Chapter Fifty
Asher
Iturn into a lovesick idiot over the next week… and I don’t even have it in myself to be mad about it. If being a dumbass is the way to get Victoria back, then so be it.
Every morning, I get up at butt-fuck-o’clock and run to Victoria’s favorite café, where I get her coffee. It’s waiting on her desk by the time she gets in. I only hear from her about it once, when she sends me a text saying thank you, but this doesn’t change anything.
I know coffee won’t be the turning point that brings her back to me.
I don’t do it because I assume it’ll get me what I want—her—I do it because I’ve been cursed to notice and remember every single thing about her, and I want her to know that I pay attention.
I’ve always paid attention, even when I convinced myself otherwise.
We only run into each other once, four days after our conversation. She hides in the analysts’ cave all day and I do my best to give her space, even though I find myself walking by more often than I should, hoping to get a glimpse of her.
When I see her out and about, she’s walking out of the simulation rooms, with Elio beside her.
They’re chatting about something, and my vision momentarily hazes red with rage…
until I see the deep circles under her eyes and the sad, exhausted expression she’s wearing. My anger is quickly curtailed by guilt.
“Asher.” Elio notices me before she does, and when he greets me, her posture stiffens. She glances up at me from her tablet, then pointedly looks back down and taps around it.
“Elio.” I nod, trying not to be too curt about it.
Don’t stare at her, you idiot. But I can’t get my eyes off Victoria. She’s running simulations with Elio, which is supposed to be our thing.
Has she switched over to his team?
It’s as if she can read my mind. Elio strolls away after tipping me an amiable nod, and Victoria murmurs quietly, “I haven’t made any transition to the first driver.”
“Thank god.” I don’t even try to mask the desperation in my voice. I’ve accepted that I’m a fool in love, and that none of my usual rules or behaviors apply to Victoria. She is, and always will be, my single exception.
“How’s… the coffee?” I grimace at my own attempts at small-talk, but I can’t help myself. I’d do anything to keep her here, talking to me, staying with me. She doesn’t look at me, but if she did, she’d see my silent pleas. Come back to me. Choose me.
That’s the thing about Victoria, though. Even if she ends up turning her back on me like every single other person in my life, I’ll still wait for her. I don’t care if that makes me the biggest idiot in the world. For better or for fucking worse, I’m hers.
“It’s good, thank you.” She glances up at me from under thick lashes. “How did you know?”
“You mentioned the café in passing.”
Her eyebrows rise a bit, and I might be deluding myself, but I think her gaze might soften just a little bit. “Oh.”
“Yeah.”
We stare at each other for a while in silence.
“I miss you,” I finally say. “So much.”
She drops her gaze again. “If it’s the sex, then I’ll remind you that you can get that literally anywhere else. There is no shortage of women who will throw themselves at your feet in the world.”
“I don’t want them. I want you. And I don’t just want you for the sex, though I’ll be the first to admit that’s a nice bonus. I miss you.”
Her chest shudders with her next inhale.
I want to touch her so badly, to do anything to convince her to come back to me, but I promised I’d give her space—and that’s what I’ll do.
That doesn’t mean I won’t be keeping a very close eye on her and shadowing her.
I’ll just do my best to be discreet about it.
“Thank you,” I say after several more moments of terse silence.
“For what?” she asks her tablet, still not looking at me.
“The upgrade package. I saw the mockup—that shit’s insane. I didn’t know you were that good with cars.”
I think I detect a faint blush at the praise.
“I learned from the best.” She finally, finally meets my gaze again.
“I’m furious with you, and with myself, but that doesn’t mean I’ve stopped believing in you, Asher.
You’re going to be one of the greats. If in ten years, I can say that I made some small contribution to that, I’ll be happy. ”
“I don’t want to be one of the greats without you by my side.
” It feels utterly fucking pointless to achieve victories without anyone to share it with.
That probably contributes to why I was so checked out for a good long while, and why my head’s firmly back in the game now.
I don’t just want to succeed for myself, I want to succeed for her, and for the entire team.
Her eyes shimmer, and pain flashes across her expression. It tears my heart right out my chest. “I have to go,” she murmurs, and side-steps me, striding away as quickly as possible.
“Victoria?”
She pauses, but doesn’t turn back to look at me. “Yes?”
“Do you want to… run simulations with the new car?”
“I’ve… inputted all the data into a file.” Her voice is choked. “Ethan should be able to pull it up and plug you right in. All the race iterations I’d recommend are modeled and ready to go.”
“Sweetheart, I don’t fucking want Ethan—” but she’s already gone, turning the corner at the end of the hallway, and leaving me with the bitter, acrid taste of rejection.
A long conversation with my manager reveals that William, the investor I courted at the gala, made the decision to sponsor me.
He’s sinking a dizzying amount of money into my career, regardless of my bad crash.
Evidently, his money is the reason I was able to get my upgrade package implemented without issue.
Naturally, he invited me to another charity event to discuss business.
This time, the event is meant to raise money for the refurbishment of priceless ancient art.
I have no desire to support the arts in any way, shape, or form.
My father’s addiction to art and his passion for his muse—my mother—has always made me disinclined to offer any attention to the art community as a whole.
But, as I force myself into a goddamn monkey-suit and drive to the overly fucking prestigious hotel where the gala is being hosted, I remind myself that I’m not here to support art—I’m here to support myself.
Even though going out of my way to help my career is a new and not altogether enjoyable sensation… I know it’s the right thing to do.
Victoria left her mark on me, even from afar. I continue asking myself what she might suggest or how displeased she would be if I backslid into Old Asher. I’m not perfect and I still have a long way to go, but I’m fucking trying. I can only hope she’ll see that.
I can only hope that she’ll forgive me. But, even if she doesn’t, it won’t change how I feel about her. And it won’t make me revert into the idiot I was.
I must be conjuring her with my thoughts, because I see her as soon as I walk into the gala.
She’s the only thing I can see… and a mixture of possessive envy and pride fill me.
She’s standing with Sterling and Barbie—one of them must’ve invited her, or she could’ve been sent by Ilya.
Ilya favors representatives who are good-looking, well-spoken, and intriguing, and Victoria hits all of those markers in addition to being brilliant.
She also looks… fuck. If I don’t get a hold of myself, I’m going to be walking around the gala with an erection the size of Texas for the rest of the night.
She wears a strappy, shimmering, silvery silk dress that hugs her every curve as if it was made for her.
She looks like she was poured into it, or like the silver was poured over her, morphing so perfectly to her silhouette I find myself getting jealous of a goddamn dress.
“Asher, my boy.” William steps in front of me, cutting off my view of perfection.
I grit my teeth against the urge to rearrange his face.
I’m here for him. He’s just given me an obscene amount of money, and he’s the first bigshot to really put support into my career.
I might not like his fondness for my father, but I appreciate him betting on me. It feels nice to be chosen.
“William.” I smile, trying to keep it sincere. “Thank you for inviting me tonight. The gala looks lovely, and the cause happens to be quite close to my heart.”
That’s a load of utter bullshit. I couldn’t give less of a fuck about the gala or it’s mission, but I’m playing the game. Sometimes, the game requires talking out of my ass to flatter a sponsor. It’s something I should’ve been doing for a long time.
“Happy to have you here,” William nods. “Now, regarding this sponsorship business…” He leads me to the bar holding court in the back of the room.
We spend a half hour in a huddle, talking details, expectations, and desired outcomes.
William is much sharper than I gave him credit for—he tells me in no uncertain terms that if I fuck around or revert to poor behavior, he’s out.
But he also seems to be genuinely rooting for me.
That’s new. Only one other person has truly rooted for me.
My eyes flick over to Victoria, again. She and Barbie have drifted away from Barbie’s father, and now they’re talking to…
Goddamnit. Elio. Of course, he’s here, as well. He’s long-since made a point to show up to every high-society event he can wrangle an invite to and bedazzle the crowd with his charming smile, suave accent, and sellout tendencies.
Be nice, Victoria’s voice warns in my head.
And now I’m hallucinating. Wonderful.
As if she can feel my gaze, she looks up, and our eyes lock. She freezes, lips shutting mid-sentence, and something mournful fills her gaze. She stares at me like she can’t live without me, but also like I’m a ghost. A spectre haunting her from her past; not a figure in her present.