My sperm-donor disinheriting me before I was born.
My scholarship going to another studentafterI’d accepted it.
Stallion passing me up for a nepo-hire.
“And I’m the future president,” Delilah volleys back. “You’ve got major abandonment issues which have slowly killed the way you value yourself. I clocked them when I first met you. That’swhyyou settled for Todd. He was there, he liked you, and he was convenient—andhe complimented you.”
I have no good response for that. I’m too busy trying to mentally discredit her… and realizing I can’t.
“In the meantime, work on your nerdy system thing,” she recovers. “How’s that going, by the way?”
I’m so grateful for the topic change, I don’t argue. Anything’s better than considering the validity of her words. I give her a brief, general breakdown of my progress.
“Hmm,” she hums once I’m done. “Once it is ready and in working order, you’ll need to license it.”
A lump forms in my throat. I refuse to give much thought to what I’ll do once it’s done, because all of my energy has gone into making sure itcanbe done. I think today proved that it’s feasible and close to being complete—as soon as I figure out thefuckingemotions part of it. Andthenwhat?
“How… do I go about that, again?”
“That’d be licensing and contract law. Which happens to be one of my specialties.” Delilah delicately clears her throat. “Aside from licensing, I assume you’ll need investors?”
I pause. “I guess. But… for what?”
“For turning a bunch of techy bullshit into a licensablesoftware, idiot.” She sighs. “I feel like you’re supposed to know this.”
“Hey, I graduated with an engineering degree, not a business one.” I push a hand through my hair, a renewed flutter of nerves making me jittery. At least they’re not about Asher this time around.
The sheer number of things I need to figure out personally and professionally is overwhelming. I don’t know where to start—I have norealrelationship experience, or at least no experience navigating such intense attraction, and my business know-how is completely nonexistent.
“Lucky for you, you have a friend that makes a living on exploiting loopholes and taking people’s money,” Delilah says. “Let me know when you’re ready, and I’ll see what I can do. In the interim, pull your head out of your ass. Go get Asher if that’s what you want, or don’t if it isn’t. And,for god’s sake, finish the algorithm you’ve been talking about foryears.”
She hangs up on me.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Victoria
Bright and early on Tuesday morning, I drag my ass into headquarters. I haven’t texted Asher and he hasn’t texted me, but I have spent most of my time since race-night obsessing over our kiss, typing out messages, and then deleting them.
I know I’m being a coward, but then, so is he. It seems neither of us have the balls to make the first move.
I don’t expect to run into Asher in HQ at6amafter nearly a day of travel, so my first instinct when I see him dragging his feet down a hallway is to duck into the nearest room—which happens to be a maintenance closet—and hide.
Unluckily, my tactic bears no fruit. He must have supernatural hearing or vision, because I hear his footsteps stop. Then, slowly, they start coming closer. I feel like I’m in a goddamn thriller movie with a serial killer stalking me as I flatten myself against the wall and squeeze my eyes shut, internally chanting,if I can’t see him, he can’t see me.
“Really, Intern? You’re resorting tohiding from menow?” he sounds equal parts amused and angry.
I open one eye and cast a horrified gaze sideways. He’s leaning against the doorway, arms crossed over his chest, lookingfartoo good in a simple black shirt and matching jeans. God,whydoes he have to be so hot? Andwhydo I have to be so attracted to him? He’s like a drug; gives the best high, but once you take a hit, you’re hooked for life.
“I was just…” I look around the room, trying to come up with a plausible explanation.
“Don’t bother.” Now Asher sounds just angry. “If you’rethatregretful over the kiss, I’ll never bring it up again.” His usual glare returns as he stares at me, and suddenly I feel desperate to correct him.
I don’t regret anything, but I’m terrified. Of you. Ofus. Of this whole new world of desire I didn’t even know existed.
I part my lips to say the words, but nothing comes out.
“Right.” His jaw clenches. He clears his throat, rakes a hand through his hair, and makes an effort to sound professional. “I’m going into the sim suite to rerun the race. You can… join me, I guess.”
