“Yes.” Ilya nods. “We’ve also been chatting a bit about your algorithm. I assume the programming’s finished, and it’s fully functional?”
I hesitate, then nod. “Yes. But… the algorithm is what suggested green tyres—”
“Which was the correct strategy,” Declan mutters, looking up. “I’ve been over the numbers and race stats repeatedly. You made the right call.” He returns to reading.
I already knew that, but it’s nice to hear someone else affirm it. “The glaring vulnerability was that I hadn’t accounted for rivalries. I’ve gone ahead and inputted those that need to be considered for suggestions.”
“Excellent. I assume you’ll be using it for races moving forward?”
The pain returns and redoubles, leaving me breathless. Ilya told me that Asher had demanded I be removed as his engineer a few days ago… but the head engineer assured me that I’d still have a place on the pit wall to consult and strategize.
The thing is, I only wanted on that wall to help Asher, but he doesn’t want my help. He doesn’t wantme.
“I will,” I agree. “About that…”
“Yes?” Ilya arches an eyebrow.
I must be a truly lovesick, idiotic fool, because my next words surprise even me. But I guess that’s the thing about love; it’s not beholden to reason or rationality. That’s why I’ve made pointed effort to avoid it… until now.
“You need to give Asher his upgrade package before Montreal.”
Ilya’s expression hardens. He gives me a look that warns me to tread very, very carefully. “Do I?” His tone is hard, but there’s lingering amusement at the edges, as if I’m a toddler who’s just demanded the keys to a kingdom. Insolent but cute.
Might as well go for the kill while I’m at it. Asher doesn’t deserve my help, but he needs it anyways. And I love him too fucking much not to give it, even when he’s cleaved my soul in two.
“Yes. He was top ten. In fact, he was P9. He’s earned it.”
“He didn’t finish the race—”
“Because of a crash caused by a vindictive driver who’s now been suspended for the entire season.” That’s one of the harshest punishments that can be given in this sport. I lean forward, feeling invigorated. “Asher worked his assoff to stick to the terms of your deal, and by all accounts,he did. You need to give him the upgrade package so he can get Gaston a podium. It’s been six years since your last one.”
Soren’s jaw clenches, and he casts me an irritated look. His tenure began six years ago; the fact that the team hasn’t gotten a podium since is a rather poor reflection on him. I imagine the reminder hurts.
“Why areyouthe one asking me for this?” Ilya challenges. “Asher is a big boy. He can speak for himself.”
“We’re all painfully well aware that communication has never been his strong suit. That’s why you made me his unofficial liaison.”
“A role you held for less than a month before he fired you.”
That one hurts badly enough that Ialmostlose my resolve… but then I see the challenge and curiosity in Ilya’s eyes. He’s pushing me to see if I’ll bend.
The answer is I will not. Not when I’m fighting for the right thing.
“That’s irrelevant. Why don’t we go into the reasoning for your conditions, shall we? You wanted Asher to make nice with the team and prove that he will continue to put in the effort. Every condition was built from those two fundamental requirements for you to feel comfortable investing in him.” I lean forward. “He’s done both. It’s your turn to hold up the end of your bargain.”
“But he didnothold up his end of the bargain. He didn’t—finish—the race.” Ilya’s tone is harsh, but there’s an edge of something that sounds almost… frustrated. Asthough he actually agrees with me and wants to give Asher the upgrade package, but he can’t go against his own word.
Which means I need to use the only leverage I have. It’s a reckless, impulsive move… but it’ll be a deal too good to resist.
“I’ll give you unfettered and exclusive access to utilize my algorithm for the duration of my internship contract,ifyou give him the exact upgrades I drew up for you.” My contract lasts through the end of the season. I intended topersonallyuse my algorithm for Gaston’s benefit, but retain all rights. Giving away free use prevents me from shopping it around to the highest bidder… but that’s temporary. There are still plenty of updates and improvements I want to make before letting others use it.
I tell myself that this is a worthy sacrifice, even though I’m practically handing away my brainchild without asking for any monetary compensation in return. I could sell or license it for enough money to live on comfortably for the rest of my life.
I can still do that after the end of this season.Probably. Hopefully.
Ilya looks at Soren. Soren stares at me with a narrowed, speculating gaze. “Why?” he asks.
I swallow hard.Because I’m a sucker and will still do the right thing even when heartbroken. Because I want Asher to succeed so desperately I’m willing to risk my own dignity, even after he hit me where it hurt most. Because I love him.
