no greater engine than desire | Lewis Hamilton Series
chapter one | big talk, big offers. nomi is a genius; it's true. when you need someone to make a championship-winning car, check Texas first.
word count: 3.5k
warnings: none
When Lewis had agreed to move to Ferarri, Fred already had someone else in mind to bring onto the team.
Now Fred was a French man who spent most of his time in Maranello, but he had eyes everywhere.
On this particular day, his eyes were in Texas.
"And she is there, yes?" Fred asks, his voice crackling over the speaker.
"She is," Alessandro confirms.
And the she they're referring to is Nomi Williams.
Now, the beautiful thing about Nomi is that she's an absolute genius.
She'd been on Fred's radar since his early days at Sauber, but then he knew he couldn't afford her. Now, he knew monetary issues wouldn't serve as a problem.
But back to Nomi, she's a genius, it's true!
You may ask yourself, what is a genius doing riding around a country dirt track in an old school Mustang in the middle of nowhere Texas? And why was an Italian man dressed to the tens watching her yards away?
The Mustang growled as it tore through the loose dirt, kicking up a cloud of dust that shimmered like gold under the hot Texas sun. Behind the wheel, Nomi was sharp; she was focused and effortlessly in control. Her hands commanded the wheel, and her foot teased the accelerator like she was coaxing a lover.
"I just don't get it." Fred sighs.
"Get what, boss?" Allesandro questions.
"Why she's in a place like that, with a brain like hers."
"Freedom," Allesandro replied. "Just her, a car, and the open road. You know the type—brilliant enough to rewrite the rules, stubborn enough to refuse to play the game."
On the track, Nomi slid the Mustang into a corner, the rear tires spinning just enough to test her control.
She smiles to herself as the car skids across the dirt, but the moment is interrupted by her phone vibrating on the dash.
She ignored it for a moment, letting the Mustang roar down the final stretch of the dirt track before pulling to a halt in a swirl of dust. She reached for the phone and squinted at the screen—an unknown number.
Frowning, she swiped to answer, her voice clipped. "Hello?"
There was a pause, and then Fred's accent cut through. "Nomi Williams, I presume."
Her brow furrowed, and she leaned back in her seat, already wary. "Who's asking?"
"Fred Vasseur," he said as if that name should mean something. And to her, it did.
Nomi's lips parted in surprise, but she quickly schooled her expression, even though he couldn't see it. "Well, this is unexpected," she replied coolly, her Texan drawl laced with intrigue.
Nomi steps out of the car, her worn boots digging into the dirt. "Is that your guy watching me?" She asks.
"What gave it away?"
"I don't know; I think the fact that he's dressed like Al Capone."
Fred chuckles over the phone, and Nomi lifts her arm to wave at Alessandro, who seems to forget the meaning of inconspicuous.
"He's mine," Fred admits.
"And he's here, why?" Nomi asks, swinging the door closed to her Mustang and leaning back against the side of the car.
"He's scouting for me."
"More like stalking; I should be afraid right now; how do you have my number?"
"I have ties."
"Scouting who?"
"You, of course."
Nomi chuckles, "Yeah, right, what use am I to you?"
Fred's laugh crackled through the phone, amused.
"Come now, Nomi. Don't insult us both with false modesty. You know exactly what you're capable of. I need someone like you on my team."
Her eyes narrowed, the heat of the Texas sun doing little to thaw her skepticism. "Your team? That's a long way from here. What could Ferrari possibly want with someone like me?"
"Someone like you," Fred repeated, his voice plunging slightly, "doesn't belong in the middle of nowhere, playing with dirt tracks. You belong on the world stage."
"And let me guess," she said, tapping the roof of her Mustang. "You're offering me that stage?"
"Not just the stage, everything," Fred replied quickly. "I need someone with your mind on my team who can see what others miss."
She tilted her head, considering his words. "And what makes you think I'd leave all this behind?"
"You underestimate yourself, Miss Williams."
"I don't," Nomi replied, crossing her arms as her eyes flicked to Alessandro, who was pretending to study something on his phone.
"I just don't see how my little Texas hobby is of any interest to someone like you."
"What you're calling a hobby is what I call brilliance. I've been watching you for a long time. I know what you're working on is more than a hobby."
"Well, that makes one of us, Fred."
Fred's chuckle, in return, was rich. "You're wasted there, Nomi. Hidden away in the dust."
The line went quiet momentarily as Nomi chewed on her lip, her boots scuffing against the dirt. The Mustang behind her ticked faintly as the engine cooled.
"Flattery doesn't work on me, Fred. Don't you already have your geniuses? What's the point in me?"
"Ah!" He laughs, "That's where you're mistaken! I have geniuses, yes! I have engineers, strategists, and drivers, all of whom are brilliant. But I have no one who understands cars like you. None who can give me what I want."
"What do you want?"
"A championship."
"Big talk."
"Big offers, too," Fred countered. "Alessandro has the details. Take your time to think it over."
"And if I say no?"
"Then Alessandro will enjoy his vacation in Texas, and I'll keep calling until you change your mind," Fred said.
The line went dead, leaving Nomi standing in the heat, staring at her phone as if it might offer her answers.
From across the track, Alessandro approached a folder in hand and a cautious smile on his face. "Well," he said, offering her the paperwork, "if nothing else, you've got Fred's attention."
"And you've got a long paid vacation in Texas."
Nomi actually loved where she was from.
She was a country girl through and through.
She loved the dirt, the tall grass, she loved her home and their animals and she was enamored by the old cars and dirt tracks, and the endless rocky roads she could skid down without repercussions.
The point is, she loved Texas. And she had only ventured away from her lovely abode only a few short times.
When she spent those four years away at college in Boston that was a twenty-three-hour drive and not a twenty-hour flight across the world.
She had yet to tell her family about the offer she had received.
She already knew how her family would react.
Her mother would get all pissy and sour and scold her father for encouraging her to go. She wouldn't want her to go. She'd be overly cautious. Her mind would reel about every bad thing that could happen to her baby, especially on another continent.
And her brother, he'd ask her what she wanted to do.
Which is why she asks him first.
She's fresh out of the shower, skin slathered in cocoa butter and hair braided down for the night when she leaves the ranch house and walks down to his house about fifteen acres down the trail. She could’ve taken the four-wheeler and cut that trip down to about a few minutes but she instead used the time to reel over her possibilities.
Her brain worked logically at all times, there were facts and then there were the very motives that contradict her ever wanting to take this chance.
She'd have to relocate to Maranello - fact.
Which would mean leaving Texas.
She'd have more money than she could spend - fact.
Money as of late hadn't been a factor.
She'd be making a name for herself in the motorsport world.
She was already an acclaimed engineer.
JJ's house came into view, and his porch light welcomed her as it always had.
She climbed the steps and knocked lightly before letting herself in.
He looked up from the couch, a half-empty beer in hand. “What’s up, sis?”
Nomi hesitated, leaning against the doorframe. “Got a question for you.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Shoot.”
“If someone offered you the world… but it meant leaving everything you loved behind… would you take it?”
Her brother set down the beer, studying her for a long moment. “That depends,” he said slowly. “Do you love what you’d be leaving more than you want what they’re offering?”
Nomi didn’t reply right away. She glanced out the window, where the Texas stars stretched endlessly overhead. "No."
Her brother smiled faintly, "That just means you're comfortable. Comfort is a luxury you've had your whole life. Do you want to be comfortable or do you want a thrill?"
Nomi sighs and plops down on the couch beside her brother.
"I received an offer."
"I figured," He chuckled, reaching for the remote and lowering the volume on the TV, "from?"
"Ferarri."
JJ whoops and literally jumps up from his seat, his beer sloshing onto his hand slightly. "Nomi! That's huge!"
Nomi drums her fingers against her knees, and JJ's eyes follow the movement.
"What do you think?" He tries his best to let the expectant look drop from his face. She didn't have a follow-up for his question.
"Okay," he breathes, settling back down onto the couch and wiping his hands on his jeans. Here's what I think, I think you've worked your ass off for years. You’re already one of the best engineers in the game. No one’s gonna tell you to take the offer, but you’ve earned that kind of opportunity."
“But...” he pressed, his voice softer now. “You know what it means. You’ve got a life here. You’ve got us.”
Nomi nods, "Which is why I shouldn't take it, right?"
"But that's the beautiful thing about family, Nomi. We'll always be here waiting for you. If that's your deciding factor, I've answered it. Mama might be a little down about it, pops a little too excited, but we'll always be here waiting and accepting you back with open arms."
"It is Ferrari," Nomi whispers.
"Exactly," JJ nudges her with his shoulder, "I can't see myself living in a world where Nomi Williams turns down an offer from Ferrari, the girl who named her horse Maranello, the girl who painted her first car red by herself. I mean you manifested this."
"When you tell Mama and Pops you're going, lead with that maybe."
"I never said I was taking it."
"I know you, Nomi."
The relationship between a driver and his race engineer is... delicate.
Yes, delicate. That's how Lewis would describe it.
There's a need for balance and understanding. For the relationship to thrive, there needs to be this consistent effort.
The engineer should want the win just as much as the driver if not more, and they should do anything to get them there.
Lewis had Bono, and up until last season, he was sure he'd found the perfect partner in the racing world.
They had a certain level of trust in each other.
But here's the thing about trust: it takes time to be built but can easily be broken.
Lewis wouldn't say his trust in Bono had completely fallen to pieces; it wasn't shattered, but the cracks had surely shown towards the end.
This is why he's a bit weary of whoever will be directing him this year.
He was starting over from scratch; this person would have to learn his driving style and the perfect balance between him and the car, and they'd have to trust his word. They'd have to trust him, too.
And in return, he'd have to trust them too.
Lewis didn't particularly like testing days.
In fact, he's opted out of testing for the last few years, instead giving the reserve drivers extra time in the car. But this year was different.
He was no longer at Mercedes; he was with Ferrari and knew absolutely nothing.
It's his main concern. It reeled over in his mind from the second he woke up, all the way into the showers; it lingered with him. It clung to him as he got dressed, and it rode in the car with him all the way to the track.
He could imagine him now, balding, with grey hair, slim and tall. That description seemed to fit too many of the Ferrari team.
He was sure it was a part of the application.
40+. Check
White/Italian. Check
Male. Double-check
Maybe they'd even thrown in a quiz. Describe the essence of Enzo Ferrari in 100 words or less.
Lewis sighed, picturing his engineer explaining strategy in a heavy accent, a cigarette dangling precariously between their fingers. "No push now, Lewis. Is good time for espresso."
He let out a laugh under his breath. If the guy showed up in red loafers and a silk scarf, he might lose it entirely.
So when he stepped into the Ferrari garage and saw his new race engineer for the first time, Lewis froze.
She wasn't 40.
She wasn't balding.
And she definitely wasn't a man.
Instead, she was... young. Younger than him. A woman with sharp brown eyes, a no-nonsense expression, and hair tied back in a ponytail like she didn't have the time to do anything else with it.
No cigarette. No espresso.
No red silk scarf, no loafers.
Just a clipboard, a laptop, and a very unimpressed look.
"Well," she said, glancing at her watch. "Glad you could finally make it, Mr. Hamilton. Ready to work, or should I grab you a cappuccino first?"
Oh, this was going to be fun.
Lewis raised an eyebrow, half in surprise, half in wonder, and used the moment to take her in. "I'm good."
"Great." She pivoted on her heel, moving quickly towards the car without even so much as a look over her shoulder.
Lewis catches on to the fact that he's supposed to be following her and quickly does so.
"We've got a lot of work to do."
"You're my race engineer?" He asks. And she stops in her tracks, her fingers passing the typing on the laptop she carried in her arm.
"Oh my god, you're so smart." She says dryly before continuing her march. "My name is Nomi."
"Right," Lewis muttered, stuffing his hands in his pockets. Sharp tongue, check. "How long have you been with Ferrari?"
"Long enough to know how this team works," she replied, stopping abruptly in front of the car. "Which, by the way, is about 80% drama, 15% tradition, and 5% actual racing. Welcome to the circus."
Lewis huffed out a surprised laugh. He hadn't expected that level of honesty. "Sounds like you've got it all figured out."
Nomi turned to face him, one eyebrow arching slightly. "I don't figure things out, Mr. Hamilton. I know them. And what I know right now is that you've got a lot to learn about this car."
"And you've got a lot to learn about me." He shot back. She freezes, and for a second, he's sure he's managed to fuck up just that fast, but then her face twitches, and a shit-eating smile takes over her lips.
"Good, let's start with that." She closes the laptop, nestling it and the clipboard under her arm, "Get in. I need data, and you need laps. Unless you'd prefer to chat over tea and biscuits?"
Lewis smirked, a flicker of amusement breaking through his guarded exterior. "Not really my style."
"Shame," Nomi deadpanned. "I had the good biscuits ready, too."
In the car, her voice crackles over the earpiece, "Radio check. Can you hear me?"
"Loud and clear." Lewis chuckles to himself after sending through his message.
Here, he was worried about the thick Italian accents when, in reality, a Texan drawl would be his biggest concern.
"Good," Nomi said. "Let's get you out there. Take your out-lap steady—no heroics. Just need to get some baseline data first."
"Oh, so you're taking the fun out of it."
"Fun comes later, cowboy," she shot back without missing a beat. "Let's see if you can even handle my upgrades before you start showing off. Pit lane's clear; when you're ready, take her out."
And he does.
And what this car is is nothing short of magnificent.
Lewis hadn't felt this fast since the W11.
And somehow, impossibly, this car felt even more alive than that.
"Steering is okay?"
"Feels good. Maybe a touch light, but I'll let you know after the first lap."
"Copy. We've got the brake bias forward by a click from Charles' run, but I can adjust it if it's not working for you."
Lewis took the car through the first corner, feeling out the balance. "Front's biting nicely. The rear feels planted so far."
"Not bad," she said, focused. "Don't get too comfortable, though. I set it up a little aggressive. Want to see how you handle it."
He smirked, pushing the throttle a little harder into the next straight. The car responded immediately, and he was a little shocked by just how smooth the power delivery was.
"This is aggressive?"
"Don't tempt me, Lewis," she warned a hint of laughter in her voice. "If you're not sweating by the end of this stint, I haven't done my job."
Alright, Nomi. Let's see what you've got."
Lewis grinned as he tore down the straight; the car hummed beneath him. He hadn't expected to feel this good or this fast. It was almost like Ferrari was trying to make up for years of... well, being Ferrari.
"Feels like you've been holding out on Charles," Lewis quipped as he braked hard into the next corner.
"Not at all," Nomi replied smoothly, her voice calm in his ear. "I just know how to set up a car for a seven-time world champion."
Lewis barked out a laugh, surprised at how easily the compliment—or was it a dig?—slipped in. "Careful, Nomi. Flattery will get you everywhere."
"Noted," she said dryly. "But don't get cocky yet. We're still in the honeymoon phase. Wait until you start complaining about understeer mid-race."
Lewis shook his head, a smirk tugging at his lips as he powered through another series of corners. "You've got me all figured out, huh?"
"I'm working on it," Nomi shot back. "And so far, you're about 50% talent, 40% ego, and 10% British politeness."
"Politeness?"
"Well, you did say thank you when I told you to get in the car. That's rare around here."
He chuckled, easing into the next corner and letting the car prom through the apex. The setup really was aggressive but in the best way possible.
"You weren't kidding about this being aggressive," Lewis said after a moment. "But it's good. Real good."
"Good," Nomi replied, efficient again. "Push a little harder on the next lap. I need data on high-speed cornering, and we'll see if those tires hold up."
"Copy that," Lewis said, already lining up the next straight.
For a few laps, their conversation shifted into a steady tempo of feedback and adjustments.
It was familiar territory for Lewis, but there was something different about Nomi's style.
For one, she was sharper, more direct. She didn't waste time explaining things he didn't need to know, but when she did speak, it was clear she knew exactly what she was doing.
As he brought the car back into the pits after the stint, Lewis found himself smiling despite the sweat dripping down his face.
When he climbed out of the car, Nomi was already waiting for him, arms crossed and a faintly smug expression on her face. "Well?" she asked.
"Not bad," Lewis said, grabbing a towel and wiping his face. "I could get used to this."
"Good. It was nice meeting you; I'm guessing I'll see you again in a month or so?"
"I-uh, yeah." Lewis reaches his hand out, "Nice meeting you too."
Nomi accepts the gesture, her hand slotting into his, "90% talent, 10% British politeness."
And then she saunters away, disappearing within some doors, so quickly and slyly that Lewis questions if he imagined her.
"Met Nomi, I see."
It's Charles. Face dripping with sweat fresh out of his car.
"Yeah." Lewis nods, still eyeing the doors where she disappeared. "She's... young," Lewis said after a beat, unsure if he meant it as an observation or a question.
Charles chuckled, crossing his arms as he leaned against the nearest workstation. "Young, yes. But if you think that means inexperienced, you're in for a surprise. Nomi's why we got 22 podiums last season and, frankly, the only reason we're not running a mid-pack car right now. She doesn't miss."
"She wasn't a race engineer last season, though?"
"No." Charles affirms, "But when she wasn't busy working on the 2025 car and tweaking her engine, she was upgrading our cars."
"Working on the car, tweaking the engine? You're saying that-"
"I'm saying that every piece of these cars came from blueprints she has scribbled in her notebook."
Fred approaches as Lewis states his next question, "And you trust her to build a championship-winning car?"
Fred shrugged, a knowing smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "I trust her to make this car faster than it has any right to be. Whether that's good enough for a championship—well, that's up to you guys."
first fic of the new year 🥳
taglist: @harrys-hs-gf1 @ariesmai @lh44girl @wabi-sabi1090 @nayaesworld @strengthandstay @annisassintchaska @greedyjudge2
