“That is what I’ve been saying for the last two seasons!” Noah roars. “You need to—”
I’m across the room in the flash, hand fisted in Noah’s shirt, nose-to-nose with him. “You want to say that to my face?” I snarl.
Soren clears his throat pointedly, and I understand that if I don’t back off now, I’ll be kicked out of the room. I might not care enough to change my driving, but I still care enough about being in the sport that I know better than to ignore the warning. I release Noah with a shove, then mockingly wipe invisible lint from his shoulder. “Sorry. Was just trying to make sure his shirt is as pristine as this team’s image.”
Ilya sighs, raising a hand to rub the bridge of his nose. “The car is not our best—”
“Not our best?It hasn’t had a major upgrade package since I joined Gaston.” I sweep a flat stare across the room. “Two years ago.”
“If you played nice with the media, that might be a different story,” Soren says. “You’re not takinganyof your responsibilities seriously.”
“Playing nice with the media isn’t a responsibility; it’s a joke.”
“We don’t have the funding,” Ilya says emphatically. “Not foryou. Even the funding for Elio is slim, and he’s a fan-favorite and media darling.”
“And yet, you gave Elio something that isn’t a piece of shit.”
“His car is far from perfect,” Ilya says tersely. “But he makes the most out of it. You, on the other hand, are not. You should be holding the midfield at the veryleast,Asher. Is placing last as some form of protest really worth losing your seat on the F1 circuit? You have to stop driving in a way that worked five years ago, and start driving the way you shouldnow.”
Herein lies the fundamental problem. F1 has changed, and I have not followed its evolution as closely as others. Probably because I’m the only one who understands that, while cars are advancing, the technical skillset of drivers are rapidly declining—and I refuse to devalue myself.
I know that despite my grievances with the car, it couldtechnicallybe driven better. Just not by me. Not unless I havehugeincentives.
“Put me as first driver—”
“Absolutely not. You’ll make a fool of us all,” Soren says. “Now, I believe you have several post-race interviews to attend to. I expect you to make all of them, and tosmile.”
It’s not a question, and I know team leadership is reaching the end of their ropes with me. I grit my teeth and nod. He wants me to smile? If that’s what it takes to avoid these four, that’s what I’ll do. I’ll be seeing more than enough of them for the rest of the season.
“I have a request,” I grunt.
“You—youhave a request?” Noah says, before falling into a coughing fit. The idiot choked on the force of his anger.
Huge surprise.
“Yes,Ihave arequest.” I turn my glare to Declan. “Fire the intern.”
Declan squints for a moment, as if trying to remember who I’m talking about. He’d have to be as dumb as Noah not to know—not only because she got the dressing-down of the century from Ilya, but because she is absolutely fuckingstunning.
Objectivelyspeaking.
Raven-black hair that glints blue in the sun. Big, steely grey eyes. Full, strawberry-tinted lips that I wouldn’t mind wrapped around my co—
“No,” Ilya says. “Miss Linden could be useful to the team. If she fails this season, she’s out.”
“She’s already failed. You said she wasn’t here for setup,” I remind him.
“You should be counting your own failures, not focusing on those of anintern,” Noah snaps.
Soren rolls his eyes. Declan sighs. Ilya briefly tilts his head heavenwards, shaking his head at whatever deity might be paying attention to him.
“This isn’t up for discussion,” he says. “If Declan reports that her performance is abysmal moving forward, I’ll adjust accordingly, but that is really none of your business. Now, you’re dismissed. We all have interviews to suffer through.”
“No, no, no!” Our PR and media coordinator catches up with me as I try to slip away after two interviews to lick my wounds in private, and punch a body bag with Noah’s face plastered on it until my knuckles are cracked and bleeding. “We still have the team press conference!” he cries dramatically.
Elio chooses that moment to appear in the hallway, shooting me an extremely punchable smile. “You wouldn’t want to miss it, would you, Lawrence? I heard Soren ordered you to attend. I’d hate to see you become even more of an outcast than you already are.”
I know a challenge when I hear one. Usually, I’d avoid rising to his taunts, but right now… well. I did tell Soren that I’d sit my ass in front of the cameras and smile, and I’m a man of my word.
