Faster Dirtier (Take Me...#5) (A Team Ferrelli Novel)

by Colleen Masters

  “I didn’t do it to be hot,” I seethe, whipping around to face him. “I did it to be honest. No more playing the nice girl. This weekend, at that race, I’m not going to hold back. I’m going to tell the world exactly what I think of their backwards, sexists attitudes. Tomorrow morning, just as that picture is going viral, I’m going to release a video statement. All on my own. I know Siena has my whole image planned out for me, but I can’t live like that, Enzo. I don’t want to. Not if it keeps me from being my true self.”

  “Nothing should keep you from that,” he says earnestly, taking my face in his hands. “You should always do what feels true.”

  “Well in that case,” I breathe, wrapping my arms around his waist. “Do we still have that hotel room or what?”

  Chapter Eighteen

  “You know what I think you could really use before the camera starts rolling?” Enzo says, as he carries a tray of room service over to the bed.

  “A good breakfast?” I ask, pulling the covers up around my naked body.

  “A good lay,” he grins, kissing my bare shoulder.

  “I want to be coherent on camera, not babbling in a just-fucked haze, thank you very much,” I laugh, snatching up an aromatic cup of coffee. “Weren’t three rounds enough for you last night, Prof?”

  “I could never get enough of you, kid,” Enzo smiles, buttering a piece of thick toast. “But I’m willing to cool it for the next couple of hours, at least.”

  “Your restraint is much appreciated,” I laugh, pulling the sheet around me and crossing to the window.

  As I peer down at the streets of New York, I can see the scores of camera crews loitering outside our hotel. Just as I predicted, the world at large goes nuts with my and Enzo’s steamy smooch. The photo gets picked up by just about every gossip outlet out there. But oddly enough, I don’t feel panicked or defensive. After all the heartache and shame of this past week, I’m through bowing down to public opinion. All that matters is what the people I care most about—my family, my team, and Enzo—think.

  “You’re absolutely sure you want to release this video?” Enzo asks, pouring cream into his coffee. “It’s not too late to back out.”

  The doorbell of the suite rings, and I smile dryly, slipping into a hotel robe and tossing one to Enzo as well.

  “Now it’s too late,” I reply, “The cavalry has arrived.”

  I cross to the front door as Enzo shucks on the robe. The cup of coffee is nearly knocked out of my hand as I tug open the door to admit my much-needed backup. Two pairs of arms envelop me in a light, fluttering embrace. The smells of perfume, hair product, and Red Bull bombard my senses as Casper and Anneke—my hair and makeup gurus—step back to take a look at me.

  “We are so glad you called us in for this, babe,” Casper says, taking my hand in his.

  “You’re holding up so well under all this stress,” Anneke gushes, kissing my cheek. “You don’t even look sleep deprived! Hell, I’d say you look downright relaxed.”

  Enzo clears his throat, appearing in the bedroom doorway. Casper and Anneke giggle delightedly at the sight of his barely-clothed body.

  “Well that explains it,” Casper crows. “If I had that hunk of burning love to myself all night, I know I’d be feeling pretty relaxed too.”

  “This hunk of burning love is called Enzo,” my lover drawls, sipping his coffee, “Nice to meet you.”

  “Oh, we know who you are,” Anneke laughs.

  “But for the record, I’m Casper. This is my soul mate, Anneke,” the slight, styled man replies happily.

  “Oh...You guys are together?” Enzo asks.

  “Why does everyone think that?” Anneke mutters, throwing her arms around Casper.

  “I have no idea,” Casper shrugs, resting a hand on Anneke’s shapely ass.

  “Not to cut introductions short or anything,” I cut in, “But we should probably get a move on before—”

  “Say no more!” Casper cries out, taking hold of my shoulders and whirling me around toward the bathroom. “Forward march!”

  I look bashfully over my shoulder at Enzo as my hair and makeup team sweeps me out of the room. He just shakes his head with a baffled smile on his face. I’m sure he’s met some eccentric people in his line of work, but these two are on a whole other level. I think it’s why I like being around them so much. Luckily, Siena had already sent them to New York to be on hand for me this weekend, so calling them in at a moment’s notice was hardly any trouble at all.

  “So, what look are we going for today?” Casper asks, plunking me down onto a little pouf chair. “Repentant Everywoman? Wilting Daisy? Hardened Homewrecker?”

  “How about just...Ainsley Vaughn?” I reply.

  “I love it,” Anneke gushes. “Let’s do this thing!”

  In what feels like a matter of moments, the duo has me prepped and ready for the camera. My hair is pulled back into a sleek, stylish ponytail, my light makeup done subtly but expertly. I look, more than anything, like myself. The girl I’ve always been, and will always be—no matter what fame and celebrity throw my way. The three of us choose an appropriate outfit: gray skinny jeans, a denim collared shirt with the sleeves rolled up, and my own Chuck Taylors.

  “Perfect,” Casper says, clapping his hands.

  “Fresh and fierce at the same time,” Anneke nods.

  Enzo pokes his head into the bathroom and smiles when he catches a glimpse of me.

  “Well?” I ask him, “What do you think?”

  “Beautiful as ever,” he replies.

  Casper and Anneke almost swoon at his words.

  “What a gentleman,” Casper coos.

  “Sweet and strong. Can’t beat that,” Anneke sighs.

  “So. Are you ready to do this?” Enzo asks me, ignoring my hair and makeup team’s rapturous praise.

  “As ready as I’ll ever be,” I say, drawing in a deep breath. “Thank you guys so much for your help, again.”

  “Don’t sweat it for a second,” Casper says, air kissing my cheeks. “We’ll just be down at the hotel bar if you need us.”

  “It’s ten in the morning,” I point out, bemused.

  “Hell-ooo. That’s bloody mary o’clock,” Anneke informs me.

  I let the zany pair out of the suite and close the door carefully behind them, turning back to Enzo. He’s setting up my phone in front of a chair by the window, having smashed his own. It’s not exactly the most high-tech solution, but it’ll have to do for now.

  “I’m ready for my close-up,” I drawl, crossing the room to him.

  “Don’t sweat it, OK?” Enzo says, catching my hand. “Just do what you’re best at, Ace. Tell the truth.”

  “The truth,” I sigh, sitting before the blinking red light of the camera phone. “Just the truth. No problem.”

  Enzo places himself behind the phone and waits for me to give the go-ahead. I nod my head, training my eyes on the camera. The red light stops blinking, glowing red in the natural light of the window. I take a deep breath, let a small smile come onto my lips, and begin.

  “Hey everyone,” I say, giving a small wave. “My name is Ainsley Vaughn. Ace, to my friends. Many of you have been seeing a lot of my face, lately. This past week, I’ve become the first woman to be recruited to Team Ferrelli as an F1 affiliated driver. But there’s a very good chance that my recruitment is not the first thing you learned about me this week. In all likelihood, the first time you read my name was on a gossip website, or a tabloid headline. My being hired as a female F1 driver made a splash, of course. But the splash was dwarfed by the tidal wave of attention I received for allegedly sleeping with my teammate, Enzo Lazio.”

  I glance up at Enzo, who nods encouragingly.

  “It’s news to nobody that the media is more interested in sex scandals than just about anything else. Including significant victories for women in traditionally male-dominated professions. But I digress. What I want you to come away from this video knowing is that I’m proud to be a member of Team Fe
rrelli, and I deserve my spot. I am a great driver, a devoted athlete, and I’m more than ready to show the world what I can do. I know that, because I’m a woman, plenty of media outlets will continue to focus on my sex life and my body, rather than my merits as a driver. But I’m not going to let that keep me from the sport I love. My body is my business, now and forever. I encourage all of you out there watching this video to appreciate that, and embrace it. Not just for my sake, but for all the women of the world. We all deserve to be treated as equals. I hope you’ll join me in championing women, believing that they are just as capable, determined, and badass as anyone else—in F1 and everywhere else. That’s all I have to say to you this morning. See you on the track, race fans.”

  Enzo stops the video, grinning at me from across the room.

  “How was that?” I ask, smoothing back my ponytail.

  “That. Was. Amazing,” Enzo says, kneeling down in front of my chair. “So amazing that I’m gonna have to ruin that perfect hair and makeup again right this second.”

  “I’ve got to post the video first,” I laugh, grabbing my phone as Enzo wraps his arms around my waist.

  I can barely concentrate as I shoot off the video to a dozen or so media outlets and wait for the world to do the rest. The second the message has zoomed off into the world, I let the phone drop onto the carpet. Enzo scoops me up into his arms, carries me back to bed, and makes good on his promise to mess up my hair and makeup. And the fact that the entire world is seeing my I-don’t-give-a-fuck video right at this very moment only makes our horizontal action that much sweeter.

  My phone is absolutely blowing up when I pick it up an hour later. Sure enough, the entire planet has heard my message loud and clear. My video has either been paired with or displaced every picture of Enzo and I. Looks like I’ve succeeded in giving everyone a juicy new angle to cover, after all.

  Alec calls to congratulate me on flipping off the entire press, Siena literally throws up her hands during another video call, and Enzo can’t keep his hands off my actualized, empowered self. When we finally make it out the door to head back to the practice track again, the cameras are waiting to intercept us. But instead of hiding our faces or hurrying on past, we stroll along at our own pace, hand-in-hand, unified, and so, so proud of each other.

  Chapter Nineteen

  And just like that, it’s Saturday.

  Race day.

  A special street-style course has been closed off for the stand-alone race. Only a handful of F1 teams have been invited to participate, Ferrelli among them. Hendricks, the Swedish team that Nils works for, will also be here, but I try not to let it bother me. Even though there are far fewer teams involved than usual, the stands are jam-packed. Who knew F1 had this big of a following in the US? I guess if FIFA can get Americans to care about the World Cup, anything is possible, I think to myself.

  Enzo and I peer out at the immense crowd as we roll along in a Ferrelli town car. He’s incredibly calm and focused, totally in the zone. It occurs to me that I’ve never had the pleasure of spending time with him right before a race. Seeing this side of him feels so intimate, even for us. I take his hand, squeezing gently.

  “Today’s going to be amazing, Prof,” I smile.

  His brown eyes sparkle as he leans over and gives me a swift, searing kiss. “I know it will be,” he replies.

  We roll past clamoring spectators and step out into the equally chaotic preparation area of the course, where Team Ferrelli has its own space roped off. And as Enzo and I approach, I see that we’re not the only team representatives here today. Not by a long shot. Siena, Charlie, and two middle aged men that I immediately recognize as the Ferrelli brothers, the owners of the team, are waiting for us there. The Ferrelli brothers wear fine suits, pure black, with emerald cufflinks and ties. Real eccentric millionaire types. It’s the first time I’ve met the team owners in person, and the first time I’ve seen Siena and Charlie since all the media hubbub began.

  “Well, look at this welcome wagon,” Enzo grins. “Hey everyone!”

  “Hey yourself,” Charlie blusters nonsensically.

  “Ainsley,” Siena says coolly, her brown eyes resting hard on my face, “These are the owners of Team Ferrelli. Bruno and Carlo.”

  “So, you’re the one causing all the trouble,” Bruno says with a wry smile, giving my hand a shake.

  “Takes two to tango,” I smile back, nodding at Enzo.

  “Don’t get us wrong. We love a strong woman,” Carlo says, shaking my hand as well. “And we especially loved your ballsy video. Very progressive and all. Great publicity. We’re just hoping you two can land on your feet after all this nonsense. We’ll have to see. Your race today should be a pretty good start, Enzo.”

  “It should be,” he nods, “Except, it won’t be my race.”

  “Right, right,” Bruno says, clapping Enzo on the back. “It’ll be the team’s race, eh?”

  “Well yeah,” Enzo laughs, tucking his hands into his pockets. “But what I mean is, I won’t be driving in the race today.”

  “What?!” Siena and Charlie shout in unison.

  “This had better be some kind of joke,” Charlie goes on.

  “What do you mean you’re not driving?” Siena yells, “I bent so far over backwards to get you into this race that my vertebrae are still out of whack.”

  “Care to enlighten us as you to why you won’t be driving?” Carlo asks crisply.

  “We really would prefer not to have come all this way for nothing,” Bruno adds.

  “You haven’t,” Enzo goes on. “Last time I checked, there was more than one driver on Team Ferrelli.”

  “What are we gonna do, Enzo? Fly someone in from Italy in the next ten minutes?” Charlie roars.

  “Why would you do that,” Enzo replies calmly, draping an arm over my shoulders. “When you’ve got another driver right here?”

  “Enzo,” I breathe, gaping up at him, “What are you doing?”

  “Ace is an affiliated driver,” Siena reminds us, “She doesn’t have the experience.”

  “I know her status on the team,” Enzo shoots back, “And I know that it’s a bunch of bullshit. She’s as good a driver as any of us. She deserves to be a full member of this team.”

  “I don’t disagree with you,” Siena insists, “But that transition is going to take time—”

  “This will just speed things up then,” Enzo grins.

  Siena looks frantically between us, then over at Carlo and Bruno. The owners consider me, not saying a word. Finally, Bruno asks, “Do you want to race today, Ainsley?”

  “Do you think you’re prepared?” Carlo adds.

  “I...I don’t—” I stammer, totally blindsided by Enzo’s plot. Is this what he was planning all along? Why he gave me so much practice time on the FullSpeed course? He catches my eye and gives me a big wink. All at once, my doubts evaporate. He knows I’m ready for this. He’s trained me himself. With all the confidence I can muster, I turn back to the owners and go on, “Yes. I do want to race. I’m ready.”

  “That settles it,” Carlo says.

  “Just like that?” Charlie splutters.

  “We’ve known Enzo long enough to know what a stubborn jackass he is,” Bruno shrugs. “Either Ace drives for Team Ferrelli today, or we all go home with egg on our faces. And to be honest, this PR shit show couldn’t get any worse.”

  “Do us proud, Ace,” Carlo says, turning to go.

  “You’ve got a lot riding on this. We all do,” Bruno adds.

  “I won’t let you down,” I assure them as they walk away.

  Charlie rounds on Enzo the second the owners are out of earshot. “This had better pay off, Enzo,” he snarls.

  “Why don’t you get your newest driver all set for the race, Mr. Manager?” Enzo replies evenly. “Or is doing your damned job a little too much to ask?”

  Charlie storms away in a huff, leaving me alone with the Lazio siblings. Siena crosses her arms, looking back and forth between Enzo and
me.

  “Are you two sure about this?” she asks frankly. “You know that both your spots on the team ride on this gambit, right?”

  “It’s not a gambit,” Enzo tells her, “Ace is a great driver. You know this. I know this. It’s time the world finds out, too.”

  “Ace,” Siena says, “You don’t have to go along with this is you don’t want to.”

  “I know,” I tell her, “But I do want this, Siena. It’s what I’ve been waiting for my whole life. I’m good to go.”

  “Well,” Siena says, shaking her head, “You’re both out of your goddamned minds. Maybe you are meant for each other after all. You’re driving me to drink, you know.”

  And with that, she leaves us. I turn to Enzo, adrenaline spiking in my blood. “This is what you were keeping from me?” I ask, breathlessly.

  “In part,” he grins, wrapping his arms around my waist. We’re surrounded by people, and everyone can see our public display of affection. But we don’t much mind anymore.

  “What other moving parts are there to your little scheme?” I ask Enzo, resting my hands on his chest.

  “You’ll find out soon enough,” he tells me, brushing a lock of hair behind my ear. “But first, you’ve got a race to run, Ace.”

  Before I know it, I’m being buckled and belted in the emerald green Ferrelli car, rolling out to the starting line. The pit crew buzzes around me like a swarm of worker bees, making sure that everything’s in order. I can feel my heart pounding through the front of my jumpsuit. But as ever, it isn’t nerves I feel going into this race. It’s pure, unadulterated excitement.

  “Let’s do this thing!” I shout above the ruckus of the pit.

  “That’s my girl,” Enzo replies, leaning over the side of the car as I roll toward my spot on the track.

  Nearly everyone we pass does a double take as they see Enzo walking alongside the Ferrelli car, rather than sitting in it. I can hear the confused murmuring spread like wildfire through the other teams, then into the stands. I can only imagine the field day the commentators and analysts are having with this turn of events. Let them talk, I say. I’ve got better things to think about.