Faster Dirtier (Take Me...#5) (A Team Ferrelli Novel) (17 page)

“I am being serious,” he replies. “I talked to the chumps in
charge over there. They were very easily persuaded...when I threatened to have
their manager sued for workplace sexual harassment, that is.”

“Seriously?” I breathe.

“Seriously,” he nods. “The space is ours. Your idiot
ex-manager and his big fucking mouth have both been let go.”

“Man...That really shouldn’t make me as happy as it does,” I
say, a small smile creeping onto my lips.

“He got what he deserved,” Enzo says, rising to his feet,
“And so will we. We’re going to set things right, Ace. And we’re not gonna do
it by begging and pleading with the press while spitting out a bunch of spin.
We’re going to do it by being the best fucking driving duo Ferrelli—and hell, all
of F1—has ever seen. What do you say?”

“I say...How am I supposed to trust you with something this
important?” I ask, shaking my head.

“I know I have to earn that trust back,” Enzo says softly,
his gaze intent. “But I’d like to do just that. If you’ll let me.”

“What choice do I have?” I ask with a hollow laugh. “We’re
in this together, Prof. We’re all each other has.”

“I wouldn’t want it any other way,” he says, taking a step
toward me.

“I’m not ready to let you kiss me yet,” I whisper, tears
springing into my eyes. “Not after everything that’s—”

“I understand,” Enzo replies solemnly, drawing himself up.
“It hurts like hell, but I understand. Guess I’ve got quite a bit to prove to
you in the next couple of days, Ace. Just know that I’m sorry. And that we’re
going to get through this. And that you haven’t done anything wrong, whatever
the press might be saying. You’re an incredible driver. An incredible woman.
And I’m so happy you came bursting into my life.”

As my mind and heart scramble to take in his words, he slugs
back the last of his beer and turns to go. I watch him stalk through my
childhood home, giving Alec a firm shake of the hand before he disappears
through the front door once again. I’m still staring after him as Alec joins me
on the patio once more, blanket in tow.

“What did lover boy want?” he asks gruffly.

“He wants to make things right,” I say, wrapping my arms
around my waist.

“With this whole shit show, you mean?” Alec goes on,
wrapping the blanket around my shoulders. “Or between you two?”

“Both,” I shrug, happy for the extra warmth.

“And?” Alec presses, “Are you going to make things right
with him, whatever the hell
that
means?”

“I...don’t know,” I say honestly. “He really hurt me, Alec.
I don’t know how to just carry on like everything’s OK.”

“I’m not saying you should pretend,” my brother clarifies,
“And I’m not saying things are just going to be OK again without a lot of
patching up. I’m saying that if you care about your career, and you care about
him...You shouldn’t be afraid to go after either. I’ve never known you to care
about a guy as much as you care about driving. But you finally seem to have
found a dude who matters to you as much as the state of your tires. It would be
a shame for you to turn your back on that. Know what I’m saying?”

“I do,” I say, settling down next to my brother. “Thank you
for saying it out loud.”

“No problem.” he says, draping an arm over my shoulders.
“What are big brothers for, if not pointing out the painfully obvious?”

“Don’t ruin the moment,” I smile, elbowing him lightly in
the ribs.

We fall into contemplative silence, nursing our beers as the
sun sets. Enzo’s sudden appearance was a jolt to my system, a grudgingly
welcome shock. I can’t just wallow here and let the world decide my fate for
me. I have to get back in the saddle—or rather, the one-seater—and try like
hell to get this thing back on track. My happiness, my career, and my future,
all depend on the next couple of days.

No pressure, right?

Chapter Sixteen

It feels so strange, reporting to the FullSpeed track the
next morning. Only a couple of weeks ago, I turned my back on this place,
thinking it would be forever. Has it really only been two weeks since this
whirlwind adventure began? I didn’t do as much living in 26 years as I have in
these past fourteen days. I guess that’s what happens when you find something
to care about as much as I care about my place on Team Ferrelli.

Or has it been caring about
someone
that’s made these past two weeks truly soar?

Enzo is waiting for me at the otherwise deserted FullSpeed
track with a cup of coffee in each hand. Seeing him here, I can’t help but
remember the last time we found ourselves alone at a track. But wait a
minute...why isn’t anyone else here?

“Thought I’d clear the place out for us,” Enzo says, reading
my mind as he hands me a coffee cup. “I’ve got those FullSpeed assholes wrapped
around my finger. They’re starry-eyed, having an actual F1 driver in their
midst for once. We’ve even got a car to practice with, courtesy of my sister.”

“Great,” I say, sipping my coffee. “Why don’t you take it
out for a spin while I get caffeinated, yeah?”

“Actually,” Enzo says, “I think you should practice first.”

“Why?” I ask, cocking my head, “You’re the one racing this
weekend.”

“And you’ll be racing soon enough yourself,” Enzo says
resolutely. “Come on, it’ll be good for you. Clear your head and all.”

He’s got a point, there. Nothing puts me in a better mood
than getting behind the wheel. And I’m much better at operating an F1 car now,
after two solid weeks of practice.

“All right,” I agree, “I’ll go get dressed.”

Just knowing that Enzo is nearby as I change in the locker
room has me aching with horniness. It’s only been a few days since our last
romp on the Ferrelli jet, but I can’t help it. I’m like a woman possessed when
it comes to him. But still, a lot of things need to get sorted out before I’ll
feel totally comfortable being with him again that way. I urge my body not to
betray me as I zip up my jumpsuit and head back out to the track. Enzo’s
waiting there beside an F1 car in signature Ferrelli green.

“OK,” I tell him, jamming on my helmet. “Let’s do this.”

The second Enzo starts me up, my heart feels a thousand
times lighter. I soar away from him down the track, my body pressed back
against the seat of the car. The crushing embrace of momentum comforts my
wounded soul as I soar along, so thankful to be back behind the wheel. I lose
myself in the moment, blissfully free of the cares and concerns that have been
hounding me. Around and around the track I go, amazed at how different this
circuit feels now that I’m driving in a good, solid vehicle.

I’ve lost track of how many laps I’ve completed when I
finally glide to a stop. Enzo lopes over to help me out of the car, looking too
incredible in the golden afternoon light. I steady myself on his arm as I climb
out of the car. But as my feet touch the pavement, I can’t seem to make myself
let go. Gazing up at him, backlit by the vibrant sky, I see the longing I feel
reflected back in his gaze.

“Enzo,” I murmur, “How did this all get so complicated?”

“I don’t know,” he laughs softly, “But I have a pretty good
track record of fucking things up with the people I care about. Thank you for
at least giving me a chance to prove myself to you again, Ainsley.”

“Do you think...There’s any way for us to be together?” I
ask, my voice trembling. “Now that the world knows, I mean? Or will be always
have to be sneaking around, afraid of getting caught—”

“Hey,” Enzo says fiercely, taking hold of my shoulders. “If
we can find a way through this, and you still want to be with me, I won’t give
a shit if the whole world knows. I’d be proud for them to see me with a woman
like you.”

“Really?” I breathe, all but melting in his hands.

“Really,” he says, “But not until you’re proud to be seen
with me, too.”

He releases me, and I have to brace myself against the car
to keep my knees from giving in. The physical effect he has on me is
staggering. By some miracle, I’m able to keep standing, if just barely.

“Your turn,” I say, nodding at the car.

Enzo hops into the ride and, with a little help from me, he takes
off. I’m left alone on the track, gazing after the speeding car. I glance up at
the stands, remembering the day Siena showed up here to scout me with Alfie by
her side. Getting back in the whole family’s good graces is just as important
to me as making things right with Enzo, I realize. I wonder what that could
mean?

I settle down into the stands, elbows on my knees, as Enzo
makes the rounds. I wish like hell that I could get some time behind the wheel
this weekend. And not just doing test runs, either. It might be my last chance
to score some credit toward my Super License before I find myself without a
team again. But I don’t want to push it, not with everything in flux like this.

After what feels like no time at all, Enzo glides to a stop.
I cock my head at him from the bleachers as he steps out of the car. So much
for the vigorous training he was talking about.

“You’re done already?” I ask, standing at the railing.

“Yeah,” he shrugs, swinging his legs over the side of the
car, “I need something to eat more than I need another lap.”

Come to think of it, I’m pretty starving too. “Strip off
that jumpsuit and I’ll show you one of my favorite spots,” I tell him.

“I like it when you talk dirty to me,” he winks.

I laugh at his sloppy innuendo. Truth be told, it’s the
first time I’ve laughed all week. And I sorely needed it, too.

Chapter Seventeen

The candlelight flickers against Enzo’s sharp jaw as he
drains his glass of Malbec. Our meal was perfect, as it always is at this
restaurant—a tiny Italian place in the East Village that I’ve been coming to my
whole life. I thought Enzo would appreciate a taste of home during this
difficult time, and I was right. We both devoured our meals, hungry after a day
of practicing. But of course, I spent much more time behind the wheel today
than Enzo. That means I definitely deserve my spot of dessert. I scoop up the
last bite of my hazelnut gelato, savoring the creamy goodness. My sweet tooth
is a little bit overdeveloped, truth be told, so this treat hits the spot.

“Look at us,” Enzo smiles across the table, “Having dinner
like a regular couple.”

“Regular couples don’t get recognized by the waiters,” I
point out, nodding at the restaurant staff. They’ve been eyeing us excitedly
the entire time we’ve been here. Maybe choosing an Italian restaurant wasn’t
such a good idea after all. They’re probably all Ferrelli fans in this joint.
I’m surprised no one’s come over for an autograph.

“You’ll get used to it,” Enzo shrugs, signaling for the
check.

“Provided that my career hasn’t already ended,” I remark.

“That’s not going to happen,” Enzo says firmly, putting our
decadent meal on his card. “Don’t worry,” he says to my protestations, “It’s on
Team Ferrelli. They owe us after all the heartache we’ve been through this
week.”

“I don’t know if I agree with you,” I laugh, “But...” My words
trail off as something catches my eyes through the window beside our table. My
nerves are totally frayed, but I don’t think I’m imagining things right now.

“Ainsley?” Enzo says, as I peer through the glass. “Ainsley,
what is it?”

“I think we’re being watched,” I murmur.

Enzo looks through the restaurant window, following my gaze.
He spots the man loitering on the opposite side of the street, his phone raised
at a suspicious angle. The guy looks oddly familiar, but I can’t figure out
why. His hair is so blonde that it’s practically white. And it’s styled in a
way that is markedly dated. Spiked back with a shellacking of gel. It’s the
ridiculous hair that finally jogs my memory.

“That’s one of Nils’ friends,” I hiss. “One of the guys who
was with him in Rome!”

“Nils Landers? The asshole that sold us out to begin with?”
Enzo asks coldly.

“The very same,” I say, grimacing. “Call me paranoid, but I
don’t think his being here is a coincidence.”

Without a word of reply, Enzo rises up from the table, takes
my hand, and marches us outside. I don’t snatch my hand away this time, curious
to see what his plan of actions might be. I know that I want more than anything
to slug this guy across the face, but hopefully Enzo has something a little
more strategic in mind.

“Hey there,” Enzo says to the blonde man, who’s gone stiff
with fear at the sight of us approaching. “You got a light, buddy?”

“S-sure,” the man replies in a thick Swedish accent,
fumbling to produce a lighter from his pocket.

While his attention is compromised, Enzo snatches the phone
out of his hand. Sure enough, the camera app is open, the photo roll stuffed
with pictures of me and Enzo at dinner.

“Shit,” the man mutters.

“Shit indeed,” Enzo says coolly, scrolling through the
shots. This guy has been trailing us all day, by the looks of it.

“Did Nils send you?” I ask the man, “I know you’re his
buddy. I’d recognize that ridiculous coif of yours anywhere. Is he in New York
too? Did he put you up to this?”

“I–uh–” the blonde stammers, snatching his phone back from
Enzo and smoothing his hair back self-consciously.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” I snarl, raising my chin. “Since
you’re probably going to go scurrying back to him the second we leave, give him
a message for me. Tell him to quit it with the jealous little boy bullshit and
back off. One conversation at a party and an unrequited crush does not give him
ownership of me. I do what I want, when I want, with whomever I want. And the
world can fucking well get used to it. Which is why you should snap a picture
of
this
.”

I grab hold of Enzo’s scruffy face and pull it to mine,
kissing him hard and deep. Both men are taken by surprise for a long moment.
But then I feel Enzo’s body relax into mine, swelling with lust and need. I
hear a tiny click as the blonde man snaps a picture of us, obedient lad that he
is. I release Enzo, my blood racing, and turn to Nils’ friend.

“There,” I pant, “Show that to your buddy. Show it to the
entire world. I’m done apologizing for the way I feel. I’m done pretending like
the world has any say in who I do or do not fuck. I’m crazy about Enzo, end of
story. If you and the rest of the world can’t take me seriously because I’m
pretty, or like sex, or want to compete in a man’s sport, that’s not my
problem. Not anymore. Come on Enzo.”

I grab my Italian lover’s hand and tug him away down the
sidewalk, my adrenaline going mad. By tomorrow morning, that picture of us
kissing is sure to be on the front page of every sports blog, every gossip
site, every tabloid the world over. And I really just can’t be bothered to give
a shit. If anything, I’m just angry that I was made to feel ashamed all this
week. It’s no one’s business but my own what I do with my body, and it’s high
time I started living by that rule.

“I have to tell you Ace,” Enzo growls as we turn a corner.
“That was
really
hot.”

“I didn’t do it to be hot,” I seethe, whipping around to
face him. “I did it to be honest. No more playing the nice girl. This weekend,
at that race, I’m not going to hold back. I’m going to tell the world exactly
what I think of their backwards, sexists attitudes. Tomorrow morning, just as
that picture is going viral, I’m going to release a video statement. All on my
own. I know Siena has my whole image planned out for me, but I can’t live like
that, Enzo. I don’t want to. Not if it keeps me from being my true self.”

“Nothing should keep you from that,” he says earnestly,
taking my face in his hands. “You should always do what feels true.”

“Well in that case,” I breathe, wrapping my arms around his
waist. “Do we still have that hotel room or what?”