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

by Colleen Masters

  “What the hell is this?” I hear a familiar voice shout out from another team’s pit.

  I look up to see Nils himself, standing with Team Hendricks. The spikey-haired cameraman and redheaded guy from Rome are there beside him, the three of them looking like the Three Stooges of F1. Nils is staring at me, bug-eyed, and I can’t help but laugh at his gobsmacked expression.

  “Good to see you too, buddy!” I wave jauntily.

  “She can’t do this!” Nils shouts, looking around for someone to intervene.

  “Sure I can,” I reply. “And would you look at that? I am, too! By the way, how did you like that picture we snapped for you the other night?” The blonde man’s face goes bright red as I continue on, “Sorry to spoil your whole vendetta, my friend. Maybe this will be a good lesson for you. The next time a girl rejects you, go cry into a pint of Ben and Jerry’s instead of starting a media war you can’t finish.”

  His jaw drops open as I roll on by, Enzo’s laughter ringing out loud and clear. The race is set to begin any minute. The twisting street course unfolds before me as the rest of the cars take their positions. Enzo lingers at my side as long as he can, but I’ve got to do the rest of this alone.

  “I won’t let you down, Enzo,” I say, lowering my helmet onto my head.

  “You never could,” he grins, planting a kiss on my gloved hand. “You’re gonna kill it, Ace. I’m so proud of you.”

  My heart swells happily. It’s one thing to be liked by someone, and quite another to be admired as an equal. I give him a big thumbs up, and he finally tears himself away, making tracks back to the pit.

  It’s just me and the track, now. I’ve never felt more in my element. The stakes might be sky high, but if there’s anywhere I feel at home, it’s at the starting line. A dozen other cars are clustered around me, manned by experienced, professional drivers. And now, I’m one of them. This ride may just be a stand-alone event, a throwaway race for more seasoned drivers, but for me it’s everything.

  I let my gaze flick toward the Ferrelli section of the stands one last time as the announcer crows out his welcome to the teeming crowd. Standing along the railing are all of my favorite people on the planet. Not only Enzo, but the Davies family with little Alfie in tow, the Spanos, and the team owners. A wide grin and a shock of strawberry blonde hair catch my eye, too, and I realize that Alec’s standing there among my teammates. I let out a happy laugh as I spot my big brother. The gang really is all here.

  And as the choir of humming motors sings out around me, I swear I can feel another couple of smiling faces looking down on me. I glance skyward, imagining how happy my mom and dad would be to see me now, about to set off in my first F1 race, the first step to becoming and honest to god professional driver. I know that if they could, they’d be standing there with Alec, proud as hell of their not-so-little girl.

  “This is for you guys,” I whisper to my parents. And I know in my heart that somewhere, somehow, they’ve heard me.

  My focus becomes razor sharp as the green flag is raised, stirring the crowd into a frenzy. By the time it comes down again and I set off at last, I know one thing for sure. No matter how this race turns out, I’ve already won.

  Chapter Twenty

  A shower of champagne rains down from above as I feel myself hoisted up out of the green car. A dozen hands bear me out of the vehicle as I raise my fists in the air. The crowd surging all around me seems absolutely endless. It is, by far, the most epic, surreal moment of my life.

  Two dark, gleaming eyes appear before me, and I throw my arms jubilantly around Enzo’s shoulders. He picks me up in his strong arms, laughing as he twirls me around. As I spin, I see the faces of the rest of my team, my family, grinning ear-to-ear.

  The race was over in the blink of an eye, or so it felt. Never before have I experienced a rush like that. There’s no way I could ever live without it now, knowing how incredible it is. And I have the feeling I won’t have to.

  I didn’t come in first place. Honestly, it was a miracle that I managed to break the top ten. As a first-time driver, expecting to place would have been insane. But that was never the point, was it? I proved today that I can keep up with the boys and give them a run for their money. That should be more than enough to convince Team Ferrelli to take a chance on me again. After a real season of training, just imagine what I’ll be able to do with set of wheels like that.

  “You were incredible!” Enzo roars, setting me down on my own two feet.

  “That. Was. Great!” I scream, bouncing on the balls of my feet. “I wanna go again!”

  Enzo throws back his head in laughter. “One race at a time there, kid.”

  “Enzo,” I breathe, catching his face in my hands. “Thank you. Thank you for letting me drive today. For standing up for me. For...everything.”

  “You don’t have to thank me,” he says, kissing my hands. “You’ve given me more than I can ever repay you for. You’ve made me want to be a part of the world again, part of a team. Part of a family. You’ve shown me that I can care about someone more than myself. And ask anyone—that’s no small feat.”

  “Let’s just call it even then,” I smile, running my hands through his hair. “We’re teammates now, partners. What do you say to that?”

  “This is what I say,” he grins, and plants his lips on mine. My whole body thrills as Enzo kisses me in front of the cheering crowd, droplets of sparkling wine clinging to my hair.

  “OK you two,” I hear Siena cut in, prying us apart. “Save it for the after party, huh? I have a feeling the world is going to have a few questions about what went down here today. Think you’re up for a little press conference?”

  I sit on the raised platform between Enzo and Siena, looking out into the sea of media types. Being in front of the press isn’t nearly as terrible when they’re not bombarding you in an airport, it turns out. Between just having run a great first F1 race, the smash success of my badass viral video, and having Siena here to work her PR magic, this round of interviews is actually kind of fun.

  “So what comes next for you, Ace?” asks a female reporter in the front row.

  “Well, I wouldn’t mind a beer, to tell you the truth,” I reply to a volley of laughter. “But seriously, you’ll have to ask the people running Team Ferrelli.”

  “How about it, gentlemen?” the reporter presses, turning to where the Ferrelli brothers are sitting down the table from me. “Does Ainsley Vaughn’s future with Ferrelli look bright?”

  “Blindingly so,” Bruno smiles, leaning into his microphone and giving me a wink.

  I grin back at him, relieved but unsurprised. The public had no idea just how close I was to losing my hard-earned spot on this team. But now that Carlo and Bruno have seen what I can do, even in the midst of a media shit show, my place on their team might as well be gold-plated.

  “That was quite a surprise, having Ace drive today instead of Enzo,” remarks another male reporter.

  “Yeah, well,” Siena laughs, shooting Enzo a pointed glance. “We’ve got to keep everyone on their toes, don’t we?”

  Looks like we’re going to keep Enzo’s scheme under wraps, too. I guess a lot more goes on behind the scenes around here than the general public might guess. But you know what? I think I prefer it that way. Especially given mine and Enzo’s extracurricular activities. Good lord, I can’t wait to get him alone and use up some of this post-race energy. I bump my knee against his under the table, hoping to relate that very sentiment. Judging from the look he gives me, I’m pretty sure the message goes through loud and clear.

  “And what about you, Enzo?” asks the first reporter.

  “What about me?” He asks, dragging his mind out of whatever dirty plans he’s concocting for us over there.

  “Your presence on the team has been a little spotty lately, everyone knows that,” the reporter goes on. “Do you have any explanation, or any plans of changing your ways before the season begins?”

  I brace myself, waiting for
Enzo to snap at the reporter. But to my surprise, he offers a serene smile instead.

  “It’s true, I have been taking my fair share of trips abroad lately,” Enzo allows. “Disappearing without a trace and whatnot, not telling anyone about my whereabouts...I’m sure it all seems very mysterious. Very scandalous.”

  I feel my breath become shallow as he goes on. Even I don’t know where he’s been sneaking off to this past month or so. I suddenly remember that text I spotted on his phone, and all my doubts come racing back. Is he about to reveal something I’d rather not hear?

  “But at the risk of losing my cool factor,” Enzo goes on, “I think it’s time I let you all in on why I’ve actually been gone so much of the time, lately. I know the buzz is that I’m not as dedicated to my team since my father died, that I’m losing my focus. But in reality, my focus has just become broader. Less self-involved. Before I continue, I’d like to bring a couple of my friends onto the stage with me to help explain.”

  A rapturous gasp goes up around the room as two new figures appear onstage alongside Team Ferrelli. I turn to see who’s joined us, and feel my jaw drop open. The two men approaching the table are anything but strangers. In fact, they’re almost as familiar to me as Enzo was before we properly met. It’s Alexi Rostov and Sven Landers—Enzo’s close friends who were badly injured while racing a couple of seasons ago. Rostov, the former Russian driver, lost one hand in the terrible crash and now wears a prosthetic. Landers, the Swedish driver and older brother to the treasonous Nils, is in a motorized wheelchair. But despite their lasting injuries, both men look to be in good spirits today.

  “You already know these men, of course,” Enzo goes on, as the rest of our team makes room for them at the table. “Alexi Rostov and Sven Landers, former drivers and longtime friends of mine. And now, they’re my partners as well. Together, the three of us have been working to assemble a new charitable foundation. We’re hoping to raise money and awareness for the victims of automobile accidents and their families. This will include those affected by motor sports accidents, of course, but we’re also hoping to branch out and help those affected by mechanical failure, hit-and-runs, and even drunk driving.”

  His eyes swing my way at this last, and he smiles as he sees my amazed expression. We’ve never discussed my parents’ death at length, apart from the basic fact of it. I didn’t think it was possible for Enzo to be even more perfect in my eyes, but lo and behold. Not only is he talented, gorgeous, loyal, and an amazing lover, he’s also compassionate and increasingly selfless. Now that’s what I call a dream man.

  “Starting this foundation was Enzo’s idea,” Sven Landers says into his microphone. “And given my recent injuries, and the fact that being retired leaves me with a lot of time on my hands, I agreed to come onboard. The three of us have been meeting at my home in Sweden, since I have the most trouble getting around these days.”

  “So that’s where you’ve been jetting off to,” Siena smiles at her brother.

  “Yep,” Enzo confirms, catching my eye once more.

  I have to stifle a gleeful giggle as I realize that those texts I found after Enzo’s trip were from Sven Landers, not some mystery woman! This just keeps getting better.

  “We’re all very excited about this new endeavor,” Alexi Rostov puts in, “And we look forward to spreading our message about vehicular safety through advocacy and action. And who better to be leading that charge than our very own Enzo Lazio?”

  The press room bursts into applause for the three charitable drivers. My heart swells with pride as Enzo smiles out across the crowd. I’ve always been thrilled to be a part of his life, but now I’m prouder than ever to be his teammate and partner.

  “That’s all for now, folks!” Siena says, calling the press conference to a close.

  We file off the platform, heading to our backstage area. The second we’re out of sight, I grab onto Enzo’s hand and tug him away from the group.

  “You weren’t kidding about being full of surprises, were you?” I grin.

  “Hope you don’t mind that I kept the foundation a secret from you,” Enzo replies, wrapping his arms around my waist. “I didn’t want you to think I was just trying to impress you, going on and on about my charity work. I wanted to wait until I knew for sure that it was going to take off.”

  “Well, I am impressed,” I tell him, “But mostly, I’m just so happy to know you, Enzo. To be with you.”

  “Right back at you kid,” he murmurs, “This is going to be one hell of a year.”

  “Aren’t you going to introduce us to this lovely woman?” Sven Landers asks, wheeling himself toward us with Rostov in tow.

  “Of course,” Enzo says, “Ace, this is Alexi Rostov and Sven Landers, my racing buddies of old, and new business partners. Guys this is Ace, my...” he pauses, at a loss for what else to call me. We’ve never had the whole “title” conversation. “My teammate?” he suggests, glancing my way to see if I approve. And you know something? I really do.

  “It’s an honor to meet you both,” I tell Rostov and Landers.

  “Excellent work today,” Rostov says shaking my hand.

  “A truly wonderful debut!” Landers agrees, offering his hand to shake as well. He certainly seems like an improvement on his little brother. As if reading my mind, he adds, “I hope you won’t hold my rascal of a sibling against me, Ace. He’s always been something of a brat. Enzo let me know during our last meeting that Nils—or one of his idiot friends, whatever—was responsible for leaking the first photograph of you two. My brother had no idea, of course, that I was working with Enzo on this. He tried to spin some story about doing it for the team, but I know he was just jealous. If it makes you feel any better, we’re going to have him doing some serious community service for the foundation to repent for what he’s done.”

  “Oh, don’t bother on my account,” I laugh. “Honestly, it was hard being thrust into the public eye like that. But the sooner I get over what gossip mills think of me the better, right? Maybe I should thank Nils for pushing me into the deep end.”

  “I wouldn’t go that far,” Enzo grumbles.

  “Can’t wait to see what you bring to this sport, Ace,” Rostov tells me. “I think we’ve all been waiting for someone like you to show up for a while.”

  “That’s for sure,” Landers nods, “F1 is lucky to have you, Ainsley.”

  “Shucks guys,” I joke, shaking my head.

  “Watch out,” Enzo warns them, “She blushes real easy, this one.”

  “What’s that?” I hear Alec’s voice ring out. My big brother walks up to us with the Lazio-Davies clan following in his wake.

  “Nothing,” I say quickly. “Nothing at all.”

  “I don’t know about the rest of you,” Siena says, “But I think we should blow this pop stand in a hurry. I think I’ve had just about enough excitement for one day.”

  “Sounds like a plan,” Enzo replies. “I’m all out of big announcements anyway.”

  “Thank god for that,” Bex laughs, pulling Charlie over to join the rest of the group.

  “Should we head back to the hotel?” Harrison suggests.

  “You know what?” I say, a light bulb going off in my head, “I have a better idea. Why don’t you all come back to our place in Brooklyn?”

  “Yeah?” Siena smiles.

  “Yeah, why not? We know how to throw a party, don’t we big brother?” I say to Alec.

  “Hell yeah we do,” he grins back, “I’d be thrilled to host a little bash for Ace’s big debut. How does beer and barbecue sound? It’s perfect grilling weather.”

  “Count me all the way in,” Harrison says.

  “Us too!” Rostov and Landers add.

  “All right!” Alec laughs, “Last one back to Brooklyn buys the brews!”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Our modest Brooklyn backyard is absolutely jam-packed with people as the sun sets over the park. After the most tumultuous month of my life, this seems like the perfect
celebration—a crowd of wonderful new friends coming together to eat, drink, and be merry at my childhood home. It’s only October, but it already feels like Christmas to me.

  “OK, who wants a burger, who wants a dog?” Alec calls out from the grill.

  Harrison and Charlie are standing at his elbows, “supervising” the grilling process while Alfie runs laps around them both. Siena, Bex and I are sitting at the patio table, beers in hand, while Enzo, Sven, and Alexi talk shop on the steps. Nils lingers at the edge of their conversation, looking uncomfortable as hell. It’s going to take me a while to forgive him fully for his actions, but he’s Sven’s little brother—like it or not, he’s going to be around. And hey, who hasn’t made a stupid decision because of an unrequited crush?

  “OK, so be honest,” Bex whispers conspiratorially, “How the hell did you and Enzo end up as an item?”

  “Bex,” Siena groans, “Leave the girl alone.”

  “Come on!” Bex protests, “We haven’t had a proper romance around here since you and Harrison. I need details.”

  “It all happened so fast,” I say, shaking my head, “It’s like the second we bumped into each other at that party, the rest was inevitable.”

  “I know a little something about that,” Siena smiles, glancing over at Harrison. Her husband shoots her a knowing wink before scooping up their son into a piggyback ride. “I hope I didn’t come down too hard on you, Ace,” she goes on, “I think I was just worried about you both. I know exactly how it feels, getting run through the media ringer. Though I have to say, you’re handling the attention just as well as you handled that car this afternoon.”

  “A true champ,” Bex grins.

  “Thanks, you guys,” I laugh, “And really Siena, I totally understand. This team is your family’s legacy. You have every right to take it as seriously as you do. I just hope you know that I take it seriously as well.”