by Maya Blake
‘Leaving. Obviously.’
‘Your flight is not for another four hours.’
She picked her case off the bed. ‘Oh? And what? You want one last shag for old times’ sake?’
His eyes darkened in a familiar way even as his jaw clenched.
A stunned laugh escaped her. ‘Let me get this straight. You want more sex with me even though I’m “soiled goods” you wouldn’t let your own brother touch?’
Dull colour swam into his cheeks. ‘Don’t put it like that.’
‘You know when I said you weren’t an ass? I was stupendously wrong! You’re the biggest ass in the universe.’ She stalked towards the door.
‘Sasha—’
‘And to think I fooled myself into thinking I was in love with you. You don’t deserve love. And you certainly don’t deserve mine!’
Had she looked back as she sped through the door, pleased with herself for not breaking down in front of him, she would have seen his stunned face, his ashen pallor.
* * *
Sasha flew home to Kent after the Indian Grand Prix, one step closer to cementing the Constructors’ Championship.
Returning home for the first time in months felt bittersweet. Glancing round the familiar surroundings of the home she’d grown up in, she wanted to burst into tears. Pictures of her father graced the mantel. A wooden cabinet in the dining room held their trophies. They weren’t as numerous as Marco’s, but she was proud of every single one of them. Unlike Marco, who’d chosen to hide his away the way he’d chosen to close off his heart...
But had he? He’d shown her that he would fight to the death to protect his family. Didn’t that prove it was her who wasn’t worth fighting for? The thought hurt more than she could bear.
With an angry hand she dashed away the tears. She refused to dwell on him. Her only goal now was finishing the season. She couldn’t summon the appropriate enthusiasm for next year.
Wearily, she trudged to the kitchen and put on the kettle. Mrs Miller, her next door neighbour, had texted to let her know the fridge was fully stocked.
Sasha opened the fridge, caught a whiff of cheese and felt her stomach lurch violently. She barely made it to the bathroom seconds before emptying the contents of her stomach. Rinsing her mouth, she decided to forgo the tea in favour of sleep. Dragging herself to the shower, she washed off the grime of her transatlantic flight and fell into bed.
* * *
The stomach bug she suspected she’d caught in India, along with half of the team, didn’t go away immediately, but by the time she arrived in Brazil three and a half weeks later she was in full health.
And three points away from securing the championship.
São Paolo was vibrant and exhilarating. The pit was abuzz with the excitement of the season’s final race, and Team Espíritu even more so with a potential championship win only a few short hours away.
Sasha had taken the coward’s way and hidden in her hotel room until the last minute, in case she bumped into Marco. In Abu Dhabi she’d declined his invitation to an after-race party on his sprawling yacht. It seemed he was back to entertaining dignitaries and A-list celebrities with barely a blink in her direction.
Whereas she...she just wanted the season to be over.
The joy had gone out of racing.
With a sharp pang she realised Marco had been right—her guilt about her father had blinded her to the fact that she didn’t need to prove to anyone that she was good enough. Nor did she need to defend Jack Fleming’s integrity. With her deeper integration and final acceptance into the team she’d discovered that most people remembered Jack Fleming as the great driver he’d been. Her guilt lingered, but she would deal with that later.
First she had to get through the press interviews before and after the race.
She spotted Tom heading her way as she was pulling on her jumpsuit. She winced at the sensitivity of her breasts as the Velcro tightened over them.
She paused, then suddenly was scrambling madly for dates, calculating frantically and coming up short every time. Panic seized her.
‘Are you all right? You’ve gone pale. Here—have some water.’
Tom poured water into a plastic cup and handed it to her. His attitude had undergone a drastic change since she’d become involved with Marco. Snarkily, Sasha wondered whether he’d go back to being insufferable once he found out she and Marco were no longer together.
‘It’s the heat,’ she replied, setting the cup aside. ‘I’m fine,’ she stressed when he continued to peer at her in concern.
‘Okay. Your last interview is with local TV.’ He rolled his eyes. ‘It’s that smarmy one who interviewed you in Singapore. I’d cut him out of the schedule, but since we’re on his home turf we don’t have any choice. Don’t worry. If he looks as if he’s straying into forbidden territory I’ll stop him.’
He went on to list the other interviewers, but Sasha was only half listening. She’d finally worked out her period dates and breathed a sigh of relief. She’d had her last albeit brief period just before she’d left León. And her cycle was erratic at the best of times.
Reassured, she followed Tom around to the paddock and spoke to the journalists.
The race itself was uneventful. With her eight-second lead unchallenged after the first six laps she cruised to victory, securing the fastest lap ever set on the Interlagos circuit. She managed to keep a smile plastered on her face all through the celebrations and the myriad interviews that followed, sighing with relief as she entered the team’s hospitality suite for her last interview.
Despite having done dozens of interviews, she still suffered an attack of nerves whenever a camera was trained on her. And, unlike nerves during a race, interview nerves never worked to her advantage.
‘Don’t worry, Miss Fleming. It will be all right.’
The note of insincerity in the interviewer’s thick accent should have been her first warning.
The first few questions were okay. Then, ‘How does it feel to be dating the team boss? Has it earned you any advantages?’
From the corner of her eye she saw Tom surge from his seat. Her ‘no comment’ made him relax a little.
‘After winning the Constructors’ Championship, surely your seat for next year is secured?’
‘No comment.’
He shrugged. ‘How about your ex, Derek Mahoney? Have you heard he’s making a comeback to racing?’
Sasha tensed. ‘No, I haven’t heard.’
‘He gave us an interview this morning. And he mentioned something quite interesting.’
Icy dread crept up her spine. ‘Whatever it is, I’m sure it has nothing to do with me.’
‘On the contrary, it has everything to do with you.’
Her interviewer rubbed his chin in a way that was probably supposed to make him appear smart. It only confirmed the slimeball he really was.
‘You see, Mr Mahoney claims you were pregnant with his child when you broke up, and that you deliberately crashed to lose the baby because you didn’t want a child to hamper your career. What’s your response to that?’
The room swayed around her. Vaguely she heard Tom shouting at the cameraman to stop filming. Inside she was frozen solid, too afraid to move. The buzz in the room grew louder. Someone grasped her arm and frogmarched her into another room. The sole occupant, a waitress cleaning a table, looked from her to the TV and quickly made herself scarce.
‘Sasha... I... God, this is a mess,’ Tom stuttered. ‘Will you be all right? I need to secure that footage...’
‘Please, go. I...I’ll be fine,’ she managed through frozen lips.
He hurriedly retreated and she was alone.
Dropping her head between her thighs, she tried to breathe evenly, desperately willing herself not to pass out. The TV humme
d in the background but she didn’t have the strength to walk over to turn it off.
Oh, God, how had Derek found out? Not that it mattered now. Her secret was out. Out there for the whole world to pore over...
Tears welled in her eyes. Derek was all about causing maximum damage. But she’d never dreamed he’d sink this low.
The door flew open and Marco walked in.
Her gaze collided with his, and every single thing she’d told herself over the last three weeks flew out of the door.
He’d lost weight. The gap at the collar of his light blue shirt showed more of his collarbones and his jacket hung looser. But he was just as arresting, just as breathlessly beautiful, and her heart leapt with shameless joy at the sight of him.
‘I need to talk to you,’ he said tautly, his gaze roving intensely over her before capturing hers again.
She licked her dry lips. ‘I...I need to tell you...’ How could she tell him? She’d never vocalised her pain, never told another human being.
‘What is it?’ He came over and took her hands. ‘Whatever it is, tell me. I can handle it.’
That gave her a modicum of strength. ‘You promise?’
‘Sí. I have a few things I need to tell you too, mi corazón. The things I said in León...’ He paused and shook his head, a look of regret in his eyes. ‘You were right. I’m an ass.’
‘I didn’t...’ I didn’t mean it, she started to confess, but her eyes had strayed to the TV. There, like a vivid recurring nightmare, her interview was being replayed.
Seeing her distraction, Marco followed her gaze.
Just in time to hear the interviewer’s damning question.
Marco dropped her hands faster than hot coals and surged to his feet. ‘No! It’s a lie. Isn’t it, Sasha? Isn’t it?’ he shouted when she couldn’t speak.
‘I...’
He paled, his cheekbones standing out against his stark face as he stepped back from her.
‘Marco, please—it wasn’t like that.’ She finally found her voice. But it was too late.
He’d taken several more steps backwards, as if he couldn’t stand to breathe the same air as her.
‘Did you race knowing you were pregnant?’ he insisted, his voice harsh.
‘Not the day Derek’s talking about—’
‘But you did race knowing you were pregnant?’
‘I suspected I was—’
‘Dios mío!’
‘I’d already lost the baby when I crashed. That was why I crashed! Racing was all I knew. After the doctor told me I’d lost the baby I didn’t know what else to do.’
‘So you got straight back in your car? You didn’t even take time to mourn the loss of your child?’ he condemned in chilling tones.
Somehow she found the strength to stand and face him. ‘The doctor said it wasn’t my fault. The pregnancy wasn’t viable to begin with. But I still cried myself to sleep every night for years afterwards. If you’re asking if I carry a picture of a scan to punish myself with, or as an excuse to push people away, then no, I don’t. She lives in my heart—’
“She?” His voice was a tortured rasp, his fists clenching and unclenching and his throat working as he paled even more.
Tears spilled from her eyes and she nodded. ‘Mine was a girl too. She lives in my heart and that’s where I choose to remember her. You say you don’t live in the past, but that’s exactly what you’re doing. You’re judging me by what happened to you ten years ago.’
He inhaled sharply. ‘And you’ve proved to me just how far you’ll go. I told you about Angelique, about my child, and you said nothing. Because a small thing like a lost pregnancy is less important to you than your next race, isn’t it?’
She swayed as pain clamped her chest in a crushing vice. ‘You know why I wanted to race!’
‘I was a fool to believe you were trying to preserve the memory of your father. You were really just seeking to further your own agenda.’
Pain arrowed through her. ‘Don’t pretend you don’t think he was guilty.’
‘I said he was found guilty. I didn’t say I agreed with the verdict.’
‘But—’
He slashed a hand through her words. ‘I had my lawyers investigate the case. Some of the testimony didn’t add up. If your father had spent less time feeling sorry for himself and more time getting his lawyers to concentrate on his case he’d have realised that. That’s one of the things I came here to tell you.’
Tears stung the backs of her eyes, her throat clogging with unspoken words. ‘Marco, please—can’t we talk about this?’
He gave a single, finite shake of his head. ‘I’m not interested in anything you have to say. I’m only grateful I never made you pregnant. I don’t think I could survive another child of mine being so viciously denied life for the sake of ruthless ambition.’
Her insides froze as his words cut across her skin.
With one last condemning look he headed towards the door.
Panic seized her. ‘Marco!’
He stilled but didn’t turn around, one hand on the doorknob.
‘What else did you come to say to me?’
The cold malice in his eyes when he turned around made her heart clench.
‘I sold the team six weeks ago. In Korea. The paperwork was finalised today. As of one hour ago your contract is null and void.’
CHAPTER TWELVE
SHE WAS PREGNANT with Marco’s child. Sasha had been certain of it almost as soon as Marco had walked out on her in São Paolo. Taking the pregnancy test once she’d returned home had only established what she’d known in her heart.
There was no doubt in her mind that she would tell him he was about to become a father. The only problem was when.
He’d made his feelings clear. Her own emotions were too raw for her to face another showdown with Marco. She doubted he would believe whatever she had to tell him anyway.
Gentle fingers stroked over her belly. The doctor had confirmed today that she was almost three months pregnant. Her fingers stilled. Angelique had terminated Marco’s child at three months. Sadness welled inside her as she recalled Marco’s face when he’d shown her his scan.
Making up her mind before she lost the courage, she dug out her phone. Her fingers shook as she pressed the numbers.
‘Sí?’ came the deep voice.
‘Marco, it’s me.’
Taut silence.
‘I know you don’t want to speak to me...but there’s something I need to tell you.’
‘I’m no longer in the motor racing business, so you’re wasting your time.’ The line went dead.
Sasha stared at the phone, anger and pain churning through her. ‘Ass.’
She threw the phone down, vowing to make Marco beg before she let him anywhere near his child.
* * *
Two days later Sasha was standing at her fridge stacking groceries when she heard the agonisingly familiar sound of helicopter rotorblades. The aircraft flew directly over her small cottage before landing in a field half a mile away.
Even though she forced herself to finish her task, every sense was attuned to the knock that came less than five minutes later.
Heart hammering, she opened her door to find Marco standing there, tall, dark and windswept.
‘You know you’ll have my neighbours dining out on your spectacular entrance for years, don’t you? What the hell are you doing here anyway? I recall you wanting nothing to do with me.’
Hazel eyes locked on hers, the look in them almost imploring. ‘Invite me in, Sasha.’
‘I don’t invite heartless bloodsuckers into my home. You can stay right where you are. Better yet, jump back into your vampire-mobile and leave.’
‘I’m not leaving until you hear
what I have to say. I don’t care what your neighbours think, but I get the feeling you do. There’s a blue-haired one staring at us right now.’ Brazen, he waved at Mrs Miller, who shamelessly waved back and kept right on staring at them.
Firming her lips, Sasha stepped back and waved him in. ‘You think you’re very clever, don’t you?’
Expecting a quick comeback, she turned from shutting the door to find him staring at her, a tormented grimace on his face.
‘No, I don’t think I’m clever at all. In fact, right now, I’m the stupidest person I know.’
Her mouth dropped open.
His grimace deepened. ‘Yes, I know. Shocker.’
‘Marco...’ She stopped and finally did what she’d been dying to do since he knocked on her door. She let her eyes devour him. Let her heart delight in the sheer magnificent sight of him. He went straight to her head. Made her sway where she stood.
He stared right back at her, a plethora of emotions she was too afraid to name passing over his face. He opened his mouth a couple of times but, seemingly losing his nerve to speak, cast his gaze around her small living room, over the pictures and racing knick-knacks she and her father had accumulated over the years.
Finally he dug into his jacket pocket. ‘This is for you.’
Sasha took the papers. ‘What are these?’
‘Signed affidavits from two former drivers who swear your father wasn’t involved in the fraud. He was the fall guy.’
Hands shaking, she read through the documents. ‘How...? Why...?’ Tears clogged her throat, making the words difficult to utter. Finally she could clear her father’s name.
‘The how doesn’t matter. The why is because you deserve to know.’
She didn’t realise she was crying until the first teardrop landed on her hand. Sucking in a sustaining breath, she swiped at her cheeks. ‘I...I really don’t know what to say. After what happened...’ She glanced down at the papers again and swallowed. ‘Thank you, Marco,’ she said huskily.
‘De nada,’ he replied hoarsely.
‘You didn’t have to deliver it in person, though.’
His watchful look intensified. ‘I didn’t. But I needed the excuse to see you.’
