My Formula 1 System

48 hours after the Monaco Grand Prix weekend, Tuesday night arrived for Luca. He was fully dressed and ready for the evening out he had planned. The lights in his room sheened across his polished suit as he checked himself one last time, aware that by noon tomorrow he would be heading to Berlin, aiming to depart as early as possible.

Tonight, however, was for himself—for his indulgence as a man of wealth. What better way to conclude his escapade here in Monaco than with a luxurious evening, an escape from obligations while also enjoying his fortune. Luca checked the time and acknowledged it was 7 PM.

He was going alone. Neither Manuela nor Vance would accompany him—just himself and the rented convertible, driving through the night.

The Prince's Palace was perched on the Rock of Monaco, a promontory overlooking the Mediterranean Sea. The palace itself was the most recognizable landmark in Monaco-ville, offering stunning views of the city, the harbour, and everything beyond. It was also the official residence of the sovereign prince of Monaco.

It wasn't far from Circuit du l'Etoile, only about a five-minute drive, though from his hotel, Luca drove eight minutes in his convertible before arriving. He took a less steep road to reach the top of the rock, surprised by how accessible the palace grounds were to the public at this hour. Common people were allowed to wander within certain limits, and the terraces offered breathtaking views without ever crossing into the main yards.

The Prince's Palace had stood for seven centuries as both a fortress and the sovereign seat of the Grimaldi family, whose lineage had ruled the principality since François Grimaldi seized it in 1297.

The commanding position of the palace was unrivalled by any other, a reminder of its dual role as a defensive stronghold and a symbol of enduring royal heritage. The current prince was a direct descendant in that unbroken line, presiding over a realm where tradition meets modernity. Luca was most eager to meet him.

Luca had heard that in recent years, the princes had been generous, offering many sections of the palace's vicinity to be open to the public. In this spirit, the gap between sovereign and subject was bridged.

The palace grounds had been transformed into a scene of refined splendour for the evening. A long red carpet unfurled across the courtyard and through the entrance, where uniformed attendants guided guests beneath archways illuminated by warm golden light.

Most of the dignitaries and notables were already inside, so the attendants outdoors stood in place, courteous but less hurried now, offering respectful nods and measured greetings to the few latecomers.

One of the attendants, a tall man in a bright red suit, turned to his colleague, momentarily losing his formal decorum. He leaned toward him, lips curling into a sneer.

"Well, no one else has arrived in five minutes. Where's Luca Rennick? It doesn't seem like he's showing," he muttered mockingly, winking to remind his friend of the bet they'd made earlier.

The colleague's confidence faltered completely, his grimace betraying his embarrassment as he remembered how certain he had been.

"Maybe he didn't accept the invitation. He's a busy man. He won the race on Sunday, so maybe other things are demanding his attention," the man offered defensively in his loss.

"Or maybe you heard wrong?"

Two other colleagues, hostesses clad in the same red as the first, chimed in with playful jabs, recalling how smug the man had been at the start of the night.

"If Luca isn't coming, then whose company would the Prince himself entertain tonight?" the man shot back stubbornly, still unwilling to concede since there had been a few latecomers already.

"Duh, Luca's not the only person worth mentioning here. Come on, take a peek inside. You'll see CEOs, investors, and more than one driver. Luca's not the only name that matters tonight, so stop acting like he's the Prince's bff or something."

Just then, the purr of an engine from a considerable distance grew louder. The headlights of a car bathed the entrance as it drew near. The idle chatter of the attendants ceased immediately, and they straightened up.

A few seconds later, a sleek black convertible glided up the drive, polished and reflecting the lights of the entryway. The engine cut with a soft rumble as the car rolled to a stop.

Luca drew one steady breath before opening the door and stepping out of the vehicle. Once standing tall, he adjusted his suit and cuffs, but his composure flattened the moment he faced the entrance.

The attendants, who should have been rushing forward to greet and guide, stood rooted like wooden dummies, all four sets of eyes fixed on him as if they had forgotten their duties entirely.

Luca glanced around, slightly confused. Their rigid posture and gawking silence made him wonder if he'd stepped into the wrong sort of reception.

It was the older attendant who first shook himself from the trance. Clearing his throat, he stepped forward with a hurried bow, his composure stitched back together in the span of a heartbeat.

"My apologies, Mr. Rennick."

The invitation of the evening was extended once more, as though to both welcome and discreetly confirm that Luca's presence was indeed sanctioned.

Acknowledging the man's courtesy, Luca responded warmly. With that, he allowed himself to be led forward, the hush of awe still trailing behind him as they crossed into the grand entrance of the palace. More welcomers were waiting there, ready with bows and polished greetings, and Luca smoothly handed over the key to his convertible before stepping further inside.

The younger attendant who had so stubbornly insisted on Luca's arrival couldn't resist a smug glance at his colleagues, rubbing his victory in their faces once Luca was inside.

Luca walked through the three imposing archways that were about two stories high, designed with silver marble and ornamented with golden leaves.

The doors for each archway were grand and just as tall, framed by polished stone and golden trims. They were already open, however, guarded by more inner attendants who greeted warmly and gestured the visitors in the right direction, especially those who weren't familiar at all with the massive structure.

Once Luca made it through the archways, he found himself in what looked like an open courtyard draped in magnificence, the night air softened by strings of golden lanterns that hung between carved stone pillars.

A broad, beautiful fountain stood before him, its edges overflowing with roses. The streaming water from the fountain seemed to have an internal lighting of its own, making it the secondary source of light in the courtyard since the golden lanterns were soft and dim.

Around the courtyard were a few tables already taken by some guests. But judging by the grandeur and the faces, Luca could tell it wasn't the main seating area.

An attendant stepped forward, offering to guide him to where he had in mind—the main ballroom, where the heart of the gathering was already underway. Luca inclined his head and followed without protest.

"Mr. Luca! Mr. Luca!"

The voice of a woman rang out in the quiet courtyard. Luca didn't break his stride, but his eyes moved toward her as she jogged briskly to close the distance. From the cadence of her voice, Luca sensed she was media.

She looked to be in her forties, the kind of professional who could smell a story the moment it walked past, and Luca knew at once what she wanted.

"Mr. Rennick, terribly sorry for the intrusion—I won't take more than a moment. I'm founding my own independent bureau, and it would mean the world if I could secure a proper interview with you after one of your races. It would be an honour, truly. Your story deserves more than the usual rushed coverage."

Luca smiled briefly, but he really didn't have time to talk. He found her drive refreshing, but he wasn't about to cave in so easily. So he simply pulled out a number card from his breast pocket and handed it to her without a word. Vance would naturally handle this first.

"Thank you very much, I really appreciate it, truly an honor, I—"

The woman's voice continued to tumble and tumble, showing her over-gratitude. Her words faded into the background as Luca and the attendant continued on, entering through a gilded doorway and into the grandeur of the ballroom.

Once inside, the hum of music, laughter, and clinking of glasses washed over him, and he immediately felt the influence of wealth and power saturating the place.

By a lavish built-in bar, two finely dressed ladies sipped from crystal glasses. Their chatter stopped the instant Luca's solid frame crossed into the ballroom. They immediately recognized him, and by default, softened themselves to look more feminine. One raised her glass a touch higher while the other wiggled her fingers playfully in his direction.

Luca ignored the women and moved further into the ballroom, plucking a glass of wine from the tray of a passing attendant. The sheer size of the place was unbelievable in his opinion, considering the number of guests present.

It was so vast that there were several spiral staircases rising at intervals and curling elegantly toward the upper balconies. Luca felt a prickle at the back of his neck, as if he were being watched from one of the balconies. Certain, his eyes lifted to one of them to catch the person.