The Price of Success (17 page)

The stark need to do just that frightened her. ‘Are you sure you don’t want me to leave? I can go home for a few days before the team leaves for Abu Dhabi next week. Maybe it’s for the best.’

‘And maybe you need to shut up. Just for one damn moment,’ he snarled, then grabbed her arm and turned her into his body.

The heat of his mouth devoured hers. Fiery sensation was instantaneous. Sasha held nothing back. Her fingers gripped his nape, luxuriating in the smooth skin before spearing upward to
spread through his hair. His deep groan echoed hers. Willingly, she let her mouth fall open, let his tongue invade to slide deliciously against hers.

His hand snaked around her waist and veered downwards, bringing her flush against his heated body. Need flooded her. To be this close again with him, to feel him, to be with him, made her body, her heart sing.

She wanted to be close. Closer. Physically and emotionally. Because … Because …

Infinitely glad he’d shed his jacket, she explored the large expanse of his shoulders.

When the demands of oxygen forced them apart his gaze stayed on her. One hand cupped her bottom. Against her belly she felt the ripe force of his erection.

‘You do realise we’re making out under a car, don’t you?’ she asked huskily.

‘It’s the only thing stopping me from pulling you on top of me and burying myself inside you. Tell me you missed me.’

‘I missed you.’

‘Bueno.’
He fastened his mouth to hers once more.

By the time he freed her and pulled them from underneath the car her brain had become a useless expanse seeking only the pleasure he could provide. When he undressed her, led her to the back door of a 1938 Rolls-Royce, she was a willing slave, ready to do his every bidding.

Snagging an arm around her waist, he speared a hand through her hair and tilted her face to his. ‘You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do this.’

‘What?’ she breathed.

His mouth swooped, locked on the juncture where her shoulder met her neck, where her pulse thundered frantically.

Her blood surged to meet his mouth. When his teeth grazed her skin she cried out. The eroticism of it was so intense that liquid heat pooled between her legs, where she throbbed, plumping up for the studied and potent possession only he could deliver.

He took his time, tasted her, his mouth playing over the delicate, intensely aroused skin. Just when she thought it couldn’t
get any more pleasurable his tongue joined in. Ecstasy lashed at her insides, creating a path of fire from her neck to her breasts, to her most sensitive part and down to her toes. Nowhere was safe from the utter bliss rushing through her.

Finally, satisfied, he lifted his head. He took a step forward, then another, until the edge of the car seat touched her calves. With his gentle push she fell back onto the wide seat.

He followed immediately, his warmth surrounding her. In his arms she felt delicate, cared for, as if she mattered. As if she was precious. Which was silly. For Marco this was just sex. But for her …

She shut her mind off the painful train of thought. ‘I thought you wanted me on top?’

His teeth gleamed in a slow, feral smile. ‘In good time,
mi tentación
. We have a long way to go. Now, don’t move.’

He cupped her breasts, toying with the nipples, torturing her for so long she wriggled with pleasure.

‘I said don’t move,’ he gritted through clenched teeth, the harsh stamp of desire tautening his face.

‘You expect me to just lie here like a ten-dollar hooker?’

Despite the intense desire threatening to swallow them whole, laughter rumbled through his chest. ‘Never having been graced with the attentions of a ten-dollar hooker, I can’t answer that. But if you don’t stop tormenting me with your body I won’t be responsible for my actions.’

‘Oh,
now
you’re just threatening me with a good time.’

‘Dios
, woman. Your mouth …’

‘You want to kiss it?’ It was more of a plea than a question. Her head rose off the seat in search of his.

He pulled away. ‘It’s a weapon of man’s destruction.’

She groaned. ‘You can always kiss me to shut me up. I can’t promise I won’t blow you away, though.’

He mumbled something low and pithy under this breath. And then he kissed her.

A long while later, stretched out alongside Marco’s warm length on the back seat of the car, she finally acknowledged her feelings.

She was happy. It was a happiness doomed to disaster and a short lifespan, but no matter how delusional she wanted it to last a little while longer.

Glancing down, she noticed Marco’s wallet had dropped onto the floor of the car. Spying a picture peeking out, she picked up the wallet and peered closer.

The long, unruly hair was unfamiliar, as was the small gokart in the background. But the determination and fierce pride in those hazel eyes looked familiar.

‘This picture of you is adorable. Now I know what your children will look like.’ She tried not to let the pain of that thought show on her face. ‘I bet they’ll be racers just like you and Rafael.’

Marco stiffened, his eyes growing cold and bleak. ‘There won’t be any children.’

The granite-like certainty in his voice chilled her soul. ‘Why do you say that?’

For a long, endless moment he didn’t answer. Then he took the wallet from her. Reaching for his trousers, he opened the car door, stepped out and pulled them on.

‘Come with me.’

Despite already missing his arms around her, she sat up. ‘Where are we going?’

The look in his eyes grew bleaker. ‘Not far. Put your clothes on. I don’t want to get distracted.’

She was all for distracting him if it meant he wouldn’t look so cold and forbidding. But she did as he said.

Marco led her to the far side of the garage. Keying in a security code, he threw open the door and stepped inside, pulling her behind him.

With a flick of a switch, light bathed the room. Sasha looked around and gasped at the contents of many glass cabinets.

‘These are all yours?’ she whispered. Walking forward she opened the first cabinet and lifted the first trophy.

‘Sí.’
Marco’s voice was husky with emotion. ‘I started racing when I was five.’

There were more trophies than she could count, filling four huge cabinets. ‘I know.’

He walked to the farthest cabinet and picked up the lone trophy standing in a case by itself. ‘This was my last trophy.’

‘You never told me why you gave up racing,’ she murmured.

When he tensed even more, she went to him and grasped his balled fists.

‘Tell me what happened.’

His eyes bored into hers, as if judging her to see if he could trust her with his pain. After an eternity his hand loosened enough to grasp hers.

‘I got my first contract to race when I was eighteen. By twenty-one I’d won two championships and acquired a degree in engineering. I was on the list of every team, and I had the choice of picking which team to drive for. A week after I signed for my dream team I met Angelique Santoro. I was twenty-four, and foolishly believed in love at first sight. And even by then I’d had my fill of paddock bunnies. She was … different. Smart, sexy, exciting—far older than her twenty-five years. All I wanted to do was race and be with her. She convinced me to sack my manager and take her on instead. Six months later we were engaged and she was pregnant.’

A shiver of dread raced over Sasha. Deep inside her chest a ball of pain, buried but not forgotten, tightened.

There won’t be any children
.

‘You didn’t want the baby?’ she whispered in horror.

He laughed. A harsh, tortured sound that twisted her heart. ‘I wanted it more than I’d ever wanted anything in my life.’

Sasha frowned. ‘But … what happened?’

‘I rearranged my whole life around that promise of a family. I designed the
Casa de Leon
track so I could train there, instead of going away to train at other tracks. My parents moved here. My mother was ecstatic at becoming a grandparent.’

The note of pain through his voice rocked her.

‘Angelique wasn’t satisfied?’

‘She wholeheartedly agreed with everything. Until I crashed.’

Her hand tightened around his. ‘I don’t understand. Your crash was serious, yes, but nothing you couldn’t come back from.’

‘I was in a coma for nine days. The team hired someone else to replace me when the doctors told my parents and Angelique it was unlikely I’d race again.’

‘They must have been devastated for you.’

‘My parents were.’

Sadness touched her soul. ‘I’m sorry. I can’t imagine what you must have gone through.’

He slid a finger under her chin and lifted her face to his, an echo of pain in his eyes. ‘Nor would I want you to. But this …’ he pulled her closer, his gaze softening a touch …’.this helps.’

With a smile, she lifted her mouth to his. ‘I’m glad.’

Their kiss was gentle, a soothing balm on his turbulent revelations.

When they parted, she glanced again at the trophies. ‘Is that why you don’t let anyone in here? Because it reminds you that your racing career is over?’

‘When I accepted that part of my life was over I locked them away.’ He pulled her away from the cabinet.

‘Wait. You said your parents were devastated? What about Angelique?’

He stiffened again, his gaze turning hooded as he thrust his hands into his pockets. ‘When it turned out I was destined for a job designing cars instead of racing them, she lost interest,’ he said simply, but his oblique tone told a different story.

‘That’s not all, is it?’

Pain washed over his face before he could mask it. ‘Before I crashed Angelique was almost three months pregnant. When I woke from my coma she was no longer pregnant.’

Sasha’s horrified gasp echoed through the room. ‘She had an abortion?’

His eyes turned almost black with pain. ‘Sí. Two months later she married my ex-team boss.’

A wave of horror washed over her. ‘Are you even sure she was pregnant in the first place?’ Considering how heartless the woman had been, Sasha wouldn’t be surprised if she’d faked the pregnancy.

Marco’s movements were uncharacteristically jerky as he
reached for his wallet. Beneath the photo, a small grey square slid out. In the light of the trophy room Sasha saw the outline of a tiny body in a pre-natal scan.

Tears gathered in her eyes and fell before she could stop them. With shaking hands she took the picture from him, the memory of her own loss striking into her heart so sharply she couldn’t breathe.

‘I was there the day this was taken. The thing was, all along I suspected Angelique was capable of that. She was extremely ruthless—driven to the point of obsession. But since she channelled all that into being my manager I chose to see it as something else.’

‘Love?’ she suggested huskily.

His jaw tightened. ‘I blinded myself to her true colours. My mother tried to warn me, but I wouldn’t listen to her. I almost cut her out of my life because of Angelique.’ He sucked in a harsh breath. ‘I lost my child … she lost her grandchild … because I chose to bury my head in the sand. She was devastated, and I don’t think she really got over the damage I did to our family.’

Brushing a hand across her cheek, she asked, ‘Why do you keep this?’

Marco took the scan and placed it back in his wallet. ‘I failed to protect my daughter. This reminds me never to fail my family again.’

M
ARCO
left again the next day and didn’t return for another two. When he returned Sasha met him in the hallway. His dragged her into his study and proceeded to kiss her with brutal need.

His confession in the garage had afforded her a glimpse into the man he was today. She now truly understood why he was so ferociously protective of Rafael. And why she couldn’t afford for him to find out the true depth of her feelings.

Taking a deep breath, she forced herself to vocalise what she’d been too afraid to say over the phone the night before.

‘Marco, I think I should leave. You can stay in Barcelona and not keep flying back here to see me. I can use the race track back home to train.’

His face clouded in a harsh frown. ‘What the hell are you talking about?’ Roughly he pulled her into his arms and kissed her again. ‘You’re not going anywhere.’

She tried to pull back but he held her easily. ‘But—’

His smile was strained through tiredness. ‘Rafael woke briefly last night. Only for a few minutes. But he appeared lucid, and he recognised me.’ The relief in his voice was palpable.

Sasha smiled. ‘I’m glad. But I think that’s even more of a reason for you to stay in Barcelona. What if he wakes again when you’re not there?’

Setting her free, he stabbed a hand through his hair. ‘He’s been moved to a private suite and I’ve set up video conferencing so I have a live feed into his room. Nothing will happen to him without my knowledge. I’ve also hired extra round-the-clock
staff for when he comes home—including that nurse who was fired from the hospital in Budapest. So, you see, I’m not a total ass.’

‘I know you’re not. But you’re splitting yourself in two when it’s really Rafael who needs you most now.’

‘Maybe I want to put my needs ahead of Rafael’s for once in my life.’ He threw his hands up in the air. ‘What exactly do you want from me, Sasha?’

She was unprepared for the question. But she had one of her own burning at the back of her mind.

‘What do
you
want from me? What is the real reason you want me to stay here? Am I here just so you can have sex on tap or is this something more …?’ She faltered to a halt, too afraid to voice the words traipsing through her mind.

His eyes narrowed. ‘I hardly think this is the time to be having a
where is this relationship going?
conversation.’

‘Is there ever a right time? Besides, you don’t
do
relationships, remember?’

He shrugged off his jacket and flung it onto a nearby chair. ‘I want you here with me. Isn’t that enough?’ he rasped.

Another question she wasn’t prepared for. Not because she didn’t know the answer. It was because she knew the answer was
no
. Wanting was no longer enough. She was in love with Marco: with the boy whose heart had been shredded by a heartless woman and the formidable man who’d loved his unborn child so completely he’d closed his heart to any emotion.

She loved him. And it scared the hell out of her. The urge to retreat stabbed through her. Marco’s obvious reluctance to discuss their relationship frightened her. But looking at him, his face haggard, his hands clenched on the desk in front of him, she knew she couldn’t leave. Not just yet. Not when he was so worried about Rafael.

‘I’ll stay,’ she said.

Naked relief reflected in his eyes.
‘Gracias.’
He pulled her into his arms. ‘Don’t mention leaving again. Even the mere thought makes me want to hurl something.’

She hated herself for the thrill of pleasure that surged through
her. ‘It was for your own good—even if you don’t want to see it.’ And not just for Marco’s sake. She had to find the strength to walk away. Because the longer she stayed, the more she risked losing everything.

‘If you want suggestions on what’s good for me, I have several ideas—’ He stopped and cursed when his phone started ringing.

‘Before you start hurling things, I’ll remove myself to the garage. Your ‘65 Chevelle Impala’s chrome finish needs polishing.’

‘It also has extra wide front seats, if I recall.’

Desire weakened her. ‘Marco …’

‘Fine. But before you go—’

He plastered his lips against hers and proceeded to show her just how foolish her decision to leave had been.

By the time Sasha stumbled from the study she knew her heart was in serious trouble.

Marco threw himself into his seat two days later and barely stopped himself from punching a hole in the wall behind him.

Even though she’d changed her mind about leaving, Marco had sensed a withdrawal in Sasha he couldn’t shake. It was almost as if Rafael’s impending emergence from his coma had put a strain between them.

But why? If there was nothing between them Sasha should be happy that Rafael was recovering. Unless …? The thought that Sasha had feelings for Rafael after all sent a wave of anger and jealousy through him.

No. He dismissed the thought.

She’d listened to him bare his soul, held him in her arms as he’d relived Angelique’s betrayal. Sasha had shed tears for him; he refused to believe the raw pain he’d seen in her eyes wasn’t real.

But he couldn’t deny something was wrong.

Only when they made love, when he held her afterwards, did he feel he had the real Sasha back. Even now, mere hours before she was due to leave for London, she’d locked herself away in his garage, hell-bent on restoring his vintage cars to even more pristine condition than they’d originally been in. While he sat
here, grappling with confusion and a hunger so relentless he was surprised he didn’t spontaneously combust from want.

No. It was more than want. This craving for Sasha, whether she was within arm’s reach or he was in Barcelona, went beyond anything he’d ever known. The few times he’d contemplated whether it would be better if she wasn’t at the villa at all he’d felt a wrench so deep it had shaken him.

Angelique had never made him feel like this, even though at the time he’d thought he would never yearn for another woman the way he’d yearned for her.

What he felt for Sasha was different … deeper … purer …

Marco stiffened, the breath trapped in his chest as he tried to get to grips with his feelings. But the more he tried to unravel the unfamiliar feeling, the more chaotic and frantic it grew.

He glanced out of his study window towards his garage. The feeling that she was slipping through his fingers wouldn’t fade. But he couldn’t deal with it now. There were too many loose ends left to tie up.

As if on cue, his phone rang. With a muttered curse, he picked it up.

All the way to his suite Sasha forced herself to breathe. Despite the cold lump of stone in her stomach, she needed to do this. She couldn’t continue to string things along any longer.

She entered the suite and heard the shower running. Without pausing, she crossed the room and slid open the door.

Water streamed off Marco’s naked, powerful body. The need that slammed through her threatened to weaken her resolve. It took several seconds before she could speak.

‘Marco, I … I’ve decided … I’m not coming back here after the next race.’

He whirled about, looked stricken for a moment, then his jaw clenched. ‘I thought we had this conversation already.’

Even now, with the wrenching pain of losing him coursing through her, she couldn’t resist the intense pull of desire that watching the water cascade over his body brought.

She steeled herself against it. ‘I tried to talk. You laid down the law.’

He snapped a towel off the heated rack and stepped from the shower. ‘You timed it perfectly, didn’t you?’

‘Excuse me?’

‘Your exit strategy. At first I didn’t want to believe it, but now it makes perfect sense.’

She frowned. ‘Perfect sense … What are you talking about?’

‘You can drop the pretence. I had a call twenty minutes ago. From Raven Blass.’

Her eyes widened in surprise. ‘Raven? Why—?’

‘She’s in Barcelona. She wants to see Rafael. I gave the hospital permission to let her see him, but funnily enough she was more worried about how
you
would feel about her visit.’

‘Marco—’

‘Apparently you’re very
territorial
about Rafael. She said something about warning Rafael to stay away from her the day he crashed?’

‘That wasn’t how it was—’

He tied the towel around his trim waist. ‘What was the plan? Use me as a stopgap until Rafael was on his feet, then go back to him?’

‘Of course not!’

‘You started withdrawing from me the moment I told you Rafael was about to wake up. Well, I’m glad to have been of service. But if you have any designs on my brother, kill them now. He won’t like soiled goods.’

She flinched and bit back her gasp. For a moment he appeared to regret his words, then his expression hardened again.

‘Wow. Okay, I guess your mind’s made up.’

‘I mean it, Sasha. Come anywhere near Rafael and I’ll crush you like a bug.’

Pain congealed into a crushing weight in her chest. ‘I suspected this, and I see I was right. Rafael will always come first with you—no matter how much you protest about putting yourself first. I just hope you don’t have to give up something you really want one day.’

He frowned. ‘There’s nothing I want more than my family safe.’

‘Well, that says it all, doesn’t it?’

Whirling, she hurried from the room, cursing the stupid tears that welled up in her eyes.

In her room, she grabbed her suitcase and stuffed her belongings into it. She was snapping it shut when her door flew open.

‘What are you doing?’

‘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 Espiritu 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.’