His Ultimate Prize(33)

'It's always good to see you. I've missed you. I miss you every day.'

Rafael advanced into the room on shaky legs, inhaling an even shakier breath. 'How can you say that after all I've done?'

'What exactly do you think you've done, Rafa?'

He let out a harsh laugh and speared a hand through his hair. 'Por  favor, Papá. Condemn me to hell. It's where I belong, after all.'

'I think you've done a good job all by yourself. Now it's time to end this.'

'End this?'

His father nodded to a file on his desk. 'Sit down and read that.'

The hand he reached across the desk felt as feeble as a newborn's. The  file contained a three-page report, one he read with growing disbelief.

'What is this?' he rasped through numb lips.

'It's the truth of what happened to your car that day, Rafael. You're not responsible for your mother's death.'

Shock hollowed his stomach. 'No...it can't be. Please tell me you're not  making this up in some attempt to make me feel less guilty.'

'As your father, it's my duty to comfort you when you feel bad. It's  also my duty to make you see the truth in front of your own eyes. You've  been so bent on punishing yourself you've failed to listen to reason or  contemplate the evidence. You told me when you first drove the car that  you felt something wasn't right. That's what made your brother decide  to investigate further. It turned out your hunch was right.'

'It says here all fifteen models of that car have been recalled for the  same error. But it doesn't excuse the fact that I was running on fumes  that day, high from partying even though my body was exhausted from  being up almost twenty-four hours straight.'

'All things you'd been doing since you hit late puberty. All those  things combined, while it gave me nightmares as a father, didn't make me  think for a second that you would be dangerous behind a steering wheel  or I wouldn't have bought you such a powerful machine, and I certainly  wouldn't have allowed my beloved Ana in the car with you.'

The pure truth behind his father's words hit him square in the solar  plexus. He stumbled backward and sagged onto the ancient leather  armchair.

'I can't...I don't know what to say.' His head dropped into his hands and he felt tears prick his eyes.

'Let it go, Rafa. You've punished yourself enough over this. Your mamá wouldn't want this for you.'

The sob choked him, hot and tight and cathartic. Once it started, he  couldn't seem to make it stop. He didn't even have the strength to lift  his head when he heard the haunting whine of his father's wheelchair.

'Enough, son...enough.'

He looked up through a mist of tears. 'Forgive me, Papá.'

His father's smile touched him in a way that went beyond the physical. 'There's nothing to forgive. There never was.'

Footsteps sounded and Marco walked in, cradling his son, with Sasha right behind him.

She stopped dead when she saw him, her eyes widening in disbelief. 'Good  grief, I never thought I'd live to see the day you'd be reduced to  tears, Rafa. Quick, Marco, activate your phone's camera. We'll make a  killing on YouTube.'

Marco laughed, their father snorted, even baby Jack chimed in with a hearty gurgle.

'So, we're all good here?' Marco asked several minutes later, his grey  eyes probing as they darted between his father and his brother.

Rafael's gaze met his father's and the unconditional love he saw made  the tightness in his chest give way just a tiny bit further. 'We're  getting there.'                       
       
           



       

He had a feeling he'd never get there completely. Not while he felt a part of himself still missing.

* * *

'Pacing a crater through that carpet won't make the next few hours of  your life any easier. You're screwed ten ways to Sunday. Accept that now  and you'll be fine.'

Rafael glared at the amusement on his brother's face and clenched his  fist. 'Don't you have an adoring wife somewhere who's waiting for you to  swoon over her?' He walked over to the balcony overlooking the immense  ballroom and scoured the crowd again, his stomach clenching when he  didn't spot the figure he sought.

'Sí,' Marco replied smugly. 'But watching you twist yourself into knots is fun, too.'

'Keep it up and I'll be twisting my fist into your face.'

Marco grinned, an expression that had been rare in the years after his  own personal tragedy of losing his unborn child. Sasha had brought the  smile back to his brother's face. A smile that was now rubbing him a  dozen different wrong ways.

As if he knew he was skating close to the edge, Marco sobered. 'If it helps, I messed up with Sasha, too.'

'It doesn't. Sasha is a soft touch. I'm not surprised she was fooled by those puppy-dog eyes of yours.'

Marco laughed. 'You're in more trouble than I thought if you're that  deluded.' When his brother tapped him on the shoulder, Rafael was ready  with a pithy response. Instead he saw Marco nod over his shoulder.

'Your Armageddon is here. I'd wish you luck but I've always thought you  were dealt more than your fair share at birth. So I'll just suggest you  don't balls it up...'

Rafael had stopped listening. His attention, his whole being was focused  on the figure framed in the double doors of the ballroom.

Her black silky hair was caught up in a high, elaborate bun that made  her sleek neck seem longer. And her dress, a simple but classy white  gown threaded with gold sequined lines, followed her curves in a loving  caress that made his mouth dry.

The vision of her, so stunning, so held together while he was falling  apart inside, made his fingers tighten over the banister railing.

He watched Sasha approach and hug her. Her smile made his breath catch  and, once again, Rafael felt a bolt of dismay at the thought of what  he'd thrown away.

A waiter offered her a glass of champagne. She was about to take a sip when her gaze rose and collided with his.

The force of emotion that shot through him galvanised his frozen feet.  He was moving along the balcony and the stairs before he'd taken a full  breath.

Sasha saw him approach, gave him a stern  don't-mess-this-up-or-I'll-castrate-you look and melted away into the  crowd. Raven made no move to walk away, and he wasn't sure whether he  was relieved or disturbed because her face gave nothing away.

No pleasure. No censure. Just a careful social mask that made his heart twist.

'You're late.' Ah, brava, Rafa. Brava.

'My flight out of London was delayed due to fog. I explained to Sasha. She's forgiven me.'

The not-so-subtle barb found its mark. I'm not here for you.

He wanted to touch, wanted to feel the warmth of her skin so badly, he had to swallow several times before he could speak.

'I need to talk to you.'

Her eyes widened. 'Why? I thought you said all you had to say in Mexico.'

He tried for a careless shrug. 'Perhaps I have a few more things to say.'

She glanced away and gave her still-full glass to a passing waiter. 'I  don't want to hear it. We were never friends, not really. And you fired  me from being your physio. That leaves us nothing in common.'

'I'm seeing a therapist,' he blurted out.

Shocked eyes returned to his. 'You are?'

His smile felt false and painful. 'Yes, I figured I must be the only  high-profile figure without the requisite head-shrinker as an accessory.  Now I'm a fully fledged, card-carrying whack-job. But I still want to  talk to you.'

She pressed lightly glossed lips together and shook her head. 'I don't think it's a good idea.'

Feeling the ground rock under him, he reached out and captured her wrist. 'You were right.'

Her breath caught. 'About what?' she whispered.

He started to answer but a burst of laughter from nearby guests stopped  him. 'Not here.' He pulled her towards the doors and breathed in relief  when she didn't resist. The lift ride up to his VIP suite was made in  silence. After shutting the door, he threw his key card on a nearby  table and shrugged off his tuxedo jacket.

'You were right about everything.'

She turned from the window overlooking the stunning marina. Her gaze  slid over him, a hasty assessment which nevertheless made the blood  thrum in his veins.

'Even I can't take responsibility for everything.'

'According to my shrink, I'm suffering from a combination of survivor's  guilt and PTSD. Together, they make for one sexy but volatile cocktail  of emotions.'

She licked her lips then curved them into a quick smile. An impersonal  smile. She started to move towards the door. 'Well, I'm happy that  you're getting some help. If that's all, I'll return downstairs. I don't  wish to be rude to Sasha-'

'I also spoke to my father.'

She froze. He took advantage of her hesitation and stalked after her.  Catching her around the waist, he pulled her body into his. She gave the  tiniest gasp but didn't fight to get away.

Rafael took that as a good sign. 'I finally flew to León and spoke to my father.' He gave her the gist of their family meeting.

'Why are you telling me all this, Rafael?' she whispered.

He pulled her closer until he felt the sweet curve of her bottom against  his groin. For a quick second, he lost himself in her scent, breathed  her in and let her warm his frozen soul. The past three weeks had shown  him there was an even worse hell than the one he'd previously inhabited.  Because in that one he'd lost Raven.