Chapter 64

Isabella's POV

The following afternoon, I boarded the company’s private jet to London with the team. Before joining Ferrari, I had never flown privately before or been to so many countries. Now, it was becoming a frequent occurrence, a quiet yet undeniable reminder of how much my life had changed—and how much more it could still evolve as long as I remained on course and continue to better myself.

The traveling group was small—just Levi, the drivers, and a handful of key staff, while the majority of the team remained in Melbourne. The public relations department was included, of course, as the two day fan exchange which began the next day in London required meticulous planning. Mark and I were stretched thin ensuring that everything ran smoothly, particularly now that Kevin was back in the picture as one of the best in the game. Our job was to keep the attention on him, to sustain the momentum, and I felt the weight of that responsibility pressing down on me.

Despite the mounting pressure, I found myself enjoying the challenge. My focus was clear: stand out, excel, and secure a permanent position after my internship. Separating business from pleasure was imperative, and for the most part, I succeeded in not thinking about Levi. What helped was keeping my focus on Mr. L.

I had a feeling he was beginning to trust me. Maybe soon, I would finally be allowed to see his face, to meet his eyes without obstruction as he spanked me and to experience the raw, unfiltered power he kept hidden beneath when he was inside me. The thought sent an illicit thrill down my spine, but I quickly buried it. I needed to remain professional and being horny on the job wasn’t professional.

With the race event kicking off the next day, I had to finalize the interview manuscript with Levi. I spotted him making his way through the VIP lounge at Heathrow Airport, a commanding presence in his dark, tailored suit. The lounge itself was sleek and modern, with floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the tarmac, plush leather armchairs, and soft lighting that cast a golden glow on the marble flooring. The muted hum of conversations and the clink of glasses from the private bar filled the air, blending seamlessly with the gentle strains of loud conversations in the background.

Clutching my laptop against my chest, I quickened my pace to catch up with him. The sudden gust of cold air from the lounge’s entrance stole my breath, but I forced myself to speak. “Sir, instead of heading straight to the hotel, how about we find a quiet corner here to finalize the interview manuscript? I still need your input on a few things.”

Levi stopped mid-stride and turned to face me. His blue eyes—cold and unreadable—scanned me with the same intensity that had both intimidated and enthralled me from the moment we met. I was reminded of our first encounter in an airport lounge, how nervous and desperate I had been, fearing I might lose my internship. Now, though, I felt steadier, more assured. I had worked hard to prove myself, and I had to believe that my worth extended beyond my connection to him.

Levi had always been fair—even encouraging at times. He never suppressed me, never stifled my ambition. Instead, he gave me space to grow, offering guidance without making it feel like an obligation. I could only hope that continued, especially if he recognized my hard work.

It was almost 11 p.m., yet here I was, still eager to get the job done. Not every day do you find a worker this dedicated, right?

“Alright,” he said finally, his voice even. “That would be fine.”

I exhaled, relieved—only to realize I hadn’t moved. He arched a brow. “Are you just going to stand there?”

“No, sir,” I stammered, falling into step beside him. Shit. No matter how much I tried, my subconscious was still tethered to him in ways I didn’t fully understand.

Levi led us to a secluded seating area near the lounge’s private bar. The long, cushioned sofa was more than spacious enough for both of us, but as he lowered himself onto the leather, crossing one leg over the other in his usual composed manner, I hesitated. Swallowing the lump in my throat, I took my seat beside him, the air between us thick with unspoken tension.

I pulled my notebook from my bag and placed it on the table between us, my fingers brushing against the crisp pages as I steadied my breathing. “There are two more questions at the end,” I began, keeping my voice professional. “Mainly about the team’s future development. We should focus more on engine and system improvements rather than the drivers. It’s better to avoid discussions about contract renewals to prevent unnecessary speculation.”

I watched as Levi scanned the manuscript, his expression betraying nothing. The subtle shift of his fingers against the pages sent an involuntary shiver through me. This was business. It was strictly business. And yet, sitting this close to him, I felt the gravitational pull of something I wasn’t sure I could control.

I wasn’t as nervous as I had been before. Now, I could present my work clearly and confidently. But as I continued discussing the interview script, I couldn’t ignore the almost imperceptible proximity between us. My bare knees occasionally brushed against the fabric of his trousers, each accidental touch igniting a pulse of awareness that I fought to suppress. Flashes of memory surfaced—his hands on my body, the heat of his palm against my skin, the way my breath had caught that night. Would I ever get over that night?

“Sir,” I said, cutting through the thick air between us. Levi seemed momentarily distracted, his gaze unfocused—a rare occurrence. He was always composed, always in control. It was unnerving to see anything else. “Are you worried about the upcoming race?” I asked, hoping I could ease whatever burden weighed on him.

He blinked once, then turned his attention fully to me. His voice was steady when he spoke, but there was an edge of something unreadable beneath it. “It’s inevitable to be distracted when thinking about the game.”

I tilted my head, studying him. “But this isn’t about work, is it?” I said softly.

He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he regarded me with a look that sent a slow, unsettling thrill down my spine. The lounge hummed around us, the sound of clinking glasses and quiet conversations blurring into the background. Then, finally, he spoke.

“Yes,” he admitted. “I was thinking of someone while working. It’s just... too bad, Isabella.”

My lips parted slightly. “Oh,” I breathed, the single syllable barely forming.

Levi’s mouth curved slightly, the ghost of a smirk playing at the corner of his lips. “You look surprised. Do I seem like a robot without a personal life of my own?”

“No, no, sir,” I said quickly. “I just—I didn’t expect—”

“Relax,” he murmured, placing a hand on my hand. The touch was light, yet searing. My pulse stuttered as I looked down, then back up at him.

“It’s nothing to be sorry about.” His voice was softer now, teasing almost. Before I could find the words to respond, his fingers moved—his thumb grazing my chin, tilting my face toward him. The breath caught in my throat as his eyes locked onto mine, unreadable yet unwavering.

“I have something to tell you, Isabella.”