Ilya relaxes. “That’s what she’s here to do. If you’d comply and give her what she needs, I’m sure she’d back off.”
“You’re not exactly known for being great company,” Oliver pitches in.
I cock my head to the side, appraising him. “Remind me who the hell you are?”
“I’m—”
I snap my fingers, cutting him off. “Oh, I just remembered.Irrelevant. Conduct yourself as such.”
“Asher.” Ilya’s tone is coated in warning. He’s right; there’s no need for me to be such an asshole. That’s never stopped me before, though.
“His proximity to irrelevance is much farther than your fast track to obsoletion,” Declan mutters.
Ilya whirs back to face the screen. “Perhaps, but Lawrence did decently on laps ten through fifteen. Faster than he’s been on the track since we’ve met him.” He casts me an appraising glance over his shoulder. “Care to explain?”
I stopped thinking about the pressure and just let myself enjoy it. I also cast all thoughts of strategy and frilly fucking modes out of my mind and simplydrove. The laps he named are the first laps I really hit my flow in.
Instead of explaining that, I say, “No.” I doubt I’ll be able to replicate it on the tracks.
Before I can be subjected to further interrogation, I stalk out of the room and make my way to the analyst’s cave.
I find Victoria manning a hidden desk in the corner of the room, plugging away on a keyboard and glaring at her computer monitor.
“Intern,” I call out, closing the distance between us. I prop a hip on her desk and glare down at her.
“Asshole,” comes her knee-jerk response. She looks up and pins me in place with her grey eyes, which are currently a light shade of a slightly overcast sky. “I’ve already been told I’m no longer trackside for races. What else do you want?”
What elsedoI want? Now that I’m in the same room as her, I’ve forgotten what brought me here. I’m too busy staring at her.
She’s dressed simply in torn jeans and a ratty shirt—a far cry from the corporate-elegant getup she was wearing last night—and she looks very much in her element.
And hot. I can admit, privately, that she isextremelyfucking hot. Her dark hair is tied back in a sleek pony tail, and her lips shimmer with some sort of balm.
Right, last night. That’s why I’m here. Not to stare at her, but to berate her.
“Noticed you escaped the chains of your desk early last night,” I comment. “For future reference, leaving before 7pm is a great way to get kicked off the team, fast. You’ll see that few people here have a personal life during the season—and that no one aside from Elio wastes his time on dating.”
She squints at me, brows furrowed in confusion. “Dating?” she echoes.
“Correct. I don’t care if the guy last night was as rich as God. Your focus should not be on—”
“You think I was on adate?” she repeats.
I don’t want to think about thatat all. The idea of her dating feels personally offensive; her time should be dedicated solely to her work here. Tome.
“Are you part parrot?” I query pleasantly. “Is that why you’re regurgitating what I’ve already said?”
She grimaces. “Please don’t sayregurgitating.”
“Then get your shit together and cut your love life. You shouldn’t have time for it.”
“Idon’thave time for it.” She rolls her eyes and shakes her head. “Are you seriously here because you’re up in a tizzy over what I did theoneevening I left at a reasonable hour?”
I point at her. “The problem is that youshouldn’tbe leaving at a reasonable hour.”
“Says the driver who rarely makes it in here.”
I smile. “That’s the difference between us, sweetheart. I’m the driver. You’re the intern.”
