Levi’s POV
The female reporter took her seat, and immediately, a thin male journalist eagerly stood up, clearly determined to challenge me. Perhaps my response to the first reporter had given him the false impression that I was angry or about to burst into rage. In reality, I remained composed, focused on setting the record straight for both him and the audience watching this interview. I hoped he would move on from this line of questioning soon.
Undeterred by my calm responses to previous questions, the male journalist pressed on, "Can you meet your father's expectations for Ferrari? And if not, will there be consequences?"
My expression stayed stoic, betraying no hint of the storm brewing beneath the surface. I had anticipated such inquiries, yet their directness still managed to strike a nerve. Choosing my words carefully, as my father was a sensitive topic for me, I paused briefly to gather my thoughts before responding firmly, "My father expects nothing less than the best from all his ventures, including Ferrari. However, I am here because I believe in the potential of this team and my ability to lead it effectively. He believes in my ability, and that is all." I noticed Isabella's gaze fixed on me; she stood at my far right with the rest of the media team, their apprehension palpable. "I strive to exceed expectations, whether they are my father's or the shareholders'. Accountability in this role is paramount, and I am prepared to face any challenges that arise."
Turning towards the camera, I continued, "I understand there may be perceptions, but I am here to prove my capabilities through action. My career has been built on hard work and dedication, not solely on familial connections, though I cannot deny the support my father has provided. I am committed to steering Ferrari towards continued success based on the merit of our strategies and the strength of our team. This setback is minor; such challenges are commonplace in every business, and we will be back on our feet soon enough. I have the best team supporting me."
The next question from the reporter was sharp, laden with implications. "Given your background, how do you plan to navigate the perception that you might be more accountable to your father than to the company's stakeholders?"
Meeting the reporter's gaze squarely, I replied, “My allegiance is first and foremost to Ferrari, its stakeholders, and its hard-working employees. While my father's support is invaluable, decisions made under my leadership will prioritize the long-term interests of the company and its shareholders. Transparency and integrity will guide my actions."
Ms. Sebastian, head of the media team, gracefully stepped forward. “That will be all for today,” she announced, bringing the interview to a close. After a few handshakes, I walked over to Isabella, and together we made our way to the garage. Mark and my drivers followed a few feet behind us, but no one else joined us; I had dismissed them for the evening to have a moment alone with Isabella.
“What did you think about my answers?” I asked Isabella, maintaining a professional tone, emphasizing my American accent to differentiate myself from Mr. L and maintain our boundaries. It was a subtle but necessary precaution for both our sakes.
“They were very good. Better than the answers we planned yesterday,” Isabella admitted, her voice carrying a hint of admiration as she matched my steps towards my car. Her warm smile broke through the tension, and for the first time today, I felt a sense of relief. If only she knew how much her support meant to me.
“Sometimes being spontaneous and authentic is more effective than planning,” I reflected, glancing at the elegant curves of the Ferrari cars in the garage, symbols of both status and performance.
“I'll keep that in mind, sir. It might come in handy for my next job,” she replied casually, her words laced with determination and a touch of uncertainty as we reached my car.
Leaning casually against the sleek white Ferrari, bathed in the soft glow of the evening, I studied Isabella thoughtfully. Was there a hint of restlessness in her eyes? Was she considering leaving Ferrari? Despite our competitive salaries and benefits, her mention of future prospects unsettled me. Was it something about me? Did she doubt I would retain her? Was she fielding better offers elsewhere? Surely not; we were renowned for our compensation package.
If she were to leave, I'd feel utterly alone. I couldn't bear to lose her.
“You're not considering resigning now that we're facing challenges, are you?” I asked, trying to inject a note of playfulness into the conversation despite the tight knot in my stomach. I needed her assurance that she wasn't planning to leave me to handle everything alone. In that moment, I wished I could hold her hand, or even hug her.
I need her...