Читать книгу His Ultimate Prize - Майя Блейк, Maya Blake - Страница 8

CHAPTER TWO

I’M NOT HERE to save you, if that’s what you think.

The words hovered like heat striations in Raven’s brain an hour later as she stood on the large sun-baked terrace of Marco and Sasha’s home. This time the rich surroundings of the architecturally stunning Casa León failed to awe her as they usually did.

I’m not here to save you...

She snorted. What a load of bull. That was exactly why she’d begged Marco to let her visit Rafael in hospital once he’d woken from his coma all those months ago. It was why she’d flown to León from London five weeks ago, after months of trying to contact Rafael and being stonily ignored by him; and why she’d begged him to let her treat him when she found out what an appalling job his carers were doing—not because they were incompetent, but because Rafael didn’t seem inclined in any way to want to get better, and they’d been too intimidated to go against his wishes. It was most definitely why she continued to suffer his inappropriate, irreverent taunts.

She wanted to make things right...wanted to take back every single word she’d said to him eight months ago, right before he’d climbed into the cockpit of his car and crashed it into a solid concrete wall minutes later.

Because it wasn’t Rafael’s fault that she hadn’t been able to curb her stupid, crazy delusional feelings until it was almost too late. It wasn’t his fault that, despite all signs that he was nothing but a carbon copy of her heartless playboy father, she hadn’t been able to stop herself from lusting after him—

No, scratch that. Not a carbon copy. Rafael was no one’s copy. He was a breed in his own right. With a smile that could slice a woman’s heart wide open, make a woman swoon with bliss even as she knew her heart was being slowly crushed. He possessed more charm in his little finger than most wannabe playboys, including her father, held in their entire bodies.

But she’d seen first-hand the devastation that charm could cause. Swarthy Spanish Lothario or a middle-aged English playboy, she knew the effect would be the same.

Her mother was broken, continued to suffer because of the very lethal thrall Raven’s father held over her.

And although she knew after five weeks in his company that Rafael’s attitude would never manifest in sexual malice, he was in no way less dangerous to her peace of mind. Truth be told, the more she suffered his blatant sexual taunts, the more certain she was that she wanted to see beneath his outwardly glossy façade.

With every atom of her being, Raven wished she’d known this on his unfortunate race day. But, tormented by her mother’s suffering, her control when it came to Rafael had slipped badly. Instead of walking away with dignified indifference, she’d lashed out. Unforgivably—

‘So deep in thought. Dare I think those thoughts are about me?’ Warm air from warmer lips washed over her right lobe.

‘Why would you think that?’ she asked, sucking in a deep, sustaining breath before she faced the man who seemed to have set up residence in her thoughts.

‘Because I’ve studied you enough to recognise your frowns. Two lines mean you’re unhappy because I’m not listening to you drone on about how many squats or abdominal crunches you expect me to perform. Three lines mean your thoughts are of a personal nature, mostly likely you’re in turmoil about our last conversation before my accident.’ He held out a glass of champagne, his blue eyes thankfully no longer charged with the frosty fury they’d held at the chapel. ‘You’re wearing a three-line frown now.’

She took the proffered drink and glanced away, unable quite to meet his gaze. ‘You think I’m that easy to read?’

‘The fact that you’re not denying what I say tells me everything I need to know. Your guilt is eating you alive. Admit it,’ he said conversationally, before taking a sip of his drink. ‘And it kills you even more that I can’t remember the accident itself but can remember every single word you said to me only minutes before it happened, doesn’t it?’

Her insides twisted with regret. ‘I...Rafael...I’m sorry...’

‘As I told you in Barcelona, I’m sorry won’t quite cut it. I need a lot more from you than mere words, mi corazon.’

Her heart flipped and dived into her stomach. ‘And I told you, I won’t debase myself like a cheap paddock bunny just to prove how sorry I am for what I said.’

‘Even though you meant every single word?’

‘Look, I know I shouldn’t have—’

‘You meant them then, and you still believe them now. So we shall continue as we are. I push, you push back; we both drown in sexual tension. We’ll see who breaks first.’

Her fingers tightened around the cold glass. ‘Is this all really a game to you?’ The man in turmoil she’d glimpsed at the chapel seemed very distant now. But she’d seen him, knew there was something else going on beneath all the sexual gloss.

‘Of course it is. How else do you expect me to pass the time?’

‘Your racing career may be stalled for the moment but, for a man of your wealth and power, there are a thousand ways you can find fulfilment.’

A dull look entered his eyes but disappeared a split second later. ‘Fulfilment...how New Age. Next you’ll be recommending I practise Transcendental Meditation to get in touch with my chakra.’

‘Meditation isn’t such a bad thing. I could teach you...’

His mocking laugh stopped her in her tracks. ‘Will we braid each other’s hair too? Maybe share a joint or two while we’re at it?’

She tried to hide her irritation and cocked her head. ‘You know something? I have no idea what all those girls see in you. You’re cocky, arrogant and dismissive of things you know nothing about.’

‘I don’t waste my time learning things that hold no interest for me. Women hold my interest so I make it a point to study them. And I know plenty about women like you.’

She stiffened. ‘What do you mean, women like me?’

‘You take pleasure in hiding behind affront, you take everything so personally and pretend to get all twisted up by the slightest hint of a challenge. It’s obvious you’ve had a...traumatic experience in the past—’

‘That’s like a psychic predicting someone’s been hurt in the past. By virtue of sheer coincidence and indisputable reality, half of relationships end badly, so it stands to reason that most people have had traumatic experiences. If you’re thinking of taking up clairvoyance, you’ll need to do better than that.’

His bared teeth held the predatory smile of one who knew he had his prey cornered. ‘Claro, let’s do it this way. I’ll make a psychic prediction. If I’m wrong, feel free to throw that glass of vintage champagne in my face.’

‘I’d never make a scene like that, especially not at your nephew’s christening.’

The reminder of where they were made him stiffen slightly but it didn’t stop him moving closer until his broad shoulders and streamlined body blocked out the rest of the party. Breath catching, Raven could see nothing but him, smell nothing but the heady, spicy scent that clung to his skin and seemed to weave around her every time she came within touching distance.

As if he knew his effect on her, his smile widened. ‘No one will see my humiliation if I get it wrong.’

Afraid of what he’d uncover, she started to shake her head, but Rafael was already speaking.

‘You’ve been hurt by a man, someone you really wanted to depend on, someone you wanted to be there for you.’ He waited, his eyes moving to the fingers clenched around her glass. When she didn’t move he leaned in closer. ‘Since that relationship ended, you’ve decided to take the tired all men are bastards route. You’d like nothing more than to find yourself a nice, safe man, someone who understands you.’ His gaze moved to her face, his incisive stare probing so deep Raven wanted to take a step back. With sheer strength of will, she stood her ground. ‘You hate yourself for being attracted to me but, deep inside, you enjoy our little skirmishes because the challenge of sparring with me makes your heart beat just that little bit faster.’ His gaze traced her hopefully impassive face down to her throat.

For a blind moment, Raven wished she’d worn her hair down because even she could feel the wild tattoo of her pulse surging underneath the skin at her throat.

She tried to speak but the accuracy of his prediction had frozen her tongue.

‘Since my face is still dry, I’ll take it Psychic Rafa is accurate on all accounts?’

His arrogance finally loosened her tongue. ‘Don’t flatter yourself. I told you when you started playing these games that I wouldn’t participate. I know you’re challenged by any woman who doesn’t fall for your charms, but not everyone subscribes to the OMG-Rafael de Cervantes-makes-my-knickers-wet Fan Club.’

Rafael’s smile was blinding, but it held a speculation that made her hackles rise. ‘Piqueña, since there’s only one way to test that you’re not a member, I now have something to look forward to. And just like that, my days suddenly seem brighter.’

Heat punched its way through her pelvis but, before Raven could answer, a deep throat cleared behind them.

Marco de Cervantes was as tall as his brother and just as visually stunning to look at but he wore his good looks with a smouldering grace where Rafael wholeheartedly embraced his irreverent playboy status.

Marco nodded to Raven, and glanced at his brother.

‘I need to talk to you. You don’t mind if I borrow him for five minutes, do you, Raven?’

Relief spiked, headier than the champagne she’d barely drunk. ‘Not at all. We weren’t discussing anything important.’

Rafael’s eyes narrowed at the thin insult, his icy blue eyes promising retribution just before they cleared into their usual deceptively indolent look.

Lifting her glass in a mocking salute, she walked away, piercingly aware that he tracked her every step. Out of his intoxicating, domineering sphere, she heaved in a breath of pure relief and pasted a smile on her face as Sasha beckoned her.

* * *

Rafael turned to his brother, mild irritation prickling his skin. ‘What’s on your mind?’ He discarded his champagne and wished he had something stronger.

‘You need another hobby besides trying to rile your physiotherapist.’

His irritation grew as Raven disappeared from sight, pulled towards a group of guests by Sasha. ‘What’s it to you? And why the hell does everyone feel the need to poke their nose into my business?’

Marco shrugged away the question. ‘Consider the matter dropped. The old man’s been asking for you.’ Grey eyes bored sharply into his. ‘I think it’s time.’

Every bone in his body turned excruciatingly rigid. ‘That’s for me to decide, surely?’ And if he didn’t feel he was ready to ask for forgiveness, who was anybody to decide otherwise?

‘There’s been enough hurt all around, Rafa. It’s time to move things forward.’

He spiked tense fingers through his hair. ‘You wouldn’t be trying to save me again by any chance, would you, brother?’

An impatient look passed through Marco’s eyes. ‘From the look of things, you don’t need saving. Besides, I cut the apron strings when I realised you were driving me so nuts that I was in danger of strangling you with them.’

Rafael beckoned the waiter over and exchanged his untouched champagne for a crystal tumbler of Patrón. ‘In that case, we’re copacetic. Was there anything else?’

Marco’s gaze stayed on him for several seconds before he nodded. ‘You sent for the papers for the X1 All-Star event coming up?’

Rafael downed the drink, welcoming the warmth that coursed through his chest. ‘Unless I’m mistaken, I’m still the CEO of X1 Premier Management. The events start in three weeks. You delegated some of the event’s organisation but it’s time for me to take the reins again.’

His brother’s gaze probed, worry lurking within. ‘Are you sure you don’t want to sit this one out—?’

‘I’m sure. Don’t second-guess me, mi hermano. I understand that my racing career may be in question—’ He stopped as a chill surged through his veins, obliterating the warmth of moments before. Although he didn’t remember his accident, he’d seen pictures of the wreckage in vivid detail. He was very much aware that lucky to be alive didn’t begin to describe his condition. ‘The racing side of my career may be up for debate,’ he repeated, beating back the wave of desolation that swelled up inside his chest, ‘but my brain still functions perfectly. As for my body...’ He looked over as a flash of orange caught his eye. The resulting kick gave him a surge of satisfaction. ‘My body will be in top condition before very long.’

Marco nodded. ‘I’m happy to hear it. According to Raven, you’re on the road to complete recovery.’

‘Really?’ Rafael made a mental note to have a short, precise conversation with his physio about sharing confidential information.

‘...Dios, are you listening to me? Never mind, I think it’ll be safer for me not to know which part of your anatomy you’re thinking with right at this moment. Bueno, I’ll be in touch later in the week to discuss other business.’

‘No need to wait till next week. I can tell you now that I’m back. I own fifty per cent of our business, after all. No reason why you should continue to shoulder my responsibilities. Come to think of it, you should take a vacation with your family, let me handle things for a while.’ He glanced over to where Sasha stood chatting to Raven. As if sensing their attention, both women turned towards them. Marco’s face dissolved in a look so cheesy, Rafael barely stopped himself from making retching noises.

‘Are you sure?’ Marco asked without taking his eyes off his wife. ‘Sasha’s been on my back about taking some time off. It would be great to take the yacht to the island for a bit.’ They joint owned a three-mile island paradise in the Bahamas, a place neither of them had visited in a very long time.

‘Great. Do it. I’ll handle things here,’ Rafael responded.

His brother looked sceptical.

‘This is a one-time offer, set to expire in ten seconds,’ he pressed as his sister-in-law and his physiotherapist started walking towards them. For the first time he noticed Raven’s open-toed high heels and saw the way they made her long legs go on for ever. Sasha said something to her. Her responding smile made his throat dry.

Hell, he had it bad if he was behaving like a hormonal teenager around a woman who clearly had man issues.

He barely felt it when Marco slapped his shoulder. ‘I’ll set things in motion first thing in the morning. I owe you one, brother.’

Rafael nodded, relieved that the disturbing subject of his father had been dropped.

‘What are you looking so pleased about?’ Sasha asked her husband as they drew level with them.

‘I have news that’s guaranteed to make you adore me even more than you already do.’ He kissed her soundly on the lips before leading her away.

Rafael saw Raven looking after them. ‘I do believe if they had a like button attached to their backs you would be pressing it right about now?’

Her outraged gasp made him curb a smile. He loved to rile her. Rafael didn’t hide from the fact that while he was busy riling Raven Blass, he was busy not thinking about what this place did to him, and that gained him a reprieve from the torment of his memories.

She faced him, bristling with irritation and censure. ‘Whereas if you had a like button I’d personally start a worldwide petition to have it obliterated and replaced with one that said loathe.’

He took her elbow and, despite her resistance, he led her to an exquisitely laid out buffet table. ‘We’ll discuss my various buttons later. Right now you need to eat something before you wither away. I noticed you didn’t eat any breakfast this morning.’

She glared at him. ‘I had my usual bowl of muesli and fresh fruit.’

‘Was that before or after you spent two hours on my beach contorting yourself in unthinkable shapes in the name of exercise?’

‘It’s called Krav Maga. It works the mind as well as the body.’

He let his gaze rake her from top to toe. ‘I don’t dispute the effects on the body. But I don’t think it’s quite working on the mind.’

He stopped another outraged gasp by stuffing a piece of chicken into her mouth. Her only option, other than spitting it out, was to chew, but that didn’t stop her glaring fiercely at him.

Rafael was so busy enjoying the way he got under her skin that he didn’t hear the low hum of the electric wheelchair until it was too late.

‘Buenos tardes, mi hijo. I’ve been looking for you.’ The greeting was low and deep. It didn’t hold any censure or hatred or flaying judgement. In fact it sounded just exactly as it would were a loving father greeting his beloved son.

But every nerve of Rafael’s being screeched with white-hot pain. His fist clenched around his walking stick until the metal dug excruciatingly into his palm. For the life of him, he couldn’t let go. He sucked in a breath as his vision blurred. Before the red haze completely dulled his vision, he saw Raven’s concerned look as her eyes darted between him and the wheelchair-bound figure.

‘Rafael?’

He couldn’t find the words to respond to the greeting. Nor could he find the words to stem Raven’s escalating concern.

Dios mío, he couldn’t even find the courage to turn around. Because how the hell could he explain to Raven that he and he alone was responsible for making his father a quadriplegic?