His fingers curled around the small, fragile cup in his white knuckled grip before he carefully set it back in its saucer. 'Dios mío. When did it-?'
'Rafael...please...'
He sucked in a sharp breath, his gaze still fiercely probing as he sat back in his seat. After several seconds, he nodded and pushed back his chair.
Silently he held out his hand. Before the start of the evening she'd have hesitated. But after what she'd shared with him, after seeing his reaction to how she'd grown up, a tiny voice urged her to trust him a little.
She placed her hand in his and let him help her up. 'I should be helping you, not the other way round.'
'Let's forget we're patient and specialist, just for a few hours, sí?' The low, rough demand made her breath snag in her throat.
When she glanced up at him, he watched her with hooded eyes that held no hint of their usual teasing. Swallowing, she nodded.
They walked in the unseasonably warm evening along the dock that held some of the world's most extravagant and elegant yachts. Or they tried to walk. Rafael was stopped several times along the way by wealthy Monégasques and visiting celebrities. Again and again, Raven tried not to be enthralled by the sight of his breathtaking smile and easy charm. Even when a paparazzo's camera lens flashed nearby he didn't seem to care. But then she caught the clenched fist around his walking stick. She wasn't surprised when he signalled his driver a few moments later.
When she glanced at him, he merely shrugged. 'We have an early flight in the morning. Don't want you to accuse me of depriving you of your beauty sleep.'
She waited until they were in the car, leaving the bright lights of Monte Carlo behind. 'You strive to put a brave face on it all, don't you?'
'A brave face?'
'I saw how the paparazzi affected you just now. And even though you stopped to speak to people, you didn't really want to be there.'
He tilted his head. 'Your powers of deduction are astounding.'
'Don't dismiss me like that, Rafael,' she murmured. 'You've changed.'
Although his expression didn't alter, she saw his shoulders stiffen beneath his expensive cotton shirt.
'Of course I have, querida. My hip no longer works and I carry a walking stick.'
'I don't mean physically. You turned away from the cameras at the airport too. You answer their questions but you no longer bask in the limelight. Oh, the playboy is very much a part of your DNA, probably always will be, but...something's changed.'
'Sí, I've turned into a decrepit recluse who's been banned from having a bed partner.'
She ignored the quip. 'I bet you're not going to buy that villa, are you?'
The corner of his mouth lifted in a mirthless smile. 'You assume correctly,' he replied, his gaze steady on her face. 'You were right, it's a little too...stalker-ish for me. I think the owner studied what I liked and tried to replicate it without taking the location into consideration. It's slightly creepy, actually. Besides that, Monaco is great for a visit but not somewhere I prefer to live. But then neither is León.'
'Why?'
'Too many bad memories,' he stated.
Somewhere inside, Raven reeled at the easy access he seemed to be giving her. A strong need to know the man made her probe further. 'Your father?'
He paled a little beneath his tan, but he nodded after several seconds. 'Sí. Amongst other things. He moved to Barcelona after...for a while, but he's back in León now. Seeing him there reminds me of what a disappointment I've been to my family.'
She gasped. 'A disappointment? How...why? You've won eight world championships and ten Constructors' Championships for Team Espíritu. How in the world can that be termed a failure?'
'Those are just trophies, querida.'
'Trophies coveted by the some of the world's most disciplined athletes.'
'Why, Raven, I almost think you're trying to make me feel better about myself.'
'You've achieved a lot in your life. Self-deprecation is one thing. Dismissing your achievements out of hand is an insult to the team that has always supported you. Now, if you're talking about your private life...'
'What if I said I was?'
'I've met your father, albeit very briefly. I saw no trace of disappointment when he tried to talk to you. And, as far as I can see, Marco and Sasha worship the ground you walk on, despite you saying you tried to break them up.'
He lifted a hand, his knuckles brushing her cheeks before she knew what he was doing. 'That may have been an over-exaggeration. Was I annoyed when I woke up from my coma to find my best friend had fallen for my brother? Sí. But I'm a big boy, I'll learn to adapt. As for worshipping the ground I walk on-appearances can be deceptive. I've done things-things I'm not proud of; things that haunt me in the middle of the night, or in the middle of the day when I smile and shake hands with people who think I'm their golden boy. They don't know what I've done.'
'What have you done, Rafael? Tell me.'
He shook his head, a bleak expression stamped on his face that sent a bolt of apprehension through her.
'Did you notice the condition my father is in?'
She frowned. 'You mean his wheelchair? Of course I did.'
'What if I told you I put him in that wheelchair?'
* * *
Rafael looked into her face, trying to read her reaction while at the same time trying to decipher exactly why he was spilling his guts when he never, ever talked about what he'd done eight years ago.
The car passed under a streetlamp and illuminated for a moment her pale, shocked face. 'H...How did you put him in the wheelchair?'
A deep tremor went through him, signalling the rise of the blistering pain that seemed to live just below his skin. 'Take a wild guess.'
'A car accident?'
He nodded, his peculiar fascination with her escalating when she made a move as if to touch him. At the last moment, she dropped her hand.
'Where did it happen?'
'On the racing track in León. Eight years ago. I walked away unscathed. My father has never walked since.'
This time when she lifted her hand he caught it before she could lower it and twined his around her slender fingers. The surge of pain diminished a little when her fingers tightened.
'I'm so sorry,' she murmured.
His smile felt broken. 'You don't want to know whose fault it was?'
'I'm not going to force you to relive the emotional pain, Rafael. Like you said, I'm not that type of therapist. But one thing I do know is that, contrary to what you might think, your family...your father, from what I saw, is more forgiving than you realise.'
His father might be forgiving of Rafael's role in making him wheelchair-bound, but the other, darker reason would be more unthinkable to forgive. Hell, he hadn't even dreamed of seeking forgiveness. He deserved every baptism of hellfire he lived through every morning when he opened his eyes. 'That's the problem with family. Forgiveness may be readily provided but the crime is never forgotten.'
'Unfortunately, I wouldn't know. Dysfunctional doesn't even apply to me because I had two people who were connected to me by genetics but who were never family.'
The car was drawing up to the villa when he lifted their entwined fingers to his lips. A soft gasp escaped her when he kissed her knuckles. 'Then count yourself lucky.'
* * *
Two hours later, Rafael stretched and held in a grimace of pain when he tried to rise from his chair. He eyed the walking stick leaning against his desk and with an impatient hand he reached for it.
Pelvis, fractured in three places...broken leg...multiple cracked ribs...severe brain swelling...lucky to be alive.
The doctor's recital of his injuries when he'd woken from his coma should've shocked him. It hadn't. He'd known for as long as he could remember that he had the luck of the devil. He'd exploited that trait mercilessly when he was younger, and then honed it into becoming the best racing driver around when he was older. No matter how many hairy situations he put himself in, he seemed to come out, if not completely whole, then alive.
Recalling his conversation earlier with Raven, he paused in the hallway. I'm not going to force you to relive the emotional pain.
Little did she know that he relived it every waking moment and most nights in his vivid nightmares. He might have cheated death countless times, but his penance was to relive the devastation he'd brought to his family over and over again.
His phone pinged and before he glanced at it he knew who it was.
His father...
He deleted the message, unread. Dios, even if they wanted to grant it, who was he to accept their forgiveness-?
The sound in the library next to his study attracted his attention.
Raven's lusciously heady perfume drew him to the room before he could stop himself. 'It's almost midnight. What are you doing up?'
'I was looking for something to read. The only reading material I have upstairs is boring clinical stuff, and my tablet is charging, so...'
He glanced down at the papers in his hand. He had no idea what he was doing, no idea where this project would take him but... He debated for a few seconds and made up his mind. Closing the distance between them, he stopped in front of her.