His Ultimate Prize(15)

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.