Fuck.
My phone starts blowing up shortly after the conference. I don’t get called into anyone’s office, at least, which I take to mean that I won’t be getting in trouble for being name-dropped to the press.
It’s very possible, maybe evenlikelyno one will care that an F1 driver gave a shoutout to a member of his technical team. I manage to convince myself of that as I scurry out of HQ and go home.
I don’t even make it into my apartment before a text from Hunter comes through, with a link to an article published minutes ago. A chill settles over me, like a winter freeze right before a storm, as I click the link and scan the text.
Damnit. It’s focused in on everything Asher said during the conference, and it mentions me not just by first name—but bylast name, as well. It talks about my goddamneducationat MIT and speculates about my road to F1.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
If this becomes a trending story, it’s only a matter of time before sharks smell blood in the water and make the link between me and Reynard. Him siring a bastard was big news, but that was two decades ago, and the publichas a laughably short attention span. It’s possible that nothing will come of it, and I’ll only be interesting for a single article.
I hope to hell that’s the case.
Delilah calls me as soon as I’m through my apartment door.
“What thehelldid he do?” she hisses.
I press a hand to my forehead, take a moment to mourn the temporary loss of my anonymity, and collapse on the ratty couch that the previous owners left behind for me. “Name-dropped me.”
“I don’t mean that. I mean what fuckup did he commit?”
I frown. “What?”
“That conference was streamed live oninternational television. I assume Asher giving you credit was his way of apologizing for something he did. I am asking you what it was, and whether I need to get the duct tape and shovels ready.”
Oh, Jesus Christ. I squeeze my eyes shut. “He didn’t do anything, Lilah. I’ve been…”avoiding him like the plague.“We haven’t really talked since the kiss. Not about anything related to it.” Aside from that moment in the maintenance room, which did not go over well.
“Oh.” I can almost hear Delilah’s frown in her voice. “Oh, shit. He did that for you for no reason? He’s a total goner.”
I’mthisclose to slamming my head against the nearest wall. “He’s not a goner. He did something decent for once—that doesn’t mean anything.”
“He sung your praises, and it wasn’t even for the sake of an apology. Total. Goner.” She makes a noise of disgust. “It’s sickeningly sweet.”
I crack one eye open. “You think?”
“What I think is that you need to fuck him already. Keith concurs, by the way.”
Both my eyes open wide at that. “Have you two been gossiping behind my back?”
“We even have a bet going,” she confirms. “If you cave within the next week, he wins, so try to hold out a bit longer. I’m now betting five large.”
I sigh wistfully, gazing around my shithole apartment. “I envy your salary.”
“You have a phenomenally rich father. You’ll be fine.”
“Reynard is not my father. I don’t expect to ever see a dime from him, and I don’t want to.” Unless Hunter is right and me forming a relationship with Reynard will be the turning point for getting written into the will… which I doubt, and I don’t particularly want. I’m not interested in Reynard making up for twenty-four years of abandonment with cash.
“You have a phenomenally rich boyfriend who’s obviously head over heels for you. Did you know he hasgenerational wealth?His parents and grandparents areloaded.You’ll be fine.”
I’ve heard gossip about his famous-painter father and ruthless-businessman grandfather. But I don’t particularly care that he comes from money.
In any case, “Asher is not my boyfriend.”
“I have another bet going with Keith over that.”
I thump my head against the ratty back of my couch. “I hate you.”
