LEVI'S POV
I wanted to spank her. Did she know the effect she was having on me? The way she toyed with my already racing mind and heightened arousal?
She was dressed in a sleek, black body gown that hugged her curves, adorned with playful lace accents at her waist. The neckline plunged daringly low, both in front and at the back, emphasizing her alluring figure. Kneeling before me, her posture highlighted the curves of her legs, her back provocatively exposed.
Damn it! Was this intentional? Did she choose this outfit precisely to drive me wild?
My heart began to race.
She hastily gathered the papers and handed them to me. I accepted them, then asked, "Are you acquainted with Franco?"
She sighed in relief, perhaps she had been expecting criticism for the papers that had slipped from my hands. But my concern lay elsewhere—why was he calling her?
"When I arrived in Melbourne, Frank offered to help with my bag to my room. We discovered our rooms were close on the 8th floor before it was cleared on Mark’s order. We've become friends," she explained, pausing. "May I ask why you're inquiring, sir?"
"Nothing," I replied hastily. "You can go now."
As she turned to leave, she hesitated and then faced me again, a blend of fear and defiance in her expression. "Sir, was your invitation to your suite purely professional?" Her voice quivered slightly, eyes skirting away from mine but still fixed on my face.
“That day at my place, when you touched me, I... I climaxed," she admitted, her words faltering. "If I hadn't snapped out of my drunken state, you might have taken advantage. I understand you may not have romantic feelings for me, as I’m not in the league of women you normally dare, but I'm also aware of my allure as a woman. Perhaps it's not love, but desire that draws you. Perhaps you desire me, not for sex, but for the warmth of my body in your bed. And I know of Elena Vladimir, I won't stoop to being a mistress," she declared, her tone resolute yet tinged with vulnerability.
She hesitated before speaking again, sensing she might have overstepped, "I don't like you, Sir, and I'll never be intimate with you. If such thoughts cross your mind, I'm sorry to disappoint. It won't happen."
I rose from my seat, a surge of anger or perhaps an overwhelming impulse driving me forward in response to her defiance.
"Stop," I commanded as she turned to leave.
She froze in place. Closing the distance between us, I approached from behind, the sound of her racing heartbeat audible in the tense silence. Placing my hands firmly around her waist, I turned her to face me.
"Repeat what you said," I ordered, my voice edged with insistence.
She swallowed hard, her gaze wavering. "Sir, I..."
"Continue," I pressed, my eyes fixed on hers as I leaned in closer, my breath grazing her neck. "I'm listening."
"Sir, please..."
Slowly, my hand slid up her gown, inching higher until it reached her waistband. With a deft movement, I pushed the cotton fabric aside and slipped two fingers inside her, finding her already slick with desire.
She let out a loud moan, gripping my hand tightly. "Sir..."
I withdrew my hand and brought my fingers to my lips, tasting her essence as she watched, breathless. "Your message is clear. You may go now.”
****
I haven't talked to Isabella about work issues since that day in my suite. I've been incredibly busy. Everything I said and did with the drivers and the entire pit crew was recorded by Netflix cameras for their annual F1 documentary "Drive to Survive."
Friday's practice came quickly, and as usual, I closely watched our two drivers' performances. Kevin, riding a strong momentum this year after recovering from his injury and flying to Melbourne, stood out. A prodigy my grandfather noticed since childhood, he swiftly ascended to the Ferrari team upon entering F1. Last season, he consistently ranked high among drivers, and hopes were high for him to break into the top three this year.
On the other hand, Seth exuded a seasoned aura. With years of experience in F1 under his belt, he was known for his steady wins and dependable racing style.
With the first race of the season approaching, a good start was crucial. During practice, both drivers logged numerous laps around the paddock. Our new car featured a cutting-edge power system, and after extensive testing, both Kevin and Seth praised its enhanced performance.
"How's the handling on those tighter corners, Kevin?" I asked as he finished debriefing with his engineers.
"Incredible, really smooth through the chicanes," Kevin replied, excitement gleaming in his eyes. "And the acceleration out of turns is spot on."
Seth nodded in agreement, joining the conversation. "The stability at high speeds is remarkable. This car's a real contender."
Their determination and mutual respect for each other were evident. Kevin was driven by the desire to solidify his place among the elite, while Seth relied on his seasoned expertise to guide the team forward. As the sun set low over the paddock, anticipation for the season opener on Sunday grew among us all.
Soon, Sunday arrived, marking the culmination of our preparations. The Melbourne race was scheduled to begin promptly at 3 pm. Tension filled the air as the cars lined up on the grid, engines rumbling with anticipation.
As the lights extinguished, unleashing a roar of engines, Seth encountered a less-than-ideal start. A momentary hesitation cost him an early position, but he quickly leveraged his experience to regain lost ground.
Meanwhile, Kevin launched off the line flawlessly, maintaining his lead position as he shadowed the car ahead. His precision and composed approach reflected the confidence he had displayed throughout the weekend's practice sessions.
Although the race was still in its early stages, every lap was crucial to achieving a strong start to the season. Throughout the paddock, a mix of tension and hope permeated the atmosphere as we monitored our drivers navigating the twists and turns of the Melbourne circuit.
In that moment, I turned and met Isabella's gaze, finding her already staring at me.