Chapter Text
The Ferrari garage buzzed with the usual pre-event rhythm. Wrenches clinked and tyres squealed faintly against the floor. Cameras hummed nearby. The scarlet F430 F1 gleamed under the lights, every curve polished to perfection. Milk Vosbein adjusted her gloves. Her heart was steady, but she knew this wasn’t just another run. Ferrari had assigned her to take a special VIP out for hot laps. Whispers around the paddock suggested she was no ordinary guest.
When Love Limpatiyakorn stepped into view, Milk understood the sudden shift in the atmosphere. The CEO of Twenty Wendy Beauty walked with unhurried grace. Her cream suit stood out against the crimson backdrop, and her hair was perfectly pinned yet soft at the edges. Milk felt an unfamiliar tug at her chest—admiration mixed with surprise. Beautiful, she thought, and completely out of place in a pit lane…but somehow she belongs here.
Love approached the car, her gaze scanning the machine before meeting Milk’s eyes. “So this is the legendary F430,” she said. Her voice was calm but held a hint of amusement. “Does it come with a seat warmer or just fire?”
Milk grinned beneath her helmet. “Only fire. The seat warmer’s optional if you scream.”
Love’s lips curled into a small smirk. “Do you flirt with all the investors, or am I special?”
“Only the ones who look like they can handle the speed,” Milk replied. The words came out before she could stop them, but Love’s slight blush made it worth it. Smooth, Vosbein, she chided herself silently. Real smooth.
They climbed in—Milk first, then Love, who moved with practiced grace despite the tight cockpit. Their shoulders brushed, and the air between them felt charged. Milk caught the faint scent of jasmine and something expensive, distinctly Love. She turned the key, and the V8 erupted in a loud roar. “Ready?” she asked over the noise.
Love’s laugh was quick and bright. “You’re the pilot. Try not to break your passenger.”
Milk shifted down smoothly, focusing her eyes. The car shot out of the pit lane like a bullet, the G-forces pressing them back. The first corner came up fast—Milk braked, flicked the steering wheel, and the car danced through the chicane. Love gasped, partly in shock and partly in thrill. God, she’s incredible, Love thought, stealing a glance at Milk’s calm expression. So composed, like the chaos is her element.
Through the headset, Marco’s teasing voice came through. “Easy, Milk. We said demonstration, not audition for Fast & Furious.” Laughter from the pit crew followed. Another voice added, “Our rookie’s giving the CEO the VIP treatment, huh?”
Milk grinned. “Relax, team. I’m just showing our investors what we can do.” Love’s soft laughter beside her encouraged her to push a little harder. The engine wailed as they entered the next straight.
Two laps flew by in a blur of red and adrenaline. When Milk rolled the car back into the garage, Love exhaled a shaky laugh, her cheeks flushed with excitement. “That was… something else,” she said, unbuckling. “I see why you do this every weekend.”
“It’s addictive,” Milk admitted, lifting her visor. “Want to know the real high? Beating Lewis in qualifying.”
Love smirked. “Ambitious. Maybe I should come watch and see if you live up to the hype.”
“Or,” Milk said, matching her tone, “you could join me for dinner tonight, and I’ll tell you how I plan to.”
The crew erupted in cheers and laughter. Marco’s voice came from behind them. “Careful, Vosbein, we bill by the flirt!” Love only laughed harder, shaking her head as she stepped out of the car.
“Dinner, huh?” she said, meeting Milk’s gaze directly. “You’ve got confidence. I like that.” Her lips curved teasingly. “Alright, racer girl, impress me again tonight.”
As she walked away, Milk found herself grinning like she’d just taken pole position. Ferrari, fire, and the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met, she thought. What could possibly go wrong?