Chapter Text
The sun had barely broken the horizon when Charles silenced the persistent sound of his alarm. He wasn't a morning person, but his job demanded discipline, so, with a resigned sigh, he got out of bed. The coffee was already waiting in the automatic machine, a small luxury he allowed himself in his strict daily routine. He poured a cup and leaned against the kitchen counter while reviewing his agenda for the day.
While taking the first sip, he checked the emails on his tablet. Several client requests, a notification from an architectural magazine interested in interviewing him, and, of course, the reminder for the scheduled meeting with his new client: Carlos Sainz.
Carlos Sainz. The name was familiar, although, to be honest, Charles didn't follow golf or any other sport. He only knew that Sainz was a well-known player and that he now wanted to build a house in an exclusive community near a golf course. An interesting project, no doubt, but also a potential source of headaches if his client turned out to be demanding or, worse yet, indecisive.
He finished his coffee and went straight to the shower. He needed to clear his head before heading out. As the hot water relaxed his muscles, he mentally reviewed what he knew about the project. The location was enviable, overlooking a renowned golf course, and the client seemed to have a clear idea of what he wanted. However, Charles had learned that clear ideas didn't always translate into simple processes.
After a quick shower and a perfectly chosen outfit—an impeccable white shirt, dark trousers, and his inseparable minimalist watch—Charles left his apartment with the blueprints tucked under his arm. His assistant had sent him a message reminding him of a few important details and ensuring everything was in order for the meeting.
The drive to the meeting site was calm; his mind was already calculating possible space distributions, materials that could complement the environment, and, above all, the best way to approach his client. He stopped at a traffic light and looked out the window. Sometimes he wondered why he had chosen a profession that required so much attention to detail and so much patience with clients. But then he remembered the satisfaction of seeing a finished project, and everything made sense again.
Upon arriving at the plot, he found a man leaning carelessly against a luxury car. He was dressed informally: a polo shirt, comfortable pants, and sneakers. Carlos Sainz, in person. His relaxed posture contrasted drastically with Charles's precision and formality. Charles observed the man for a moment before approaching.
"Mr. Sainz, a pleasure to meet you," Charles said, extending his hand professionally.
Carlos shook his hand firmly, an easy smile on his face.
"Call me Carlos. 'Mr.' sounds too formal for what this is going to be."
Charles raised an eyebrow slightly. That was already a first sign that this project wouldn't follow his usual structure. He took a deep breath and decided to focus on what was important.
"Very well, Carlos. Would you like us to start with a tour of the grounds and discuss the initial ideas?"
Carlos nodded and began to walk at a relaxed pace. Charles followed him, observing the surroundings with a critical eye. The plot was large, with a slight slope and clear views. A blank canvas for an ambitious project.
"Of course," Carlos replied. "But before we get into technicalities... tell me, do you play golf?"
Carlos smiled carelessly, awaiting Charles's answer with a naturalness that Charles found almost irritating. It wasn't that he had anything against golf or the people who played it, but he could already imagine what would come next: casual conversation, an invitation to play, perhaps even a personal anecdote. And Charles didn't do casual conversations.
"No," he replied flatly.
Carlos raised his eyebrows, as if he hadn't expected such a dry response.
"You've never tried?"
"No."
Carlos let out a small laugh, as if he couldn't believe it.
"Wow. Well, you should. It's more interesting than it looks."
Charles had no intention of continuing down that road. His job was to design a house, not to receive golf lessons. So, without further ado, he took out the plans he had prepared and spread them out for Carlos.
"Here I have some preliminary options based on the report you sent."
Carlos tilted his head, as if evaluating the way Charles had changed the subject so coldly. For a second, he seemed about to insist on the conversation, but instead, he took the plans and nodded.
"Okay, architect. Let's see what you've got."
They walked the grounds together while Charles explained the possible distributions: the orientation of the house to take advantage of natural light, the materials that could complement the aesthetic of the environment, and options for integrating certain spaces with the golf course without feeling invasive. Carlos listened with interest, but often interrupted with questions that had nothing to do with the design.
"Are you always this serious?"
Charles didn't even divert his gaze from the plan he was holding.
"I am professional."
"I can see that, but... always so rigid?"
Charles stopped and looked at him with a neutral expression, the same one he used when a client tried to overstep the strictly professional boundary.
"I am here to design your house, not to discuss my character."
Carlos smiled sideways, as if the challenge amused him.
"You're a tough nut to crack, aren't you?"
Charles didn't answer. Instead, he continued his explanation, deliberately ignoring Carlos's relaxed tone. It wasn't the first time he had worked with clients with strong personalities, but something about the way Carlos insisted on pushing past the professional barrier was particularly frustrating.
Perhaps it was the familiarity in his attitude, the way he seemed to assume they could be friends just because they would be working together. Or perhaps it was that Charles had already learned from experience that maintaining distance was easier than dealing with other people's expectations.
Whatever it was, he was clear about one thing: this project would be purely professional. Nothing more.
And if Carlos Sainz thought otherwise, he was wrong.
~○~
Charles closed his office door with a sigh and dropped the blueprints onto his desk with more force than necessary. The meeting with Sainz had been... tolerable, at best. Yes, the land had potential, and yes, the project was interesting. But the owner of the future house was an entirely different matter.
He wasn't a difficult client, at least not in the traditional sense. He wasn't indecisive, didn't seem to have unrealistic expectations or absurd demands. But there was something about him that threw Charles off: his insistence on asking personal questions, as if he cared about anything beyond the project.
"So? How did it go with the golf star?"
Pierre's voice pulled him out of his thoughts. His colleague walked into the office without an invitation, holding his own coffee and wearing that sly smile he always seemed to have on. He leaned against Charles's desk with familiarity.
"Fine," Charles replied, dryly.
"'Fine' tells me nothing. Is he an unbearable client or did he let you do your job?"
Charles put his pen down on the table and crossed his arms.
"He's not unbearable. He just... asked too many questions."
Pierre raised an eyebrow.
"About the house?"
"No. About me."
Pierre let out a burst of laughter.
"Then he behaved like a normal person."
Charles snorted, running a hand over his face in exasperation.
"You know I don't discuss my life outside of work with my clients."
"Right, because you don't have a life outside of work."
Charles shot him a warning look, but Pierre just smiled wider before taking a sip of his coffee.
"That's not it," Charles retorted. "It's simply not relevant. We're there to discuss his house, not for him to ask me if I play golf or if I'm always 'so serious'."
"Wow, sounds like the guy took you out of your comfort zone," Pierre commented, amused. "And what did you tell him?"
"The obvious. That I am professional."
Pierre shook his head with an expression between amusement and resignation.
"You know not all people are the same, right? Not everyone is trying to hurt you, Charles. You should try to be more open."
Charles tensed for a fraction of a second before regaining his impassive expression.
"I have no interest in being open with my clients."
Pierre sighed, but didn't press the matter further. He knew Charles well enough to know he wouldn't give in easily.
"All right, stick to your 'work only' protocol. But something tells me this client isn't going to give up so easily."
Charles didn't reply. But as he tried to refocus on the plans, he couldn't help but think of Carlos Sainz's easy smile and the way he seemed to enjoy pushing his boundaries.
And he didn't like that at all.
Charles tried to return to his work, but Pierre didn't seem willing to drop the subject. He knew him too well, and when something amused him, he didn't let it go easily.
"You know?" Pierre said thoughtfully, spinning his coffee cup between his hands. "Maybe he was asking you so many questions because he likes you."
Charles looked up, frowning in disbelief.
"Don't talk nonsense."
"It's not nonsense," Pierre insisted, shrugging. "It's a pretty feasible possibility."
Charles looked at him with the same expression he would wear if someone suggested designing a building without foundations.
"He is my client."
"So what? Being your client doesn't mean he can't be attracted to you. Look at you, Charles," he said, gesturing broadly. "You are objectively beautiful."
Charles scoffed and looked away, uncomfortable with the direction the conversation was taking. It wasn't the first time Pierre had said things like this, but this time he did it with a conviction that bothered him more than usual.
"I am not having this conversation with you."
Pierre smiled, enjoying his friend's obvious discomfort.
"I'm just saying it's curious. A handsome man, with money, charismatic... and he pays you so much attention."
Charles closed his eyes for a second, breathing deeply.
"I would think he's just being sociable. Not everyone has ulterior motives, Pierre."
"Or maybe you don't want to think about that possibility?"
Charles gave him a warning look, but Pierre was unfazed.
"If it were anyone else, you probably wouldn't care, but since it's him..."
"That's not why," Charles interrupted, sharply. "It's nothing. Period."
The silence stretched for a couple of seconds, until Charles decided to divert the conversation in the most effective way possible.
"I wonder what Yuki would think if he heard you talking about your friend like this."
Pierre burst out laughing, as if Charles had just fallen into his trap.
"Oh, Yuki thinks the same as me."
Charles frowned even more.
"You're kidding me."
"I'm serious," Pierre said, with a mocking smile. "He's told me more than once that you lack a social life and that, with how handsome you are, it's a waste that you just shut yourself up in your work."
Charles massaged his temple with his fingers, feeling a pang of frustration.
"I'm not having this conversation," he repeated, more to himself than to Pierre.
"Sure, sure," Pierre scoffed, raising his hands in surrender. "But when Carlos insists on asking you personal questions again, I want you to remember this."
Charles didn't answer. But as he pretended to concentrate on the plans in front of him, he couldn't help but recall Carlos Sainz's smile and the way he seemed to enjoy pushing his boundaries.
And that idea annoyed him even more.
~○~
The sun was at its highest point when Carlos finished another round of shots on the practice range. The sound of the ball being struck with precision and the feel of the club in his hands had always given him a strange peace, as if for a few minutes everything else was put on pause. But today, his head was still elsewhere.
"You're getting distracted, kid," said a familiar voice beside him.
Carlos turned and saw Fernando Alonso leaning on his own golf club, looking at him with a mix of amusement and curiosity. Training with Fernando was a tradition when they were in the same city. It didn't matter that each had his own crazy schedule; they always found a moment to mock each other between perfectly calculated shots.
Carlos sighed, twirling the club in his hands.
"I'm not getting distracted."
"Please," Fernando scoffed. "You're missing shots you could make with your eyes closed. Concentration problems or heart problems?"
Carlos rolled his eyes and rested a foot on one of the unused balls.
"None of that. It's just... the architect."
"The architect?"
"Yes, the guy designing my house."
Fernando raised an eyebrow.
"And what about him?"
Carlos exhaled with a certain frustration and ran a hand through his hair, remembering the meeting from that morning.
"I tried to talk to him several times, to make the conversation a little more pleasant. You know, the usual: questions about his work, if he plays golf, some more relaxed comment to break the ice... but nothing."
Fernando smirked knowingly.
"Let me guess. He cut off every conversation that wasn't strictly professional."
Carlos nodded.
"Exactly. Like he had a wall around him."
Fernando hit a ball with total nonchalance, watching it fly across the field before turning back to Carlos.
"Okay, but the important thing: is he good-looking?"
Carlos snorted, but couldn't avoid the automatic answer that came to mind.
"Quite."
Fernando let out a laugh.
"There's the problem, Sainz. He definitely realized you were trying to flirt and cut you off immediately."
Carlos frowned, but before he could respond, Fernando added playfully:
"Or maybe he hates... what do they call them now? Ah, yes... fuckboys."
Carlos gave him a look somewhere between exasperated and amused.
"Screw you, Fernando."
The Asturian laughed heartily, patting him on the shoulder before focusing on his shot again.
Carlos tried to ignore him, but the idea lingered in his head. Had he really looked like he was trying to flirt? He just wanted to make the interaction less rigid, more natural. It wasn't his fault that Charles acted as if anything outside the scope of work was forbidden.
But what bothered him most wasn't that Charles had rejected him—if he had somehow interpreted it that way. What bothered him was how intriguing Charles now seemed.
And Carlos wasn't one to leave things alone.
It wasn't that he cared so much that Charles kept him at bay—after all, he was just his architect—but it felt almost like a personal challenge. He wasn't used to being ignored like that, to someone simply dismissing his every attempt to make the conversation more pleasant.
It was curious. Intriguing, even.
Was he always that cold with everyone? Or just with him?
Carlos pressed his lips together, thoughtfully.
No, it couldn't be personal. Charles Leclerc was simply an overly serious and professional guy, someone who saw no need to connect with his clients. And if that was the case...
Well, Carlos had never been one to leave things as they were.
"We'll see, architect," he murmured to himself with a sly smile, before leaving the golf course.
Across the city, Charles was finishing organizing his notes on the Carlos Sainz project. It had been a productive meeting, at least in terms of work. He now had a clearer idea of what the client wanted and could start refining the design details.
That was what was important.
But still, his mind kept returning to the way Carlos insisted on asking irrelevant questions. To the way he smiled so easily, as if the whole world was designed to fall for his charm.
Charles had no intention of giving in to that.
There was no need for any relationship beyond the strictly professional. Carlos Sainz could be as charismatic as he wanted; Charles wasn't interested.
So he closed his notebook with determination.
If Carlos expected him to drop his guard, he was wasting his time.