His Ultimate Prize Read online

  ‘So I can’t sway you with the promise of a private island of your very own?’

  ‘Nah, I have a thing about private islands.’

  His brow rose. ‘A thing?’

  She nodded. ‘I saw a TV show once where a group of people crashed onto one and spent a hellishly long time trying to get off the damned rock.’ Her mock shudder made him grin. ‘A concrete jungle and the promise of a mocha latte every morning suits me just fine.’

  He raised his glass. ‘To concrete jungles and the euphoria of wall-to-wall coffee shops.’

  ‘Indeed.’ She clinked glasses with him. Then it dawned on her how easy the atmosphere had become between them; how much more she wanted to stay where she was, getting to know this compelling man who spelled trouble for her. The thought forced her to push her chair back. ‘I think I’ll head to bed now. Goodnight, Rafael.’

  If he noticed the sudden chill in her voice, he didn’t react to it. ‘Before you go, I have something for you,’ he said, pointing to the elegant console table that stood outside the suite’s study.

  Seeing the neat stack of papers, Raven felt a leap of pleasure. Going to the table, she picked up the papers and, sure enough, it was the continuation of Ana’s story.

  ‘Did you write all of this last night?’ she asked him.

  He shrugged. ‘The muse struck when I was awake. No big deal.’ But she could tell it was. His gaze was hooded and his smile a little tight. It was almost...almost as if he was nervous about her reading it.

  ‘Thanks for trusting me with this, Rafael.’

  He looked startled for a moment, then he nodded. ‘De nada. Buenas noches, bonita,’ he replied simply.

  The distinct lack of naughty left her floundering for a moment. Then she forced herself to walk towards her suite.

  ‘Raven?’ His voice stopped her beside the wide, elegant double doors leading into the hallway. When she turned, his gaze had dropped to assess the contents of his wine glass.

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘Don’t flirt with Jung.’

  Her pulse raced. Later, when she was safely in her cool bed, she tried to convince herself it was the effects of the wine that made her say, ‘Quid pro quo, my friend. If I’m not allowed to flirt, then no more numbers on your walking stick. Agreed?’

  Blue eyes lifted, regarded her steadily, their brilliance and intensity as unnerving as they’d been the very first time she’d looked into them. After a full minute, he nodded. ‘Agreed.’

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  SHE FOUND HIM in the penthouse pool the next morning. She stood, awestruck, as Rafael cleaved the water in rapid, powerful strokes, his sleek muscles moving in perfect symmetry. He turned his head just before he dived under and executed a turn and, for a split second, Raven became the focus of piercing blue eyes.

  One length, two lengths...three.

  After completing the fourth, he stopped at the far end, flipped onto this back and swam lazily towards her. ‘Are you going to stand there all day or are you going to join in? We leave for the racetrack in half an hour.’

  ‘I’m not coming in, thank you. We were supposed to have a full physio session this morning.’

  ‘I was up and raring to go, bonita. You were not.’

  It was the first time ever that Raven had overslept or been late for an appointment. She couldn’t stem the heat that crawled up into her face as she recalled the reason why. When she’d found herself unable to sleep, she’d opened up Rafael’s manuscript and delved back between the pages. If anything, the story had been even better the second time round, renewed fascination with Ana, the heroine, keeping her awake.

  ‘I was only ten minutes late.’

  He stopped on the step just beneath where she stood and sluiced a hand through his hair. ‘Ten throwaway minutes to you is a lifetime to me.’ He hauled himself out of the pool. Raven couldn’t stop herself from ogling extremely well-toned biceps and a tight, streamlined body. Even the scars he’d sustained on his legs and especially his hip were filled with character that made her want to trace her fingers over it, test his skin’s texture for herself.

  She forced herself to look away before the fierce flames rising could totally engulf her. He grabbed the towel she tossed to him and rubbed it lazily over his body.

  ‘Well, since you had the full therapy session last night, I don’t see the harm in reversing the regime.’

  He glanced over and winked. ‘My thoughts exactly.’

  Suspicion skittered along her spine. ‘You’re surprisingly chipper this morning.’ Looking closer, she saw that his face had lost its strained edge, and when he turned to toss the towel aside, his movement had lost last night’s stiffness.

  ‘It’s amazing what a good night’s sleep can do. I feel as if I have a new lease of life.’ He picked up his walking stick and came towards her, a sexy, melt-your-panties-off grin firmly in place. ‘Come, we’ll have breakfast and I can tell you how to make your tardiness up to me.’

  ‘Anything less than a pound of flesh and I’ll probably die of shock,’ she muttered.

  He laughed. The sound floated along her skin then sank in with pleasure-giving intensity. ‘You wound me. I was thinking more along the lines of your thoughts on the manuscript.’

  She didn’t answer immediately. She was too caught up in watching the ripple of muscle as he sauntered out of the pool area—and through his bedroom, where discarded clothes and twisted sheets made her temperature rise higher—towards the sun-dappled balcony where their breakfast had been laid out.

  Goodness knew how she managed not to stare like some hormonal schoolgirl.

  ‘Wow, should I take your silence to mean it was sheer dross?’

  Focus! She sat down at the table, snapped out her napkin and laid it over her lap, wishing she could throw a blanket over her erotic thoughts just as easily.

  He poured her coffee—mocha latte—and added a dash of cinnamon, just the way she liked it. Raven decided she was not going to read anything into Rafael’s intimate knowledge of how she took her caffeine. But inside she felt a long held-in tightness spring free, accompanied by the faintest spark of fear.

  ‘It wasn’t dross. I’m sure you know that. I love Ana’s transition from girl into woman. And that first meeting with Carlos was what every girl dreams of. I’m happy she’s putting her dark past behind her...’

  ‘But?’ He scythed through her ambivalence.

  ‘But I think Carlos is coming on too strong, too fast. He risks overwhelming Ana just a little bit.’

  He picked up his own coffee and eyed her over the rim. ‘But I think she has a backbone of steel. Do you not think she has what it takes to stay?’

  Raven nodded. ‘I think she does. She sees him as a challenge...welcomes it to some extent, but I’m still a little scared for her.’

  ‘You’re invested in her. Which is what a writer wants, isn’t it? Maybe she needs to be pushed out of her comfort zone to see what she really wants.’

  ‘I notice she likes racing, just like Carlos.’

  He stilled. ‘Sí. It is a racing thriller, after all.’

  Raven carefully set her cup down and picked up a slice of toast. ‘She wouldn’t, by chance, be modelled on your sister-in-law, would she?’ she asked, keeping her voice level.

  He shrugged. ‘Sasha is one of the best female drivers I’ve known. What’s your point?’

  She didn’t know how to articulate what it made her feel. Hell, she couldn’t grasp the roiling feelings herself. All she knew was that she didn’t want Rafael to be thinking of a specific woman when he wrote the story.

  ‘I just think you would appeal to a wider audience if the character wasn’t so...specific.’

  ‘You mean, it would appeal to you?’

  The toast fell from her hand. ‘I don’t know what you mea
n.’

  ‘Are you going to play this game? Really?’

  The words, so similar to those she’d thrown at him, made heat crawl up her face. ‘Fine. Touché.’ She hardened her spine and forced out the next words. ‘But you know what I’m trying to say.’

  ‘Are we still talking about my manuscript?’ he asked, a trace of a smile on his lips.

  ‘We’ve taken a slight detour.’

  ‘A detour that touches on our...friendship and the adjustments I need to make in order for it to advance?’

  Her hands shook at how quickly they’d strayed into dangerous territory. She couldn’t look into his probing gaze so she studiously buttered her toast. ‘Y...yes.’

  He stayed silent for so long she was forced to glance up. Blue eyes pinned her to her chair. ‘Don’t expect me to turn into something I’m not, querida.’

  ‘Take a first step. You might surprise yourself.’

  ‘And you, piqueña, how are you surprising yourself?’

  The question, unexpected and lightning-quick, sent a bolt of shock through her. She floundered, unsure of what to say. ‘I...I’m not sure...’

  ‘Well, make sure. If I’m to bend over backwards to accommodate you, you have to give something back, sí?’

  That pulse of fear intensified. Opening up to Rafael in Monaco, telling him things she’d never told another human soul, had left her feeling raw and exposed.

  Now, by daring her in his oh-so-sexy way to open up even more, he threatened to take it a whole lot further, luring her with a promise she knew deep down he wouldn’t keep. That was the essence of playboys. They exuded charisma, invited confidences until they had you in their grasp.

  And yet the rare glimpses she’d caught of Rafael threatened that long-held belief. He was alluding to the fact that playboys could have hearts of gold. Raven wasn’t sure she was ready to handle that nugget of information.

  For years, her mother had believed it—believed it still—and look where it’d got her. If she let Rafael in and he did a number on her, she wasn’t sure who she would hate more—Rafael...or herself.

  ‘You don’t have to turn into something else. All I ask is to see a little bit more, make my choice with a clear, if not total, view of the facts. Because I can’t have sex with you for the sake of it. I would hate myself and I would hate you.’

  ‘Ah, but we’re already having sex, mi amor. All that’s left is for our bodies to catch up.’

  Of course, she could really have done without that thought in her head. Because, suddenly, it was all she could think about.

  * * *

  She walked beside Rafael along the long paddock an hour later, watching as he stopped at every single All-Star garage to greet and exchange info with the crew. From her stint as his physio last year, Raven knew just how meticulous a driver he was. He understood the minutiae of racing to the last detail and could probably recite the inner workings of a turbo engine in his sleep.

  Which was why his accident, judged to be the result of human error—his—had stunned everyone. Some had speculated that it had been the effects of partying hard that had finally done him in. But, in the last few weeks, she’d caught occasional glimpses of the man underneath and knew Rafael de Cervantes wasn’t all gloss. He rarely drank more than a glass of champagne at any event and she knew he’d banned smoking in the paddock a few years back.

  What she didn’t know was how deep the Rafael de Cervantes well ran, or how monstrous the demons were that chased him. It was clear he was haunted by something in his past. At first she’d thought it was his father. But even though that particular revelation had been painful to him, it had been when she’d mentioned his mother that the real pain had surfaced, just for a moment.

  She glanced at him, a little overwhelmed by the many facets she had previously been too riled up to see. Rafael had traits she abhorred, traits that reminded her of the man whose DNA ran through her veins.

  But he was also so much more.

  ‘I can hear you thinking again.’

  ‘Unfortunately, my active brain cells refuse to subside into bimbo mode just because I’m in your presence.’ She cast a telling glance at a groupie who’d just obtained an autograph and was squealing in delight as she ran to her friends.

  ‘You can wow me with your superior intelligence later,’ he said as they approached the last garage in the paddock.

  The first thing she noticed was the age group of this particular crew. Aside from two older supervisors, everyone else ranged from early to late teens. The other thing that struck her was their synchronicity and clear pride in what they were doing.

  When Rafael greeted them, they responded as if he were their supreme deity come to life. She wasn’t surprised by their reaction. What surprised her was Rafael’s almost bashful response as they gathered around him. Then it all disappeared as he started to speak. Started to teach.

  They hung on his every word, and took turns asking him challenging questions, which he threw right back to them. Respect shone from their eyes and the depth of understanding he’d managed to impart in the space of the hour before the race started left Raven reeling.

  ‘Close your mouth, piqueña. You’ll catch flies,’ he quipped as he led her away from the garage towards the VIP Paddock Club.

  Her mouth snapped shut. ‘That was incredible, the way you got them to listen, got them to apply knowledge they’d forgotten they had.’

  ‘They’re a talented bunch. And they love racing. All there is to learn is a respect for speed.’ He shrugged. ‘It wasn’t hard.’

  ‘No. You’re a natural teacher.’

  ‘I learned from the best.’

  ‘Marco?’

  He shook his head and held the door open to let her into the lift that whisked them up to the top floor VIP lounge. From there they had a panoramic view over the entire race circuit.

  Rafael bypassed several A-listers who’d paid thousands of euros to attend this exclusive event and led her into a private roped-off area. He held out a chair for her then sat down opposite her. ‘My father. He gave me my first go-kart when I was five. There’s nothing about engines that he doesn’t know. By the time I was nine, I could dismantle and reassemble a carburetor without assistance.’

  ‘I didn’t know your father raced.’

  ‘He didn’t. My grandfather had a small hotel business and wanted my father to study business so he could help him run it. But he never lost his love of racing. The moment his business grew successful enough, he enrolled Marco, then me in learning the sport. And he took us to all the European races, much to my mother’s distress.’

  The pang of envy for what she’d never had made her feel small so she pushed it away. Especially given what she knew of the strain between father and son now.

  ‘That sounds just like what happened to Carlos in your story.’

  He glanced at her with a tense smile. ‘Does it?’

  ‘Yes.’ When he just shrugged, she decided not to pursue the subject of his story. ‘So your father took you to all the races? Sounds like an idyllic childhood.’

  ‘Sure, if you’re prepared to forgive the fact that back then I was so intent on winning I didn’t feel any compunction in crashing into every single car in front of me just to put them out of business. I was disqualified more times than I actually won races.’

  ‘But I’m guessing your father persevered. He saw the raw talent and did everything he could to nurture it.’ Something her own father hadn’t even come close to attempting with her.

  ‘Sí, he showed me the difference between winning at all costs and winning with integrity. And I repaid that by making sure he would never be able to drive a car again.’ His face was taut with pain, his eyes bleak with a haunting expression that cracked across her heart.

  ‘I saw how things were between you two at Jac
k’s christening, but have you spoken to him at all since the accident?’

  He tensed, waited for the waiter who’d brought their drinks to leave before he answered. ‘Of course I have.’

  ‘I mean about what happened.’

  ‘What would be the point?’

  ‘To find out how he feels about it?’

  ‘How he feels? Trust me, I have a fair idea.’

  Recalling the look on his father’s face, she shook her head. ‘Maybe you don’t. Perhaps you should talk to him again. Or maybe let him talk to you. He could have something to say to you instead of you thinking it only works the other way round.’

  He frowned suddenly. ‘You’re head shrinking me again. And how the hell did we get onto this subject anyway? It’s boring me.’

  ‘Don’t,’ she said softly.

  A glaze of ice sharpened his blue eyes. ‘Don’t what?’

  ‘Don’t trivialise it. You’ll have to tackle it sooner or later.’

  ‘Like you have tackled your father?’

  Her breath shut off in her chest. ‘This is different.’

  ‘How?’ He had to raise his voice to be heard over the sound of engines leaving the garages to line up on the racetrack. Rafael barely glanced at them, his attention riveted on her face.

  ‘Despite everything that’s happened, your father loves you enough to want to connect with you. My father doesn’t care if I’m alive or dead. He never has, and he never will.’

  Rafael saw the depth of pain that slashed across her features before she turned to watch the action unfolding on the racetrack. He wanted to say something, but found he had no words of wisdom or of comfort to give her.

  Because he didn’t agree with the redeeming quality she seemed to want to find in him. He had no doubt that if she knew the extent of his sins, she wouldn’t be so quick to offer her comfort.

  An icy vice threatened to crush his chest, just as it did every time he thought of his mother. He’d awoken this morning with her screams ringing in his ears, the image of her lifeless eyes imprinted on his retinas.