His Ultimate Prize

by Maya Blake

  ‘Stop it, Raven. Stop trying to save me. You’ve done your penance.’

  ‘Excuse me?’ Her voice was hushed but strong.

  ‘That’s what you’ve wanted since you phoned me up two months ago, isn’t it? To hear that I forgive you for what you think you did to cause my accident?’

  ‘What I think...’ She sucked in a sharp breath. ‘Are you saying you remember why you crashed?’

  He firmed his lips. Brava, Rafael. ‘Perhaps I do. Or perhaps I’m just tired of watching you fall on your sword over and over again. I wouldn’t be surprised if that was why you gave me your virginity, considering you didn’t like me much before then.’

  He felt like the lowest form of life when her colour receded completely. But, dios, admiringly she rallied.

  ‘You’re trying to push me away by being hateful. But I won’t leave until you tell me what happened out there today.’

  ‘What do you mean, what happened? I raced. I came second. Considering I’ve been out of the game for nearly a year, I think that’s a commendable start, don’t you?’

  He shucked his suit and peeled off the fire-retardant long-sleeved gear. Her eyes darkened but she didn’t lose her determination.

  ‘Aside from the fact that you didn’t hydrate nearly enough, why did you not pass Matteo the half a dozen times you had the chance?’

  ‘What are you talking about? After he recovered his mistake in Sector 4 there was never a chance to pass Matteo...’

  ‘Of course there was. He damaged his front wing when he went too close to the pit wall on his exit but you stayed behind him when you could’ve passed. And many times you came close to passing him but you pulled back every time. Your race engineer tried to talk to you but you didn’t respond.’

  He froze, scrambled around to supply the adequate information to refute her words and came up blank. Panic cloaked his skin, sank its claws deeper into him.

  ‘Are you saying you don’t remember?’ she almost whispered, her voice thick with emotion.

  Rafael couldn’t breathe. ‘I...no, I don’t remember.’

  The black haze crowded his mind, encroaching rapidly with each excruciating second. He knew he was in deep trouble when he didn’t stop her from touching him, from pulling him down to sit on the king-sized bed.

  ‘Rafael, you’re freezing. And you’re shaking!’

  His laugh was hollow. ‘Sí. In case you haven’t guessed yet, querida, I’m a hot mess right now.’

  ‘Oh God!’ She threw her arms around him, her warm hands pressing into his skin.

  Another series of shudders raked through him, setting his teeth chattering. Her fingers speared through his hair, pulling him down into the crook of her neck. He wanted to move, needed to move. But he stayed right where he was, selfishly absorbing her warmth, her heady scent, inhaling her very essence as if that would save him. But nothing could save him. He was beyond redemption in more ways than he could count.

  Blanking out behind the wheel had cemented the realisation.

  And still he found himself leaning into her, his lips finding that soft, sweet spot below her ear lobe where he knew she loved to be kissed. He kissed it, felt her try to shift away, and trapped her in his arms.

  ‘Rafael...’

  He trailed his mouth down her neck, to the pulse that jumped when he flicked his tongue against it.

  The shaking receded a little, the numbness fading under the pulse of seductive heat that was all Raven. Greedily, he tried to grab onto it, to delay the encroaching darkness beneath the bliss of her touch. With a deep groan, he moved to cup her breasts.

  Only to fall into a deeper hell when she pulled away and rushed to her feet.

  ‘Sex isn’t going to make this problem go away.’

  Darkness prowled closer. ‘I know, but a guy can still dream, can’t he?’

  ‘No, it’s time for reality. We need to discuss what happened. When I saw you throwing up, I thought it was a panic attack. But I think it’s more than that,’ she said.

  Ice snapped through him, freezing him once more to the soul. ‘Leave it, Raven.’

  ‘No, you need help, Rafael.’

  He couldn’t hold her gaze—she saw far too much—so he concentrated on his clenched fists. ‘And you think you’re the one to offer that help?’

  He knew his tone was unduly harsh but he had gone beyond remorse. He was in his special frozen place.

  ‘What happened?’ Her voice pleaded for understanding.

  Since he was at a loss himself, he contemplated silence. Then he contemplated seduction. When bile threatened, he contemplated pleading for mercy.

  Through frozen lips, he found himself speaking. ‘I remembered everything about the race in Hungary.’

  He looked up to see her hands fly to her lips. He gave a grim smile and stared back down at his hands. Hands that shook uncontrollably.

  ‘You know what I remember most about it?’

  She shook her head.

  ‘As I went to the wall, I knew, no matter what happened, no matter how hard I tried, I wasn’t going to die.’

  ‘You mean you...wanted to die?’ Horror coated her words.

  He shrugged. ‘It doesn’t matter what I wanted. I knew it wasn’t going to happen. My expertise lies in many other areas. Killing myself isn’t one of them.’

  ‘I don’t... Explain, please.’

  He raised his head, took in her tall, proud figure and felt a moment of regret that he’d messed this up too. She was one thing he’d have fought to hang on to, if it hadn’t been too late for him.

  ‘I’ve been dicing with death since I was old enough to walk. If a situation has an element of danger, I’m there. Being born with racing imprinted into my DNA was just a bonus.’

  ‘Even if it ends up consuming you so thoroughly it kills you?’

  The look that came over his face was so gut-wrenchingly stark she felt pain resonate inside her. ‘Sorry, I didn’t mean it like that—’

  He shook his head. ‘I won’t die from racing.’

  ‘Are you retiring?’

  He dashed the hope in her question. ‘No. Regardless of everything that’s happened, I still crave it. I’ve been spared death so far. It seems I’m destined for other things.’

  A frown formed. ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Haven’t you guessed it yet? My skill lies in killing everything I come into contact with. If you haven’t woken to the fact that all I’ll bring to your doorstep is utter chaos then you’re not as bright as I thought.’

  ‘That sounds like...are you trying to warn me off you?’

  He laughed. ‘Sí, I am. Which in itself is strange. Normally, I just take what I want and leave the husk behind.’

  Pain darkened her eyes. ‘Why are you doing this?’

  ‘Doing what, querida?’

  ‘Trying to belittle what we have, and don’t use that endearment any more. It’s a beautiful word you’ve made tacky because you don’t really mean it. You’re trying to paint yourself in a vile light, trying to put me off you so I’ll walk away.’

  ‘I’m not trying. I’m telling you I’m not a great bet for you. I always escape unscathed but everyone I come into contact with sooner or later suffers for it.’

  ‘You make yourself sound as if you’ve got a contagious disease. Stop it. And no one suffered today. You still need to address exactly what happened during the race but no one had an accident.’

  ‘That’s where you’re wrong. At the start, when I realised I was getting squeezed out, I contemplated a move that would’ve taken Matteo out. For a moment, I forgot that I was supposed to be his teacher. I forgot the reason I’m staging the All-Star event in the first place. In that cockpit, I was just a racer, programmed to win.’

  ‘But isn’t that what ra
cers do?’

  ‘He’s only nineteen, Raven! And I came within a whisker of taking him out. Do you know his mother is here today? Can you imagine how devastated she’d have been if I’d crossed that line?’

  ‘But you didn’t cross it. You pulled back before you did any damage.’

  ‘Yeah, and you know how I felt? Nothing. No remorse, no victory, no sympathy. I felt nothing.’

  ‘Because there was something else going on. You say you remembered your crash in Hungary but then you blanked out the rest of the race. That could be a form of PTSD.’

  He raked a hand through his hair. ‘Santo cielo! Stop trying to make excuses for me. Stop trying to make me the sort of man you’ll fall for. There is nothing beneath this shell.’

  Raven’s heart lurched, then thundered so hard she was surprised it didn’t burst out of her chest. Surprised she managed to keep breathing, to keep standing upright despite the knee-weakening realisation that it was too late.

  She had fallen hard. So very, very hard for Rafael.

  ‘And if I don’t fall in with your plan to drive me away? You know me well enough by now to know I’m no pushover.’

  He speared her with a vicious look meant to flay the skin from her flesh, and maybe a few weeks ago she’d have heeded the warning, but she’d found, when it came to Rafael, she was made of sterner stuff than that.

  ‘No, but I’m a complete bastard when I’m pushed to the edge, chiquita. Are you prepared for that?’ he parried.

  ‘You’ll have to do more than throw words at me. I know you, Rafael. I see beyond your so-called shell. And I know, despite what you say, you love your family and would do anything for them. I also know that you’re pissed off right now because you’re terrified of what’s happening with you. But I’m not walking away, no matter how much you try to push me. I won’t let you.’

  Anger hissed through his teeth. Rising from the bed, he stalked, albeit with a barely visible limp, to the drawer that held his clothes and pulled it open. ‘A few days ago, you were counting the days until this thing between us ended. Now I’m trying to end it and you’ve suddenly gone ostrich on me?’ He returned with a handful of clothes.

  ‘I’m not burying my head in the sand—far from it. I’m trying to understand. What have you done that’s so viciously cruel that you think I’ll walk away from you?’

  He froze before her, his whole body stiffening into marble stillness. Only his lips moved, but even then no words emerged.

  A chord of fear struck her. ‘Rafael?’

  ‘What does your mother mean to you?’ he rasped.

  Although she wondered at the change of subject, her answer was immediate. ‘Everything. She’s the only family I have. She may think I’m her enemy half the time because she doesn’t want to be where she is, and she may blame me some of the time, imagining I’m the reason my father doesn’t want her, but the times she’s lucid, she’s a wonderful human being and I love her unconditionally, regardless of what persona she is on any given day. The thought of her, safe and a phone call away, makes me happy. I’ll do anything for her...’ Her words drifted to nothing when she saw the look on his face. He’d grown paler with each word she’d uttered, the jeans he’d pulled from the drawer crushed in his vice-like grip. His face, hewn from a mask of pain so visceral, made her step towards him.

  He stepped back swiftly, evoking a vivid image of carrying the contagion she’d accused him of seconds ago.

  ‘Well, stay away from me, then, and enjoy that luxury. Because once you have me in your life, you may not have her for long.’ His voice came from far away, as if from the shell he’d referred to moments ago.

  ‘What on earth are you talking about?’

  ‘You know I put my father in a wheelchair eight years ago. But, even before that, my life was on a slippery downward slope.’

  ‘You’ve let yourself suffer enough. You have to learn to forgive yourself, Rafael.’

  His head went back as if she’d struck him. ‘Forgive myself? For not only crippling my own father but for taking away the one person he treasured the most?’

  ‘What did you do?’

  ‘I killed my mother, Raven. I put her in my car, drove too fast into a sharp corner and executed a perfect somersault that snuffed her out within minutes.’

  The horror that engulfed her had nothing to do with his emotionless recounting of events. No, the dismay that rocked through her stemmed from knowing just how much more he’d suffered, how he’d buried it all under the perfect front.

  His laugh was a harsh, cruel sound. ‘Now that’s more like it. That look of horror is what I expect. Maybe now you’ll listen to me when I suggest you stay away from me.’

  He pulled on his jeans, fished out a black polo shirt and shrugged into it.

  Reeling as she was from the news he’d delivered, it took her a moment to realise what he was saying into his phone.

  ‘You’re leaving Mexico?’ she asked when he hung up.

  ‘The race is over. The next one isn’t for another four days.’

  She started in surprise. ‘Where are you going?’

  He gave her a grim smile. ‘No. The twenty questions is over, quer—’ He stopped, looked around, then shoved more things into the large bag he’d placed on the bed.

  Scrambling wildly, she said, ‘What about your physio sessions?’

  ‘I’ve just endured a two-hour race. I hardly think I’m going to crumble into a million little pieces if I go without a session for a few days.’

  Her lips firmed but the questions hammered in her mind. ‘No, you won’t. As long as you’re not attempting to skydive over any volcanoes?’

  ‘Been there, done that.’

  His phone rang. He stared at it for several seconds, pain rippling in tides over his face. Finally, sucking in a deep breath, he answered it.

  ‘Sí, Papá?’ he rasped.

  Raven’s heart caught. The faint hope that help for Rafael would come from another angle was stymied when the conversation grew heated with bursts of staccato responses.

  Rafael grew tenser with each passing moment until his body was as taut as a bow.

  The moment he hung up, he reached for his bag. The action held an air of permanence about it that terrified her.

  ‘So, I’ll see you at the track in Rio?’ she asked, hating herself for the desperation in her voice.

  He gave her a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. He started to answer but his phone rang again. He stared into her eyes, his expression inscrutable save for the tinge of relief she glimpsed before he masked it.

  ‘No, you won’t. Adios, bonita.’

  He pressed the answer button, raised the phone to his ear and walked out of the door.

  * * *

  Rafael told himself to keep moving. To walk away before he brought chaos to her life. Time was running out for him.

  He knew he wasn’t ready to give up racing. Just as he knew it was his guilt that was causing the feelings rushing through him. For him to hang onto the only thing that kept him sane, he had to try to make amends.

  No, racing wasn’t the only thing that kept him sane. If he admitted nothing else, he would admit that.

  Raven Blass kept him sane, made him laugh, made him feel things he hadn’t felt in a long time. But for her sake he had to walk away. Keep walking away. He was toxic in this state.

  He couldn’t allow himself to be swayed into thinking he was anything else but what she’d first thought him to be.

  As for what he planned to do... His father had summoned him.

  Since he had nothing to lose, he saw no reason to refuse the summons. Just as he saw no reason to examine why his heart felt as if it would burst out of his chest with every step he took away from her.

  Gritting his teeth, he walked out, threw a ‘no commen
t’ to a stunned media before he stepped up in his helicopter and buckled himself in. He had no heart. So he had nothing to worry about.

  * * *

  Raven got the email an hour later. She’d been fired. Rafael de Cervantes no longer needed her services. She would be paid her full contract fee and an insanely hefty bonus for her inconvenience. Et cetera...et cetera...

  Thing was, she wasn’t surprised. Or even hurt. The man she’d fallen in love with was in full retreat mode because she’d got under his skin, had glimpsed the ravaged soul of the outwardly irreverent but desperately lonely playboy who had been grappling with monstrous demons.

  She could’ve fought to stay, cited contract clauses and notice periods, but she knew first-hand how intransigent Rafael could be. And she knew offering her help when it was unwelcome would only set back the progress she’d made.

  So she sent an email response. She would leave on one condition. That he let her recommend a physio who could help.

  His curt text message agreeing to the condition made her heart contract painfully. Her next request was flatly refused.

  No, Rafael stated, he had no wish to see her. But he wished her good luck with her future endeavours.

  Raven watched the remaining All-Star events like most people did around the world—from the comfort of her couch. Except she had an extra reason to watch. She told herself she was making sure Rafael’s new physio was doing a good enough job. It only took a glimpse of Rafael walking down the paddock en route to his car at the Montreal race to know that he hadn’t suffered any setbacks.

  At least not physically.

  His haggard features told a different story. That and his studious avoidance of the media.

  Her heart clenched as she devoured images of him; called herself ten kinds of fool when she froze his latest image and let her gaze settle on his hauntingly beautiful face.

  The icy blue eyes staring into the camera still held the hint of devilish irreverence that was never far away but a raw desperation lurked there too, one that made tears prick her eyes. With a shaky hand, she pressed the release button and sat, numb, as the rest of the race unfolded.