Yes, Daddy | A Formula 1 Fan Fiction | Toto Wolff

|| T H R E E ||

B A R C E L O N A
T E S T I N G 3.0

I was worried that Stefano would be upset that I, two days into my appointment, had physically assaulted the formidable Mercedes Team Principal. I didn't just slap him, I slapped him in front of witnesses. Instead, Stefano had guffawed, laughing so hard he had tears running down his face.

"Cara, cara, it's fine. It's great! Stand up for yourself, my love. These men need to know you're not to be messed with. Just because you're a woman does not mean you don't belong here, yes?"

The third day of winter testing was unremarkable. The track was now speckled with green and white paint from the different teams conducting their final testing, a few garages had already started packing up. I had walked into my office this morning to find an arrangement of dark red roses with a card signed –

I'm sorry Bärchen.

- TW

The young girl in me squealed that he remembered my cliched obsession with roses but the woman, the angry woman within me, was having none of it. I had carried the arrangement to the Mercedes motorhome, smiled sweetly at the receptionist and requested it be returned to the man. And now, I've settled myself on the roof of the FOG motorhome, enjoying the warm sunlight as I consolidated my data for an upcoming meeting with Masi.

So much to do before Bahrain, so little time. The F1 circus was large and doubtlessly challenging but it was in this environment that I truly thrived. There was much that could be done to grow the sport and the prospect of having a hand in it all was thrilling to say the least.

I continued studying my notes when my phone started to buzz.

"Hello?"

"Where are you?" a lightly accented voice asked.

"Oh, on the roof of the FOG motorhome. Enjoying the sun. Why?"

"Turn around!"

Curious, I turned around to look over the edge and grinned at the sight of the two Ferrari drivers waving.

"We're done for the day and we're going to get some food before getting ready for tonight's thing. Do you want to come?" Carlos yelled, completely forgetting that you were both still on the line together.

"We're still on the phone, Carlos. I can hear you just fine!"

"Oh, sorry," he laughed. "Well, do you want to come?"

*

I adjusted my earrings and shook my head to loosen the curls in my hair. Drinks with the Ferrari boys was pleasant, and they were soon joined by a few other drivers on the grid who were all welcoming and pleased to have another mainstay at races close in age to them. And they were all more than impressed to hear about my adventures in the Mercedes Garage.

"What did you do after? We don't know what happened after he left the garage," George piped up.

"Well," I took a sip of my drink, "he followed me to my office and we, uh, we had a short discussion and I kicked him out."

They didn't have to know about that kiss or the roses. His fucking lips, oh God, I could still feel them. I reached my fingers to my face and brushed my thumb over my bottom lip, imagining it was his calloused thumb instead of mine.

"Fuck, well, I can't wait to see what extra fireworks I'll be getting front row seats to!" George tipped his glass to me and drained his drink.

"Oi, you should film their next one. We could sell the footage, Pay Per View!" Daniel shouted across the table. This earned a rousing cheer across the table as I rolled my eyes at them. They may risk their lives driving millions of dollars of equipment every week but they're really just boys aren't they?