DANGEROUS CURVES

Chapter 2

Something Unfinished

Livia’s POV

“Push it. Harder.”

Nico’s voice cut through the headset, low and rough, like he was daring the car itself to break. I stood locked at the main station in the garage, eyes fixed on the live telemetry. Numbers raced across the screens in sharp red and green. Speed. Brake pressure. Tire temperatures. Everything was climbing too fast.

Outside, the Monaco circuit burned under the afternoon sun. Every time the engine screamed past the pit wall, the sound rolled through the open doors and vibrated in my chest. My hands were already damp against the tablet. My pulse matched the rising revs.

“Copy,” I said into the mic. My voice stayed steady even though nothing inside me felt steady. “You’re running the fronts too hot already. Ease off the entry into Turn 3, or you’ll cook them before the second sector.”

Silence for two long seconds. Then his voice again, edged with challenge.

“I didn’t ask for advice. I asked for speed.”

I clenched my jaw until it ached. Around me, the team watched the same screens. Marco, one of the senior engineers, muttered under his breath, “Here we go.” Someone else shifted their weight. I felt every pair of eyes sideways on me, waiting for the new girl to get put in her place.

I ignored them. I had spent half the night studying every lap Nico Conti had driven this season. I knew the pattern by heart. He always pushed past the limit when he was angry or proving a point. Today he was doing both.

The car screamed past again. Telemetry spiked hard.

“Left front is climbing,” I said, sharper this time. “You’re half a degree from blistering. Lift early into the chicane, or you’ll lose the tyre completely.”

“I’ve got it.”

“You don’t.” The words left my mouth before I could soften them. “You’re two tenths up on your last lap, but you’re killing the rubber. Keep this up, and you’ll be sliding by lap four. The data is clear.”

More silence. I could almost feel him gripping the wheel tighter through the radio. The engine note changed as he braked late into the next corner. Too late. The rear stepped out for a sick half-second before he caught it with a violent correction.

My stomach dropped. Someone behind me whispered, “Shit.”

I leaned closer to the mic until my lips almost touched it. “Nico, listen to me. Short-shift into fifth before the hairpin. Trust the data. The balance is off because of the heat build-up. Do it now.”

For one terrifying moment I thought he would ignore me. The car was already committed, engine howling. Then the note shifted cleanly. He short-shifted exactly where I told him. The rear settled. The speed held through the exit like the car had suddenly remembered how to breathe.

The garage went quiet.

Marco looked at me, eyebrows up. “That just saved the set.”

I didn’t answer. My eyes stayed locked on the numbers. Nico’s next sector time dropped by three tenths. Clean. Controlled. Faster than anything he had posted all morning. The car looked planted for the first time in the session.

His voice came through the headset again, quieter, almost thoughtful.

“Sector two is still soft. What are you seeing?”

I exhaled slowly through my nose. My fingers were still tight around the tablet, hard enough to hurt. “Drop the rear wing by one click at the next stop. You’re carrying too much drag down the main straight. And stop fighting the understeer in Turn 8. Let the car rotate on its own. You’re forcing it with the wheel and killing the exit.”

A short pause. “That’s going to cost me top speed.”

“It will give you three tenths in the middle sector. Trust the numbers.”

Another pause, longer this time. Then, quietly, “Copy.”

He did everything I said.

By the time the session ended, his best lap was half a second clear of the rest of the field. The team erupted around me. Hands clapped. Someone whooped near the back. I stayed completely still, staring at the final data as the car rolled slowly back into the garage. My heart was still racing. Not just from the session. From the way he had listened. From the way the numbers had proven me right in front of every skeptical face in the room.

The car stopped. Nico climbed out in one smooth motion. Helmet off. Dark hair damp and sticking to his forehead. Race suit unzipped to the waist again, white fireproof shirt dark with sweat against his chest. He walked straight toward the station where I stood. The team parted without being asked, like the sea.

He stopped in front of me. Close. Too close. The heat coming off his body mixed with the sharp smell of fuel, hot brakes, and clean sweat. His eyes were darker than they had been yesterday, still burning with leftover adrenaline.

“You were right,” he said.

The words landed heavier than they should have. Around us, people pretended not to listen while listening with everything they had.

I kept my face blank even though something tight and dangerous twisted hard in my chest. “I know.”

His mouth twitched, almost a smile, but not quite. “Most people don’t talk to me like that on the radio.”

“Most people are scared of you.”

“And you’re not?”

I met his eyes and refused to look away. “I’m scared of slow cars. Not of drivers who think their ego is part of the setup.”

A muscle moved in his jaw. He stepped even closer until I had to tilt my chin up. I could see the pulse beating at the base of his throat. I could feel the team watching us again, the same charged silence from yesterday returning like a living thing.

“You just made my car half a second faster on your first real day,” he said, voice low enough that only I could hear it. “That doesn’t happen by accident.”

“No. It happens because I did the job I was hired to do.”

He studied me for a long second. The same look from the garage the day before, interested, dangerous, like he was still deciding exactly what to do with me. My skin felt too warm under that look. I hated it. I hated that my stomach tightened when he stared at me that way. Matteo’s face flashed through my mind without permission. The bitterness still sat in my brother’s eyes every time Nico’s name came up. The years of watching this man win everything. And here I was, standing in his garage, making him even faster, while something hot and unwanted curled low in my belly.

Nico’s voice dropped further, almost rough. “Meet me after the debrief. I want to go through every line of that data with you. Alone.”

My pulse kicked hard against my ribs. “The whole engineering group should be there.”

“I don’t want the whole group.” His eyes flicked down to my mouth for half a second and back up. “I want the engineer who just told me I was wrong over the radio and then forced me to prove her right.”

“And if I say no?”

He didn’t smile this time. “You won’t.”

He didn’t wait for an answer. He turned and walked toward the debrief room, the team falling in behind him like shadows. I stayed exactly where I was, tablet still clutched in both hands, heart slamming so hard I was sure the nearest mechanic could hear it.

Marco stepped up beside me and spoke quietly, almost carefully. “Be careful with that one, Livia. He doesn’t do anything halfway. Not the car. Not people.”

I kept my eyes on the closed door for a moment longer before I answered.

“I already know what he is.”

Marco studied my face. “Do you? Because the way he just looked at you… I’ve been in this garage a long time. I’ve seen that look before. It never ends clean.”

I finally turned to him. “I’m here to do a job. That’s all.”

“That’s what they all say at the beginning.” He lowered his voice even more. “Your brother is Matteo Rossi, yes?”

The question landed like a quiet slap. I felt my shoulders tighten.

“Yes.”

Marco nodded slowly. “Then you already know how personal this rivalry is. Nico doesn’t forget. And he doesn’t share. Whatever is starting between you two… it won’t stay in the garage.”

I forced a small, tight smile that didn’t reach my eyes. “Nothing is starting.”

Marco didn’t look convinced. He just gave me one last long look, then walked away toward the data screens, leaving the warning hanging in the air between us.

I should have felt only pride. I had done what I came here to do. I had proven I belonged in this room. Instead, all I could feel was the leftover heat still sitting on my skin where he had stood too close, and the quiet, dangerous knowledge that he was not finished with me.

Not even close.

I looked down at the telemetry one more time. The numbers were clean. Perfect. The fastest lap of the day had my fingerprints all over every sector.

And for the first time since I walked into this garage yesterday, I was not sure if that was a victory… or the first real step toward something that could burn my entire life down.

Tonight was the Monaco night party.

And something about the way he looked at me felt unfinished.