"Oh fuck off! I was about to get fastest lap!" Alessandro exclaimed as Lando pressed the power button on the simulator.

"We both have 2 and a half hours each. You've been on for 10 minutes extra," Lando scowled, throwing his shoes at the Italian.

"Ok sim police," he rolled his eyes, putting his shoes on.

"Wanna go for a round of golf?" Lando asked, hitching his bag higher over his shoulder.

The two walked side by side out of the simulator room, done with their days work.

"Sure. Just know I haven't played golf in a year."

"Awesome. I can beat you then," Lando joked, earning a scoff from Alessandro.

"Anyone else coming?"

"I can ask George?"

"Sure."

The boys quickly dumped their things into the car and headed towards Top Golf.

"What's the deal with you and Dakota?" George asked, pulling on a pair of gloves.

"Sorry?"

"You and Dakota, the short American? Brown hair, ni-"

"I know who she is," Alessandro scowled, making the boys laugh.

"She's just pissed at me."

"You guys know each other?"

"No, I just happened to cut her off on the highway when we were both on our way to MTC."

"Not very safe," George frowned.

"True, she clearly didn't like it," Alessandro muttered.

Lando suddenly began laughing to himself, making the other two give him odd looks.

"She- She gave him directions to the womens restroom!" he blurted between laughs.

"What?" George asked, amusement clear in his voice.

Alessandro rolled his eyes in annoyance. He knew Lando had been dying to tell him about it the moment the topic was brought up.

"I think you just started a prank war," Lando stated after he'd calmed down.

"I think so too," George chuckled, taking a hit at the tiny golf ball.

"Not bad, Georgie, not bad," Lando nodded.

"Mans played one week of golf and thinks he's a pro," a voice spoke, making Alessandro and George laugh.

"Hey Lando," a man, maybe in his late twenties, grinned. He gave the Brit a fist bumb before taking a seat at the table.

"You're his new teammate, Alessandro."

"Nice to meet you..."

"James, I work back at the factory," he grinned, shaking his hand.

"So, I heard you guys talking about the new girl on the grid," he began.

"Yeah? You heard about her?"

"Duh, they introduced her at the start of the season on SkySports."

"Really? She'll be surprised to hear that."

"Have you talked to her?"

"Yeah, why the sudden interest?" Lando asked, positioning his feet by the tee.

"She's hot," James shrugged, earning a chuckle from George.

"What? Am I wrong?"

"No, but you're also 8 ears older than her."

"A guy can dream," he sighed.

"So, tell me about her."

"Uh no, that's gross," Lando said, taking a swing with his golf club.

"Haha, take that," he grinned.

"Ask Alessandro, he spends a lot of time with her," George joked, nudging the quiet Italian.

"Oh really? Is she any good?" he asked, catching all three of the boys off guard.

"I don't know yet," Alessandro shrugged impassively, looking over the scoring sheet.

"Ahh, so there's a yet."

"I hope you're asking that in the context of her driving abilities and not anything else," Lando frowned, glancing between Alessandro and James.

"I was thinking more... riding abilities, but anyways," James shrugged, oblivious to the looks of distaste the two Brits were giving him.

Alessandro didn't reply, pulling out his phone to avoid conversation.

"I reckon you can get her in bed before the mid season break," James suggested, wiggling his brows.

"I mean come on, new hot shot racer with a lot of potential and a lot of money? She's probably fantasizing about you already. I bet you can do it."

"Right, I think we should get going," George interrupted, not wanting to hear anymore of the conversation.

"Think about it, Moreno. The boys and I have already made some bets on who she'll break for. I reckon it's you," James whispered as Alessandro grabbed his things.

"I'm rooting for you rookie! On track and off," he called, winking at the end. "It's 1k out of my pocket if you don't!"

Alessandro clenched his jaw, letting the door shut behind him.

"What an ass," Lando scoffed, walking through the parking lot.

"He's disgusting," George muttered, shaking his head. "What did he say to you?"

"Nothing," Alessandro shrugged, kicking a rock with his foot.

"Great way to end the evening," he sighed, wanting to get back to the silence of his hotel room. Wasting no time, he hurriedly waved goodbye.

With that, he drove off into the darkness, the man's words playing on his mind.

--------------------------------------

"Kota, you know you can't do that," Mark reprimanded as I quickly shut the folder.

"Do what?" I asked innocently, daring him to call me out.

He glared at me, glancing between the file and I. Making his way over, he flipped open the first page to reveal the document title.

McLaren Mercedes - Car 15

"Anything in particular youre looking for?" Mark asked, raising a brow at me.

"Nope," I shrugged, trying to take the file back without seeming too eager.

"You do know this is breaking protocol, right?"

I hummed in response, not really wanting to get into an argument.

I knew what I was doing and exactly what I was looking for. I also knew Mark wouldn't snitch on me, but he sure as hell was curious.

"Alright, what caught your eye?" he sighed, taking a seat across for me.

"I was hoping you'd say that," I smirked, flipping to the third page in the document.

"Car 15 showed signs of unexplained loss of power on lap 17, prior to DRS detection zone."

"No shit, we heard that from the radio," Mark joked, knowing there was more to the story.

"Fuel output: normal. Harvesting power, normal. Battery recharge, optimal."

"So everything's working properly?"

"Pretty much, but heres where it gets weird," I said, showing him the graph of the power output.

"His engineer asked him to change to Strat 8, Mode 3. Mode 3 is low power, it doesn't make sense. Why would his engineer make him go on lower power so early in the race? And why did he not realize the mode was causing power issues?"

"Are you sure mode 3 is low power?" Mark frowned, taking a better look at the document.

Sure enough, the drop in power coincided with the mode change.

"Mode 3 is used for the outlap in quali," he muttered to himself, a troubled expression crossing his face.

"Something's not right here, Mark," I said quietly, staring at the papers before me.

"We can't just bring this up to the FIA, they'll know we went through the documents without permission."

"I think I know how."

A certain Zak Brown might know how to help

"Don't do anything stupid," Mark warned as I stood up quickly.

"No promises, but I'll try. After I sneak this file back into the stewards room," I smirked, twirling a set of keys around my finger.

I set off towards the stewards room, completely oblivious to the fact that I'd just opened the biggest can of worms in history.