Pole Position: Between Logic and Passion

Warning: Warning: This chapter contains explicit content and sexual scenes.

The moment I stepped onto the yacht, I felt like I had been transported to another world. The sheer size of it was overwhelming—sleek, pristine, and absurdly luxurious. I knew Charles was rich, but this? This was something else entirely.

“So,” I said, looking around with wide eyes. “Where exactly did you find this yacht?”

Charles gave me a smug look, his dimples flashing. “Chérie, I own it.”

I scoffed, shaking my head. “Right. Of course, you do.”

“Did you think I was going to rent one?” he teased. “I do have some standards.”

“Some?” I gestured to the massive deck, the sleek sun loungers, and the full outdoor bar. “Charles, this is insane.”

He grinned, clearly enjoying my shock. “Come on, let me give you a tour.”

The inside was just as extravagant as the exterior—spacious rooms, marble floors, plush furniture, and floor-to-ceiling windows offering an uninterrupted view of the endless blue sea. It was easily the most luxurious place I had ever stepped foot in. And somehow, this was just another Tuesday for Charles.

I trailed behind him as he showed me around, my fingers skimming over the polished wood railing, the cool marble countertops. Every room was designed with elegance and comfort in mind. The master bedroom alone was larger than my entire apartment in London.

“This is ridiculous,” I muttered under my breath as we entered the lounge area, where a massive glass wall framed the ocean. “Are you sure you’re a driver? Because this feels more like billionaire tech mogul territory.”

Charles laughed, settling onto one of the oversized sofas. “I like nice things.”

“No kidding.” I shook my head, trying to wrap my mind around the sheer absurdity of this lifestyle.

After the tour, Charles went off to talk to the crew, letting them know we were ready to set sail. I stayed on the deck, leaning against the railing, watching as the yacht began to glide smoothly away from the harbor. The horizon stretched endlessly before me, a breathtaking mix of blues and golds as the sun reflected off the water. The salty breeze tangled in my hair, and for the first time in what felt like weeks, I let out a breath without the weight of the world pressing on my chest.

But then the nerves crept in.

Three days. Just me and Charles. No distractions. No F1. No friends.

The thought made my stomach twist. Because for the first time, we weren’t in a situation with external excuses, with reasons to hold back. It was just us. And the possibilities of what that meant suddenly felt very, very real.

“You okay?” Charles’ voice pulled me from my thoughts.

I turned to find him watching me, his expression unreadable. “Yeah. Just... processing.”

He studied me for a beat, then smirked. “Is it the yacht? Still overwhelmed?”

“Oh, completely.” I laughed, trying to brush off the unease. “I mean, how will I ever recover from realizing I’ve been living like a peasant?”

He grinned, stepping closer. “If it makes you feel better, you get to live like a queen for the next three days.”

I rolled my eyes, but my stomach did a stupid little flip.

“Come on,” he said, nodding toward the cabin. “Let’s get changed. I want to swim before lunch.”

I followed him down to the rooms, my suitcase already waiting in the largest suite. One massive bed. One. And his stuff was already there, mixed with mine, as if it was the most natural thing in the world.