Carlos Sainz had survived rain delays, exploding engines, Ferrari strategies, and Williams PR briefings.
But nothing, absolutely nothing, could have prepared him for a tuxedo.
The tuxedo in question wasn’t even his. He was sitting at a perfectly boring sponsor event, nodding politely while a Groom & Grace rep rambled about satin lapels and “timeless cuts for the modern man,” when the rep suddenly grinned like they’d caught a fish on the line.
“Even Carlos purchased his tuxedo from our collection recently.”
Carlos blinked.
What?
He hadn’t purchased any tux. He didn’t even own a tux at the moment, his last one was probably gathering dust at his father’s house in Madrid.
He was sitting right there, with his Williams polo collar awkwardly stiff under the cameras, stunned into silence as the rep smiled proudly at the audience.
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