DANGEROUS CURVES

The Wrong Garage Livia’s POV His hand was already on my waist. Not gentle. Not asking. Just there, hot, firm, fingers pressing into the soft space above my hip like he had every right to touch me. The garage lights were low. Most of the team had gone. Only the smell of fuel, hot rubber, and his skin filled the narrow space between the tool cabinets. “You shouldn’t be this close,” I whispered. Nico Conti’s mouth hovered near my ear. “Then push me away.” I didn’t. My back hit the cool metal of the cabinet. His body followed, caging me in without fully touching. One more inch and we would be pressed together. My heart was beating so hard I was sure he could feel it. I hated how much I wanted that last inch. “This is a mistake,” I said. “Probably.” His voice was low, rough, and dangerous. “Doesn’t mean I’m going to stop.” I turned my head. Our mouths were too close. I could taste the mint on his breath. For one reckless second I almost closed the gap myself. Then someone dropped a wrench somewhere deeper in the garage, and the sound cracked through the air like a gunshot. I shoved him back hard. Nico stepped away immediately, but his eyes stayed on me, dark, hungry, and completely unapologetic. He looked like a man who had already decided he was going to ruin me and was only waiting for the right moment. I dragged in a shaky breath and forced my voice to work. “Don’t ever do that again.” He smiled slowly. “We’ll see.” Then he turned and walked away, leaving me pressed against the cabinet with my pulse still racing and the ghost of his hand burning on my waist. Twelve hours earlier, I had walked into this same garage thinking I was ready. “You’re in the wrong place.” The mechanic didn’t even look up from the tyre gun. Grease covered his arms. His voice was flat, bored, like I was already a waste of time. I stopped just inside the doors. Monaco sunlight poured through the high glass panels behind me, but the air inside felt colder. Fuel. Hot rubber. Expensive cologne mixed with sweat. Every head turned. Twenty pairs of eyes. All male. All watching like I didn’t belong. My stomach twisted. I lifted my chin anyway. “Livia Rossi,” I said clearly. “New performance engineer. Starting today.” A younger guy near the data screens snorted. “They actually hired one?” “PR stunt,” another muttered. “She’ll last one session. Maybe two.” I walked forward. My heels clicked on the polished concrete. The tablet in my hand felt heavier than it should. I set it down on the main workstation and kept my shoulders straight. Years of oil under my nails, freezing workshops, men who told me girls didn’t last- none of it showed on my face. I wouldn’t give them that. Then the side door opened. Nico Conti walked in like the entire building had been waiting for him. Black race suit unzipped to the waist. White fireproof shirt stretched tight across his chest. Dark hair still damp and sticking to his forehead. He moved slow, certain, the kind of walk that expected the world to step aside. The garage shifted around him. Conversations died. Someone handed him a water bottle without being asked. His eyes found me almost immediately. God help me, he was handsome. Ridiculously, unfairly handsome. Sharp jaw. Dark eyes that looked like they had never lost anything. Broad shoulders. Even the way he stood felt like power. I hated that my first thought was how good he looked. I hated that my pulse jumped. This was the man who had taken my brother’s championship three years ago. The man Matteo still woke up hating. I was supposed to feel nothing but disgust. Instead, heat slid low in my stomach, unwanted and sharp. Nico uncapped the bottle and drank while looking me over from head to toe. Slow. Deliberate. “Another token hire,” he said, voice low and rough from the track. Loud enough for every man in the room to hear. “Let’s see how long she lasts.” Quiet laughter rolled through the team. Heat flooded my face. My fingers locked around the edge of the workstation until the metal dug into my skin. I stepped forward until only a few feet separated us. Close enough to smell the rubber and sweat on him. Close enough to see the faint scar above his left eyebrow. “I’m not a token of anything,” I said. My voice came out steady even though my heart was slamming. “I’m the best engineer you’ve ever had. You’re just too busy believing your own headlines to notice when someone actually knows how to fix the things you break.” The garage went silent. Nico lowered the water bottle. The lazy smirk faded. He studied me properly this time. “You’ve got a mouth on you.” “I’ve got data.” I turned the tablet toward him. “Your last three races. Same pattern every single time. You’re late on the brakes into Turn 8. Overloading the front left. Then you throw in too much steering and kill your exit speed. Most people miss it because the lap still looks clean. I don’t.” A muscle jumped in his jaw. He took one step closer. The space between us shrank until I could feel the heat coming off his body. My breath caught. “You walk in here on day one and tell me how to drive?” “I walk in here and tell you how to stop losing tenths you don’t need to lose.” I kept my eyes locked on his. “Your ego is bigger than your brake bias. Fix that, and the car gets faster. Ignore it, and you keep leaving time on the table for someone else to take.” He didn’t move back. Instead, he tilted his head, studying me like I was a problem he hadn’t decided how to solve yet. “Name.” I blinked. “What?” “Your name. Full name.” “Livia Rossi.” He repeated it slowly. His eyes dropped to the ID badge clipped to my shirt, then climbed back up. “Rossi. Any relation to Matteo Rossi?” The question hit like a slap. Of course he knew. Everyone in this paddock knew. I lifted my chin even though my stomach had dropped. “He’s my brother.” Nico’s mouth curved, but there was nothing soft in it. “Interesting. The little sister shows up in my garage. Does he know you’re here?” “I don’t need his permission to do my job.” “No.” He leaned in just enough that his breath brushed my cheek. Warm. Dangerous. “But you might need thicker skin. This isn’t some university lab, Livia. People don’t hold your hand here. They wait for you to fail so they can say they saw it coming.” My throat felt tight. I could feel every pair of eyes in the garage burning into my back. I could feel the way my hands wanted to shake. I refused to let them. “Then they’ll be waiting a long time.” We stood too close. I could see the way his throat moved when he swallowed. I could see the faint sheen of sweat still on his collarbone. My heart was beating so hard it hurt. Part of me wanted to shove him back. Part of me, the part I hated, wanted to stay exactly where I was and see what he would do next. Matteo’s face flashed through my mind. The way he still talked about that stolen championship. The way our father used to smile only when Matteo’s name was mentioned and call my engineering “a nice little hobby.” I could already hear the word traitor sitting on someone’s tongue if they ever found out I had stood this close to Nico Conti and felt anything other than hate. Nico’s voice dropped even lower. “Careful what you start. You might not like where it ends.” “I’m not starting anything,” I said. “I’m doing the job I was hired to do. If that bruises your pride, that’s your problem, not mine.” For a long second neither of us moved. The tension stretched so tight I could barely breathe. I was aware of everything, the heat of his body, the smell of him, the way his eyes kept dropping to my mouth and then back up. The mix of anger and something hotter sat in my chest like a live wire. I hated that it was there. I hated that I couldn’t shut it off. Then Nico smiled. Slow. Sharp. The kind of smile that promised he wasn’t finished with me. “Alright,” he said. “Prove it.” He turned and walked toward the car without another word, leaving the challenge hanging in the air like smoke. The team started moving again, tools picking up, voices rising, screens flickering back to life. No one looked at me the same way. They were watching now. Waiting to see if the new girl would crash and burn before the first session even started. I stayed where I was for three full heartbeats, fingers still locked around the edge of the workstation. My skin felt too tight. My lungs wouldn’t fill properly. Somewhere deep in my chest, something hot and dangerous had already started burning, and I hated it more than I had ever hated anything. I forced myself to pick up the tablet. My hands were not steady. I walked toward the data screens anyway, each step feeling heavier than the last. Behind me I heard one of the mechanics mutter, just loud enough, “Matteo’s sister. This is going to be a mess.” I didn’t turn around. I kept my eyes on the numbers even though they swam for a second before they sharpened. I could still feel Nico’s eyes on my back like a brand. The heat of that almost-touch still sat on my skin. The way his voice had dropped when he said my name still echoed in my ears. I should have hated him on sight. Instead, my hands still trembled, and not only from anger. Nico glanced over his shoulder once, just once. The look he gave me lasted longer than it should have. Pure heat wrapped in warning. No smirk this time. Just something dark and interesting and dangerous that made my stomach drop all over again. The real race hadn’t even started yet. And I already knew I was in serious trouble.