LEVI'S POV
The day had unfolded far better than I ever could have imagined. Just yesterday, I had tossed and turned in bed, worrying and wondering how today would play out—how the saboteur would try to ruin things again.
As I sat in the control room, it felt like the weight of the world was on my shoulders, compounded by the expectations I had for myself and those that everyone else had for me.
When the announcer mentioned the rain, I’d relied more on sheer instinct than on any formal knowledge or experience, yet everything had gone my way.
It was the best feeling ever, seeing everything play out the way I wanted after so long.
A rare satisfaction settled in my chest as I stood among my workers in the bar, the weight of success lifting my shoulders higher. The best part? Those smug reporters had been there, witnesses to my triumph, forced to swallow their doubts about me.
Even I was forced to swallow my own doubts. I deserved to be here, and I could do this.
I was happy to finally give my workers a night off—it had been a long time coming.
The bar we were in was one of those sleek, modern places where everything gleams under too-bright lights. But it was cozy too, with low-hanging lamps casting a warm glow, and booths big enough to seat six or seven people. I was sitting with Mark alone, while the other workers sat around and across from us.
It was the kind of place where deals were made over a glass of bourbon and secrets were shared in hushed tones.
I was enjoying the serenity—or maybe it was the look in Isabella's eyes that truly ignited my elation. She was sitting just three booths across, and even with Franco hovering beside her like a dark cloud, her gaze found me.
She was proud—of me. The sight of her eyes trailing after me, despite the company she kept, stirred something deep inside, a blend of pride and confusion that made me want to bolt from the room. I didn’t understand these feelings, didn’t want to. Yet there they were, undeniable and unsettling.
Every time I stole glances at her, she was already looking at me. It was a sweet game of cat and mouse that filled me with so much energy my cock jerked.
Fuck.
It didn’t help that she was absolutely gorgeous tonight. Isabella stood out like a queen among commoners. She wore a sky-blue dress that hugged her curves perfectly, the glittering fabric shimmering slightly in the dim light. The dress was elegant, sophisticated, yet dangerously alluring. I wanted to pull one sleeve down her shoulder and take her nipple in my mouth.
Her blonde hair fell in soft waves over her shoulders, and a single strand of pearls rested against the delicate curve of her neck. I wondered how she had the time to dress so well with all the tension and work that had enveloped the team this week.
I, on the other hand, had opted for something understated but sharp. A charcoal gray suit, tailored to perfection, with a crisp white shirt and a slim black tie. The suit was more than just clothing; it was armor, a way to project control and power, even in moments like these when my emotions threatened to unravel. The polished leather shoes on my feet were a subtle reminder of the world I navigated—a world of appearances, where every detail mattered.
But I didn’t wonder for long because my eyes were on her. Even across the room, I could see the fire in her eyes, the way she carried herself with a confidence that only added to her allure. She was happy. And I wanted her to always be happy.
After some time, I rose from my seat and tapped a spoon against my glass. The bar quieted down, all eyes turning to me. I cleared my throat, pushing the conflicting emotions aside.
"Today was incredible, and it’s only the beginning. We’re just getting started," I said, letting the words settle in the room. "But tonight, let’s raise a glass to the best damn team at Ferrari. Every one of you played a part in this win."
The room erupted in cheers, but my focus was locked on Isabella. Across the room, our eyes met again, and in that instant, the noise around us faded into nothing. There was a look in her eyes, one I knew too well—the desire was palpable, even across the distance. I could feel the tension, a tug of something forbidden and dangerous, but neither of us dared to cross that line.
She wanted me, and I wanted her. But things were never that simple, and I hated it. Why hadn’t I known her outside of work? Why couldn’t I just…
Damn it! Fuck it all! I had to talk to her.