"Shit, shit, shit, this can not be happening."

My hands were shaking as I stared at my phone.

Fuck.

I quickly dialed his number, only for it to go to voicemail.

"Fuck," I breathed, running my hands through my hair.

I swung open the door to the guest bedroom, running down the stairs two at a time.

The house was silent, the warm sunlight bathing the house in a golden glow. The large windows let the hot sun filter through the house.

Alessandro's room was on the first floor at the end of the hall, separate from his parents room at the opposite part of the house.

My breaths came out in short pants as I knocked frantically on his door.

"Alessandro."

I knocked again.

"Alé, open up."

No response.

I took a breath, twisting the handle and opening his door.

He was still asleep, laying on his stomach.

I swallowed, my throat running dry when I noticed he was shirtless.

"Alessandro," I whispered, leaning closer to his bed. He didn't move an inch.

"Alé, wake up."

I reached out, tapping his shoulder.

Jesus, this man is a deep sleeper

His skin was smooth and warm under my touch as I shook his shoulder roughly.

"Huh?" his eyes flew open and he flinched away.

"It's me, relax."

"Dakota? What's wrong? What happened?" he asked, propping himself up on his arm. His hair was a mess, different locks of hair sticking up in random directions.

Cute.

"I think you should see this," I said quietly. I was about to hand him my phone when I felt a tug on my wrist.

I felt myself falling forward onto the bed, a soft gasp escaping my lips.

"Excuse me?" I huffed, raising a brow at him. He stared down at me, a lazy smirk on his face. His eyes were still half closed, heavy with sleep.

His sheets were warm, the smell of his shampoo engulfing my senses. I snuggled closer to him, his body acting as a human heater.

"Buon giorno," he greeted, propping his head up on his hand.

"Buon giorno."

"Do you know what that means?" he asked, a teasing smile on his face.

"Hmmmm, blue cheese?"

Alessandro blinked, staring at me for a moment before laughing loudly. A smile tugged at my lips at the sound, my heart skipping a beat.

"Blue cheese? You really are something else, Kota," he smiled.

My eyes trailed over his features. Alessandro had the longest lashes I had ever seen on a guy, and boy was I jealous. His skin had tanned over the past two days we had been out in the Italian sun. His skin was so smooth, which was criminally unfair because I swear he used shampoo as face wash. He also had the most perfect eyebrows- except for a tiny scar on his left brow from a cut.

"What is this from?" I asked, gently touching the line of healed skin.

"Karting. The kart was up on a jack so my dad could fit the tires and I hit my head on the edge of the wheel well."

"You were clumsy back then, too," I joked.

"In my defense, I was 7," he replied indignantly.

"Sure."

"I hate it when you say that," he muttered, his eyes no longer meeting mine.

My gaze flickered from his eyes to his lips before quickly looking back up. I held my breath as he did the same, leaning in slightly.

I could feel the soft breaths from his nose against my skin, our faces only an inch apart.

"You hate a lot of things," I replied, my lips brushing against his.

"And you just happen to be at the top of my list," he replied, his hands moving under the sheets to rest around my waist.

I could feel his toned chest pressing against mine, our legs tangled under the sheets. My cheeks heated up and I felt myself getting flustered.

I pushed him away, rolling back onto the other side of the bed.

"Morning breath," I said, giving him a cheeky smile. I tried to play it cool, despite my heart hammering in my chest.

Alessandro groaned, covering his eyes with his arm as he rolled onto his back.

Suddenly, I remembered why I had come to his room in the first place.

Why the fuck is he so distracting?

"Hate to be a buzzkill, but you need to see this," I sighed, handing him my phone.

I watched as his eyes scanned the page, a dark look passing over his face.

He handed my phone back and let out a long breath through his nose.

"Fuck," he muttered, running a hand through his hair as he sat up.

My eyes traveled down his muscular body despite my efforts to look away. His tanned skin stood out against the white sheets as he sat up, the blanket falling to revealing his toned abs.

"I'm sorry, I should've been more careful. I knew something like this would happen," he sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

He stood up, pacing around the room.

"No, it's my fault as well. I shouldn't have taken the risk."

"People need to learn to respect people's privacy. This is ridiculous, I mean did they follow us into the hotel?"

"Seems like it. Did McLaren not have a no media policy with Hilton?"

"They do, but I guess they're still allowed on the property. Just not in the hotel."

We both stared at our phones. This was not good. Not good at all.

Never in a million years did I think my face would be plastered on several online articles. Sky Sports F1, The Sun, DailyMail.

"Jesus, I knew you were popular but what the hell," I muttered under my breath, scrolling on my phone.

Hundreds of comments under multiple posts had my mind spinning. People were salivating for any tiny details on our interactions, some even scouring previous media posts to see if they could find any clues.

There were photos of us entering and leaving the hotel, as well as strolling through the streets around Lake Como.

"Did you post on social media that you were visiting here?" I asked.

"What, no. Of course not. Why, is there photos of us here too?"

I nodded, scrolling through my phone to show him more photos.

"Fuck, how did they even see us? No one comes up here in the off season," Alessandro said, frustration evident in his voice.

"At least we look good in the photos?" I joked, trying to lighten the mood.

"Dakota, fuck this is going to screw everything up," he sighed, looking even more stressed than I had ever seen him.

"Is there anything in your contract that says something about maintaining professional relationships?" he asked, looking at me.

I averted my gaze, staring out the window at Lake Como's beautiful scenery.

"Dakota?"

I felt his hand touch my wrist, my gaze snapping to look up at him.

"I think this would be a good time to tell you," I began quietly, linking my pinky with his.

"Tell me what? Dakota, you're scaring me," he laughed uneasily, stepping in front of me.

I could feel the heat radiating off of his body as he blocked the sunlight streaming in through the window.

"Italy was my last race."

"What do you mean?"

"I won't be coming to any more of the races this season. My contract ended."

I could see the flurry of emotions flash through his eyes. Alessandro took a step back, blinking a few times- as if he was trying to clear his head.

"Sorry- what?"

"I wanted to tell you earlier, I swear. But I just didn't want to-"

"Jesus Dakota, how long have you known about this?" he asked, throwing his hands in the air.

"Since France," I mumbled.

"France? That was three months ago!"

"I know, I'm sorry. But you can't expect me to have told you. If I may remind you, we weren't exactly friends until a week ago," I fired back, getting increasingly agitated.

My sleep had been interrupted by a notification that photos of myself spread across the internet and I had yet to drink my morning coffee.

A knock sounded at the door, interrupting us.

"Is everything alright?"

Alessandro gave me one last look before crossing his room to the door. He swung it open to reveal a worried looking Rossana.

"Sorry, ma. We were just talking and got... a little carried away."

She glanced between Alessandro and I.

"Ah, I see. Well, breakfast is ready!"

"Grazie."

The door shut, leaving Alessandro and I alone once again.

"So that's it?" he asked, still facing the closed door. "You won't come to any more races?"

I sighed, shaking my head.

"No, I can't afford to keep coming to every race."

"I can get you a VIP pass. You can watch from the garage. Or from the stands, whatever you want," he began, turning to face me.

My expression softened as I shook my head, giving him a sad smile.

"I would love to, gosh you know how much I love it here. But I'll have to get a job back home in Hawai'i. I still have to finish Uni."

"Jesus Christ, Dakota. You can't just show up and then leave," he sighed, throwing his hands in the air.

I frowned, crossing my arms.

"Yeah right, you say that as if I came here to wiggle my way into your life and then leave at the snap of my fingers," I scoffed.

"Then I guess I won't be seeing you for a while," he muttered after a long moment of silence.

"I haven't said goodbye yet," I smiled meekly, holding out my hand.

Nobody says goodbye unless they're going to see you again.

He stared at it for a moment, his jaw ticking. He shook his head before walking out of the room.

"Alessandro, wait. Don't be like that."

"Fuck off, Dakota," he muttered, walking through the hallway to the kitchen.

"That's not fair. I didn't tell you because we weren't exactly buddy buddy."

"Does Lando know?" he spat, pinning me with a glare.

"No," I shook my head, looking at him from across the kitchen counter.

Alessandro was silent, his hands on the counter as he leaned his weight forward. After glaring daggers at the marble counter for a few moments, he spoke up.

"Zak said he was looking for a replacement for Dave."

I swallowed, looking away from him as his striking green eyes focused on me.

"I don't think I'm qualified for that position," I replied.

"Bullshit."

"Alé, think about it. I would be in charge of calling the shots and if I fuck up, that's your career on the line."

"So is yours. You don't fuck up my races and I don't fuck up your career."

"No. This is ridiculous," I replied, shaking my head.

"Think about it," he pleaded, rounding the table to the living room area.

"You already helped me this weekend and look where we ended up. I trust you," he said, his gaze softening.

"I don't trust myself, how can you trust me?"

"Because I know your good at what you do. So do you, but you just keep doubting yourself."

"Look who's talking," I muttered under my breath.

"What?"

"You're being hypocritical," I said louder.

He sighed in defeat, not wanting to argue further.

"Give Zak a call. Tell him you're available. If he says yes, then you do it."

"No."

"Fine. We'll do this my way," he said, pulling out his phone.

"No! Ale- don't."

Too late, the ringing from his phone echoing through the room. I glared at him, trying to grab his phone.

Curse you tall people

My hand could barely reach his wrist as I stood on my tippy toes. Alessandro was clearly amused with the whole situation, looking down at me with a smirk.

"Desperate are we?" he teased, making me huff.

I glared at him as Zak's muffled voice was heard on the other line.

"Morning Zak."

"It's 6 in the morning."

"Oh, sorry. I forgot Italy is an hour ahead," he replied, rubbing the back of his head sheepishly.

"What do you want?" he asked.

I laughed at the tone of his voice, sounding absolutely done with Alessandro.

"I think I may have found the perfect person to take Dave's place."