by Maya Blake
Blue eyes gleamed at her across the table. ‘Gracias, bonita.’
She eyed him suspiciously. ‘What are you thanking me for, exactly?’
‘I’ve obviously become a yardstick by which you measure your future clients. I consider it an honour.’
She rolled her eyes and found herself grinning when he laughed. Shaking her head, she took another mouthful of her delicious shrimp pasta. ‘I knew you were trouble from day one.’
His laughter slowly disappeared. ‘Sí,’ he murmured. ‘What did you call me? A useless waste of space who was taking up valuable oxygen more worthy human beings were entitled to?’
Her fork clattered onto her plate. ‘You remember? Every single word?’ she whispered.
His smile was sharp and deadly, the easy camaraderie from moments before completely annihilated as the tension that had lurked solidified into a palpable wall. ‘What can I say, querida, you cut me to the bone.’
‘Was that...was that why...?’ She couldn’t quite frame the words.
‘Why I attempted to turn myself and my car into a Rubik’s Cube the next day? Ask me again when I remember anything from the accident.’
She shut her eyes for a brief second, a shudder of guilt and regret raking over her. ‘Please believe me, I don’t usually lay into anyone quite like that. That day...’ She paused, unwilling to bare her whole life to him. But then she realised she owed him an explanation of some sort. ‘It was a very difficult day.’
‘In what way was it difficult?’ he probed immediately.
‘My mother called me the evening before the race, just before the team dinner where you—’
‘When I dared to ask you out?’ he asked.
Her gaze dropped as she felt a prickle behind her eyelids. ‘Her relationship with my father has always been...tempestuous.’ That was putting it mildly but she couldn’t elaborate any further. ‘When she called, she was very upset... She has...moments like that. She wanted to see him. Nothing I said would calm her down. So I called my father—the father I haven’t spoken to in years.’
Rafael’s brow hitched up a fraction but he didn’t interrupt her.
‘He wouldn’t lift a finger to help. He was too busy, he said. But I could hear the sound of a party in the background. I swallowed my pride and begged him. He refused. When I called my mother to try to explain, her mood...escalated. I was trying to get her some help when you found me and asked me to dinner.’
‘So you attempted to slice the skin off my bones because of bad timing?’ His words were light but the chilling ice in his eyes told her he hadn’t forgiven her. ‘What about the dozen times before then?’
She blew out a breath. ‘I’ve just told you the effect my father has on me and on my mother. Do you honestly think I’d ever want to associate myself personally with a man who reminds me of every despicable trait I witnessed growing up?’
‘Watch it, piqueña,’ he murmured softly. ‘You didn’t think I was despicable when we kissed this morning.’
A wave of heat crept up her face. ‘That was a mistake.’
‘Also, you may have claws, but I have teeth. Sharp ones and I’m heartless enough to use them.’
She didn’t doubt it. For him to have succeeded in securing several championships over the past decade, he had to have a ruthless streak somewhere beneath the indolent playboy demeanour. Certainly, she’d seen his dedication and absolute focus during the racing season.
‘I’m sorry, Rafael. But I didn’t really understand why you wanted to go out with me. There were dozens more willing girls who would’ve jumped at the chance to be with you.’ If she were being honest, she still didn’t understand why he continued to try and goad her into bed. The only thing she could think of was...no, it didn’t make sense. ‘I’m hardly your Mount Everest.’
‘You’re not. Been there, done that.’
Her eyes fell to the jagged scar on his forearm. It might have been ugly at one time but now it just blended into the frustratingly captivating masterpiece that was Rafael de Cervantes. ‘You’ve been to a lot of places, done a lot of things.’
‘You’ve been listening to gossip.’
‘Before I came to work for you last year, the agency sent me a dossier on you. Is it true that scar on your arm was from a bull goring you?’ She pounced on the change of subject all the more because here was her chance to learn more about Rafael.
‘Sí, and I thanked the bull for the unique, exhilarating experience.’
She suppressed a shudder. ‘What is it exactly that you crave? The thrill of the chase? The rush of adrenaline?’
‘It’s conquering the fear of the unknown.’
His words were so stark, so raw, her breath caught in her lungs.
‘What do you mean?’
‘I don’t like mysteries, querida. Take you, for instance. From the moment we met, you held me at arm’s length. No woman’s ever done that, not effectively anyway, and definitely not for as long as you have, and this isn’t arrogance talking. It’s just never happened. You were an enigma to me. I wanted to smash aside all your barriers. Instead you built them up higher. You intrigued me to the point I couldn’t see anything beyond having you.’
She had never been able to explain the phenomenon of ice and heat that filled her whenever she was in Rafael’s presence. She couldn’t explain it now the sensation had increased a thousandfold. ‘I don’t know that I want to be described that way. You make me sound like I’d become your worst nightmare.’
‘You had. I wanted to confront it. Turn it into a dream I liked.’
‘God, Rafael. Do you hear how twisted that sounds?’
His laugh was nowhere near a normal sound. ‘I’m sorry I don’t fit your ideal of the right guy.’
‘I’m not looking for a right guy. I’m not looking for a guy, period. I just want to do my job.’
‘It’s not just that though, is it?’ He beckoned the waiter and ordered an espresso for himself and a white coffee for her. ‘You’re here because you want to do penance.’
‘And you’ve been fighting me and trying to drive me away ever since I arrived.’
‘If I’d wanted to be rid of you, I would’ve succeeded.’
‘So you want me to stay?’
He shrugged. ‘One of the many discoveries I made while stuck in a hospital bed was this—I like being alone. But I don’t like being alone in León.’
She sensed the revelation behind the statement. ‘Another of your nightmare scenarios?’
He didn’t deny it. He just shrugged. ‘Tell me more about your mother.’
‘Tell me about yours.’
‘She’s dead.’
In what felt like mere seconds between one and the other, another forceful blow punched through her middle at the stark announcement. ‘How—?’
The word stuck in her throat when he shook his head and picked up his newly delivered espresso. ‘You’re one of a handful of people outside of my family circle I’ve disclosed that to. It’s not a state secret, but it’s not a subject I wish to discuss either, so don’t ask any more questions. And yes, I know it’s hypocritical of me to demand everything from you and give nothing in return, but we both know I do what I like. Your mother?’
She moistened her lips and tried to arrange her thoughts. ‘For what it’s worth, I’m sorry about your mother.’ She sucked in a deep breath and slowly exhaled. All of a sudden, it wasn’t so bad to reveal just that little bit more. Because Rafael had shared something.
‘Mine is alive but barely conscious half the time. You know why? Because she’s completely and utterly hung up on a man who can go for months, sometimes years without giving her a single thought. And yet he only has to crook his finger to have her falling into his lap. At least you know your mother loved you. Do you know how devastating it is to find ou
t your own mother would gladly give you away for free if she could have her one true obsession?’
‘Is that why you lived with your father?’
‘No. Aside from her obsession with my father, she was also diagnosed with severe bipolar disorder when I was seven. For a few years she took the prescribed medication, but as I got older, she would miss a few days here and there. Then days would turn into weeks, then she would stop altogether.’
His frown was thunderous. ‘Did you not have any relatives that could step in?’
‘None that wanted to add the burden of a pre-teen on top of the responsibilities they already had. And, frankly, I felt I was better off on my own. By ten I could take care of myself. Unfortunately, my mother couldn’t. One day she had an episode in a shop. The police were called. Social services got involved. Eventually they tracked down my father and threatened to report him to the authorities when he wouldn’t step up.’ Bitterness made her throat raw. ‘They made him take me. And you know what? Every day until I turned eighteen I wished they hadn’t.’
‘Did he hurt you?’ he rasped.
‘Not at first. When I initially arrived at his doorstep, he didn’t even care enough to resent me for my sudden appearance in his life.’ She laughed. ‘And he was rich enough that I had my every material need catered for.’
‘But?’ he demanded.
Ice drenched her skin as the dark memory surged, its oily tentacles reaching for her.
A tinkle of laughter from a table nearby slammed her back into the present. Chilled and exposed, she rubbed her hands over her arms. ‘I don’t want to relive it, Rafael.’
His jaw tightened. ‘It was that bad?’
‘Worse.’
His fingers curled around the small, fragile cup in his white knuckled grip before he carefully set it back in its saucer. ‘Dios mío. When did it—?’
‘Rafael...please...’
He sucked in a sharp breath, his gaze still fiercely probing as he sat back in his seat. After several seconds, he nodded and pushed back his chair.
Silently he held out his hand. Before the start of the evening she’d have hesitated. But after what she’d shared with him, after seeing his reaction to how she’d grown up, a tiny voice urged her to trust him a little.
She placed her hand in his and let him help her up. ‘I should be helping you, not the other way round.’
‘Let’s forget we’re patient and specialist, just for a few hours, sí?’ The low, rough demand made her breath snag in her throat.
When she glanced up at him, he watched her with hooded eyes that held no hint of their usual teasing. Swallowing, she nodded.
They walked in the unseasonably warm evening along the dock that held some of the world’s most extravagant and elegant yachts. Or they tried to walk. Rafael was stopped several times along the way by wealthy Monégasques and visiting celebrities. Again and again, Raven tried not to be enthralled by the sight of his breathtaking smile and easy charm. Even when a paparazzo’s camera lens flashed nearby he didn’t seem to care. But then she caught the clenched fist around his walking stick. She wasn’t surprised when he signalled his driver a few moments later.
When she glanced at him, he merely shrugged. ‘We have an early flight in the morning. Don’t want you to accuse me of depriving you of your beauty sleep.’
She waited until they were in the car, leaving the bright lights of Monte Carlo behind. ‘You strive to put a brave face on it all, don’t you?’
‘A brave face?’
‘I saw how the paparazzi affected you just now. And even though you stopped to speak to people, you didn’t really want to be there.’
He tilted his head. ‘Your powers of deduction are astounding.’
‘Don’t dismiss me like that, Rafael,’ she murmured. ‘You’ve changed.’
Although his expression didn’t alter, she saw his shoulders stiffen beneath his expensive cotton shirt.
‘Of course I have, querida. My hip no longer works and I carry a walking stick.’
‘I don’t mean physically. You turned away from the cameras at the airport too. You answer their questions but you no longer bask in the limelight. Oh, the playboy is very much a part of your DNA, probably always will be, but...something’s changed.’
‘Sí, I’ve turned into a decrepit recluse who’s been banned from having a bed partner.’
She ignored the quip. ‘I bet you’re not going to buy that villa, are you?’
The corner of his mouth lifted in a mirthless smile. ‘You assume correctly,’ he replied, his gaze steady on her face. ‘You were right, it’s a little too...stalker-ish for me. I think the owner studied what I liked and tried to replicate it without taking the location into consideration. It’s slightly creepy, actually. Besides that, Monaco is great for a visit but not somewhere I prefer to live. But then neither is León.’
‘Why?’
‘Too many bad memories,’ he stated.
Somewhere inside, Raven reeled at the easy access he seemed to be giving her. A strong need to know the man made her probe further. ‘Your father?’
He paled a little beneath his tan, but he nodded after several seconds. ‘Sí. Amongst other things. He moved to Barcelona after...for a while, but he’s back in León now. Seeing him there reminds me of what a disappointment I’ve been to my family.’
She gasped. ‘A disappointment? How...why? You’ve won eight world championships and ten Constructors’ Championships for Team Espíritu. How in the world can that be termed a failure?’
‘Those are just trophies, querida.’
‘Trophies coveted by the some of the world’s most disciplined athletes.’
‘Why, Raven, I almost think you’re trying to make me feel better about myself.’
‘You’ve achieved a lot in your life. Self-deprecation is one thing. Dismissing your achievements out of hand is an insult to the team that has always supported you. Now, if you’re talking about your private life...’
‘What if I said I was?’
‘I’ve met your father, albeit very briefly. I saw no trace of disappointment when he tried to talk to you. And, as far as I can see, Marco and Sasha worship the ground you walk on, despite you saying you tried to break them up.’
He lifted a hand, his knuckles brushing her cheeks before she knew what he was doing. ‘That may have been an over-exaggeration. Was I annoyed when I woke up from my coma to find my best friend had fallen for my brother? Sí. But I’m a big boy, I’ll learn to adapt. As for worshipping the ground I walk on—appearances can be deceptive. I’ve done things—things I’m not proud of; things that haunt me in the middle of the night, or in the middle of the day when I smile and shake hands with people who think I’m their golden boy. They don’t know what I’ve done.’
‘What have you done, Rafael? Tell me.’
He shook his head, a bleak expression stamped on his face that sent a bolt of apprehension through her.
‘Did you notice the condition my father is in?’
She frowned. ‘You mean his wheelchair? Of course I did.’
‘What if I told you I put him in that wheelchair?’
* * *
Rafael looked into her face, trying to read her reaction while at the same time trying to decipher exactly why he was spilling his guts when he never, ever talked about what he’d done eight years ago.
The car passed under a streetlamp and illuminated for a moment her pale, shocked face. ‘H...How did you put him in the wheelchair?’
A deep tremor went through him, signalling the rise of the blistering pain that seemed to live just below his skin. ‘Take a wild guess.’
‘A car accident?’
He nodded, his peculiar fascination with her escalating when she made a move as if to touch him. At the last moment, she dropped h
er hand.
‘Where did it happen?’
‘On the racing track in León. Eight years ago. I walked away unscathed. My father has never walked since.’
This time when she lifted her hand he caught it before she could lower it and twined his around her slender fingers. The surge of pain diminished a little when her fingers tightened.
‘I’m so sorry,’ she murmured.
His smile felt broken. ‘You don’t want to know whose fault it was?’
‘I’m not going to force you to relive the emotional pain, Rafael. Like you said, I’m not that type of therapist. But one thing I do know is that, contrary to what you might think, your family...your father, from what I saw, is more forgiving than you realise.’
His father might be forgiving of Rafael’s role in making him wheelchair-bound, but the other, darker reason would be more unthinkable to forgive. Hell, he hadn’t even dreamed of seeking forgiveness. He deserved every baptism of hellfire he lived through every morning when he opened his eyes. ‘That’s the problem with family. Forgiveness may be readily provided but the crime is never forgotten.’
‘Unfortunately, I wouldn’t know. Dysfunctional doesn’t even apply to me because I had two people who were connected to me by genetics but who were never family.’
The car was drawing up to the villa when he lifted their entwined fingers to his lips. A soft gasp escaped her when he kissed her knuckles. ‘Then count yourself lucky.’
* * *
Two hours later, Rafael stretched and held in a grimace of pain when he tried to rise from his chair. He eyed the walking stick leaning against his desk and with an impatient hand he reached for it.
Pelvis, fractured in three places...broken leg...multiple cracked ribs...severe brain swelling...lucky to be alive.
The doctor’s recital of his injuries when he’d woken from his coma should’ve shocked him. It hadn’t. He’d known for as long as he could remember that he had the luck of the devil. He’d exploited that trait mercilessly when he was younger, and then honed it into becoming the best racing driver around when he was older. No matter how many hairy situations he put himself in, he seemed to come out, if not completely whole, then alive.
