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"Alessandro! Can I get a picture please!" a little boy asked, leaning dangerously far over the railing.

"Of course," I smiled, leaning towards him into the frame of the photo.

"Grazie! Good luck!"

"Thank you, enjoy the race," I smiled, ruffling his hair. Taking off my cap, I placed it on his head and it dropped over his eyes.

A huge smile lit up his face as he looked as his father in shock.

I waved once more to the crowd before scanning my paddock pass to get through the gates.

There was a buzz in the air, an electrifying feeling that only came once a year.

The Monaco Grand Prix.

One of the oldest and most prestigious races in all of motorsport. It was also the most lavish.

Driving to the track this morning, I spotted the various yachts bobbing in the harbor. The shiny sea vessels costing millions of dollars, filled with millionaires. All there to watch the race.

Even though Thursday was specifically intended to be media day, every day of the race weekend felt like media day.

I could hear the camera's echoing in my head as I walked towards the entrance to the paddock.

The Royal family of Monaco would be in attendance as well and I felt slightly pressured by the amount of coverage this race was going to get.

I hadn't even made it into the paddock and I was already overwhelmed.

"Morning Casanova," a voice chirped as I fumbled to scan the pass around my neck.

"Good morning. So we meet again," I replied, finally getting the pass to scan. I jogged to catch up to Kota as she carried on walking.

"Pumped for the race?" she asked. Dark shades covered her eyes as she turned to look at me.

"Are you kidding? It's Monaco, baby," I grinned, trying to forget about the high stakes ahead.

"P7 in qualifying is something to be proud about. How'd you manage that?" she joked as we neared the McLaren garage.

"Oh, don't start now."

"I smell a podiuuuum!" she sang, an infectious smile on her face.

"Oh great. You've jinxed it, thanks a lot," I rolled my eyes playfully.

"Come on, Alessandro. You got this in the bag," she said as I slowed in front of the garage.

"Remember, keep calm and carry on!" she called over her shoulder, walking towards the FIA garage.

"Yeah, yeah. I'll remember!"

"Who are you shouting at down the paddock?" Lando asked, clapping me on my shoulder.

"Oh, just Kota."

"Just Kota?" he repeated, raising a brow at me.

"Not this again," I rolled my eyes.

"Anyways, good luck out there mate. Monaco. It's a real bitch sometimes," Lando said, walking off towards his side of the garage.

I stared after him, suddenly feeling unsettled by his vague statement.

---------------------------------

E>"And radio check?"

A>"You sound extra sexy today, wonder what that's about."

I heard my engineer chuckled over the radio before thanking me. He seemed to be in a good mood.

E>"Right so, almost everyone's starting on softs today. We're starting P7, think we can get a podium?"

A>"If you ask me, of course I'm going to say yes."

E>"Good. It's go time."

The car rumbled to life as I pulled up to the P7 slot on the starting grid. Everything was so narrow. Barely enough space for the car to fit through.

My visor fogged as I let out a long, deep breath.

I held my breath as the lights turned on.

A blink later, they went dark.

My foot slammed on the throttle, sending the car zooming past Pierre's Alpha Tauri and Lewis' Mercedes.

Heading into turn one, there was barely any room beside me as Lewis tried to barge his way through.

Not today Sir Lewis Hamilton, not today.

I managed to gain a big enough lead to stop worrying about the beast of a car behind me.

A>"How are my tires?"

E>"All ok. Push now."

I went full throttle through the tunnel, the sound of the engine echoing loudly. Everything was so intense. Every turn came up so fast, I almost wasn't thinking.

It was on instinct. My movements on the steering wheel were from muscle memory, as if my hands were preprogrammed.

E>"Sainz has DRS, four tenths behind."

Fuck.

I glanced in my mirrors, spotting the bright red car behind me.

A>"Don't get me wrong, froza Ferrari. But not today, mate. Not today."

I pushed even harder, trying to put as much space between me and the red Ferrari as possible. I couldn't risk being overtaken on the straight.

But I knew Carlos's style of driving from my karting days. I could anticipate his overtakes which made defending easier for me.

A>"Starting to see a bit of graining on the front left."

E>"Copy. Still on Plan A. Still Plan A."

A>"Copy."

Only 18 of the 78 laps had passed.

E> "Plus 3 to plan A. Plus 3 to plan A"

A> "Copy."

Carlo's had DRS on me in sector 3 and I watched him grow closer and closer in my mirrors.

My heart was thumping in my chest as I held my breath, completely flooring it down the start/finish straight.

Seconds later, I was safely into the first turn.

Overtaking in Monaco was almost impossible with how narrow the streets were and how rapidly the next turn came up.

E>"Car ahead is Vettel. Gap, 0.9."

A>"Copy."

E>" Push now, we can catch him."

I grit my teeth, focusing as hard as I could on driving and trying my best not to make any mistakes.

As I neared turn 3, Vettel locked his wheels in front of me and I managed to get closer.

I lunged out the exit of turn 4, almost willing the car to slide in place in front of Vettel.

E>"Excellent job Alessandro. P4, you got this"

My heart almost skipped a beat at my engineers word.

P4.

Never in my life had I been so close to a Formula 1 podium. And now I could almost touch it.

And boy did I want it.

So fucking badly.

But the universe had other plans.

My steering wheel twitched suddenly as I came out of turn 17, catching me off guard.

A>"Something is wrong. The steering wheel is twitching."

E>"Copy, there is nothing wrong with the car."

A> "Are you sure?"

E> "Yes, keep going. Car is fi-"

He barely had a chance to finish his sentence before the wheel snapped back out of my hands. The car pulled out of its mid turn and went spinning into the barriers.

The wind was knocked out of my chest as the car boucned between the narrow barriers before settling on the side of the track.

FUCK

E>"Are you ok? Alessandro, do you copy?"

A>"Fuck! Cazo di mierda!"

Anger coursed through my veins as I threw the detachable steering wheel onto the nose of the car. My visor began to fog with the heat escaping my skin.

E> "Turn the car off please, Alé."

A> "I fucking told you! I told you there was something wrong with the car!"

E> "Alessandr-"

I didn't listen to whatever useless shit he had to say. I turned off the radio and pulled myself out of the car.

Jumping out of the car, I glared at the car.

I wanted to scream.

I wanted to break something.

A chance at my very first podium had slipped right through my fingers.