Chapter Eleven #2
“Yes, Asher, why do you ask?” Ilya takes a step forward. “You seem to have an… unusual fixation on her.”
He’s right. I absolutely do. I have no idea what the origins of that fixation are, only that it’s composed mainly of anger and a desire to make sure her thoughts are on me, even if those thoughts are miserable.
It probably has something to do with how she introduced herself to me.
I’ll make sure the shitty first impression she made haunts her.
“She’s the one constantly seeking me out and trying to lecture me on F1.”
“You could use a lecture,” Declan quips. “Maybe not from the most junior member of our team, but still.”
“Is she conducting herself inappropriately?” Ilya asks, eyes narrowing.
I recognize this moment for the opportunity it is. If I say yes, that she’s coming onto me, he’ll fire her on the spot. It’d be a lie, of course, but what would it matter? My original wish would be fulfilled, and she’d be gone. I’d probably never see her again.
And that just doesn’t sit right with me. I’d rather she be in my proximity, even if only on the periphery. I might not want her close to me, and I certainly don’t want her anywhere near the race track, but I don’t want her gone anymore, either.
When did that happen?
“No, she’s just incessant in trying to pry as much data from me as possible.”
Ilya relaxes. “That’s what she’s here to do. If you’d comply and give her what she needs, I’m sure she’d back off.”
“You’re not exactly known for being great company,” Oliver pitches in.
I cock my head to the side, appraising him. “Remind me who the hell you are?”
“I’m—”
I snap my fingers, cutting him off. “Oh, I just remembered. Irrelevant. Conduct yourself as such.”
“Asher.” Ilya’s tone is coated in warning. He’s right; there’s no need for me to be such an asshole. That’s never stopped me before, though.
“His proximity to irrelevance is much farther than your fast track to obsoletion,” Declan mutters.
Ilya whirs back to face the screen. “Perhaps, but Lawrence did decently on laps ten through fifteen. Faster than he’s been on the track since we’ve met him.” He casts me an appraising glance over his shoulder. “Care to explain?”
I stopped thinking about the pressure and just let myself enjoy it. I also cast all thoughts of strategy and frilly fucking modes out of my mind and simply drove. The laps he named are the first laps I really hit my flow in.
Instead of explaining that, I say, “No.” I doubt I’ll be able to replicate it on the tracks.
Before I can be subjected to further interrogation, I stalk out of the room and make my way to the analyst’s cave.
I find Victoria manning a hidden desk in the corner of the room, plugging away on a keyboard and glaring at her computer monitor.
“Intern,” I call out, closing the distance between us. I prop a hip on her desk and glare down at her.
“Asshole,” comes her knee-jerk response. She looks up and pins me in place with her grey eyes, which are currently a light shade of a slightly overcast sky. “I’ve already been told I’m no longer trackside for races. What else do you want?”
What else do I want? Now that I’m in the same room as her, I’ve forgotten what brought me here. I’m too busy staring at her.
She’s dressed simply in torn jeans and a ratty shirt—a far cry from the corporate-elegant getup she was wearing last night—and she looks very much in her element.
And hot. I can admit, privately, that she is extremely fucking hot. Her dark hair is tied back in a sleek pony tail, and her lips shimmer with some sort of balm.
Right, last night. That’s why I’m here. Not to stare at her, but to berate her.
“Noticed you escaped the chains of your desk early last night,” I comment. “For future reference, leaving before 7pm is a great way to get kicked off the team, fast. You’ll see that few people here have a personal life during the season—and that no one aside from Elio wastes his time on dating.”
She squints at me, brows furrowed in confusion. “Dating?” she echoes.
“Correct. I don’t care if the guy last night was as rich as God. Your focus should not be on—”
“You think I was on a date?” she repeats.
I don’t want to think about that at all. The idea of her dating feels personally offensive; her time should be dedicated solely to her work here. To me.
“Are you part parrot?” I query pleasantly. “Is that why you’re regurgitating what I’ve already said?”
She grimaces. “Please don’t say regurgitating.”
“Then get your shit together and cut your love life. You shouldn’t have time for it.”
“I don’t have time for it.” She rolls her eyes and shakes her head. “Are you seriously here because you’re up in a tizzy over what I did the one evening I left at a reasonable hour?”
I point at her. “The problem is that you shouldn’t be leaving at a reasonable hour.”
“Says the driver who rarely makes it in here.”
I smile. “That’s the difference between us, sweetheart. I’m the driver. You’re the intern.”
She reaches up to rub the bridge of her nose. “I don’t even know what to say to you right now.”
Say that you should’ve been out with me instead of Rich McDickson.
Where the fuck are these thoughts coming from? The intern might be hot, but she is not my type. She’s too mouthy and too… I don’t know. Just not for me.
“Say that you’ll do your job.”
“The job you keep trying to get me fired from?” her voice is climbing in pitch. She drops her hand from her face and glares right back at me. “One second, you’re getting me forced out of the pit lane, and the next, you’re telling me I shouldn’t have free time.”
I didn’t say free time, per se. I said dating time. But, the idea of her having neither isn’t repulsive.
“I’m not interested in getting you fired.”
“Since when?”
Since I decided that fucking with you is more fun. “No more dates,” I grit out. Before I can make even more of a fool of myself, I walk away, leaving her to stew at her desk—exactly where she ought to be.
On my way out of headquarters, I’m stopped by Ilya. Jesus, is there no avoiding him? He’s like a poltergeist, permanently showing up wherever I am.
“Heard from William,” he says. “Sounds like he enjoyed your company last night, though he mentioned an abrupt departure. Something about you chasing after Hunter Aster?”
Is that the name of the dickwad Victoria was with? And more importantly, why the fuck does Ilya know who he is?
“Who?”
“Hunter Aster,” Ilya repeats slowly. “The hedge fund mogul. The one with a massive Forbes profile last year?” he frowns. “If you don’t know who he is, why were you after him?”
“I wasn’t. I was just sick of small talk. William spent the night blabbering about an exhibition he attended in London and how much he loves the wife he’s cheating on.”
“Well, that’s a shame,” Ilya drawls. “Getting an Aster as a sponsor wouldn’t hurt. Probably better father than son, though—the old man is worth five billion.”
I have absolutely no interest in hearing about Victoria’s wealthy prospects. And yet, I can’t help but mutter, “Didn’t peg her for a gold-digger.”
“Who?” Ilya looks confused.
“Victoria. She was with Hunter.”
“Oh.” Ilya chuckles. “I very much doubt they were at dinner because she’s courting his money.”
An itch of anger spreads over the back of my neck. “Then why?”
“Because he’s her brother.”
Wait. What?
“Hunter Aster is Victoria Linden’s brother?” I repeat.
Ilya nods. “She hasn’t mentioned it, but it popped up on her background check.
They have the same mother and father, though her parents were divorced by the time they had her.
She’s the only one of her father’s children without his name.
It was a big scandal in the news when it happened.
” He shrugs. “I think Soren approved her hire in hopes that she’d bring family money with her, and I didn’t feel the need to say otherwise, but I doubt that’ll be the case.
She’s here because I want her algorithm…
if she ever gets around to finishing it.
Which is beginning to look less and less likely. ”
His phone starts ringing; he pulls it out of his pocket and frowns down at it. “I have to take this. Good work today—get into the simulator more often.”
He leaves me reeling with two realizations. First; the intern let me think she was out on a date just to fuck with me. Second; I might’ve finally met someone with a family as fucked as mine.
Huh.