Chapter Thirty-Five #2
Henry starts going through his responsibilities.
I smile stiffly, nod along, and sip my admittedly delicious smoothie.
It sounds like his job is to get treated like the team’s bitch—coffee runs, supply runs, lots of sprinting around the paddock to get some obscure tool that a mechanic or technician needs.
Admittedly, hearing it makes me more grateful for my role. I was only in his position for a single race, and mostly because Asher decided to blame me for his fuckups. Something I know can happen again at any time and easily undo the progress I’ve made.
A prospect that makes me very anxious each time I think about it.
“You okay?” Henry asks. “You seem a bit… stuck in your thoughts.” He smiles nervously. “I’ve asked you a few questions in a row, and you just kept nodding and agreeing with me.”
Oh boy. My cheeks heat, and I offer Henry a slightly awkward smile. “Sorry,” I murmur. “Lots on my mind.”
“I’m sure.” He smiles good-naturedly, letting me know he won’t hold it against me.
“I heard you were Asher’s Race Engineer back in Sakhir.
Your voice got some airtime with the broadcasters.
” The tips of his ears turn red. “This is so weird, but you sounded really good. You know, giving orders.” His face quickly pales, then turns the shade of a ripe tomato.
“Not like—oh god, I don’t mean like that.
Well, I’m sure you’d sound great giving orders in bed too, but I didn’t—”
“Am I interrupting something?”
Cool. Composed. Callous. Hearing Asher’s voice behind me is as much of a surprise as it always is, even though I should be getting used to it now.
He never fails to sneak up on me in the worst possible moments, such as when a relative stranger decides to discuss how good I’d sound giving orders in bed.
Fuck my life.
“Holy shit,” Henry breathes. “You’re—”
“Asher Lawrence.” I can hear the undertone of animosity in Asher’s introduction. “And you are?”
Henry blanches. “Oh. Right. I’m, um—”
“I just realized I don’t care. You can go. I have some technical issues to discuss with my intern.”
“Oh, yes, of course.” Henry hurriedly stands up and grabs his smoothie. I massage my temples with the pads of my fingers, already exhausted with a conversation that hasn’t even started yet.
“You know, I’m genuinely impressed with your ability to find me at the most awkward moments possible,” I comment as Asher slips into Henry’s vacated seat. “I’m starting to think you might be stalking me.”
“Mm.” A half-smile graces his full lips. He reaches across the table and snatches my smoothie. My lips part at the blatant act of thievery, but my surprise morphs into heat as he wraps his lips around my straw and takes an obscenely long drink of the smoothie I paid thirty dollars for.
“For your information, I was in the lobby searching for food. I happened to be in the mood for a smoothie, and I happened to see you flirting with another man.” He sets my smoothie back on the table just a little harder than necessary, underscoring the razor-sharp edge to his tone. “Don’t do it again. I don’t share.”
My eyebrows damn near hit my hairline. “Bold of you to assume that it’s sharing when we’ve been on one date.”
“That date ended with me muffling your screams in a public bathroom.” His smile turns impish when my blush becomes impossible to hide. Damn him for being right, and damn him to hell for knowing how to play me like the world’s easiest fiddle.
“You owe me at least fifteen dollars.” I eye my smoothie, which only has about a third left. “Maybe twenty. That smoothie was thirty bucks, and you just drank two-thirds of it.” I meet his eyes. “In one sip.”
Try as I might to contain myself, I can’t help but imagine what it might be like to experience the talents of his mouth first-hand. My blush intensifies until I’m giving Henry a run for his money.
“I’ll get you another one.” Asher catches my gaze and holds it. “Were you interested in him?”
I pause, brows furrowing. “Who?”
He arches an eyebrow, an amused smile playing on his lips. “The kid who was just flirting with you.”
Oh, Henry. I’d already forgotten about him. Asher has a way of just… making everyone else disappear. I don’t know how he does it, but when he’s around, it’s hard to focus on anything else.
“Does it matter?” I try to keep my tone vague and disinterested, but it’s just a touch too breathy to pass for blasé. Unfortunately, my hormones just can’t help themselves around Asher—they go into overdrive.
“Yes.” Asher’s eyes darken. “I hope you hear me when I say that I—do—not—share.”
I swallow, my mouth suddenly dry. “Tell your famous string of one-night-stands that. You seem happy enough to love ‘em and leave ‘em. Did you keep up with their future hookups, as well?”
I’m not sure why I’m provoking him, but I can’t help myself. Maybe it’s because I can’t quite ignore the niggle of insecurity that I’ll never stack up to his prior conquests. I’m not a supermodel, or actress, or world-famous singer. I’m just me.
“There was never any love to speak of, and no, I didn’t keep up with them. I don’t give a shit who else they’ve fucked.”
I bite my bottom lip. “So what’s the difference?”
“That was then. This is now. And none of them could hold a candle to you.” Asher leans forward, suddenly looking deadly serious.
“I’m not going to play this game with you, or wait until we’ve had a society-approved number of dates before mentioning exclusivity.
I want it now, or this isn’t going to work. ”
Woah. His intensity is overwhelming, but I manage to keep some composure. “Why do you care?”
“Because the thought of anyone else’s hands sliding over your skin, of another man having the privilege of hearing what you sound like when you come undone…” he shakes his head. “I can’t stand it. I won’t stand for it.” his gaze glints with challenge. “Are you in or are you out?”
“It’s bold of you to give me an ultimatum before clarifying what I’d be in or out of,” I whisper.
“This,” Asher replies. “Us. You and me. Dates, exclusivity, sex. Everything. All of it. Stop stalling—in, or out?”
“In.” The word is torn from my lips like a confession to a very persuasive priest. I should take more time to think about it… I should do a lot of things other than what I’m doing; blindly diving into something I haven’t yet taken the time to understand.
Satisfaction glides through Asher’s expression, like he’s the lone victor after an endless war and is aching to enjoy his spoils.
“We should set some ground rules first,” I say hurriedly. That’s the least I can do to protect both of us and manage expectations.
Asher arches an eyebrow. “Ground rules? Are we playing a game, Victoria?”
I shake my head. “No games. There’s a rule for you. I don’t like them.” More accurately, I don’t understand them. I haven’t dated around enough to understand the finer points of social cues around dating and sex—I need things to be straight forward. I’m no good at indirect communication.
“Agreed. On that note, no trying to make me jealous with anyone else, like you just did.”
“Like I just did?” I repeat, confused. “What are you talking about?”
“Sitting here with a boy simpering over you and fantasizing getting to call you mommy.” Warning flares to life in his eyes, like the flames sparking over guttering embers. “Don’t do it again.”
“He wasn’t fantasizing over me.” At least, I don’t think he was. “And even if he was, what does it matter?”
“It matters,” Asher mutters through gritted teeth.
“Why?”
“Because I’d rather not go to prison after beating my competition half to death.” He bares his teeth in a feral smile. “I. Don’t. Share.”
I tilt my head to the side. This sounds like only child syndrome, even though it’s well-known that Asher isn’t an only child. He has an older brother.
I probably shouldn’t be so drawn to his stark possessiveness, but it makes me feel wanted.
After a lifetime of coming in second place, being desired is a weakness of mine, even if that desire presents itself in a dangerous way.
Such as a stupidly hot F1 driver wanting to tear someone else to shreds over looking at me for too long.
“Alright. I’ll do my best. It might be difficult considering my next rule—no publicity. Not until we’ve determined that this is going somewhere consequential.”
Asher seems even more upset over this than he was while talking about Henry. “What the hell do you mean? This is going somewhere consequential. Otherwise, we wouldn’t be having this conversation.”
I give him a pointed look. “I mean, after we’ve determined… you know. Long-term compatibility and stuff.”
“We’re compatible,” he growls.
“I admire your enthusiasm. I am also not unaware of your history with women. It’s possible that I won’t be to your liking.” I swallow around the knot of insecurity quickly ballooning in my throat. “It’s also possible that your level of asshole will prove to be insufferable.”
My change in topic is not well met. Asher’s scowl is firmly in place. “What do you mean, you won’t be to my liking? What the fuck are you talking about?”
I glance around to double-check we don’t have company. Me talking to him could be explained as an engineer discussing strategy with their driver, as long as no one’s in earshot.
Even though I don’t spot any eavesdroppers, I grow quieter.
“The tabloids don’t just give you attention when you decide to start fights with Elio.
” Something I’m still going to have a serious conversation with him about.
“There was an article written about your top ten dates for the last five years.”
A languid look of amusement eats up his frown. “Have you been googling me, Intern?”
“Yes,” I admit freely. And what I’ve seen makes me immensely insecure, is what I’m not so willing to admit.