Читать книгу His Ultimate Prize - Maya Blake - Страница 10

CHAPTER THREE

‘DO YOU WANT to talk about it?’

‘The therapy in your job title pertains only to my body, not my mind. You’ll do well to remember that.’

Raven should’ve heeded the icy warning, should’ve just kept her hands on the wheel of the luxury SUV and kept driving towards the stunning glass and steel structure that was Rafael’s home on the other side of the de Cervantes estate from his brother’s villa.

But her senses jumped at the aura of acute pain that had engulfed Rafael the moment he’d turned around to face the old man in the electric wheelchair. The same pain that surrounded him now. Grey lips were pinched into a thin line, his jaw carved from stone and fingers clamped around his walking stick in a white-knuckled grip. Even his breathing had changed. His broad chest rose and fell in an uncharacteristically shallow rhythm that screamed his agitation.

She pulled over next to a tall acacia tree, one of several hundred that lined the long winding driveway and extended into the exquisitely designed landscape beyond. Behind them, the iron gates, manned by twenty-four-hour security, swung shut.

Narrowed eyes focused with laser-like intensity on her. ‘What the hell do you think you’re doing?’

‘I’ve stopped because we need to talk about what just happened. Your mental health affects your body’s recovery just as much as your physiotherapy regime.’

‘Healthy mind, healthy body? That’s a piss-poor way of trying to extract the hot gossip, Raven mía. You’ll need to do much better than that. Why don’t you just come out and ask for the juicy details?’

She blew a breath, refusing to rise to the bait. ‘Would you tell me if I asked you that?’

‘No.’

‘Rafael—’

Arctic-chilled eyes narrowed even further. ‘In case you didn’t already guess, that was my father. Our relationship comes under the subject line of kryptonite—keep the hell out to any and all parties.’

‘So you can dissect my personal life all you want but yours is off limits?’

His smile was just as icy. ‘Certain aspects of my personal life are wide open to you. All you have to do is say the word and I’ll be happy to educate you in how we can fully explore it.’

‘That is not what I meant.’

‘You’ve taken pains to establish boundaries between us since the moment we met. This is one of my boundaries. Attempt to breach it at your peril.’

She frowned. ‘Or what? You’ll fall back on your default setting of sexual innuendo and taunts? Rafael, I’m only trying to help you.’

His hand slashed through the air in a movement so far removed from his normal laid-back indolence her mouth dropped open. ‘I do not need your help unless it’s the help I’ve hired you to provide. Right now I want you to shut up and drive.’ He clipped out the final word in a hard bite that sent a chill down her spine.

After waiting a minute to steady her own shot nerves, she set the SUV back onto the road, aware of his continued shallow breathing and gritted-jaw iciness. Her fingers clenched over the titanium steering wheel and she practised some nerve-calming breaths of her own.

From the very first, Rafael had known which buttons to push. He’d instinctively known that the subject of sex was anathema to her and had therefore honed in on it with the precision of a laser-guided missile.

Seeing his intense reaction to his father—and she’d known immediately the nearly all-grey-haired man in the wheelchair was his father—had hammered home what she’d been surprised to learn this morning at the chapel, and had somewhat confirmed at Marco’s villa: that Rafael, as much as he pretended to be shallow and sex pest-y, had a depth he rarely showed to the world.

Was that why she was so driven to pay penance for the way she’d treated him several months ago—because deep down she thought he was worth saving?

Raven shied away from the probing thought and brought the car to a stop at the end of the driveway.

The wide solid glass door that led into the house swung open and Diego, one of the many staff Rafael employed to run his luxurious home, came down the steps to open her door. In silence, she handed him the car keys and turned to find Rafael rounding the bonnet. The sun glinting off the silver paint cast his face into sharp relief. Her breath snagged in her chest at the masculine, tortured beauty of him. She didn’t offer to assist him as he climbed the shallow steps into the house.

In the marble-floored hallway, he shrugged off his suit jacket, handed it to Diego and pulled his shirt tails impatiently from his trousers. At the glimpse of tanned golden flesh a pulse of heat shot through her belly. Sucking in a breath, she looked away, focusing on an abstract painting that took up one entire rectangular pillar in the hallway for an infinitesimal second before she glanced his away again, to find him shoving an agitated hand through his hair.

‘Do you need—?’ she started.

‘Unless I’m growing senile, today’s Sunday. Did we not agree we’d give the Florence Nightingale routine a rest on Sundays?’

Annoyance rose to mingle with her concern. ‘No, you came up with that decree. I never agreed to it.’

Handing his walking stick to a still-hovering Diego, he started to unbutton his shirt. ‘It’s a great thing I’m the boss then, isn’t it?’

Her mouth dried as several inches of stunning flesh assaulted her senses. When her brain started to short-circuit, she pulled her gaze away. ‘Undressing in the hallway, Rafael, really?’ She tried to inject as much indifference into her tone as possible but was aware her voice had become unhealthily screechy. ‘What do you think—that I’m going to run away in virginal outrage?’

His shameless grin didn’t hide the strain and tension beneath. ‘At twenty-four, I seriously doubt there’s anything virginal about you. No, mi dulzura, I’m hoping you’ll stay and cheer me on through my striptease.’

The sound that emerged from her throat made his grin widen. ‘Don’t you want to heal completely? That limp will not go away until you work hard to strengthen your core muscles and realign the bones that were damaged during the accident. If you’d just focus on that we can be rid of each other sooner rather than later.’

Although she thought she saw his shoulders stiffen as he turned to give his shirt to Diego, his grin was still in place when he faced her. ‘You’re under the impression that I want to be shot of you but you couldn’t be further from the truth. I want you right here with me every day.’

‘So I can be your whipping girl?’

‘I’ve never been a fan of whips, myself. Handcuffs, blindfolds, the odd paddle, certainly...but whips?’ He gave a mock shudder. ‘No, not my thing.’

His hand went to the top of his trousers. Deft fingers freed his button, followed by the loud, distinct sound of his zip lowering. She froze. Diego didn’t bat an eyelid. ‘For goodness’ sake, what are you doing, Rafael?’

He toed off his shoes and socks. ‘I thought it was obvious. I’m going for a swim. Care to join me?’

‘I...no, thank you.’ The way her temperature had shot up, she’d need a cold shower, not the sultry warmth of Rafael’s azure infinity pool. ‘But we’ll need to talk when you’re done. I’ll come and find you—’ She nearly choked when he dropped his trousers and stepped out of them. The way his designer cotton boxer shorts cupped his impressive man package made all oxygen flee from her lungs. Utterly captivated by the man whose sculpted body, even after the accident that had laid him flat for months, was still the best-looking she’d even seen or worked with, Raven could no more stop herself from staring than she could fly to the moon.

His thighs and legs bore scars from his accident, his calves solid powerful muscle that made the physio in her thrilled to be working with such a manly specimen. Dear Lord, even his feet were sexy, and she’d never been one to pay attention to feet unless they were directly related to her profession.

Helplessly, her gaze travelled back up, past his golden, sculpted chest and wide, athletic shoulders to collide with icy blue eyes.

‘My, my, if I didn’t enjoy it so much I’d be offended to be treated like a piece of meat.’

She snapped back to her senses to see Diego disappearing up the granite banister-less staircase leading to Rafael’s vast first floor suite. The click of his walking stick drew attention back to the man in question. One brow was raised in silent query.

‘What do you expect if you insist on making an exhibition of yourself?’

One step brought him within touching distance. ‘That’s the beauty of free will, querida. The ability to walk away when a situation displeases you.’

‘If I did that every time you attempted to rile me, I’d never get any work done and you’d still be in the pathetic shape I found you in five weeks ago.’

Another step. Raven breathed in and clenched her fists against the warm, wicked scent that assailed her senses.

‘You know what drew me to you when you first joined Team Espíritu?’ he breathed.

‘I’m sure you’re going to enlighten me.’

‘Your eyes flash with the deepest hypnotic fire when you’re all riled up but your body screams stay away. Even the most seductive woman can’t pull that off as easily as you can. I’m infinitely fascinated to know what happened to make you this way.’

‘Personal subjects are off the table. Besides, I thought you had me all worked out?’

His gaze dropped to her lips. She pressed them together to stop their insane tingling. ‘I know the general parameters of your inner angst. But I can’t help but feel there’s another layer, a deeper reason why you want me with every cell in your body but would chop off your hand before you would even bring yourself to touch me in any but a professional way.’

The ice that encased her soul came from so deep, so dark a place that she’d stopped trying to fathom the depths of it. ‘Enjoy your swim, Rafael. I’ll come by later to discuss the next steps of your regime.’

‘Of course, Mistress Raven. I look forward to the many and varied ways you intend to whip me into shape.’ With a step sideways that still managed to encroach on her body space and bring even more of his pulsing body heat slapping against her, he adjusted the walking stick and sauntered away in a slow, languid walk.

Hell, even a limping Rafael de Cervantes managed to move with a swagger that made her heart race. Tearing her traitorous gaze away from his tight butt, she hurried up the floating staircase to her room. Gritting her teeth against the firestorm of emotions that threatened to batter her to pieces, she changed into her workout gear. The simple act of donning the familiar attire calmed her jangling nerves.

But she couldn’t forget that, once again, Rafael had cut through the outer layer of her defences and almost struck bone, almost peeled back layers she didn’t want uncovered.

She pushed the niggling sensation away and shoved her feet into comfortable trainers. After a minute’s debate, she decided on the gym instead of her preferred outdoor regime. Even though the day was edging towards evening, the Spanish sun blazed far too hot for the gruelling exercise she needed to restore balance to her equilibrium.

She took the specially installed lift that divided her suite from Rafael’s to the sub-basement level where the state-of-the-art gym was located. It was the only room in the whole house that didn’t have an exhibitionist’s view to the outside.

Rafael’s house held no concrete walls, only thick glass interspersed with steel and chrome pillars. At first the feeling of exposure had preyed on her nerves, but now the beauty of the architecturally stunning design had won her over. Nevertheless, right this minute she was grateful for the enclosed space of the gym. Here she didn’t need to compose herself, didn’t need to hold back her punches as she slammed her gloved fist into the punching bag. Pain repeatedly shot up her arms, and gradually cleared her mind.

She was here to do her job. Which started and ended with helping Rafael heal properly and regain the utmost mobility. Once she achieved her aim and made peace with her part in his accident, she could walk away from the crazy, bone-deep, completely insane attraction she felt for the man who was in every shape and form the epitome of the man who’d fathered her.

The man whose playboy lifestyle had mattered to him on so deep a level he’d turned his back on his parental responsibilities until they’d been forced on him by the authorities. The same man who’d stood by and barely blinked while his friends had tried to put their hands on her.

Punch!

Her hand slipped. The bag continued its lethal trajectory towards her. Only her ingrained training made her sidestep the heavy-moving bag before it knocked her off her feet. Chest heaving, she tugged off the gloves and went to the climbing frame and chalked her hands.

Clamping her lids shut, she regulated her breathing and forced herself to focus.

Rafael would not derail her. She’d made a colossal mistake and vocalised her roiling disgust for his lifestyle at the most inappropriate moment. Whatever the papers had said, Raven knew deep down she was partly, if not wholly, responsible for putting Rafael in the dangerous frame of mind that had caused his accident. She also knew things could’ve turned out a million times worse than they had. This was her penance. She would help him get back on his feet. Then she would leave and get on with the rest of her life.

Reaching high, she grabbed the first handhold.

By the time she reached the top seven minutes later, her new course of action was clearly formulated.

* * *

‘I’ve laid out the itinerary for the next three months. If you cooperate, I’m confident I can get you back to full health and one hundred per cent mobility with little or no after-effects,’ she started crisply as she opened the door and entered Rafael’s study. She approached his desk, only to stop when she noticed his attention was caught on the papers strewn on his glass-topped desk.

‘I’m talking to you, Rafael.’

‘I heard you,’ he muttered, and held out his hand for the sheet without looking up. After a cursory glance, he started to shake his head. ‘This isn’t going to work.’ He slapped it down and picked up his own papers.

Raven waited a beat. When he didn’t look up, she fought a sharp retort. ‘May I ask why not?’

‘I have several events to host and meetings to attend between now and when the X1 season starts. Your itinerary requires that I stand still.’

She frowned. ‘No, it doesn’t.’

‘It might as well. You’ve upped the regime from two to three times a day with sports massages thrown in there that would require me to be stationary. And was that acupuncture I saw in there?’ His derisive tone made her hackles rise higher. ‘I’ll be travelling a lot in the next three months. You’re sorely mistaken if you think I intend to take time off to sit around being pricked and prodded.’

She watched the light glint off his damp hair. ‘What do you mean, you’ll be travelling a lot? You’re supposed to be recuperating.’

Steely blue eyes met hers and instantly Raven was reminded of the unwavering determination that had seen him win several racing championships since he’d turned professional at nineteen.

‘I have a multi-billion-dollar company to run, or have you forgotten?’

‘No, I haven’t. But wasn’t...isn’t Marco in charge for the time being? He told me he had everything in hand when we discussed my helping you—’

His eyes narrowed. ‘What else did you discuss with my brother?’

Mouth dry, she withstood his stare. ‘What do you mean?’

‘I expected an element of confidentiality when I hired you...’

‘What exactly are you accusing me of?’

‘You will not discuss details of my health with anyone else but me, is that clear?’

‘I didn’t—’

‘You’re glowing.’ His gaze raked her face down to her neck and back up again.

‘Excuse me?’

‘You look...flushed. If I weren’t painfully aware of the unlikelihood of it, I’d have said you had just tumbled from a horizontal marathon in a lover’s bed. Not quite tumbled to within an inch of your life, more like—’

‘Can we get back to this, please?’ She waved the sheet in his face then slammed it back in front of him.

He shrugged and sat back in his plush leather chair, the cool, calm businessman back in place. ‘Marco has his own company to run...and a new family to attend to. Besides, he’s taking a well-earned break, so I’m managing his company as well.’

A wave of shock nearly rendered her speechless. ‘And you didn’t think to speak to me before you decided all this?’

‘I wasn’t aware I needed your permission to live my life or run my business.’ His voice, a stiletto-thin blade, skimmed close to her skin.

She took a breath and searched for calm, a state which she’d concluded long ago was near on impossible when in Rafael’s presence. ‘It’s part of the contract we agreed. If you’re going to take on any substantial amount of work I’ll need to know so I can formulate your therapy accordingly. For goodness’ sake, you can’t go from zero to full-time work in the space of an afternoon. And I really don’t know what you were thinking, telling your brother you’d take on this amount of work for the next goodness knows how long!’

Rafael’s gaze dropped to her annoyed almost-pout and fought not to continue downward to the agitated heaving of her breasts. Peachy...the smooth skin of her throat glowed a faint golden-pink. He’d long been fascinated by how a woman with jet-black hair such as hers could have skin so pale it was almost translucent. He knew she took care to stay out of the sun and practised her exercises before daybreak.

An image of her, streamlined, sleek and poised upside down in a martial arts pose, slammed into his brain. The groin-hardening effect made him grip his pen harder. His gaze fell once more on her lips and it was all he could do not to round his desk, clasp her face in his hands and taste her. Or maybe coax her round to him, pull down that prim little skirt she’d donned and discover the delights underneath.

Dios, focus!

‘Luckily, I don’t answer to you, mi dulzura.’ He certainly had no intention of enlightening her on what he’d been working steadily on for over a month; what he hadn’t stopped thinking of since he’d woken from his coma.

Because finding a way to occupy his mind was the only sure way of keeping his many and varied demons at bay.

‘...I hope to hell you’re not thinking of adding racing to this insane schedule.’ She paled a little as she said it and the usual kick of satisfaction surged.

‘And what if I am?’ He moderated his voice despite the cold fist of pain that lodged in his gut. Unless a miracle happened, his racing career was over. A part of him had accepted that. Deep inside his soul, however, it was another matter.

‘I’m hoping it won’t come to that. Because you know as well as I do, you’re in no shape to get into a racing cockpit.’

He raised an interested brow. ‘And how exactly do you intend to stop me?’

Her delectable lips parted but no words emerged, and her eyes took on a haunted look that made him grit his teeth. ‘I can’t, I suppose. But I think you’ll agree you’re not in the best shape.’

‘Physically or mentally?’

‘Only you can judge your mental state but, as your physiotherapist, I’d say you’re not ready.’

He finally got his body under enough control to stand. He caught her sharp inhalation when he rounded the desk and perched on the edge next to where she stood. Hazel eyes, wide and spirited, glared at him.

Taking the sheet from her hand, he dropped it on the table, reached across—slowly, so she wouldn’t bolt—and traced his forefinger along her jaw. ‘Your eyes are so huge right now. You’re almost shaking with worry for me. Yet you try and make me think you detest the very ground I walk on.’

Her hand rose to intercept his finger but, instead of pushing it away, she kept a hold of it, imploring eyes boring into his. ‘I don’t detest you, Rafael. If I did, I wouldn’t be here. I’ll admit we’re...different but—’ her shoulders rose and fell under the thin layer of her cotton top ‘—I’m willing to put aside our differences to help you recuperate properly. And racing before you’re ready...come on, you know that’s crazy. Besides, think of your family, of Sasha. Do you think you’re being fair to them, putting them through this?’

He froze. ‘I’ve never responded well to emotional blackmail. And leave Sasha out of this. I’ll tell you what, if you don’t want me to race, you’ll have to find other ways to keep me entertained.’

She dropped his hand as if it burned, just like he’d known she would. ‘Why does everything always circle back to sex with you?’

‘I didn’t actually mean that sexually, but what the hell, let’s go with it.’

‘Stop doing that!’

‘Doing what, mi encantador?’

‘Pretending you’re a male bimbo whore.’

‘Are you saying I’m not?’ He pretended astonishment, the fizz of getting under her skin headier than the most potent wine.

She nodded at the papers on his desk. ‘You just reminded me that you run a multi-billion-dollar corporation. I don’t care how great you claim to be in bed; you couldn’t have made it without using some upstairs skills.’

He leaned back on the table when a twinge of pain shot through his left hip. ‘How do you know?’

‘You shouldn’t sit like that. You’re putting too much pressure on your hip.’

Annoyance replaced his buzz. He didn’t deny that Raven had made much progress where his previous physios had failed. After all, it was the reason Team Espíritu had hired her as his personal therapist last year. She was the best around and got impressive results with her rigorous regime. But she’d always been able to brush him off as if he were a pesky fly.

He remained in his exact position, raising a daring brow when her gaze collided with his. His blood thickened when she took the dare and stepped closer.

Without warning, her hand shot out and grabbed his hip. Her thumb dug into his hipbone where the pain radiated from. A few rotations of pressure-based massage and he wanted to moan with relief.

‘Why do you fight me when you know I’m the best person to help you get better?’ she breathed.

‘Because my mamá told me I never took the easy way out. You will never get me to ask how high when you say jump.’

She paused for a second, then continued to massage his hip. ‘You never talk about your mother,’ she murmured.

Tension rippled through him. ‘I never talk about anyone in my family. The prying all comes from you, bonita. You’ve made it a mission to upturn every single rock in my life.’

‘And yet I don’t feel in any way enlightened about your life.’

‘Maybe because I’m an empty vessel.’ He tried damn hard not to let the acid-like guilt bleed through his voice.

‘No, you’re not. You just like to pretend you are. Have you considered that by pretending to be something you’re not, all you’re doing is attracting attention to the very thing you wish to avoid?’

‘That’s deep. And I presume that thought challenges you endlessly?’

Her hand had moved dangerously close to his fly. If she looked down or moved her actions a few inches west, she’d realise that, despite their verbal sparring skimming the murkier waters of his personal life, he was no less excited by her touch.

In fact, he wasn’t ashamed to admit that he found the return of his libido exhilarating. For a few weeks after he’d emerged from his coma it’d been touch and go. His doctors had cautioned him that he might not resume complete sexual function. Raven Blass’s appearance in his hospital room five weeks ago had blown that misdiagnosis straight out of the water.

‘No,’ she responded. ‘I know better than to issue challenges to you.’

‘You’re such a buzzkill,’ he said, but he felt relieved that she’d decided to leave the matter of his mother alone.

He saw the faintest trace of a smile on her face before it disappeared. Her fingers moved away, rounded his hip and settled into his back. The movement brought her closer still, her chest mere inches from his. Firm, relief-bringing fingers dug into his muscle. Again he suppressed a moan of relief.

‘I know. But think how smug I’d feel if you got back into racing before you were ready and reversed your progress. You’d never hear the end of it if you proved me right.’

The sultry movement of her mouth was a siren call he didn’t try very hard to resist. His forefinger was gliding over her mouth before he could stop himself. Her fingers stilled before digging painfully into his back. The rush of her breath over his finger sent his pulse thundering.

‘Or I could die. And this relentless song and dance could be over between us. Once and for all.’