All of my self-control flies out of the window when I seeher.She’s the first thing I see when I walk into the gala.
Victoria stands in a makeshift pavilion near the entrance of the room. Objectively, I know there are other people here. Other women here, some of them pretty.
But they couldn’t hold acandleto her.
Elegant silk drapes tastefully over her slim form in a waterfall of pale green. It would be a conservative dress, if not for the slit snaking up one of her legs, showing a bold flash of her upper thigh. Her dark hair is pinned half-up in an elaborate twist, and the bottom half cascades down her shoulders, teasing the V-neck of her gown. She turns her back to me, and I catch a glimpse of the back of the ensemble—which is held together by a collection of thinstrings. If the dress were two inches lower, it’d show the curve of her ass.
Desire and anger wage a war for supremacy within me. I’m half a moment away from turning into a caveman and dragging Victoria out of here… when I catch a familiar pair of grey eyes staring at me from over her shoulder.
Hunter Aster. The man I saw her with at a restaurant what feels like a lifetime ago. A well-known sociopath in the business world, and apparently, her brother.
His gaze is sharp, analytical, and predatory, almost like a hawk’s. His stare leaves little doubt that he knows who I am and suspects that there’s something going on between me and his sister. Something tells me that, if he doesn’t approve of me, I might have a problem on my hands.
He does not look like he approves of me.
I don’t know if I should go over there and interrupt them, or—
“Asher.” William whoever-the-fuck, the investor I happened to be having dinner with when I first saw Victoria and Hunter, smiles at me. He managed to sneak up on me while my attention was firmly glued to the dilemma in the pavilion.
“William.” I turn to face him, forcing a smile that should pass as semi-friendly.If you want an upgrade package, play nice. “How is your wife?”
“Good, good,” he replies warmly. “She’s in London with our daughter—they managed to secure an invitation for dinner with your father. Meredith is simplybesideherself…”
My father. Even though I’m in a completely different industry from him, I can’t seem to escape his ghost—or his shadow. No matter what I do, there will always be a pretentious, stuck-up investor who sees me as the son of a famous painter, not as a premier Formula One driver.
Just as I’m about to utter a rebuke, I catch a glimpse of Elio across the room, who’s chatting up Sterling. His biggest sponsor.
I need to play the game. If I recall correctly, William’s never been closed off to direct sponsorships, but he doesn’t quite favor Elio enough to sponsor him—and I’ve never made myself a favorable option, either.
No matter how much it makes me want to put a fist through the wall, now’s as good a time as any to change that.
“Speaking of my father, have I ever had a chance to talk to you about my driving career’s tie to the precise chaos of any artform?”
“No.” William looks deeply intrigued. “I’d love to hear about it. Let’s get a drink at the bar…”
Twenty minutes and a double whisky later, William’s decidedly warmed up to me, and has even started calling meson.My reflex is to tell him to go fuck himself, that I’mnobody’s“son”, but I let it slide. I need him far more than he needs me.
I imagine gaining a sponsor might endear me to Ilya, maybe even enough to make him forgive the Elio incident.
Speaking of Elio, that asshole begins winding his way through the crowd and towards me.
William squeezes my shoulders. My jaw tightens. “I’ll have my people get in touch with your manager. I’d love to talk again soon regarding Gaston business, and your career.”
Speaking of my manager, I should probably unblock him and stop ghosting him. I’m now firmly back in touch with Gio, but I’ve been dodging him for half a year. Now’s the time to change that, especially if I’m about to pick up a major sponsor. William might not look or sound like much, but he’s the owner of ahugechain of cleaning products that are featured in every imaginable store, from grocery to Costco. I have other smaller sponsors, of course, but none that could stack up to him.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” Elio growls instead of giving me a reasonable greeting. “This ismyevent.”
“Really?” I twirl my empty glass in my hands. “Here, I thought everyone showed up for the tax write-off. And the baby turtles.”
“You know what I mean,” Elio hisses. “You’re not supposed to be here.Ido these events—you sulk at home like a fucking loser.”
“Not anymore.” I meet his defiant stare with a bored one of my own. “You can try to push me out, I suppose. Try to make a scene, or whine to Ilya. But wait.” I smile. “Ilya’s the one who sent me here.”
Anger flashes through Elio’s eyes when he realizes that I'm going to start getting similar opportunities to him. And now that I’ve woken the fuck up and made some decisions, I’ll actually starttakingthem.
Elio’s only ever seen me at my worst, or occasionally when I’m mediocre. Now that I’m trying to bring my A-game, he’ll have the option of either getting on board or suffering. He only got the position of first driver because I wouldn’t pull my head out of my ass and make a real effort.
His contract’s also up for renewal this season. If he doesn’t step up, I’ll leave him in the dust—and all of his shiny sponsorships won’t save him then. At best, he’ll become second driver somewhere else.
