Chapter Text
“Miranda, Andy is here now, and our team are getting ready for the shoot," Nigel announced as he walked over to Miranda’s office.
“Just call Emily when my presence is needed. That's all," Miranda replied, not even looking at Nigel.
“Oh, I stopped here for nothing? You do know Andy Sachs, right?” he asked, peering over his glasses with a knowing smirk.
“Caroline and Cassidy love her."
“So you do know her," Nigel smiled.
“I signed the contracts weeks ago to have her as our October cover,” Miranda said, finally looking up. “Now go back there where your existence is highly requisite." She dismissed him and returned her focus to her laptop.
“You’re missing out," Nigel hummed and quoted, “She looks divine in red," as he left.
———
“Andy, you’re breathtakingly beautiful; give me a call when you suddenly change your mind about being a racer," Nigel teased.
“Hello, Nigel," Andy greeted with a grin. “Do expect my call, but not because of me changing my mind about being a racer but for the reason that a gorgeous woman did catch my attention. Help me?"
“And who might that be?” He smirked.
“The stylish woman who I said hello to and ignored me after looking at me from head to toe."
Nigel chuckled. “You’re aiming for the impossible here, Andy Sachs. May the odds be ever in your favor with her.”
So Miranda met Andy already… Nigel thought.
“Is she going to be here?” Andy asked, leaning against the edge of a light stand.
“Miranda? Maybe… she told me to call Emily when her presence is needed, and as of now, I don’t think we need her; we’re ready. Perhaps after the photoshoot,” Nigel replied.
“I hope so. I’ve been looking forward to this since my manager mentioned the collaboration.”
“Don’t think I don’t know about your history,” Nigel cautioned, lowering his glasses. “Miranda’s not like your other girls you play with. You should know that by now.”
Nigel had known Andy for months now since he was the one who came up with the idea of Andrea being the cover magazine for October. He had read reports about the after parties of Formula 1 and Andy Sachs, her face appearing nearly as often as Miranda’s on Page Six. It seemed like Miranda and Andy were fighting over which of them would be the talk of the world, and now they were doing a photoshoot with Andy. This upcoming magazine wouldn’t just sell; it would definitely dominate every point of the news channel.
“Other girls? Nigel, they come to me; they don’t mean anything.” Andy countered. “You know how the headlines work, always adding up a lie to everything just to make a penny out of it.”
“Don’t play. I hope you know what you're about to get into.”
“Dragon Lady, cold, vicious…. Hmmmm," Andy trailed off, tapping her chin thoughtfully. "What else have I read… Ah, right… she’s the De-vil. I think I can handle that."
“Good luck with that," Nigel said, pointing a finger at her before clapping his hands to gather the crew. “Let’s start.”
——
“Don’t smile."
“You look stiff."
“Stop putting your hands on your hair."
“That’s it, get inside the car, and when you go out, make sure the first thing they’ll notice is you in that magnificent gown," Patrick instructed, his voice echoing in the studio.
Andy did everything she was instructed to. She didn't mind when Nigel commented about her bad pose; at least he was still nice about it. This was her first time doing a photoshoot for a magazine. All her photoshoots were for the posters, always wearing her uniform.
As the shoot continued, the sharp click-clack of heels silenced the room. It Made everyone hold their breath, ready for Miranda’s verdict about the work they had been doing since 7 am.
Andy, on the other hand, smiled, though her heart hammered in her chest.
Nigel watched them both. "Help me?" Andy’s voice rang in his ears. He was satisfied with the photos of Andy in those dresses, skirts, boots, and suits. One final type of clothing and they were done. About time I confirm my theory, he thought.
Miranda appeared at Nigel's side wearing a Valentino RTW Fall black dress that hugged her figure, Fitting her like her second skin.
“Miranda, I don’t recall calling Emily," Nigel noted, looking at Miranda, meeting her gaze with a knowing smile.
Seeing Nigel with that look, Miranda looked at Nigel with her icy blue eyes. “Precisely why I’m here. To ensure everything is proceeding according to our plan.” She replied, "Now, let me see the photos, Patrick.”
“You’ll find them acceptable; we don’t have Andy for a day. After this she has a dinner to attend to. Right, Maggie?” The manager simply nodded, while Andy was still looking at a silver-white haired beautiful woman on behind Patrick’s back.
“We can cancel if Miranda's not satisfied," Andy’s voice trembled. She felt suddenly shy, scared, and embarrassed under Miranda’s presence. Why am I acting like this? she wondered.
Miranda’s eyes flicked to Andy. Even a world-renowned racer is ready to quench her immaculate demand of perfection, she thought.
“No," she simply replied.
"Okay," Andy whispered, blushing, which Miranda noticed, and to Andy’s surprise, she saw a tiny, almost invisible smirk on Miranda’s lips. Is she just delusional? Is it because she’s tired that she’s imagining things?
Not only the Devil could see the flush of pink on Andy’s cheeks. Nigel grinned and looked at the two staffers in the room. “Jocelyn, Paul, do help Andrea with her dress to change for her final look. You know where her race suit is." As soon as the words left his mouth, his attention turned to Miranda, who was busy looking at the photos on the screen. Choosing.
The moment the words "race suit" left Nigel’s mouth, Andy, in an instant, felt her confidence building up. Would Miranda come to her race if she invites her? Looking at Miranda, she didn't even pay attention to her. But if she doesn’t like her, why would she agree to her being the cover, though? Or is she really like this? At the end of the photoshoot she would ask Miranda.
“Andy, are you okay?” Maggie asked, touching her arm with a worried look.
How long had she been thinking there for?
“Yes, Mags. Just thinking. Don’t worry," Andy assured her.
Miranda heard. Insipid nicknames….
As Jocelyn and Paul escorted Andrea from the dressing room, Nigel leaned to Miranda’s side.
“One race suit image in that magazine, she’ll dominate,” Nigel whispered.
“Race suit… a garment I did not think would ever grace the pages of my magazine,” Miranda remarked, her voice low.
“Miranda, wearing her suit would make our magazine look more intriguing, not only to people who love fashion but also to people who love a typical Ferrari racer. Andy’s influence across every generation is extraordinary,” Nigel countered, standing his ground.
“Not convincing enough. I can still change my mind at this very moment, Nigel.”
“Just wait for her to come back," Nigel replied, ending the conversation with a knowing smile as he walked over to chat with Maggie.
Miranda followed him with a piercing stare, her expression unreadable but far from angry. And returned her attention to the screen, letting Patrick's assistant write down her selects.
———
Exactly ten minutes later, the dressing room doors swept open. Jocelyn and Paul stepped aside as Andy emerged, clad in her Rosso Corsa Ferrari race suit.
Too confident now…
Andy met the room’s silence with a steady gaze. She was ready. Whatever pose Nigel and Patrick demanded, whatever angle the camera required, she would do it with the same virulent accuracy she used on the track, determined to make Miranda pay attention to her.
All she needed right now was to feel a certain icy, cold, deadly, deep blue gaze that tamed her already.
But as Andy met that icy blue gaze, she realized she didn't care if she was going to go down; she wanted it to be at the hands of the most exquisite force she had ever come across with. For the first time in her life, the win wasn't a trophy; it was simply being seen by the woman on Nigel's side.
As Andy walked and leaned over the scarlet hood of the SF-26, the first pose Nigel instructed her to take was to “bend over, Andy Sachs. I want to see the tension in the suit."
Andy’s hands gripped the carbon fiber. All she can hear is the click of Patrick's camera.
From the shadows of the table, Miranda didn't move. Her eyes weren't on the monitor anymore; they were fixed directly on Andy, Watching the studio lights catch the sheen of the racing silk, tracing the line of Andy’s spine.
Andy felt that gaze; piece by piece, she was being dismantled by those icy blue eyes. She felt a sudden shift of heat on her back as she pressed more of her weight against the cold metal of the Ferrari. Miranda didn't look away. Her stare lingered, and Andy had never felt more alive.