Faster Dirtier (Take Me...#5) (A Team Ferrelli Novel) (6 page)

I’m just about to head back inside when a flash of movement
catches my eye in a window on the second story of the villa. I train my gaze
forward and feel my heart slam against my ribcage. There, framed in a window
right across the terrace, is Enzo Lazio in the flesh once again. Emphasis on
flesh
. Through the parted
curtains, I watch him stride into view, wearing nothing but a tiny bath towel
around his waist. I know that I have no right to stare at him, to invade his
privacy like this, but I can’t for the life of me tear my eyes away.

His razor sharp jaw line is far more visible, now—sheared of
the scruffy beard that he sported earlier today. Only a bit of sexy stubble
remains, my favorite look on a man. And his jet black hair has been given a
trim, too. Guess Bex decided that the mountain man look was bad for PR. I have
to say, I approve of the change. His hard, brooding features stand out in sharp
relief now, unobscured. But as gorgeous as his face happens to be, it’s the
rest of him that has my heart doing backflips at the moment. As I look on,
mesmerized, he shoves a hand through his short black hair, and the loose knot
holding the bath towel in place comes loose.

I feel my mouth fall open as Enzo’s body is revealed to me
in its entirety. For the moment, he’s turned away from me, his rock hard ass on
full display in all its glory. My fingers twitch with wanting to grab a hold of
those firm cheeks, pull him hard against me. And that’s even
before
he pivots to face
me, and I finally get a glimpse of that singular, breathtaking length between
his legs.

“Ho-ly shit,” I breathe, steadying myself against the railing
of the balcony. I haven’t seen
that
many cocks in my time, but Enzo’s is by far the finest. It’s a thing of
beauty—long and shapely, downright delicious...

Delicious?
What the hell am I thinking? With great effort, I manage to drag my eyes back
to Enzo’s face, and good thing too. Because just as I tear my eyes away from
his beautiful manhood, he turns to face my way. I all but dive back into my
bedroom, hoping that he didn’t see me gaping at him across the way. How would
that be for a first introduction? But as I peer out from my hiding space, he
doesn’t seem at all perturbed.
Whew
.
Dodged that bullet.

I’m released from the spell of Enzo’s gorgeous form as he
tugs the curtains shut at last. I lean back against my bedroom wall, willing my
heart to be still. I’ve never been so attracted to a man before in my life,
never felt my body respond so suddenly to someone else’s. Is this really just
an amped up crush, or something much more?

One thing’s for sure. If I don’t take care of myself before
this party kicks off, I’m not going to be able to put two words together. My
sex is aching, crying out for some TLC. And with the image of Enzo’s delectable
cock fresh in my mind’s eye, I’m more than willing to devote an hour to some
serious self-love.

Chapter Seven

A couple of hours before the party is set to begin, I find
myself in the hands of a duo of glamor experts once again. Only this time, it
isn’t Bex and Siena who show up at my door to take me from tomboy to knockout.
It’s my own personal hair and makeup team, ready to complete my look for the
evening. They all but bowl me over as they charge into the guesthouse, eager to
get down to business.

“Why hello, gorgeous,” says the hair stylist, a man about my
height with a wide smile, spiky platinum hair, and bright red suspenders.

“Ready to get started?” asks the makeup artist, a toweringly
tall, raven-haired, rail-thin woman who gives me an air kiss on either cheek.

“H-hey!” I sputter, awkwardly returning her very European
greeting. Or trying to, anyway. I probably look like a startled chicken
compared to her. “Come on in. I just stepped out of the bath.”

I treated myself to a good long soak in the tub, rubbing out
orgasm after orgasm as I held the image of Enzo’s amazing body in my mind’s
eye. But they don’t need to know that part, now do they?

“Great. We can dive right in,” the man says, straightening
his blue and white polka dotted bow tie. “My name is Casper. I’m going to do
amazing things to that hair of yours. This is my partner, Anneke.”

“Oh! Are you guys together?” I ask, looking back and forth
between the unlikely couple. They exchange a knowing look before bursting out
into peals of laughter. I guess that wasn’t what he meant by “partner”.

“Casper is my dearest friend in the world,” Anneke tells me,
“But I’m not exactly his type, I’m afraid.”

“If only you’d been born with some extra hardware,” Casper
sighs, wrapping an arm around Anneke’s teensy waist. “Those cheekbones on a
man’s face? What I wouldn’t give...”

“But enough about us,” Anneke says, planting a kiss on
Casper’s forehead. “Let’s talk about you, Miss Vaughn!”

“You can call me Ace, if you’d like,” I tell them. “All my
friends do.”

“Ace? Hello, gender nonconformity,” Casper says delightedly.
“I
love
it.”

“How do you usually like you makeup done, dear?” Anneke
asks, looping a slender arm with mine.

“Oh...I don’t usually wear makeup,” I tell her. She stares
at me for a long moment, not comprehending. “I spend a lot of time with a
helmet on my head,” I clarify, “Not much need for mascara, you know?”

“A blank slate,” she murmurs, eyes wide, “How
novel
.”

“What about your hair?” Casper asks, eyeing my damp locks.

“Kinda the same story,” I shrug. “I just let it do
whatever.” Casper and Anneke turn to gaze at each other, their eyes brimming
with wonder. “What is it?” I ask nervously.

“We’re just going to have so much fun with you,” Casper
breathes excitedly. “Let’s get started. I can’t wait any longer.”

The team herds me upstairs and sets to work at once. Their
hands never stop moving for a second once they begin the long process. I’m
tweezed, moisturized, toned, and primped. And those are just the preparatory
steps. I can’t even identify most of the products they use to aid in my
transformation. Sure, I’ll slap on some lipstick once in a while for special
occasions, but I couldn’t tell you what “primer” or “dry shampoo” were if you
paid me a million bucks. But something tells me that with these two, I can look
forward the quite the beauty education.

“OK. We are all set,” Casper says, giving my hair a final
dusting of hair spray. “Slip into your dress, and don’t peek!”

I follow his orders and dash into the bathroom, amazed by
the weight of my volumized eyelashes. I can feel my hair bouncing lightly
across my back as I step into the green gown once again. I’ve decided to do
without a bra underneath, as the dress itself is fitted with built-in support.
All I wear under the dress is a pair of my favorite black lace panties. I heard
once that you should always put on your fanciest underwear when you want to
feel confident, even if no one else is going to see it. And I need all the
confidence I can get tonight.

“Well? What do you guys think?” I ask, stepping back out
into the bedroom.

Casper lays his hands on his chest, looking for the world
like he’s about to cry. Anneke just gazes at me rapturously, clearly pleased
with her work.

“It’s not about what we think, in the end,” she tells me,
gesturing to the full length mirror. “It’s what you think.”

I swallow hard and approach the mirror, surprised by how
implausibly comfortable the shoes that Bex picked out happen to be. At last, I
step in front of the glass, ready to gaze upon the “new me”. As I lock eyes
with my reflection, it takes a long moment for the reality of what I’m looking
at to hit me. It doesn’t sink in right away that that’s
me
, there, looking like a Hollywood starlet of
the highest order. But as a wild grin spreads across my crimson lips, it can’t
be denied. It’s me, all right.

“Oh my god. Oh my
god
,”
I murmur, running my hands down the sides of my dress, turning this way and
that. “You two are miracle workers!”

The gown looks just as good as it feels, perfectly
conforming to my petite but curvy shape. The gold-tinted stilettos Bex picked
out are an amazing complement to the beaded detail along the plunging neckline.
My strawberry blonde hair hangs in effortless, tousled curls—or at least, they
look
effortless. I never
knew my hair could be wrangled into anything fancier than a french braid. But
lo and behold!

My face is even more surprising than my reddish locks.
Anneke’s brought out all of my favorite features. A cool, rosy blush
accentuates my cheek bones, while a subtle smoky eye brings out the green
flecks in my hazel eyes. I can even see my freckles front and center across the
bridge of my nose. She’s managed to make me look like
me
, only glammed up. Part of me was worried
that this makeover was going to leave me looking like a beauty pageant
nightmare, but that’s not the case at all. I just look...beautiful.

“You like?” Casper prompts me, as he and Anneke appear at my
shoulders.

“Like? Love, is more like it!” I laugh. “Are you two wizards
or something?”

“It wouldn’t take magic to make you look lovely, dear,”
Anneke tells me, adjusting my dress just a hair. “Trust me on that.”

“You’re going to stun them all,” Casper sighs happily,
giving my hand a quick squeeze.

“Are you two heading out already?” I ask, reluctant to part
ways with them.

“Don’t you worry. We’re going to be your beauty team for the
every press event you do,” Anneke replies. “We’ll be seeing you again before
too long. But right now, you’ve got a party to get to.”

She and Casper bid me farewell, and I’m left alone once
again. I stand in front of the mirror, amazed by every little detail of my
dress, my hair, and my makeup. I never knew I could look so—for lack of a
better term—
hot
.

“Time to face the music,” I mutter to myself, as I hear a
bluesy band start up next door in the villa. “Literally.”

The wide, circular driveway is absolutely packed with cars
as I make my way toward the main house. A valet team mans the front terrace as
dozens of guests arrive for the festivities. Siena’s invited everyone even
remotely affiliated with Team Ferrelli to this party, and plenty of people from
other F1 teams, too. After the disastrous, tragic season that saw far too many
crashes, deaths, and downright cruelty, the F1 community has been making a
concerted effort to restore a bit of sportsmanship to the sport. Siena and
Harrison have been leading the way on that front. They are, after all, the
poster children of making friends out of supposed enemies.

“Good evening, Miss,” smiles a tuxedo-clad man at the front
door of the villa as I climb the marble stairs. “Are you on the guest list?” 

“I certainly hope so,” I laugh, clasping my hands behind my
back. “My name’s—”

“There you are!” I hear Siena call from inside the house.
She appears in the doorway, dressed to kill in a fabulous violet dress with an
open back and three-quarter sleeves. “She’s with me,” my new boss informs the
gatekeeper. He nods amiably as Siena takes my hand in hers, ushering me inside
at once.

“Wow,” I breathe, staring all around the elegant home of the
Lazio family. “This is where you grew up?”

“That’s right,” Siena says fondly. “Well, this is where we
spent the summers, anyway. During the school years, we were in New York. Not
too far from you, actually. Just think, all those years we could have been
running into each other in the Big Apple. Though, I guess I would have been old
enough to babysit for you.”

“Oh please,” I laugh, “You’re only, like, three years older
than me.” I know that for a fact, having watched Siena grow up from afar. I’d
always see her in Ferrelli press photos and think she was the coolest girl on
the planet. And now here I am, at a party in her family home. My teenage self
would be losing her shit if she could see me now.

“I probably should have given you the grand tour before all
the guests arrived,” Siena goes on, leading me through the foyer to the great
room, where the band is all set up and rocking out. “Did you manage to get a
little more rest today?”

“Or something like that,” I smile, thinking back to my
steamy bath session. “I feel great. This is too exciting!”

“Excellent,” Siena beams. “You look absolutely incredible,
by the way. I knew that Casper and Anneke would do a good job. Not like making
you shine is exactly a challenge.”

“Shucks,” I say teasingly.

“There she is!” I hear a familiar voice call from across the
room. I look up to see Bex charging across the space, a handsome Italian man at
her side. “Ainsley, just look at you! I can’t even. You’re just too hot.”

“Thanks Bex,” I smile. “You look amazing, too.”

And she does, in a little white minidress with long flared
sleeves and sky-high heels. The man beside her smiles in greeting, extending
his hand to me. He’s a clean-cut, preppy guy. Very Ivy League, with a warm,
intelligent face.

“Hey there. I’m Charlie Spano. This one’s husband,” he tells
me, nodding at Bex.

“I’m Ace Vaughn,” I tell him, “It’s really nice to meet
you.”

“You too,” he says enthusiastically, “I can’t wait to work
with you as an affiliated driver!”

“Charlie is also Ferrelli’s new team manager for the
upcoming season,” Bex says proudly.

“Inherited the job from my dad, Gus,” Charlie says in a
stage whisper, “Don’t tell anyone, OK?”

“How’s your dad liking retirement so far, Charlie?” Siena
asks.

“He’s having the time of his life,” Charlie laughs, shaking
his head fondly. “I think he wants to be buried at the Saint Andrew’s Golf
Club.”

“That’s in Scotland, right?” I put in.

“Yeah, exactly,” Charlie nods.

“That’s where my parents are from,” I go on. “Scotland, I
mean. Not the golf club.”

“We should make sure to take a trip out there before the
season starts,” Siena says. “Have you ever been to your parents’ home country,
Ace?”

“No, but that would be wonderful,” I say excitedly. “I would
love that so much.”

“It’s a plan then,” Siena says, draping an arm across my
shoulders. “I promise.”

“What are you scheming about over here?” says an accented
voice over my shoulder.

I turn to see Harrison Davies approaching, decked out in a
charcoal suit with a ruby red tie—his F1 team’s color, as it were. And beside
him, looking dapper as hell, is little Alfie. He’s rocking a suit that matches
his dad’s, only his tie is a red and green plaid. Representing both Ferrelli
and McClain colors—very classy.

“None of your business,” Siena teases, planting a kiss on
her husband’s cheek.

“Is this the new recruit?” he asks, giving me a friendly
smile.