His Ultimate Prize Page 6

  ‘There won’t be any actual racing until we get to Monza in two weeks’ time.’ His brisk tone made her eyes widen. Rafael didn’t bother to hide his annoyance. ‘Racing is my life, Raven. I haven’t decided whether or not I’ll ever get behind another steering wheel but that decision will be mine to make and mine alone. So stop the mental hand-wringing and concentrate on making me fit again, sí?’

  The large, luxurious private jet banked left and Raven felt her heart lurch with it. Below them, the dazzling vista of the Côte d’Azure glittered in the late winter sunshine. With little over a month before the racing season started, the drivers would be in various stages of pre-season tests in Barcelona. Which was where Rafael would’ve been had he not had his accident.

  At nearly thirty-one, he’d been in his prime as a racing driver and had commanded respect and admiration all over the world. He still did if the million plus followers he commanded on social media and adoring fans from the racing paddock were anything to go by. But Raven hadn’t considered how he must be feeling to be out of the racing circuit for the coming year. And what it would do to him if he could never race again.

  ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make this any harder for you than it already is,’ she murmured.

  She braced herself for his usual innuendo-laden comeback.

  ‘Gracias,’ was all he came out with instead. ‘I appreciate that.’

  Before she could respond, a stewardess emerged from behind a curtain to announce they would be landing in minutes.

  ‘Time for the crazy circus to begin. You ready?’ He raised a brow at her.

  ‘Sure. After living with you for five weeks, Rafael, I think I’m ready for anything.’

  His deep laugh tugged at a place inside her she’d carefully hidden but he seemed to lay bare with very little effort.

  ‘Let’s hope you don’t end up eating those words, querida.’

  ‘I probably will, but...promise me one thing?’

  He stilled and his eyes gleamed dangerously at her from across the marble-topped table between them. Finally he nodded.

  ‘Promise me you’ll let me know if it all gets too much. No glib or gloss. I can’t do my job properly if you don’t tell me what’s going on.’

  His eyes narrowed. ‘This job, it’s that important to you?’

  ‘Yes, it is. I...I’m here to make amends. I can’t ever take back what I said to you, and you don’t remember if what I said played a part in your accident. Your recovery is important to me, yes.’

  ‘Hasn’t anyone told you being in a hurry to fall on your sword is an invitation to a shameless opportunist like me?’

  ‘Rafael—’

  He made a dismissive gesture. ‘You won’t need me to report my well-being to you, querida. You’ll be with me twenty-four seven.’

  The plane, lending perfect punctuation to his words, chose that moment to touch down. Rafael was up and heading towards the doors before the jet was fully stationary.

  Jumping up, she hurried after him.

  And realised—once a thousand flashlights exploded in her face on exit—that he hadn’t been joking when he’d referred to the circus.

  * * *

  Monaco in late winter was just as glorious as it was during the summer race weekend but with an added bonus of considerably fewer people. But for the paparazzi dogging their every move, Raven could’ve convinced herself she was on holiday.

  After a series of introductions and short but numerous meetings, they were finally driven higher and higher into the mountains above Monte Carlo. Glancing out at the spectacular view spread beneath them, her senses came alive at the beauty around her. It was different to the rugged gorgeousness of Rafael’s estate in León, but breathtaking nonetheless.

  ‘Don’t you usually stay at the Hôtel de France?’ She referred to the exquisite five-star hotel where all his meetings had taken place with the upper echelons of his X1 Premier Management team.

  ‘I prefer to stay there during the race season. But not this time.’

  She wondered at the cryptic remark until they arrived at their destination. Wrought iron gates swung wide to reveal a jaw-droppingly stunning art deco villa. The design wasn’t unique to the French Riviera but several marked add-ons—large windows and a hint of steel and chrome here and there—made it stand out from the usual.

  ‘Who lives here?’ she asked.

  ‘For the next few days, you and me and the usual number of complementary staff. It used to belong to an Austrian countess. I’m toying with the idea of buying it, making this my permanent base.’

  She faced him in surprise. ‘You’re considering leaving León?’

  He shrugged, seeming carefree, but his expression was shuttered. ‘I haven’t really lived full time in León for a very long time. It won’t be a big deal.’

  ‘Have you discussed it with Marco and Sasha? Won’t they mind?’

  ‘They’d be relieved not to have an invalid cluttering up the place, I expect.’

  She suspected his brother and wife thought nothing of the sort but chose not to express that opinion. ‘But...it’s your home. Won’t you miss it?’

  ‘It’s only bricks and mortar, bonita.’

  Realising he meant it, she frowned. ‘Is there a place you actually call home?’

  Raven was unprepared for the darkness that swept over his features. In a blink of an eye it was gone, his face restored to its rugged, breathtaking handsomeness that set so many female hearts aflutter whenever the spectacular Rafael de Cervantes made an appearance.

  ‘Rafael?’ she probed when he remained silent.

  ‘A long time ago, I did. But, like everything else in my life, I trashed it completely and utterly. Now—’ he pushed the door of the limo open, stepped out and held out a hand for her ‘—come in and tell me what you think. I read somewhere that a woman’s opinion is priceless when choosing a house, especially a woman you’re not sleeping with. Personally, I disagree with that assertion but I’ve been known to be wrong once or twice.’

  She managed to hold her tongue until the trio of staff who greeted them at the door had taken up their luggage. The minute they were alone, she faced Rafael in the large open style living room, which had an exquisitely moulded ceiling that extended over two floors. Once again—and she was beginning to notice a pattern—the room consisted mostly of windows, although this villa had a few solid walls.

  ‘What did you mean when you said you’ve trashed everything in your life?’ she asked.

  He flung his walking stick into the nearest chair and made his way slowly towards her. Stopping a mere foot away, he glanced down at her.

  ‘I was hoping you’d forgotten that.’

  ‘I haven’t, and I don’t really think you meant me to.’

  His smile was fleeting, poignant, and barely touched his eyes. ‘I guess my probing on the plane makes you feel you’re entitled to a certain...reciprocity?’

  ‘No, I don’t. I shared a little of my past with you because I wanted to. You don’t have to feel obliged to return the favour but I’d like to know all the same.’

  ‘Tell me what you think of the villa first.’

  Her gaze took in the various OTT abstract art and cutting edge sculptures and high-spec lighting and shrugged. Every item in the room shrieked opulence a little too loudly. ‘I like it but I don’t love it. I think it’s trying too hard to be something it’s not. I don’t think it suits you.’

  He glanced around at the plush leather chairs and carefully placed art and sculptures, the high-tech gadgets and priceless rugs.

  ‘Hmm, you could be right. Although that single armchair looks perfect for...de-stressing.’

  ‘Answer my question, Rafael. Why don’t you have a home any more?’

  His smile dimmed slowly until only raw, untrammelled p
ain reflected in his eyes. He held his breath for a long, interminable moment, then he slowly exhaled. ‘Because, querida, everything that meant a damn to me went up in a ball of flames eight years ago.’

  CHAPTER FIVE

  THE GLITTERING BALLROOM of the Hôtel de France had been redesigned to look like a car showroom, albeit a very expensive car showroom, complete with elaborately elegant priceless chandeliers.

  A vintage Bentley MkVI Donington Special from Rafael’s own car collection gleamed beneath a spotlight in the centre of the room.

  Raven stood to one side as guests continued to stream in from the Automobile Club de Monaco where the X1 All-Star event had kicked off with an opening by the resident head of the Monégasque royal family.

  Glancing at the door, she caught sight of Rafael as he chatted to the head of one of the largest car manufacturers in the world. Dressed in a black tuxedo with the customary studded shirt and bow tie, it was the most formal she’d seen him. The sheer stomach-clenching magnetism he exuded made her clutch her champagne flute harder to stem the fierce reaction that threatened to rock her off her feet.

  As she watched he laughed in response to a joke. Looking at him, it was hard to believe he was the same man who, for a minuscule moment in time, had bared a part of his soul to her at the villa three days ago. The moment had been fleeting—as most of those moments were with Rafael. Hell, he hadn’t even bothered to elaborate after that one cryptic statement about the ball of flames. But his pain had been unmistakable, visceral in a way that had cut through her defences.

  Far from recoiling from the man he’d revealed, she’d wanted to draw closer, ease his pain.

  I’m going loopy.

  He glanced over suddenly and held up three fingers. Her fingers flew up her face to touch her forehead before she could stop herself. Feeling a wave of heat creep up at his knowing smile, she flung a vaguely rude sign his way and turned her back on him.

  He found her minutes later. ‘Are you avoiding me?’

  ‘Nope. You seem to be in your element. How’s your hip?’

  ‘Not well enough to attempt a paso doble but I’m holding my own.’

  ‘You never told me what all of this is in aid of.’

  ‘Have you never been to an All-Star event?’ he asked.

  She shook her head. ‘I don’t tend to involve myself in out of season activities. I’ve heard of it, but only in vague terms.’

  ‘So what do you do when the season ends?’ He latched onto the revelation.

  Raven bit the inside of her lip, then decided she had nothing to lose by revealing just a little bit more about her personal life. ‘I work with injured soldiers, mostly from Afghanistan and Iraq.’

  His eyes narrowed slightly, a solemn look descending over his face. ‘This must seem so very pointless and horribly ostentatious to you in comparison.’

  ‘Since I don’t know exactly what this is, I’m prepared to reserve judgement.’

  ‘This is nothing but a huge elaborate scheme to get rich people to preen and back-slap while reaching into their pockets to fund a few charities.’

  ‘Good heavens, in that case I condemn you all to Hades,’ she said around the smile she couldn’t seem to stop.

  ‘Some of us would feel at home there,’ he murmured. The bleakness in his voice made her glance up at him but his features gave nothing away.

  Deciding to let it go, she glanced around the glittering ballroom. ‘It must be nice to click your fingers and have everything fall into place for you like this.’

  ‘Not quite...everything.’ His gaze dropped to her lips before returning to capture hers.

  Her pulse kicked hard. She fought to pull her gaze away from his but it only went as far as his mouth. ‘Well...consider yourself fortunate, gluttony being a sin and all that.’ She attempted another smile. When Rafael’s own mouth curved into a smile, her heart did a hugely silly dance then proceeded to bash itself against her ribcage.

  He beckoned a waiter, took Raven’s champagne and exchanged it for a fresher-looking glass. He stopped her with a restraining hand on her arm when she went to sip it.

  ‘Take it easy. It may look like champagne but it’s not.’

  She eyed the drink warily. ‘What is it?’

  ‘It’s called Delirium. Don’t worry, it’s not as sinister or as sleazy as it sounds. Sip it slowly, tell me what you think.’

  She did and nearly choked on the tart, potent taste. Almost immediately, the tartness disappeared to leave her tongue tingling with a thousand sensations that made her eyes widen. ‘Oh my goodness, it’s incredible. What’s in it?’

  ‘Edible gold dust and the tiniest drop of adrenaline.’

  ‘You’re kidding!’

  ‘About the adrenaline, sí, but not the gold dust. Although, in my opinion, it’s wasted in the drink. I can think of much better uses for it.’ Again his words held a note quite different from his usual innuendo-laden tone.

  The ground didn’t quite shift but Raven felt a distinct rumble and decided to proceed with caution. ‘You were about to tell me about the All-Star event.’

  ‘It’s an event I hold every year to get all the racing drivers across various racing formulas together before the season starts. Here we can be just friends, instead of championship competitors, while raising money. It’s also an opportunity for retired motor racers to still feel part of the sport for as long as they want to.’

  ‘How many events are there in total?’

  ‘Six races in six countries.’ He waved to a grey-haired man who stood with a towering brunette with the hugest diamond ring Raven had ever seen adorning her finger. When the couple beckoned them over, Rafael sighed and took her elbow.

  Raven’s irritation at having to share Rafael was absurd considering he was the host. But, short of being rude, she had no choice but to let herself be led to the couple.

  ‘Rafael!’ the brunette’s husky voice gushed a second before she threw herself into Rafael’s arms. Dropping Raven’s arm, he deftly caught the woman before she could unbalance him and laughed off her throaty murmurs of apology.

  They conversed in fluent French as Raven stood to the side.

  ‘Let me introduce you—Sergey Ivanov and his wife, Chantilly. Sergey owns the Black Rock team.’

  ‘And I own his heart,’ Chantilly gushed. But even while she planted an open-mouthed kiss on her husband, her eyes were gobbling up Rafael.

  Raven tried not to retch as she murmured what she hoped were appropriate conversational responses. After ten unbearable minutes, she was about to make her excuses and escape to the ladies’ room when she saw Chantilly reach into her bag. With her husband deep in conversation with Rafael, neither man noticed as she withdrew an expensive lipstick and pulled closer to Rafael.

  Raven barely held back her horrified gasp as she saw what Chantilly was doing.

  ‘Did she write her number on your walking stick?’ she asked the moment the couple walked away.

  He lifted the stick and peered at it. ‘Hmm, I believe she did. Interesting...’

  Irrational anger bubbled up through her. ‘Excuse me.’ She barely spat out the words before marching off to the ladies’ room. She forced calming breaths into her lungs, calling on every control-restoring technique she knew to help her regain her equanimity.

  But when she couldn’t even summon up the will to make conversation on the ride back to the villa, she knew she’d failed.

  At the door, she bit out a terse goodnight, nearly tripping over the hem of the black sequined gown she’d hastily shopped for in Monaco that morning. She was unused to such elaborate, expensive outfits, as was her credit card, but as she went up to her room, the slide of the seductive material over her heated skin was unmistakable.

  Or was it Rafael’s gaze on her bare back that caused sensations to
skitter all over her body?

  She didn’t care. All she cared about was getting away from the man who, in more ways than she was willing to admit, was cut from the same cloth as her father.

  * * *

  ‘I can feel the volcanic waves rising off your body,’ Rafael drawled as they finished the last of his exercises next to the large, sparkling infinity pool the next morning. ‘I hope your outrage didn’t keep you up all night?’ His blatant amusement set her teeth on edge.

  She stepped back from the bench she’d set up outside, and especially from the man whose potent sweat-mingled scent made her head swim. Taking a deep breath, she fought the feeling.

  ‘Are you seriously so without a moral compass that you don’t see anything wrong with a married woman slipping you her phone number right in front of her husband?’ she asked, her insides twisting with raw acid.

  ‘Your claws are showing again, piqueña.’

  ‘I don’t have claws, certainly not where you’re concerned. I’m merely disgusted.’

  From his position lying flat on the bench, he rose smoothly into a sitting position. ‘But you could be so much more if you’d just say the word.’

  Flinging a towel onto a nearby chair, she whirled to face him. She tried to tell herself her heart pumped with outrage but underlying that was another emotion she flatly refused to examine. ‘For the thousandth time, I’m here to make sure you heal properly, not be your sex pet!’

  He rubbed his chin thoughtfully in the morning light, a smile teasing his lips. ‘Sex pet. Dios, the sound of that makes my pulse race, especially seeing as you’re just the right size and shape for a pet.’ He shut his eyes, one long arm lifting to trace the air. ‘I can just see my hand gliding over that glorious raven hair, sliding down the side of your elegant neck. Of course, you’d gasp in outrage. That’s when I’d slide my finger over your full, sexily kissable mouth. And if you were to nip it with just the right amount of pressure—’

  She gulped. ‘Dammit, Rafael—’

  ‘Shh! Don’t spoil my fantasy. The sweat trickling down your chest now just makes me want to undo those no-nonsense buttons and follow it with my tongue.’