The Price of Success Page 16

  ‘They knew I was a good driver before I started sleeping with you. They just didn’t want to acknowledge it because of who I am. I only care about what they think of me as a driver. What they think of me personally doesn’t matter. It never has.’

  ‘You’re a fighter,’ he said, his expression reflective.

  ‘I’ve had to fight for what I’ve achieved.’ She cast him a droll look. ‘As you well know.’

  When he didn’t smile back, a cloud appeared on the horizon of her happy haze. ‘It bothers you that I don’t care what other people think about me?’

  ‘Single-mindedness has its place.’

  ‘I smell a but in there somewhere.’

  His gaze because suspiciously neutral. ‘Following a single dream is risky. When it’s taken from you you’ll have nothing.’

  ‘When? Not if? Are you trying to tell me something?’

  ‘Nothing lasts for ever.’

  ‘You must be jet-lagged again, because you’ve gone all cryptic on me. I’m three races away from securing the Constructors’ Championship for you. Unless I don’t finish another single race, and our nearest rival wins every one, it’s pretty much a done deal.’

  He got out of bed and pulled on his boxer shorts. For a man who embraced nudity the way Marco did, the definitive action sent a shiver of unease down her spine.

  ‘Done deals have a way of coming undone.’

  Her anxiety escalated. ‘Enough with the paradoxes. What’s going on, Marco?’

  Marco strode to the champagne chilling in a monogrammed silver bucket, filled up a glass and brought it back to her. Returning to the cabinet, he poured a whisky for himself and downed it in one go.

  He slammed the glass down and spun towards her. ‘Madre di Dios, you nearly crashed today!’

  Her fingers tightened around the delicate stem of her glass as the full force of his smouldering temper hit her. Her car had stalled at the start of the race, leaving her struggling to retain pole position. Her rivals hadn’t hesitated in trying to take advantage of the situation. She’d touched tyres with a couple of cars and nearly lost a front wing.

  ‘I found myself in a slightly hairy situation. I dealt with it.’ She glanced at him. ‘Were you worried?’

  ‘That my lover would end up in a mangled heap of metal just like my brother did mere weeks ago? What do you think?’ he ground out.

  She trembled at the harshness in his tone even while a secret part of her thrilled that he’d been worried about her. ‘I know what I’m doing, Marco. I’ve been doing it almost all my life.’

  He speared a hand into her hair, tilting her face up to his. ‘Rafael knew what he was doing too. Look where he ended up. You can’t do it for ever. You do realise that, don’t you?’

  The question threw her, for Sasha had been deliberately avoiding any thoughts of the future. Even the end of the racing season didn’t bear thinking about. If by some sheer stroke of bad luck she lost the Constructors’ Championship then she was out of a job.

  If she won her professional future would be secured for another year. But what about her personal future?

  The reality was that she’d fallen into Marco’s bed expecting little more than a one-night stand. But with each day that passed she was being consumed by the magic she experienced there. With no thought to the future …

  ‘Yes,’ she finally whispered. ‘I realise nothing lasts for ever.’

  ‘Bueno,’ he breathed, as if her answer had satisfied him.

  He shucked his boxers in one smooth move. ‘Are you going to drink that? Only, after watching you nearly crash, I feel an urgent need to re-affirm life with you again. Repeatedly.’

  She passed him the glass and opened her arms. It wasn’t until their breaths were gasping out in the aftermath of soul-shattering orgasms that she tensed in disbelief.

  ‘Marco!’

  ‘What?’ He raised his head, a swathe of hair falling seductively over one eye.

  ‘We didn’t … We forgot …’ Frantically she calculated dates.

  He let loose a single epithet. ‘Dios. Please tell me you’re on the Pill?’ he rasped.

  His voice was a choked sound that chilled her.

  Reassured with the dates, she nodded, then noticed his pallor. ‘Hey, it’s okay. Even if the Pill doesn’t work it’s the wrong time of the month.’

  ‘Are you sure?’ he demanded.

  Frowning, Sasha laid a hand on his cheek, which had grown cold and clammy. ‘I’m sure. Relax.’

  Marco eased away from Sasha, steeling himself against her throaty protest as he left the bed. Pulling on a robe, he went into his study. His laptop was set up on his desk, his folders neatly arranged by his assistant. He bypassed it, threw himself into the leather sofa and scrubbed a hand down his face.

  He hadn’t meant to lose it with Sasha like that earlier.

  But seeing her come within a whisker of crashing had set him on a knife-edge of fear and rage he hadn’t been able to completely dismiss. Now his loss of control had made him forget his one cardinal rule—contraception. Always.

  He hadn’t slipped once in ten years. Until tonight. Thank goodness Sasha was as against accidentally conceiving a child as he was …

  Grimly reining in the control that seemed to be slipping from him, he strode to his desk and picked up the top folder. A sliver of guilt rose inside him but he quashed it.

  Enough. He’d done what needed to be done. He refused to feel guilty for protecting what was important to him. Nothing mattered except keeping his family safe.

  He picked up the phone and called his brother’s doctors. Once he’d been updated on Rafael’s condition, he placed another call.

  Fifteen minutes later he slammed down the lid of his laptop and pushed away from the desk, at peace with his decision.

  Feeling a sense of rightness, he returned to the bedroom and slid into bed, his need for Sasha overcoming the wish to let her rest. With a soft murmur she wound her supple body around his. The sense of rightness increased, making his head spin.

  ‘I missed you. Where have you been?’

  Another wave of guilt hit him—harder than before. Inhaling the seductive scent of her, he pushed away the disturbing feeling. ‘I needed to take care of something.’ Bending his head, he placed his lips against the smooth skin of her neck. His body stirred, transmitting its persistent message.

  ‘Um. And have you?’ she murmured.

  ‘Sí.’ His voice emerged gruffer than he wished. ‘It’s all taken care of.’

  CHAPTER TEN

  SASHA watched Marco turn the page of his newspaper, a frown creasing his brow before it smoothed out again. Watching him had become something of a not-so-secret pleasure in the last few weeks. On cue, she experienced the slow drag of desire in her belly as her gaze drifted over the sensual curve of his lips, the unshaven rasp of his jaw and the strong column of his throat to the muscled bare torso which she’d caressed to her heart’s content last night and this morning.

  As if sensing her gaze, his eyes met hers over the top of the paper. One brow lifted. ‘You want to go back to bed?’

  He laughed at her less-than-convincing shake of the head. The remnants of breakfast lay scattered on the table, long forgotten as they basked in the South Korean sun.

  ‘I didn’t know you could read Korean,’ she said, eager for something to distil the suffocating heat of the desire that was never far from the surface.

  Marco smiled and folded away the paper. ‘It’s Japanese. I never quite mastered Korean.’

  ‘Wow. You’re freely admitting another flaw? Shocking!’

  He shrugged. ‘It was down to a choice of which was the most useful.’

  She wrinkled her nose. ‘Useful? Do you ever do anything just for pleasure?’

  His droll look made her colour rise higher.

  ‘Besides sex,’ she mumbled.

  ‘Sex with you is all the pleasure I crave, mi corazón.’

  ‘You have other interests, surely? Everyone does.
’

  His throaty laugh made her pulse pound harder. ‘What did you have in mind?’

  ‘Some culture. An exhibition. Something other than …’ Flustered, she waved her hand towards the severely rumpled bed beyond the sliding doors leading into the master suite, trying not to think of all the other places—the highly polished teak floor, the wooden bench in his outdoor bathroom, the hammock overlooking the stunning beach—where Marco had pleasured her during the long night.

  Leaning over, he slid a hand around her nape and pulled her in for a hot kiss. ‘I’d much rather spend the day with you in my bed. But if you insist—’

  ‘I insist.’

  Because Sasha had woken up this morning with a fearful knowledge deep in her heart. She was in danger of developing feelings for Marco de Cervantes. Feelings that she dared not name. Feelings that threatened to overwhelm her the more time she spent locked in his embrace.

  At least away from this place, real life would impede long enough to knock some sense into her. To remind her that she couldn’t afford to lose her head over a man like Marco—a man whom she knew deep down grappled with his guilt for being attracted to her. After all, hadn’t it taken him three weeks to decide he could be with her?

  He was also a man who believed her father to be guilty of fraud, a small voice added.

  A sharp pang pierced through the concrete she’d packed around her pain. She hadn’t been able to raise the subject with Marco since that night in Singapore. Somehow knowing he’d painted her father with the same brush of guilt as everyone else hurt so much more. Which made her a fool. Why should he believe any differently? Just because they were sleeping together it didn’t mean the taint of her name had disappeared.

  ‘You have fifteen minutes to get ready.’

  She roused herself to find Marco ending a call. ‘Ready for what?’

  He tossed his phone on the table and brushed his knuckle along her jaw. Sparks of pleasure lit along her skin.

  ‘You want culture, mi encantadora. Korea awaits.’

  ‘Oh, my God,’ Sasha whispered as her bare feet touched the wet flagstones that led to the ancient lake temple, unable to tear her gaze away from the magnificent vista before her.

  ‘I’m finding that I don’t like you using that expression unless it relates directly to me, pequeña,’ Marco complained, releasing her hand as she leapt onto the next flagstone.

  ‘Are you jealous?’ she asked on a laugh.

  He raised a mocking brow. ‘Of your insane adoration of old temples and ancient monuments?’ He rolled up his trouser cuffs and stepped on to the flagstones, bringing his warmth and addictive body up close and personal. ‘Not a chance. But I suggest you alter your phraseology, because every time you say Oh, my God in that sexy tone I want to flatten you against the nearest surface and have my way with you.’

  He grinned at her gasp and his head started to descend.

  ‘No.’ She pulled away reluctantly.

  He frowned. ‘Qué diablos?’

  ‘Shh, we’re in a holy place,’ she whispered. ‘No kissing. And no swearing.’

  She giggled at his muted growl and skipped over the rest of the flagstones until she stood in front of the temple.

  ‘Wow.’

  ‘Wow I can live with.’

  ‘You’ll have to. I have no other words.’

  From where they stood the small temple seemed to float on the water, its curved eaves reminiscent of a bird in flight. In the light of the dying sun huge pink water lilies glowed red, their rubescent petals unfurled to catch the last of the sun’s rays.

  ‘It’s all so beautiful. So stunning.’ With reverent steps Sasha approached the temple doors. ‘Can we go in?’

  He nodded. ‘It’s not normally open to visitors. But on this occasion …’

  Unbidden, a lump rose to her throat. ‘Thank you.’

  ‘De nada. Go—explore to your heart’s content.’

  With legs that felt shaky, and a heart that hammered far too hard to be healthy, Sasha paused to wipe her feet, then entered the temple.

  Like every single place Marco had taken her to since he’d summoned his car after breakfast, the temple was breathtakingly exquisite. The shoji scrolls lining the walls looked paper-thin and fragile, causing her to hold her breath in case she damaged the place in any way. Examining one, she wished she had a translator to explain the three lines of symbols to her.

  ‘“Peace through wisdom. Wisdom through perspicacity,’” Marco murmured from behind her. ‘This temple was originally Japanese. It changed owners a few times before the Shaolin monks took over in the fourth century.’

  ‘It puts everything into perspective, doesn’t it?’

  ‘Does it?’

  ‘You said nothing lasts for ever. This temple proves some things do.’

  For a long moment he didn’t answer. His hooded gaze held hers, but in the gathering dusk she couldn’t read the expression in his eyes.

  ‘Come, it is time to leave. Romano will think you’ve kidnapped me.’

  ‘What? Little ol’ me?’

  He laughed—a sound she was finding she liked very much. ‘Romano knows you have a black belt in Jujitsu.’

  ‘I’d still think twice before I tried to drop-kick a man of his size. So you’re safe with me.’

  ‘Gracias.’ He threaded his fingers through hers, then signalled to Romano to bring the car round.

  She waited until they were in the car before leaning over to press her lips to his. ‘Thank you for showing me Seoul.’

  His hand tightened around her waist and pulled her closer. ‘The tour isn’t over yet. I have one last treat for you.’

  Pleasure unfurled through her. ‘Really?’

  ‘The night is just beginning. I know a little place where, if you’re really nice to the staff, they’ll name a dish after you. Will you allow me to show it to you?’ He picked up her hand and kissed the back of it.

  Watching the dark head bent over her hand, Sasha experienced that irrational fear again. Only this time it was ten times worse. Her heart hammered and her pulse raced through her veins as the reason for her feelings whispered softly through her mind.

  No. She wasn’t falling for Marco de Cervantes. Because that would be stupid.

  And reckless.

  Marco didn’t do relationships. And she’d barely survived being burned once.

  His lips caressed the sensitive skin of her wrist.

  At her helpless sigh, he smiled. ‘On second thoughts, a Michelin-star-chef-prepared meal on the beach sounds very appealing.’

  Resisting temptation was nearly impossible. But Sasha forced herself to speak. ‘It’s not fair to dangle the opportunity to have a dish named after me and then withdraw it. Now it’s on my lust-have list.’

  He reached out and cupped her breast. ‘I have only one thing on my lust-have list.’

  ‘You’re insatiable,’ she breathed, unable to stop her moan when his thumb passed over her nipple.

  Bending his head, he brought his lips close to hers. ‘Only for you do I have this need,’ he muttered thickly. ‘And, por favor, I won’t have it denied.’ He drew closer until their breaths mingled.

  ‘What about dinner … the dish …?’ she whispered.

  ‘You’ll have it,’ he vowed. ‘Just … later.’

  With a muted groan, he closed the gap, sealing them in a hot cocoon of fevered need so intense it stopped her breath.

  The cocoon held them intimately all the way through their torrid lovemaking in Marco’s bed and in the shower afterwards, where he explored every inch of her body as if seeing it for the first time.

  His phone rang as they dressed for dinner. At first she thought it was a business call. Then she noticed his ashen pallor.

  Their cocoon had been shattered.

  ‘Who was that?’ she asked, even though part of her knew the answer.

  ‘It was the hospital. Rafael’s suffered another bleed.’

  ‘What the hell are you doing under there
? Freebasing engine oil?’

  Sasha froze at the voice she hadn’t heard in six long sleepless nights and forced herself to breathe. ‘Hand me the wrench.’

  ‘Didn’t the staff tell you no one’s allowed in here?’ The harsh censure in his voice grated on her already severely frayed nerves.

  ‘They probably tried.’

  ‘You didn’t listen, of course?’

  ‘I don’t speak Spanish, remember? Are you going to hand me the wrench or not?’

  His designer-shod feet moved, then a wrench appeared underneath the body of the 1954 Fiat 8V Berlinetta.

  ‘Not that one. The retractable.’

  The right wrench reappeared. ‘Thanks.’

  She hooked the wrench on to the bolt and pulled. Nothing happened.

  ‘Come out from under there.’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Sasha …’ His voice held more than a hint of warning.

  Her mouth compressed. She didn’t want to see his face, didn’t want to breathe his scent. In fact she wanted to deny herself everything to do with Marco. To deny that every single atom of her being yearned to wheel herself from under the car and throw herself into his arms.

  She gripped the wrench and yanked harder, reminding herself of how almost a week ago he’d ordered Romano to bring her to Casa de Leon and walked away.

  As if Seoul had never happened.

  ‘We need to talk.’

  Her heart clenched. ‘So talk.’

  An expensively cut suit jacket landed a few feet from her head, followed a millisecond later by Marco’s large, tightly packed frame.

  ‘What are you doing?’ she squeaked, holding herself rigid as his shoulder brushed hers.

  He ignored her, taking his time to study the axle she’d been working on. ‘Hand me the wrench and move over.’

  ‘Why? Because you think you’re bigger and stronger than me?’

  ‘I am bigger and stronger than you.’

  ‘Sexist pig.’

  ‘Simple truth.’

  ‘I see you still live in the Dark Ages.’

  ‘Only when it comes to protecting what’s mine.’

  Realising he wasn’t going to go away, she shrugged. ‘Fine. Knock yourself out.’