“No, I’m—”
“Insane!” he interjects. “My god, Asher. You find a woman who accepts all of your endless flaws and your boorish behavior, and you push her away? Who else could possibly tolerate you?”
“You really know how to make a guy feel good about himself,” I say drily.
“You will answer for this!” Gio snaps. “What could possibly compel you to—”
“Because if I didn’t do it, she would’ve!”The admission is torn out of me on a roar, and I’m left panting in the aftermath, fuming. All the energy that my drinking binge siphoned out of me comes crashing back. “Everyone wants something from me, Giovanni—especiallywomen. A fun night. Fame.Money. That’s what they care about. You’re right; no one would be able to tolerateme. Certainly notsomeone with a smart mouth, a work ethic that puts the world to shame, and a desire to do the right thing. I’m not stupid enough to believe it would last. She would’ve gotten sick of me eventually. I may have handled the aftermath of my crash wrong, but breaking up was the right thing.”
Liar, liar, pants on fire,a voice in my head taunts. I shove that voice in a coffin and bury it under ten feet of frozen soil.
“You silly boy.” Gio gives me a look I’ve never seen before. True, resounding disappointment. “You had a woman willing to fight for you, and you won’t fight for her.”
My jaw clenches. “No one ever pulls through for me in the long run.”
“You, you, you.” Gio rolls his eyes. “Not everything isaboutyou, Asher. Have you ever paused to consider such a notion? Sometimes, things can be aboutotherpeople. For whatever insane reason, this woman wanted you and fought tooth and nail to help you. When a bleak moment comes, you discredit all of that and toss her aside like yesterday’s leftovers?” he shakes his head. “Perhaps she is better off without you, then. But areyoubetter off withouther?”
…Fuck.
Chapter Forty-Seven
Victoria
Heartbreak is a funny thing. I’ve felt it before in my life—when my Mom got her diagnosis. When I found out I was the only disinherited child of a man who split his fortune among his countless other offspring. When Sal died, which left a permanent hole in my heart.
None of those things caused the same deep, resounding, endless ache in my heart that losing Asher does. I’m used to being disappointed, and I’ve felt grief before… but never quite like this.
I barely got to have him, and then he slipped away.
I move through my work like a zombie. My algorithm is just about finished and fully functional, which affords me some extra hours to sleep at night… but instead of resting, I obsessively run and rerun the race and the crash. I iterate ideas for future expansion of my software. I work with others at HQ and even run simulations with Elio several times, but all of it’s done on autopilot. I’m good at my job so I get things done, but there’s no moreexcitementin the actions. It’s all just… bleh.
Keith freaks out when he hears about the breakup, while Delilah politely offers to castrate and disembowel Asher for hurting me. I turn her down and let Keith’s platitudes slide off me.
Hunter blows up my phone. Somehow, he uses his worldwide net of connections to figure out that Asher hurt me and offers to destroy him. I nip that bullshit in the bud. I might be devastated, but I’m not vengeful. I’m just…sad.
On my fifth day back in the home, Ilya calls me into his office. I half-expect him to fire me for being such a buzzkill around headquarters, and Ialmostpretend to go home sick to avoid the meeting… but I muster up my courage and head in.
Declan’s in his office, along with Soren. I’ve seen Soren before but haven’t spoken much with him, aside from my initial interview. At any other time, being faced with the three most important people in leadership might frighten me, but I’m too tired to feel frightened.
“Ah, Victoria.” Ilya waves me in. “Please, join us.”
Declan looks up from the file he’s reading in front of Ilya’s bookshelf, offers me a curt nod, and continues reading. Soren watches me with a perceptive, hawkish gaze.
I must be getting fired—otherwise, why would all of them be here? I try to summon some anxiety… but it doesn’t come.
“Is there a problem?” I slip into a seat.
“No. The FIA has finally made their decision regarding the crash—it took some time because the new evidencewe submitted directly contradicted their initial data, and they had to verify.”
That manages to cut through the haze encompassing me. Ulrich deserves to rot in fucking hell for what he did. He could’ve gotten Asherkilled.
“And?”
“Ulrich has been suspended for the season, and some of his prior actions are under close scrutiny. I’d be surprised if Thorsten doesn’t rid itself of him.”
Ishouldbe elated that justice has been served… but I’m only mildly relieved, and even that’s fleeting.
I manage to muster some strength when I say, “That’s great to hear. His recklessness could’ve had a much more horrible and final outcome.” Pain seeps out of my heart and bathes my chest at the mere thought.
