My Formula 1 System

Luca saw that the person was Adrian, peering down at him with a mocking frown that twisted at the edges into something more comical. Recognition sparked between the two friends before they broke into rich, resonant laughter. To close the distance with Adrian, Luca angled his path toward the stairwell.

Within seconds, Luca met him, their laughter subsiding into simple grins as both instinctively gave each other a rapid inspection of their outfits. Luca was dressed in a black tuxedo suit, sharp and understated, with the jacket cut close at the shoulders and a tight sheen so captivating.

Adrian, by contrast, carried a flair that leaned more toward wealthy than formal. His tuxedo was red, trimmed with black satin lapels, and he wore a bow tie that made him look chivalrous. Luca's eyes caught the gold watch at his wrist, gleaming its worth at a single glance, no doubt an accessory chosen to be noticed.

Although he hadn't dressed with competition in mind, Luca knew how this little game between them always played out, and clearly, Adrian had stolen the spotlight tonight.

He wryly accepted his loss by spreading his arms and bowing shortly, a gesture of concession. Adrian suppressed his imminent laughter by taking a sip from his glass until Luca straightened up and stepped closer, meeting him face to face.

"Why do I have the feeling you've been here countless times?"

Luca asked as his gaze wandered from the balcony, drawn to the sweeping expanse of the ballroom. The chandeliers hung even higher than the balcony, but their radiant glow was enough to touch the polished marble floor below. The floor stretched endlessly toward doors, grand arches, built-in bars, stairwells, and so much more.

The sheer openness of the place made one feel small, as if it had been built to remind guests of their insignificance in the presence of true wealth and power.

"Three times is few; the first I can't even remember," Adrian said as he recalled his prior visits to this very palace. "I was still a child then."

"What about the second time? Do you remember?"

"Of course I do. Haha. I was sixteen back then, and I came here in my dad's shoes that were two sizes too big," Adrian said with a mildly reminiscent smile. He pointed at the stairwell to their right. "One of the shoes slipped right off there."

Luca grimaced in sudden surprise, expecting the fall after that must've been terrible. "You rolled down the stairs??"

"Nearly," Adrian answered after a pause. "Someone held me steady by the collar before I embarrassed my family. Mother was so angry, it became a very short outing afterwards."

"So you're here for redemption."

"Yes, I'm here for redemption!" Adrian proclaimed, and both of them laughed.

Luca turned back to the hall to enjoy the view, but his mind lingered on Adrian's words, especially after he mentioned his father, the great Mr. Benedict Hawthorne, who he learned had passed away eight years ago from a stroke.

Since then, Mrs. Hawthorne had taken the reins of the empire without any objection from anyone. Perhaps Benedict had always made it clear how precious his wife and children were to him.

With unshakable authority, his wife now ran the affairs of everything, her signature serving as the highest verification in the billion-dollar English empire. Even though some whispered of her stern hand and little patience for error, Mrs. Hawthorne had done a good job of keeping the family's name from faltering after the loss of Benedict's commanding presence.

As Luca thought of this, he remembered Harry, the last of the three Hawthorne children. Since Harry was only six, and Benedict Hawthorne had passed away eight years ago, there was no way the boy could have been his child.

Another man's? Adopted? Luca couldn't believe he hadn't pieced it together before. Although he looked like his brother Adrian, the boy's brown hair stood out too starkly from his siblings, and this was the major clue that meant either option. Blonde was a recessive trait after all, or Harry wasn't theirs by blood at all.

Luca scoffed softly to himself as he remembered a similar thing had played out in his own family. His father was red-haired, his mother dark-haired, and then, both he and Sophia leaned much closer to their mother's side. Still, Luca's shade sat somewhere in between, hinting at both but favoring neither parent completely.

"Psst… those women are eyeing you," Adrian muttered teasingly to Luca as he pointed without shame.

Luca followed the pointed direction and saw the same two women who had glared so femininely at him upon his entrance. One was in a fitting emerald dress that hugged her figure, while the other was in a silver gown with a daring neckline. Both carried their glasses elegantly and even toasted their drinks to the two young men looking down at them.

"I'm three hundred percent sure you could take either of them out right now—both, in fact—and end up sleeping with them before the night's over."

Luca turned his gaze away from the women and back to his friend, shaking his head. "Nah, not my type. Why don't you go do it, then?" he asked.

"I've got some nobility in me, can't be seen with just any lady. And soon enough, you might be noble too."

"Me? Since when?"

"If I marry Sophia," Adrian answered. "And if you marry my sister," he added once he noticed Luca wanted to laugh.

Luca's prepared laugh caught in his throat after the second sentence, but he chose to ignore it and address the first alone. "Sophia? I really thought your mother was playing around. Personally, you like my sister??"

Adrian thought for a moment, weighing his own words before saying them. "Well, she's tall… beautiful, carries herself differently. Not that I can really put my finger on it." If pressed, the young man couldn't name anything that truly set Sophia apart from the rest, yet he believed she had an allure that refused to let him brush her aside the way he might with another of her status.

Luca chuckled softly to himself, the sound carrying a trace of madness as he rubbed at his temple in disbelief. "You'll be in for a rude awakening, Adrian," he muttered, waving his hand as he added, "Come on, just take me to where your mother is. We've been out here long enough."

Adrian stood there for a while to test Luca's patience before he agreed and led the way. From that balcony, they entered through a big open doorway that revealed a few more people, finely dressed and dignified. The sound of strings and pipes from a small ensemble in the classical quarter filled the background as the guests moved tastefully.

A certain gentleman in tailored attire, standing with a regal posture while speaking delightfully to a couple, saw Adrian Hawthorne approaching, and a familiar figure beside him. The man's expression changed to mild surprise. He excused himself, and shifted with grace to engage them directly.

Luca, who saw the man coming, accepted his warm greeting. The courtier's words flowed out with a refined French accent, a clear display of his multilingualism.

After a firm handshake, he told Luca how grateful he was to have a guest like him here in the prince's palace. One by one, other guests in that section turned their heads, the chatter softening as recognition of the F1 driver spread.

"And I must thank you once again, Sir Adrian—truly. It appears His Highness's formal invitation to Mr. Luca somehow never reached its destination. An unfortunate oversight."

"I had a feeling he was meant to be here all the same."

"Indeed—and you were quite right. His Highness would have been most displeased had Mr. Luca's absence gone unexplained. In truth, we are grateful you took the initiative."

Luca smiled, nodding his head. He was glad his friend had insisted. Yet a thought pressed at him—what could have caused the failed invite? It seemed likely this problem had struck twice.

According to the simple tradition in Monaco, the winner of the Grand Prix received a summons to the palace for royal acknowledgment. Luca had taken last year's title, yet no invitation had ever reached him. Could it be a clerical error, logistic issues, or something else?

"As are we. Please, this way. His Highness will be pleased to greet you personally."

Luca and Adrian followed at once, Adrian certain that wherever the prince was must be where his mother was too, since he had lost track of her movements in the palace.

Their guide led them through gleaming corridors of marble and gilt, past high-arched windows spilling moonlight across polished floors, and beneath chandeliers that glimmered like constellations suspended indoors.

Every turn revealed fresh faces, and the further they went, the more Luca realized his earlier assumption of an intimate gathering was wrong. It felt as if the deeper, the wealthier.

At one bend, they nearly collided with a man who was approaching from the other side of the passage. He wore plain clothes, but his posture, watchful eyes, and the subtle bulge beneath his jacket betrayed him. He wasn't fooling anyone. It was obvious he was private security.

But then, Luca and his group saw who he was protecting.

A man on crutches, fair-haired and sharp-jawed. But his handsome face was ruined by the weariness from using the equipment. Beside him walked another man who bore a striking resemblance—likely a brother—leaning close as if in constant conversation. And behind the two was a third suited figure.

Luca froze on the spot as he first recognized the brother, Eduardo DiMarco.

Once Eduardo looked ahead at the sudden collision between their security and another party, so did Davide.

Eventually, Luca Rennick and Davide DiMarco found themselves face-to-face in a passageway.