Less than a minute later,I finish the race in P13.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Victoria
Elio, P17; Asher, P13.
Everyone on the team is beside themselves with excitement. They act like we’ve just gotten a podium.
I guess having a driver flirt with top 10islike a podium for them… but it’s also just the beginning.
I need something to calm my racing heart as the drivers return to the lane and start climbing out, so I take a beat to power on my phone and check it. There are texts from Delilah and Keith—both of whom are in the loop about the significance of this race, and both of whom congratulate me—along with several messages from my brother. Only one of them pertains to the race—I want your algorithm, I’ll quadruple your yearly salary/month while you’re DEVELOPING it—the rest of them are regarding Reynard’s rapidly-approaching engagement party.
I ignore Hunt. He knows I won’t take his offer,andI won’t let Reynard take up space in my mind today. We fought a good fight, and we came out pretty high in theoverall placements. I’m damn proud of the team as a whole…andI’m in a good negotiating position for getting Asher an upgrade package. I figure I can broach the topic with Ilya when we’re back at HQ.
But first…
“Intern.” Asher and I meet at the garage several minutes later, amidst the chaos and mayhem of the post-race craze. “What made you so hesitant to recommend I attack Novak?”
“Because, historically, you at your best is also you at your most reckless.” My fingers tighten around my tablet. “What made you think he’d blink first?” There was a moment when both of them nearly drove each other to a crash—Asher should’ve backed down to preserve safety, but he didn’t. He somehow called that Novak would back off first.
Asher shrugs. “He has a wife and kids.”
I pull my bottom lip into my mouth.There’sthe calculated, callous, but not necessarily cruel F1 driver that the team needs.
I did my damn best as his engineer, but every move I recommended was up to him to execute—and he did sobrilliantly. I think if he had Elio’s car, which is multiple major upgrades above his, he could’ve done even better.
Asher’s getting where he needs to be for a podium. We’re still a long way off, but he’s sharpening his skills and his claws. The other ingredient for success is a better car.
His car isn’t necessarilybad. I got to take a peek under the hood during setup, and the mechanics walked methrough its composition and features in incredible detail. But it isn’tgood, either—it’s only decent. It needs to begreatif Asher’s going to podium.
“Lawrence.” Ilya makes himself known. “Press conference in 30. Try not to be a complete prick. After that, come to Soren’s office. Declan and I will be waiting for you.”
He makes the instructions sound like a threat, even though they should becongratulatingAsher on an excellent performance.
“Is that a bad thing?” I ask after Ilya retreats into the throng.
“No. He’ll chew me out for holding back on him, threaten me to keep doing well, and talk next steps.” Asher examines me. “Why? You worried about me?”
My cheeks heat. “Of course not.”Definitely.“I just wouldn’t want you to get sidelined before I get you in the top ten.”
“Beforeyouget me in the top ten.” His lips quirk in amusement. “It’s only been one race. Careful with your confidence. Some people would find it…unattractive.”
My heart sinks. “Do you?”
He pauses. “No. I think it only makes you hotter.” His jaw tightens, and without another word, he melts into the crowd.
Leaving me with my pulse thundering and my panties dampening.
“He saidwhat?” Keith screeches in my ear a few hours later.
We’re on a phone call, and I’m giving him the rundown of the day. Delilah was supposed to join us but got caught up at work.
I grimace. “Take it down a few notches, please. I’m exhausted.”
“I willnottake it down, Victoria! Asher Lawrence is one of the hottest, most eligible bachelors in the world. Do you haveany ideahow many men and women alike have gotten off to pictures of his face? His body?His muscles?”
God, now I need to bleach my earsandmy brain. A bathtub full of it couldn’t scrub that image from my mind… or unwind that knot of irritation in my shoulders. “Too much information. If you’ve jerked off to him—”
