Chapter Text
Mercedes’ preseason personnel file sat on Kimi Antonelli’s lap during the flight to Monaco, pages rustling in the cabin air. He skimmed through the new hires, barely paying attention—until one name caught his eye.
Dr. Ellison DeLaire — Head Race Engineer
Age: 18
Education: BS Mechanical Engineering (16), PhD in Vehicle Dynamics (18)
Background: Former Ferrari intern, simulation lead, data prodigy.
Kimi blinked.
“…Eighteen?” he muttered.
Max Verstappen, sitting across from him, raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, Toto’s been bragging about that one. Prodigy. Total freak. Ferrari wanted to chain them to Maranello. Mercedes got him instead.”
Kimi leaned back, imagining some wiry, over-caffeinated eighteen-year-old boy with glasses and a genius complex.
He sighed.
“Great,” he murmured. “A child bossing me around.”
Max snorted. “They’re the same age as you, calm down.”
—-------
Monaco had always been a place of sharp edges and soft shadows, champagne nights merging with Mediterranean mornings, but Ellison DeLaire danced above it all.
Three-time ballroom world champion. Mechanical engineering prodigy. Monaco’s favorite impossible child.
The Monte Carlo Ballroom Academy was tucked between a florist and an old tailor, its wide windows slightly fogged from the heat inside. Chandeliers hung from the ceiling, mirrors reflected every angle, and the polished wood floor gleamed under the afternoon sun.
The mirrors reflected early sunlight. The trophies—hundreds of them—caught the glow. The deep wooden floors creaked in familiar encouragement beneath her feet.
She had been practicing since six AM.
Not because she had to.
Because dancing was the one thing that made sense when everything else in her life felt like equations and pressure and expectations she’d created for herself.
And currently?
Trying to nail an Italian ballroom routine that required so much precision, she was sure she’d sprain something if she misstepped.
The speakers pulsed out a fast, technical rhythm. Not sexy, just demanding. The kind of choreography that tested stamina. Still, outsiders always seemed to assume ballroom was suggestive, even when it wasn’t.
That was exactly when the door swung open.
Max Verstappen stepped in first, “Ellie? Picking her up a few minutes early— hope that’s okay.”
Elena stumbled to a halt, cheeks flaming. “It’s fine.” She reached for the remote like it was a life raft and paused the music. “I—I didn’t know anyone was coming in yet—sorry, that wasn’t the student routine, I swear—”
But behind Max, half-hidden in the doorway, was Kimi Antonelli, the new Mercedes hotshot, all quiet confidence and the kind of stare that could pin a person in place.
Kimi swallowed. “Didn’t expect to… walk into that.”
Max shot him a look. “Mate.”
Elena grabbed her water bottle, still catching her breath. “So. What brings you here early? and with friends?"
“Mercedes wanted me to get Max,” Kimi answers. “For a meeting. He wasn’t answering his phone.”
Elena raised a brow, turning to Max, “Mercedes? Thought Max was Red Bull’s headache.”
Max shrugged. “They went downhill fast. Politics, chaos, the whole thing collapsed. So— new chapter.”
Penelope waved happily. “Bye Miss Ellie!”
Elena smiled, but it was definitely the smile of someone who desperately wanted to crawl under the floor. “Bye sweetheart. Make sure to stretch for next time."
Penelope raced off, leaving the three adults in a very awkward triangle of silence.
Kimi was still standing near the door, studying her with that too-perceptive racer intensity. “You move fast,” he finally said.
She blinked. “I—what?”
“The dance,” he clarified quickly, ears turning slightly pink. “Your steps. They’re… complicated.”
“Oh.” She relaxed, just a touch. “Yeah. This style demands a lot of control.”
“I’m not—” he shook his head. “I’m just… shocked. You’re—”
He looked at her again, taking in the dancer’s posture, the trophies, the intensity she radiated without trying.
“—incredibly impressive,” he finished.
Elena blinked, startled by the sincerity. “Oh. Thank you.”
Max groaned. “Look at him. He’s malfunctioning.”
Kimi elbowed him. “I am not malfunctioning.”
“You walked in, saw her spin once, and your soul left your body.”
“It did not,” Kimi snapped.
Elena hid a smile behind her water bottle.
Max checked the time. “Right. We are VERY late. Toto’s going to chew us out.”
He herded Kimi toward the door like a sheepdog.
Then Penelope yelled from the lobby, “DADDY, KIMI’S FACE IS RED!”
Kimi groaned. Max cackled.
And the door swung shut.
Leaving Elena in silence, breathless, trying to figure out how to reschedule the rest of her day and where her phone went, because if Max and Kimi were needed at Mercedes, she most likely was too.