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I blinked, scanning the room around me.

It was hot, my skin feeling sticky from sweat. My racing suit lay draped over a familiar chair I had seen before.

The chair in my drivers room.

The room was dark, only the faint golden glow of the summer sun seeping in. An outline of a track hung on the wall beside the usual poster of my MCL35 race car.

Monza.

The weight of her body on my hips made heat spread through my veins.

My heart drummed in my chest. The familiar butterflies in my stomach that I usually associated with races fluttered in my chest.

Only she could make me feel that thrill, that rush of excitement.

The things that made me addicted to racing.

The things that made me addicted to her.

Her delicate hands trailed over my body.

Her hair tickled my bare chest, dangling over me.

Her hips rolled against mine, her hands resting on my chest.

My grip on her hips tightened, heat surging through my body.

"Alessandro," she breathed, her eyes closed as she threw her head back.

Lilac and maroon bruises littered her neck and chest, disappearing under her dark lacy bra. Her soft moans filled the room as her hips grind against my pelvis.

I reached up, tugging at her hair as I flipped her onto her back. A soft laugh left her lips and she ran her fingers through my curls. My hips fit perfectly between her legs as she wrapped them around my waist. Ducking my head into the croook of her neck, my teeth grazed her skin.

She gasped, her back arching off the bed. Her chest pressed against mine. I could feel her throbbing against me.

I welcomed the stinging sensation as her nails dug into my back.

"Fuck me," she whimpered, her eyes rolling back as she bit down on her lip.

The image seared into my memory.

My eyes flew open as I sat up in my bed.

Dakota.

I looked around frantically, taking in the brightly lit room. A loud ringing was coming from somewhere in my room and it took me a few moments to realize it was my phone.

Then it hit me.

I was in my apartment in Woking, miles away from my home country of Italy.

"Fuck," I mumbled, tugging at the roots of my hair.

My palms pressed against my eyes as I tried to organize my thoughts.

What the hell is wrong with me?

Suddenly my phone rang yet again, making me groan loudly.

"What?"

"Good morning, Alessandro," I heard Zak's voice come through the speaker.

I sighed, pinching the bridge of my nose

"Sorry boss, good morning," I replied, making him laugh.

"Just checking in, what time do you think you'll be at MTC?"

"Maybe an hour?"

"Alright, you know Ivan won't be in the country this week, right?"

"Yeah, he's gone to visit his family?"

"Yeah, so it'll be you and Lando on the simulators so we can gather data."

"Sounds good, I'll see you in a bit."

"See you."

"Wait," I blurted, before Zak could end the call.

"Yeah?"

"Can I bring Dakota with me? She said she found something in the data that might help me and I wanted to test it out."

There was a moment of silence before Zak replied.

"Sure, why not?"

"Thanks, boss. Be there soon."

A sigh left my lips as I glanced at the time.

9:45

My finger hovered over the send button on my phone as I hesitated texting Dakota.

Am I doing the right thing? Or am I getting myself into a mess?

"Fuck it," I muttered, hitting the blue circle.

Throwing my phone on the bed, I went into the bathroom for a cold shower.

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

"Imagine my surprise when I opened my phone to see a text from the devil himself," was the first thing she said when she slid into the passenger seat of my car.

"Shut up," I muttered, putting the car into drive.

"You're lucky I was in Woking this week," she said, watching the scenery pass by.

I hummed in response, my mind still reeling from this morning.

Dakota shifted in her seat, her arm on the arm rest.

My arm brushed hers as I kept one hand on the gearshift, the other on the steering wheel. Goosebumps rose on my skin, a tingling feeling spreading from her touch.

Suddenly her arm reached out to grab mine. A screeching sound followed by a loud honk snapped me from my thoughts and I sat up straighter.

"Alé! There was a car there!" she exclaimed, looking at me in surprise.

"Shit, sorry," I muttered, glancing in my rearview mirror.

A red stop sign grew smaller before disappearing into the distance.

I had been so distracted, that I blew through the stop sign without realizing another car was crossing the intersection.

"What's up with you today?" she asked, letting her hand drop from my bicep.

You.

"Nothing, sorry. I wasn't focused," I mumbled, glancing over at her.

Dakota leaned back in her seat, her hands resting in her lap.

"Clearly," she mumbled as we pulled into the McLaren park.

It was a gloomy day in Woking, the grey clouds reflecting on the water outside the building.

I rounded the car as Dakota pushed her door open slightly.

She scowled at me when I pushed it closed before opening it again myself.

"You're welcome," I smirked as she got out of the car.

Dakota was dressed in a pair of black sweats, an electric blue hoodie over her athletic frame.

I immediately recognized the Quadrant hoodie with light pink writing that Lando had designed.

Seeing her in his clothes made me feel rattled for some odd reason.

I brushed it off, following her into the heated building.

"Morning Sandro!" I heard one of the team members greet.

"Morning!" I raised my hand, giving him a wave.

"Damn," Kota mumbled, looking at the row of former F1 cars that were displayed on the ground floor.

"What do I have to do to get one of these?" she joked, following me into the elevator.

Fuck me.

"You'll have to talk to Zak about that," I smirked, leaning against the glass wall.

The simulator room was on the second floor of the west wing at the end of the hall on the right hand side.

Framed images of important events in McLaren's history lined the hallways in chronological order.

The latest photo was an image of Lando's podium finish in Austria.

I'd hate to admit it, but that photo irked me.

Lando was McLaren's golden boy. Zak's favorite driver. The teams favorite driver. The fans' favorite driver.

I was an imposter. An outsider. A rookie. I had yet to prove myself. Yet to prove that Zak's decision to sign me was a good one.

"Alé?" Dakota's soft voice snapped me from my thoughts.

I didn't realize I had stopped in the middle of the hallway to stare at the photo.

Her gaze softened, tugging at my heart strings.

I swallowed, tearing my eyes away from her angel like face.

"Welcome to the sim room," I said, holding my hand out as she walked through the door.

The outer walls were floor to ceiling windows that gave a breathtaking view of McLaren Park.

In the far corner were two simulators - giant flatscreen monitors extending around the mock cockpit of an F1 car.

"Alessandro, long time no see," Sam, one of the data specialists, greeted.

"How are you, Sam?"

"Good, good, excited for your home race?"

"Yes, but also a bit nervous," I said, taking his helmet from him.

"Who's this pretty lady?" he asked, giving Dakota a charming smile.

"This pretty lady has a name and it's Dakota," she replied, shaking his hand.

I smirked as he blinked in surprise, the tips of his ears turning pink.

"Right, give me a shout if you need anything. I'll get the systems running. Make sure you turn on the data collect setting," he said, shifting his gaze to me.

I nodded my head in the direction of the sim and Dakota followed after me.

"How do you want to do this?" I asked, flipping my visor up so I could see her.

"Do a lap as you normally would and then we'll make some changes," she said, kneeling beside the simulator.

She kept her distance, knowing the simulator would move around to stimulate the movement of racing.

I flipped my visor down and started a lap around Monza.

1:21:046

"How was that?" I asked, removing my helmet.

"Not bad, do you have any corners where you think you can go faster?"

"Not sure, maybe turn 4?"

"Hm, let's try changing the Della Roggia chicane and Rettifilo," she said, pointing to the track layout.

I found myself smiling at her pronunciation of the Italian names, nailing them for the most part.

"What?" she asked, narrowing her eyes at me.

"Nothing! I didn't say anything!"

"Are you laughing at my pronuncia perfetta (perfect pronounciation)?" she asked, crossing her arms.

"Of course not cara mia," I smirked, shaking my head.

"Oi, less talking, more working!" Sam called, peeking his head out from behind the data monitors.

Asshole.

"So go into the corner faster and brake later, let's see how that works," I suggested.

Alessandro nodded, flipping his visor down again.

He settled into his seat, messing with the settings and starting another warm up lap.

Watching Alessandro in the simulator was incredible. I could see his eyes through the semi-clear visor. They were so focused, steely, cold, and calculated. It was as if a flip had switched in his mind. His fingers rapidly shifted from gear to gear without missing a beat.

Suddenly something switched. Hesitation flickered in his eyes as he glanced away from the screen.

I shifted my attention to the monitor as he approached the first turn for his flying lap.

"Keep going, more, more," I encouraged, knowing every part of his mind was telling him to brake.

"Let off the throttle, brake, brake. Now pick up the throttle, upshift, good."

I watched as the purple bar appeared below his lap time, indicating a fastest personal sector.

He approached turns 4 and 5 and I let him do it himself. Unfortunately as he came out of the chicane, his wheels locked up creating a flatspot.

Alessandro finished his lap, his shoulders dropping in disappointment.

1:21:17

"Sorry," he muttered, avoiding my gaze.

My heart broke slightly at his dejected attitude.

"Alé it's just one lap. Try it again," I said, flipping his visor down again. "Focus on what you need to improve on, forget everything else."

Sure enough, the second time he went around, the first two sectors were purple and the final was green.

1:19:08

"See, I told you!" I exclaimed, clapping my hands.

Alessandro removed his helmet, a wide grin on his face. His eyes sparkled with excitement as he called Sam's name.

"Did you see that?! 1:19 mate!"

"Damn, what did you do?"

"Later braking," Alessandro replied.

The sound of the door opening caught my attention and Lando and Zak walked in.

"Kota! What are you doing here?" Lando exclaimed, running towards me.

I let out an 'oof' as he crashed into me, sending me tumbling to the floor. I groaned as Lando lay on top of me on the floor.

"Asshole," I muttered.

Suddenly the weight of his body was gone.

I opened my eyes to see Alessandro glaring at Lando, extending a hand to help me up.

"Who was on the sim?" Zak asked, looking towards the simulator.

"Alessandro," I replied proudly, looking towards him.

He gave me a breathtaking smile that made my heart skip a beat. It made me so happy to see him happy. I knew how hard he was pushing himself to be better and it was incredible to see it pay off.

"1:19? Wow, even I haven't gotten past the 1:20's," Lando said, an impressed look on his face.

"Nice work," Zak nodded, patting him on the back.

"Dakota's help of course," he said, looking towards me.

"Kota needs to take Dave's spot," Zak joked, giving me a fist bump.

Alessandro placed his helmet back in its place and said his goodbyes to the team.

We walked side by side and I felt his hand brush mine a few times. I didn't mind, but it made my heart skip a beat.

He glanced down at me, an adorable smile on his face. Reaching out, he linked our pinkies together, our arms swinging in sync.

I blushed, looking away as we walked to the car.

The drive back to my apartment was short and I found myself feeling slightly disappointed as we pulled up to my complex.

"Thank you for everything, Dakota. You have no idea how much you've helped me," he expressed genuinely, walking me up to my room.

"Don't thank me Alessandro. I know how hard you work and I really want to see it pay off. If it were up to me, I'd give you a world championship."

He laughed, shaking his head. His hand rested on my lower back as we came to a stop outside my door.

"Want to come in?" I asked, looking up at him.

"I would love to, but I need to go back to MTC for a meeting," he said, glancing at his watch.

I pouted, my shoulders dropping.

"Dakota," he warned, making me snicker.

"Fine, leave me," I huffed, unlocking my door.

He chuckled quietly as I pushed the door open.

"I'll see you in Monza?" he asked hopefully, running a hand through his hair.

"Only if you give me a tour," I smirked, leaning against the doorframe.

"I'll sweep you off your feet."

"Wrong. Italy will sweep me off my feet."

"Cara mia, I am Italy," he smirked.

"You drive for McLaren Alé," I shook my head.

He scowled, rolling his eyes in dismissal.

"Now shoo, or you'll be late."

I was about to close the door when he leaned down, giving my cheek a quick kiss.

I blinked, watching as he gave me a boyish grin before walking off towards the stairs.

"Ciao!"

Shaking my head, I closed the door and leaned against it. My cheeks felt hot when I pressed my hands against them.

Moments later I heard his McLaren roar out of the driveway. From my window I spotted the sleek black car turn and speed off into the distance.

Alessandro Moreno was going to be the death of me.