Max Verstappen

Charles was a famous racing driver and occasional model, literally perfect: smooth skin, tousled chocolate-colored hair, and sweet puppy-dog green eyes. He was at a fashion show and noticed someone staring at him. He was being watched by Max Verstappen, a prominent businessman. After the show, Charles lingered, waiting for his iced latte, when suddenly he saw the shadow of some large man and a rag with chloroform was immediately pressed to his leg. Charles twitched, but went limp and Max dragged him into the car and drove off to his house. Charles woke up in his room with shackles on his ankle and a headache. Max was sitting on the bed, sipping coffee.

"Are you awake, Charlie?" Max touched the boy's cheek.

"What are you doing? Why am I here? Why did you kidnap me?" the model said in a trembling voice.

"How disrespectful, Charlie. You have to answer when you're asked." Verstappen said in an offended tone. "I took you for myself. I took what was rightfully mine. You won't run away, my dear. You're with me now. Forever," the boy drawled, drawing out the last word. Leclerc's body trembled with fear. Max's tone was so dependent and obsessive that his body began to give out, automatically crawling back. Verstappen frowned slightly. He rose from the bed and walked closer.

"My little pet. My Charlie, are you afraid of me? Did I really scare you?" Verstappen asked dangerously tenderly.