tell him that blonde wasn't her natural color and that she was a redhead like Peter Parker's girlfriend, only that the insecurity created in college about her hair color had led her to dye it that platinum almost monthly. Also, she was sure that if she decided to go back to the coppery tone she loved so much deep down, they would say it was just for attention, and that was the last thing she wanted.

She hated hiding her true self, but she hated even more the fact that there was a high chance people would like her for not being herself.

Acting was not a profession that particularly appealed to her, but if she had to dedicate herself entirely to it to get what she wanted most, she was more than willing to continue playing the role of her life.

[...]

The starting signal was about to be given, and in the Toro Rosso garage, everyone was aware of it. The rain was the main cause of this, which had started just moments ago and had suddenly poured down all at once.

Everyone was on their feet, watching Sebastian on the large screen hanging on the wall, eagerly awaiting his start. Even Fiori wasn't positioned in front of his computer, and that had never happened.

The expectations for the German were too high, and he could hear it through the comments filtering through his radio. He began to feel nervous but forced himself to calm down: he not only had a team that had trusted him watching him but also his family, the girl he loved, and possibly the entire Heppenheim. Diana kept her eyes on the screen, not taking them off unless it was to see the seconds remaining for the start.

The thunderous sound of the engines took over everyone's attention when the red lights came on, and after the lights went out, the race cars shot off toward the first turn. Wagner held her breath and crossed her fingers, mentally praying to whoever God might be that Sebastian would have opportunities to win despite the rain, which now seemed to be working against him.

After the start, the Toro Rosso garage began to fill with activity. Mechanics returned to their respective positions, waiting for either of the two drivers to make a pit stop, and the same happened with the engineers, who hurried back to telemetry with their helmets on. Diana also did the same and returned to what had become her corner of confidence, immersing herself in the battle through the team's transmission. The buzz of voices and data filled her mind as she followed the race, while she began, as in any other Grand Prix, to develop her own ideas to improve Vettel's performance even if they were in vain.

In the midst of her thoughts, a familiar voice slipped in. Sebastian had started singing a low melody that didn't quite reach her while maintaining the lead. The intern couldn't help but let out a silly smile at the German's antics that had given the team so many headaches.

"Sebastian, I need you to focus on what's around you, not to think you're Freddie Mercury at Wembley."

As the laps went by, and information exchanges continued, the rain increased simultaneously. Although the intermediate tires were suitable at the start of the race, the weather conditions were worsening, affecting Sebastian's performance. Diana could see on her monitor how the sector times for her driver were deteriorating compared to most of the other drivers, especially Barrichello, who was rapidly closing in.

Vettel seemed to be aware of the issue because he repeatedly urged Fiori to make another pit stop, only to receive rejections from the engineer. The blonde continued analyzing the data, and her mind began to develop a strategy that, while not the best and could risk everything, she knew was the most appropriate.

Even though Diana was just a mere intern, or more of a gofer, with no voice or vote, seen only as a pretty face to showcase that women could be part of motorsport, she knew perfectly well that the data Alex was providing lacked cohesion, the strategy hadn't been properly designed and all of it would end in the greatest disappointment for the German driver if something wasn't done.

"Mr. Fiori," she cautiously began, "I think we should consider thinking about a different plan to maximize the chances of success."

Sebastian, who was holding onto the lead as best he could, started listening to the conversation, quite interested in what the girl was saying.

The Austrian had minimal hopes that her boss's response would be appropriate, but it wasn't. Instead of considering the girl's suggestion and seeing what they could do, Alex looked at her with disdain and began a string of derogatory comments that only soured the intern's day even more.

"Do you think you know anything about strategies?," he replied with disdain. "Girls like you should stick to shutting the hell up and stop spewing shit about something you don't know," the glares were starting to focus between the two of them. "If you're still here, it's because you bring us good reputation, not because you're fit for this," he said, pointing at the data. "I'm sure you have some little task to do right now to earn your salary because you're not doing anything here."

"You don't know that because you haven't given me a damn chance to prove what I'm capable of."

The Italian went cold at the response from the subordinate girl. Even Sebastian, who was listening attentively to the discussion they were having, was impressed by his friend's response, though very proud that she had finally decided to stand up for herself.

"I'm just asking you to make one more pit stop and change to wet tires," Diana explained, ignoring the man. "We would stop in the next two or three laps," she calculated. " Then Sebastian would come out, according to my calculations, from the tenth position onwards, and we wouldn't have to stop again because fuel would be just enough, which would even increase the speed of the race car in the last laps."

"Since when do interns think they've been working in Formula 1 for twenty years or so?", he answer with a completely sarcastic tone. "Wagner: you either follow my rules, or you leave. A girl like you shouldn't tell me what to do to get victories for the team, clear?"

"No, actually," Diana replied, not allowing herself to be intimidated and ignoring the man's last words, "but what is clear is that Hamilton, Button, Alonso and Räikkönen have switched to wet tires and are improving their times. That should also be clear to you, just as information."

Alex looked at her with anger. He wanted to kill her at that moment.

"Look, little one...", he commented, approaching the girl intimidatingly. "Stay quiet in some corner like the whore you are. I'm sure the next time you open your mouth, someone, I hope not to be me, will shut you up in ways you won't like. Or maybe you will."

If it hadn't been for her self-control, Diana would have given the man in front of her the beating of his life. She could hear Vettel's voices in the background, very coupled, and how he demanded Alex to leave the girl alone. The twenty-year-old sounded very frustrated, and she completely understood: they were ruining his race.

But Diana Wagner wasn't going to let that happen.

Just as she was about to say something more, Franz Tost appeared, approaching Fiori and whispering something in his ear that none of those around them could hear. The engineer looked at the team leader and simply nodded his head before disappearing from there together.

"You better hope this isn't broadcasted on television, Wagner." Fiori threatened as he disappeared. "If it is, you'll pay dearly."

At that moment, the blonde's adrenaline was so high, even though she felt like shit, that she didn't stop to think about her boss's words, quite the opposite: as quickly as possible, and making sure no one saw her, she took Fiori's headphones and began giving orders to the driver:

"Seb, I don't know if you trust me, but I need you to do the following, so listen to me, please," Diana ordered, drawing strength from where she didn't have it. "You're going to stop in the next lap, change to wet tires and they will give you enough fuel to finish the race with a margin," the urgency in the girl's voice was evident. "Weather conditions are getting worse, and so is the track. If you stick with the intermediates, you risk losing the victory."

The blonde's intervention completely caught Vettel off guard, but he began to mysteriously relax.

"Di, are you sure about what you're saying? Do you think it's the best option?"

She nodded, even though the guy couldn't see her.

"The majority have already stopped and, if my calculations don't fail me," she began to review the telemetry, "you, Bourdais and Webber are the only ones who haven't made any tire changes. All you're going to achieve is gaining grip on the track, getting more speed and securing a victory."

Sebastian took a deep breath, and his response was immediate:

"Okay, Di. Hey... thanks for standing up against Alex," he confessed. "Sometimes he can get a little crazy with all this and loses his nerves under pressure."

"You don't have to apologize," she said affectionately. "I'm here for this, and I'd rather end up on the street than not being able to help you to show what you can do."

One pit stop, about seventeen more laps, and some struggles that kept hearts pounding until the end, Sebastian Vettel was the first to cross the waving checkered flag of the circuit. Everyone from Toro Rosso began running euphorically to the fence to greet the guy, still racing in his race car and already heading to parc fermé. Cheers and applause began filling the air, and all eyes were on the young German driver who had achieved his first victory.

Sebastian, with his helmet still on, ran towards his mechanics and even to his engineer, who celebrated the victory as if he had been part of it. The blonde's face was infected with a smile that seemed unwilling to disappear; his arms, raised in a sign of victory, were followed by what, from that moment on, would become his characteristic celebration: his index finger pointing straight, indicating that he had finished first.

Diana, who was watching everything from the box, witnessed the scene with a series of conflicting feelings. Before the German was taken by some responsible people to the podium, she saw how their eyes met, and Seb articulated a thank you in their native language, intended only for her; he even blew her a kiss and winked at her, but she didn't give it much importance because he did the same on the podium many times, looking directly at his team.

Everything happened very quickly. The podium ascent after the post-race weigh-ins. The German anthem in honor of the champion, immediately followed by the Italian anthem; the trophy presentations and the corresponding champagne celebration, concluding with an interview where Sebastian couldn't stop thanking Tost, Alex, and the team in general.

As the girl expected, there was no special mention of Diana Wagner; just a note on the floor of her hotel room that welcomed her as soon as she crossed the door.

Thank you for making this possible, newbie. I apologize for the haste, but Horner has arranged a dinner with Tost and a couple of others to discuss my Red Bull contract more seriously. I wanted to see you, and no matter the excuses I've given, Britta has forced me to go. You should see how ridiculous I look in a suit. I owe you a dinner and, above all, my life, I would say.

P.S.: The kisses I threw were for you, each and every one of them; without you, none of this would have been possible.

P.S.2: I owe you a dinner, how about at the end of the season? That way, we avoid surprises :)

P.S.3: I don't know if roses are your favorite flowers, and I don't know if you like chocolate, but... I hope you at least like the small detail you have on your desk.

The surface where that morning she had set the breakfast for the German was now almost completely covered with a large bouquet of flowers and various types of Italian sweets.

Diana Wagner was slowly sinking into quicksand, and she wasn't even aware of it yet.

[…]

Sebastian Vettel detested nothing more than meetings, especially after winning his first victory when he could be out getting drunk with shots and various drinks, leaving him vomiting and hungover the next morning.

Or having a quiet dinner with Diana in his room as a thank-you for what she had done for him.

God, how much he loved that girl.

He emerged from the bathroom with disheveled hair, wearing only a towel around his waist. Small drops of water fell down his bare chest, but Vettel was so eager to talk to his girlfriend that he took a shower of less than a minute, dried off quickly, and rushed to his backpack to grab his laptop and call Prater on Skype.

Hanna appeared on the screen, but not her exactly. Instead, there was photo she had taken for her university ID. It was strange for the German to have the camera off. Normally, after a race, she was always eager to see Sebastian to chat or even do something crazy.

"Sorry for taking so long, love," Seb started saying. "Britta, as we know her, forced me to go to a dinner with..."

His words were interrupted by the arrival of two photos his girlfriend had sent through the app's chat. His gaze shifted to the blurry, thumbnail-sized images that were downloading. When they opened, he could clearly see himself holding the steering wheel with one hand while the other reached for a blurry face, one he knew perfectly was Diana's.

Damn.

This couldn't be happening.

"Were you busy with dinner or that blonde who looks so much like me and clearly isn't me?"

The question was directed straight at the German, who began to get nervous. No matter how much he tried to stay calm because he hadn't done anything, he couldn't help his pulse skyrocketing uncontrollably.

"Hanna, listen, it's not what you think," he began to explain, searching for the right words for her to listen.

She, now with her camera activated, stared at him through the screen, her blue eyes reflecting only disappointment.

"Seb, I need you to tell me the truth."

"Liebe, I promise there's nothing between that girl and me," the German's thoughts began to jumble. "It's Diana, I think I've told you about her. The intern. It was just pouring rain and I wasn't going to let her walk alone to the circuit."

Hanna interrupted him:

"I understand, darling," she said, "but I don't understand why you're smiling. Do you feel more comfortable with her than with me?" The girl began to cry. "Damn it, I'm so insecure. You dedicated today's victory to me with those kisses..."

Vettel ran his hand through his wet hair, completely desperate with that situation. He knew Hanna was very insecure and that what bothered her the most when he was away was the people he associated with. For that reason, they had had a thousand and one fights that kept happening despite the driver assuring her that she was the love of his life and the only person he had eyes for.

But that didn't mean he wasn't guilty of the events of the previous night and the accumulating lies, like the dedication of the victory.

It wasn't for Hanna but for the girl who seemed to be slowly becoming his girlfriend's replacement in the paddock.

"Hanna, I promise you have nothing to worry about," the blonde said, feeling great guilt because the photos were taken with the intention of creating misunderstandings. "My relationship with you is the most important thing to me. Besides, Diana probably has a boyfriend. She's just a mate, and if it makes you feel better, I'll talk to her to avoid misunderstandings," he let out. "If you allow me, of course."

The girl seemed to consider it for a moment until she finally agreed.

"Okay, Seb. But I want you to swear to me, for the sake of everything you hold dear, that if something changes between you two and you start to be more than friends, you'll tell me. You know you have my trust to do so."

Sebastian nodded seriously, swallowing at the same time to contain the question that was eating him up inside these days.

Why had he grown so fond of Diana Wagner in such a short time?