I could feel myself breaking out in cold sweat as I stood there nervously, waiting for Dakota.

The door to her hotel room opened, catching me by surprise.

"Alessandro, hey," she gave him a soft smile, opening the door wider. "Come in."

"Sorry for, uh, bothering you," I said, rubbing the back of my neck.

"No, no. What's up?" she asked, shutting the door.

Her hotel room was clean as could be. A bowl fruits was set out on the bed, her laptop opened next to it.

She pat the foot of her bed, hopping onto it herself.

A pair of blue light glasses rested on the bridge of her nose. Her long hair was out of its ponytail, tumbling down her back to her waist.

God the things I would do to h-

"Alessandro?"

"Huh? Oh sorry. I was wondering," I began, hesitating a bit.

Fuck, she makes me nervous.

"Alé, spit it out," she laughed, shaking her head.

My cheeks turned red as I took a seat on the edge of her bed.

"Mind going over this with me?" I asked, dropping the folder on the space between us.

She raised a brow at me, taking the papers.

"Did you ask Ivan?"

"No, I don't want to hear him droning on and on about the details. I just want to know how to be faster."

"No shit," she joked, running a hand through her hair.

Typing away on her laptop, she pulled up a map of Zandvoort.

"Show me your lap time data."

I pulled my own laptop towards me, opening up the data software.

Dakota leaned forward and tilted the screen towards her. I could feel her hair brush against my arm, the smell of her perfume engulfing my senses.

My mind flashed back to her perfume filling my nose as I buried my head in the crook of her neck, my lips trailing against her soft skin. The sound of her shallow breaths, her big doe eyes fluttering closed.

"It looks like you're slowest in the mid speed corners," her voice snapped me from my thoughts.

I cleared my throat, nodding in agreement.

Focus.

"What's your braking point?"

"Somewhere here," I said, pointing at the screen.

"Ok, can you show me the comparison between you and Lando for braking?"

I pulled up the graphic that compared our driving styles so she could see.

"I'm not an expert, but it seems like you're braking way earlier than necessary for turns 3, 7, and 11. Do you usually brake early?"

"No, I used to be a really late breaker but the McLaren doesn't work like that so I changed my style of driving," I shook my head.

"Ok, so when you go out on track, try and brake later in the slow and mid speed corners. Don't change anything for the highspeed because you're good there."

I nodded as she pointed at the data that showed that Lando entered the turns at a much higher speed than I did.

"Have you tried that before?" she asked, turning to look at me.

"No, Dave always said it would make me slower because the car wasn't built for that. He said I would have a poor exit."

"Well see if you can try this on the simulator or something and see how it works out. The turn only starts once you hit the breaks. The later you break, the less speed you lose and the less time it takes to get back up to full throttle. But still, ask Ivan about this because I'm not qualified for this," she joked, taking off her glasses.

"I'll be sure to tell him you're coming for his job," I chuckled, leaning back on my arms.

"I wonder what it's like," Dakota said, leaning her head back against the headboard.

She placed her hands on top of the pillow that rested in her lap.

"Wonder what what's like?" I asked, tilting my head.

She stared at me for a moment, a small smile on her lips.

"Getting in that car and driving as fast as humanely possible? As fast as your mind lets you?"

"It's incredible," I smiled, knowing there was no words to describe what it felt like.

There was only 20 people at a time that knew what it felt like.

And damn did it feel surreal to be one of those 20.

"Was it like that as a kid too?" Dakota asked softly, after a few moments of silence.

I laughed, remembering how I had cried to my father minutes before my first race in F2.

"Oh yeah, I was a puss- sorry- a wimp. I always thought something would go wrong, but my father would always tell me "Alessandro, you take care of Mario and he will take care of you."

"Mario?" she laughed, shifting to lay down on her side.

I turned so we were facing each other, my hand resting merely an inch away from hers.

"Yeah, that was my cars name. I was obsessed with Mario and Luigi. Actually, my father used to tell me to name all my cars. Even my kart from karting. But I stopped once I got older. I guess I never realized how much it helped me."

Dakota laughed and I swear my heart skipped a beat.

She looked so beautiful, her eyes squinting as she laughed, her grin revealing her straight teeth.

"Really? Mario?"

"Stop, I'm never telling you anything," I huffed, rolling over onto my back.

I tensed as her hand landed on my bicep.

"Fine, I'm sorry," she stifled a laugh.

"What do you do if you crash?" she asked, all the laughter now gone.

I turned again to face her, shrugging my shoulder.

"Brace for impact?"

She blinked.

"No, I mean we do that. But at the same time what else can you do? You're a passenger at that point. The car decides if it wants to protect you or not."

"What was your worst crash?"

"Silverstone 2019 in F2. I had BBW failure and couldn't slow the car down. There was a car in front of me and I had to swerve out of the way. Ended up in the barriers."

"Oh wow," she mumbled, playing with the corner of the bedsheet.

"Do you know the fastest speed you've gone?"

"Not sure, maybe 220 kmh? To be honest, top speed is not that impressive, it's the acceleration that's more impressive," I replied.

"Do you ever... get scared?"

"Scared? Yeah. Sometimes you feel the car slide out of control and your heart drops," I said, laying down, staring up at the ceiling.

"And then your hands automatically correct the steering wheel and you keep going as if nothing happened. Sometimes your mind screams at you to slow down. But you have to ignore it and keep pushing. Sometimes there's too many things happening at once. A car in front of you, a car behind you, your engineer's voice in your ears, your tires degrading. It's like having 5 TV's on at once and they're all playing a different show."

We drive our asses off nearing 350 kilometers per hour and feel the closeness of death every time we lose the tiniest amount of grip.

One mistake could be the difference between life and death.

Racing had no room for error.

Not. One. Mistake.

Getting into that car is pure focus, adrenaline, being cold-headed, and impulsive at the same time.

I never understood what was so bad about being angry. Anger took you places. You have to be angry, against everyone pretty much.

You had to hate the driver in front of you so badly, you can't think of anything else but overtaking him.

You had to hate your car when it went wrong so you could tweak every little part to extract as much speed as possible.

You had to keep pushing the machinery, taking it to the absolute limit.

Most of all, you had to hate yourself.

For all of it.

You had to hate.

It's just the truth, and anyone who says otherwise is lying.

"Alessandro," she said quietly, placing a hand on my arm again.

I snapped out of my thoughts, focusing my eyes on hers.

"What's going on in that head of yours?"

"A lot," I admitted, turning away.

It was silent for a while and I could feel Dakota's eyes trained on me.

"Take a picture, it'll last longer."

I turned to look at her, her cheeks tinged pink as she fought back a shy smile.

"Your last girlfriend must've praised you nonstop for you to end up on such a high pedestal," she rolled her eyes, sitting up.

"I mean, what can I say? I know just the right spot," I winked, glancing down her body.

Dakota scoffed, standing up. She grabbed her charger, plugging in her laptop.

Meanwhile, I grabbed my phone and sent Charle Leclerc a text.

Moments later, he responded with:

Of course, but not a scratch on it

copy that

"Get dressed and meet me in the garage in 5 minutes," I said, getting up and gathering my things.

"What?" she asked, but I was already heading out the door.

"See you!" I called, walking down the hall to my room.

Alessandro pulled on a jacket and changed out of his shorts into a pair of jeans.

Making sure to grab a key card, he rushed out of the room and hurried down the stairs.

He summoned the valet attendant and asked him to bring the car around.

Dakota stepped out of the hotel lobby, a hood over her head as a heavy gust of wind blew small strands across her face.

"What's going on?" she asked, pulling the sleeves of her hoodie over her hands.

"After you," Alessandro said, pulling open the passenger side door.

Still looking very confused, she slid into the car.

He slipped into the drivers seat, the rumble of the Ferrari filling him with a subdued sense of excitement.

"Who's car is this?" she asked, looking around in awe.

"Mine," he replied with a smirk.

Her eyes widened, making Alessandro laugh.

"Can I have it?" she asked.

"I offer you the everything and you ask for my car. You truly are a girl after my heart."

She laughed, shaking her head. Her eyes sparkling with excitement.

The McLaren driver pressed on the gas and the car lurched forward, pressing the two against the seat.

The roar of the car echoed in the semi enclosed valet.

The streets were empty at night, a few cars here and there.

Perfect for what he had brought them out for.

Merging onto the straight highway, he slammed his foot down on the throttle.

Dakota's breath caught in her throat, a quiet gasp escaping her lips.

The numbers on the dashboard jumped from 50 to 310 kmh.

Alessandro's eyes flickered over to Dakota, her lips pulling into a smile.

Seeing her enjoying the thrill of the speed made him smile as well.

There wasn't a single car on the road as the clock neared half past midnight.

He slowed to a stop, making Dakota look at him curiously.

The Italian could barely make out her figure in the dark. Ahead, the road was illuminated by the yellowed headlights.

"Roll down the windows," he said.

She gave him a breathtaking smile before quickly pressing on the button.

Cool air rushed into the car, rustling his hair that was beginning to get a bit too long.

"Close your eyes."

"Alessandro."

"Do you trust me?" he asked, repeating the same question he had asked all those months ago when they had filmed the hot laps video.

"God knows why I do," she mumbled, leaning back in her seat and closing her eyes.

Alessandro gazed at her for a few seconds before hitting the gas.

His eyes never left her, letting his hands keep the car straight.

He watched as her lips parted as her back pressed against the seat. The smile on her lips widened and she was soon laughing.

A rush of excitement ran through her, her heart dropping at the thrilling sensation.

The wind whipped around her, her laughter barely audible over the sound of the wind.

The car slowed to a normal speed and her eyes flew open.

Alessandro kept glancing over to her, a large grin on is face.

They pulled into an empty parking lot.

Dakota relaxed in her seat, unaware of what Alessandro was about to do.

A sudden shriek left her lips as the car began to turn.

"Alessandro!" she exclaimed, grabbing onto his bicep as he began to do donuts in the parking lot.

She felt the strain on her neck as the car spun. The smell of burning rubber mingled with his cologne and she had to stop herself from taking a deep breath.

The sound of the engine sent a chill down her spine, goosebumps rising on her skin.

But what made her heart skip a beat, was the sound of Alessandro's laughter over the roar of the car.

The car came to a stop, their laughter ringing out into the dark night.

Under the moonlight, Alessandro looked like a Greek sculpture.

The left side of his face was illuminated by the faint light coming in through the open window. It cast a dark shadow over the other side, making his jawline appear as sharp as ever.

"Can you feel it?" he asked, a dazzling smile on his face.

"Yeah," Dakota replied breathlessly, mirroring his expression.

Dakota felt butterflies flutter in her stomach, her heart drumming in her chest. Her body sizzled with excitement, buzzing with adrenaline.

"That's as close as it gets to what we feel when we race."

Alessandro knew she couldn't experience what he and the other F1 drivers could, racing at top speeds on winding tracks.

But in a 1000 horsepower car with one of the highest top speeds, this was the best he could do for her.

"It feels incredible," she whispered.

Now that she had gotten a taste, she couldn't help but want more.

Racing drew you in.

It got you addicted to speed.

Addicted to thrill.

Addicted to adrenaline.

A dangerous combination.

By the time they got back to the hotel, Dakota was still on a high.

She stumbled out of the car, her legs suddenly turned to jelly

Alessandro's chest vibrated as he laughed, reaching out to steady her.

Their arms remained linked even as they came to a stop outside her hotel room.

"Thank you, Alessandro," she whispered, looking up at him.

"Thank you, Dakota," he smiled.

Fuck.

He wanted to kiss her so badly.

Lando's words echoed in his head.

"Go find someone else to toy with. Dakota doesn't deserve that."

"Goodnight, Dakota."

But just because Dakota had forgiven Alessandro, didn't mean she wasn't going to get revenge.

She stood on her tippy toes, leaning towards him.

"Goodnight. And if you dream of me, just remember I like it rough," she smirked, giving him a wink.

With that, she shut the door, leaving him to stare at the white painted door.