His Ultimate Prize(10)

Grateful for something else to focus on rather than his dark past, he settled deeper into his seat and just watched her.

She flicked a glance at him and returned her gaze to the papers. 'I've  ensured that we'll have a clear hour every morning for a thorough physio  session. You already know that if you sit or stand for extended periods  of time your body will seize up so I'll recommend some simple exercises  for when you're in meetings, although the ideal situation would be for  you not to be in meetings for extended periods.'

'I'll see about scheduling video conferences for some of the meetings.'

Her head snapped up, surprise reflected in her gaze. 'You will?'

'Don't sound so surprised. My boundless vanity draws the line at cutting  my nose off to spite my face. You should know that by now.'

'If you can video conference, then why do you need to be there in the first place?'

'Like any other organisation, there's always a hotshot usurper waiting  in the wings, ready to push you off into the great abyss at the  slightest hint of weakness. I've grown attached to my pedestal.'

'You speak as if you're decrepit.'

'I haven't had sex in months. I feel decrepit. And with your decree of no sex, I feel as if my life has no purpose.'

'You mean you miss your fans and just want to resume basking in their admiration?'

'I'm a simple man, Raven. I love feeling wanted.'

Her lips compressed again, although he saw the shadows had faded from  beneath her eyes and her colour had returned to her cheeks. He barely  stopped himself from feeling inordinately pleased by the achievement.

She stared down again at the sheet in her hand. 'Why Monaco?'

'Why not? It's the glamour capital of motor racing. Most of the current  and ex-drivers live there. It affords the best platform for the launch  of the All-Star event.'

'Will there be any actual racing?' she asked.

He caught the wariness in her tone and suppressed another smile. Like it or not, Raven Blass was worried about him.

Just like Marco. Just like Sasha... Just like his father. He had no right to that level of concern from them. From anyone.

The tiny fizz of pleasure disappeared.

'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.'