LEVI’S POV
On the third day in Melbourne, the car finally made its way into the esteemed paddock for practice sessions. The upcoming race awaited on Sunday, promising three days packed with thrilling racing activities that had the entire team buzzing with excitement. Mechanics busily fine-tuned engines while drivers honed their skills with meticulous precision.
Since that ‘coffee evening’ when I saw Isabella and Franco together, they seemed inseparable. It pained me to witness their closeness, especially after I had intentionally cleared her floor to keep them apart.
Jealousy gnawed at me, fueling a fierce determination to win back her attention—exclusively to myself.
Although, truth be told, I sensed or rather, I knew, Isabella viewed Franco as nothing more than a friend. In theory, this realization should have eased my mind, yet it only deepened my unease. I want to be her only man-friend, the fuck!
Each exchanged glance and shared smile between them only heightened my apprehension.
But now, as the break neared its end, I saw my opportunity to refocus her attention on me. This thought propelled me forward with a renewed sense of purpose and resolve.
When she’s so busy with work she won’t have time for that dickhead Franco!
Isabella occupied my thoughts incessantly, even in mundane moments like riding the elevator to Ferrari's Melbourne office.
As the doors opened, I stepped into the bustling office, exuding confidence in a tailored dark grey suit that hugged my frame perfectly. A waistcoat added a touch of elegance over my crisp white shirt, and a meticulously tied black tie completed the ensemble.
The morning sunlight streamed through the windows, casting a hopeful glow over the room where Isabella and the rest of the PR team eagerly awaited my arrival.
"Good morning," I greeted, my voice steady despite the storm of emotions swirling within me.
“Good morning, boss.” They replied in unison.
They were huddled around a large conference table, laptops open and papers scattered, preparing for the imminent media storm. Their faces were a mix of determination and readiness as they awaited my direction.
"Alright team," I began, my voice steady and authoritative. "We've got a lot to cover before the race weekend. Isabella, I need you to ensure both drivers are fully prepared for interviews with at least a dozen media outlets each. They need to be sharp, concise, and stay strictly on message."
Isabella nodded, her pen poised over her notebook, capturing every word. I continued, laying out the tasks with precision. "Simultaneously, I want the PR department to screen and draft responses to all media inquiries we've received. No room for errors. And the public activities scheduled—they must be reviewed thoroughly. I expect those manuscripts on my desk first thing tomorrow."
"Isabella," I said, my tone firm yet encouraging as I paused beside her chair. "I need you to oversee everything meticulously. The responsibility of reviewing the manuscript revisions falls on you, and I have no doubt you'll handle it with your usual precision."
She looked up from her notes, a hint of anticipation in her eyes mixed with a touch of apprehension. "Of course, Sir. I'll make sure every detail is checked and rechecked."
I breathed in her scent, which almost caused me to lose my composure.
Control yourself, Levi!
Instead of kissing her, I nodded approvingly. "Good. Remember, it's crucial to be open to feedback. We need these documents flawless before they reach my desk."
Isabella smiled confidently. "Absolutely, I'm prepared to take any constructive criticism from the team," she said, addressing everyone in the room. I hoped no one would give her a hard time. I had noticed some of them didn't seem to like her much. They better start warming up to her because she would soon be their boss.
"Good," I repeated, giving her a reassuring pat on the shoulder before moving on. "Let's make sure we're at the top of our game for this race weekend."
Glancing around the room, I made sure to meet the eyes of each team member, impressing upon them the importance of their assignments. "This is crucial. Our image, the team's image, everything hinges on how we manage the media and public perception this week."
I could sense the weight of responsibility hanging palpably in the air as they stared at me. Good!
The media wouldn't hold back—questions could range from technical details about our cars to probing into the drivers' strategies and mental preparedness. The looming race weekend only intensified the scrutiny; every word spoken, every action taken could sway opinions. We have to be prepared.
Beyond the walls of our office, the buzz of anticipation was growing among journalists and fans alike. What innovations were Ferrari unveiling this season? How were we addressing concerns over recent technical setbacks, especially the accident involving Kevin?
"Alright, everyone, we'll wrap up here for this morning. Let's reconvene first thing tomorrow. Make sure all your drafts are submitted to Isabella," I announced, glancing around the conference room. As I reached the door, a sudden thought struck me, prompting me to turn back. "Isabella, once they're ready, bring the drafts to my suite," I added, locking eyes with her for a moment before stepping out into the bustling hallway.
Amidst the whirlwind of back-to-back meetings that ran through the day, the only thing that sparked anticipation within me was the prospect of Isabella personally delivering the drafts to my suite. She had been elusive lately, slipping away from my grasp, but not this time.
After the day's relentless meetings, I retreated to my room, craving some much-needed rest.
A knock followed by the doorbell startled me from my thoughts. "Who's there?" I called out.
"It's me, Isabella, sir. I've printed out the documents and would like you to review them," her voice filtered through the door.
"Come in," I replied, my curiosity piqued.
As she entered, my eyes flickered briefly to her feet clad in hotel slippers, then to her legs. I imagined the sensation of massaging them with oil, her sitting beside me on the bed, her legs draped across my thighs. The image made my heart race.
Isabella stood nervously just inside the door.
"Shut the door and sit," I instructed firmly.
She hesitated, closing the door behind her. As she began to move towards the living area, I interrupted her. "No. Sit on the bed," I commanded, causing tension to fill the room.
She walked slowly to the bed and sat down, her heart beating rapidly. I could sense her nervousness as she fiddled with the documents in her hand.
"Breathe," I said gently.