Montero - Toto Wolff

20: Sweet Thing

[The British Grand Prix, FP1]

Ryan Bradford wasn't an easy woman to find, her dark hair and dark eyes merging near perfectly into the Red Bull garage whilst the mechanics fawned over her vehicle, the countdown clock to FP1 ticking down ever so slowly.

Christian Horner, the Red Bull Racing's Team Principal, walked over to you, "Can I help you?" his tone was laced in superiority, turning his nose down at the white Mercedes logo on your shirt, "Or are you here to spy?"

"Get over yourself," Your words tumbled from your mouth, "I'm here to see Ryan," as soon as you said her name, she appeared, her dark hair a mess atop her head, a flush of red blooming across her cheeks. You knew exactly what that look on her face was. She'd just been very 'busy' in her cabin.

She flattened her hair, tucking any strands behind her ears, "Chris, it's fine," she promised, grabbing my arm and pulling me outside the garage and into the paddock. Her eyes were wild, tainted with fluster and she scanned her environment for anyone with a camera, "What's up? You look sad," she commented, unzipping her race overall to allow herself to breathe in the awful heat over Silverstone.

"It's so fucking hot here," you groaned, planting your hands on your sides, "I'm just pissed, Toto isn't giving me the time of day, it's too fucking hot, Lewis isn't even allowed to talk to me," you ranted, scraping your hair into a ponytail, "He was supposed to take me on a date in Paris, but now he won't even touch me,"

"Do you want me to talk to him?" She asked honestly, causing you to near have a heart attack as you spat out the words.

"Fuck no!" you complained, "You can't let him know I've told you," your eyes darted to a figure behind her, the unfamiliar yet familiar woman coming straight over to you.

Her ebony skin matched the same shade of Lewis' and her hair was in dreadlocks which were pulled neatly into a ponytail, she had more ear piercings than you could count, and her septum piercing was something that you couldn't even fathom getting for yourself.

Ryan immediately recognised her, "Violet! It's so good to see you!" she pulled the similar aged woman into a warm embrace, "This is Violet Hamilton, Lewis' younger sister," she introduced the woman to you.

You introduced yourself, "I suppose I ought to take you to the Mercedes garage," you joked, placing the palm of your hand on the taller woman's back.

-

Lewis Hamilton was sat on the bonnet of his vehicle, eyes focused on Bono who was leant back on his leg, explaining something with his hands, "Bono, mate," you interrupted, letting Violet pass you and crush her brother in a hug.

The man you were looking for waved you over, his hand latching onto the small of your back whilst he pulled you into the designated office he had claimed. He locked the door behind him.

Surely he's not going to fuck me in the middle of the garage? Your thoughts ran rampant, you couldn't remember how long it'd been since you last experienced anyone touching you, and the thought massively depressed you.

Instead, he sat down, the dimly lit office hiding his emotions and casting grotesque expressions across his face, "I don't like the little relationship you and Lewis have," He complained.

"You're jealous, " you laugh and walk over to Toto, who is slumped in his office chair, "Aren't you?" you ask.

He looks up at you and rests his hands on your hips, "I'm not jealous," he claims and squeezes the flesh, "We both know you're mine."