Goddamnit, Ineedher. I’m not too proud to admit that having her in my ear is thereasonI succeeded, and I’d rather get mauled by a bear than deal with Ethan’s insufferable fucking voice issuing shitty orders.
I’m… I’m not the best driver I can be without her. The realization is cutting, but also gives me incredible clarity, because it is fundamentally true.
“No,” I say quickly. “No, that won’t work for me.”
“It wasn’t a question,” Ilya clarifies. “I was giving you a courtesy heads up—”
“Then I’m not racing, and you can put in a goddamn reserve driver.” I step forward, uncaring that we’re in the lobby of a hotel, where any number of reporters can spot us. We’ve been here for days—we had free practices today. I didn’t think much of Victoria not being in my ear because Ilya and Declan were; they tend to control practices, but leave qualifying and race-day to engineers.
Ilya cocks his head, arching an eyebrow. Everything about his stare tells me to back down, but I won’t. I can’t. If I drive with Ethan in my ear, then the upgrade package won’t matter. None of it will matter. Does that make me a liability to the team? Maybe.
But me and Victoria together… we’re Gaston’s best shot.
“Are you sure this is the route you want to take?” Ilya murmurs. “You just landed a fancy sponsor. It would be a shame if he had to withdraw his support so soon, on account of you conducting yourself like an absolute idiot.”
“Iaman idiot,” I growl. “And a moron, and a fool. I am every bad thing that I ever was without her—including a fuckingterribledriver. Pulling out would be doing you a service.”
“You’re telling me that the sole reason for your recent successes has been a lowly intern?”
“Call her a lowly intern again.” I murder him with my eyes, uncaring that I’m threatening my boss. “See what happens.”
“Is that a veiledthreat?” Ilya appears genuinely shocked. I’ve threatened team leadership before, but never him. I respect Ilya too much to cross that boundary,or Idid…up until now. I won’t tolerateanyoneinsulting Victoria.
“What veil?” I ask dryly.
The corner of Ilya’s lips quirk up. Slowly, at the pace of molasses, an easy smile overtakes his lips. “It’s about damn time,” he murmurs with a nod and quiet laugh, as if he’s sharing a private joke with himself.
My head jerks back. “What?”
“You. Realizing that you can’t do this alone. That you’re not invincible, and that you’re capable ofso much morewith the right team. I’ll let Victoria know of the stakes.” His stare flattens. “But I can’t make any promises. I won’t force her.”
Then all I can do is pray that she has my backone more time… or I might lose the upgrades, the rankings, and the sponsors—none of which I would’ve gotten without her.
Victoria
“Deargod,you look like shit,” Delilah says, raking a critical gaze over me. “And what the hell are youwearing?”
Compared to her perpetual corporate-elegant look,everyonelooks like shit. Even fresh off the plane, she’s wearing a dusty pink skirt suit that shows offjustenough cleavage to be enticing, and three-inch stilettos that screamtry me andI’llbe the one fuckingyou. Hermulticolored blonde hair is up in a beautiful French twist, and she looks ready for a runway.
In addition to being insanely hot, my best friend happens to be a stone-cold diva who sure knows how to make one hell of an entrance. I haven’t seen her in person for the better part of a year, but I could not be happier that she’s here with me. Even if her love language is made up of mostly insults.
“Lilah.” I pull her across the threshold to my hotel room and engulf her in a crushing hug. She drops her designer bag and hugs me right back, the tightness of her embrace telling me what her lips never will; that she’s missed me, too.
She pulls back and holds my shoulders. “Jesus. Have you hadanysleep since the breakup?”
I release a slightly watery laugh. “No.”
“Hmm. Well, we can fix that. Do you have anything to do for the rest of the day?”
Sulk and bemoan my status as a single woman. “Not particularly, no.” I’m free until qualifying tomorrow—Ilya excused me from the finishing touches of setup so I could work on my algorithm.
“Good. I drew up the licensing agreement you asked for.” Her expression sours. “Have I mentioned what a fucking idiot you are for doing a handshake deal?” she shakes her head. “What would you do without me?”
“Wallow in misery.” I lead her over to the small dining table, where she pulls two folders bulging with papers from her bag and sets them down. She seats herself in a comfortable cushioned chair, neatly crosses her legs, anddrawls, “Let’s get to it, shall we? We have a lot to go over and not enough time.”
I arch an eyebrow. “You think this will takeall night?”
“Perhaps. Sit your pretty ass down andlisten. These pages are filled mostly with legalese and bullshit that only attorneys understand, so I’m going to give you a Licensing Contracts for Dummies version.”
