His Ultimate Prize(35)

'You're now a de Cervantes too. You can't take back your vows.'

She gave a mock grimace. She was still getting used to her new name,  just as she was getting used to wearing the exquisite engagement and  wedding ring set that had belonged to Rafael's mother. 'Raven de  Cervantes is such a mouthful.'

'Hmm...' He nuzzled her neck, instantly melting her insides. 'We could shorten it.'

'You mean like just initials or a symbol like that rock star?'

'Not quite.'

'What have you in mind?' she asked, her fingers toying with buttons she  couldn't wait to undo later. The promise of exploring the flesh  underneath made her hot.

He worked along her jaw until he reached the side of her mouth. With a  whisper-soft kiss, he raised his head and looked directly into her eyes.  'How about just...amor querida?'

Her heart, her soul and the rest of her body melted into him.

When his thumb brushed her cheek, she blinked back tears.

'That works. That works very well for me.'

* * * * *





 The Price of Success





 First and foremost, for my dear sister, Barbara, who gave me the  book that started this wonderful journey. For my husband, Tony, for his  unwavering support and firm belief that this dream would become reality.  For my HEART sisters-your incredible support kept me going right from  the beginning-thank you! And finally, for my darling MINXES! You are the  best cheerleaders a girl can have and I'd be totally lost without you.





 Contents

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

EPILOGUE

EXCERPT





 CHAPTER ONE

THE MOMENTS BEFORE the crash played out almost in slow motion. Time  paused, then stretched lethargically in the Sunday sun. And even though  the cars were travelling at over two hundred and twenty kilometers an  hour, there seemed an almost hypnotic, ballet-like symmetry in their  movement.

Sasha Fleming stared, frozen, her heart suspended mid-beat, terrified to  complete its task as Rafael's front wing clipped the rear tyre of the  slower back marker. Hundreds of thousands of pounds' worth of carbon  fibre bent backwards, twisted in on itself. Ripped metal tore through  the left tyre, wrenching the car into a ninety-degree turn.

The world-renowned racing car launched itself into the air. For several  brief seconds it looked more like a futuristic aircraft than an  asphalt-hugging machine.

Inevitably, gravity won out. The explosion was deafening as sound  erupted all around her. The screech of contorting metal rang through her  head, amplified by the super-sized loudspeakers all around her. In the  next instant the white concrete wall just after the Turn One hairpin  bend was streaked with the iconic racing green paint of Rafael's car.                       
       
           



       

'He's crashed! He's crashed! The pole sitter and current world champion,  Rafael de Cervantes, has crashed his Espíritu DSII. Only this morning  the papers said this car was uncrashable. How wrong were they?'

Sasha ripped off her headphones, unable to stomach the frenzied glee in  the commentator's voice or the huge roar that rose around the  Hungaroring circuit.

Her heart, now making up for its sluggishness, was beating so hard and  so fast it threatened to break through her ribcage. Her eyes remained  glued to the bank of screens on the pit wall, and she and two dozen pit  crew members watched the horrific events unfold.

'Turn up the sound,' someone yelled.

Curbing a wild need to negate that command, she clamped her lips  together, arms folded tight around her middle. Memories of another time,  another crash, played alongside the carnage unfolding on the screen.  Unable to stem it, she let the memories of the event that had changed  her for ever filter through to play alongside this appalling spectacle.

'Sometimes the only way to get through pain is to immerse yourself in it. Let it eat you alive. It'll spit you out eventually.'

How many times had her father told her that? When she'd broken her ankle  learning to ride her bike. When she'd fractured her arm falling out of a  tree. When she'd lost her mum when she was ten. When she'd suffered the  desperate consequences of falling for the wrong guy.

She'd got through them all. Well...almost.

The secret loss she'd buried deep in her heart would always be with her. As would the loss of her father.

The commentator's voice scythed through her thoughts. 'There's no  movement from the car. The race has been red-flagged and the safety car  is on its way. So is the ambulance. But so far we haven't seen Rafael  move. His engineer will be frantically trying to speak to him, no doubt.  I must say, though, it's not looking good...'

Sasha forced in a breath, her fingers moving convulsively to loosen the  Velcro securing her constricting race suit. A shudder raked her frame,  followed closely by another. She tried to swallow but she couldn't get  her throat to work.

Alongside the thoughts zipping through her head, her last conversation with Rafael filtered through.

He'd been so angry with her. And the accusations he'd flung at her when she'd only been trying to help...

Ice clutched her soul. Was this her fault? Had she played a part in this carnage?

'The ambulance is there now. And there's Rafael's brother, Marco, the  owner of Team Espíritu. He's on his way to the crash site...hopefully  we'll get a progress report soon.'

Marco. Another fist of shock punched through her flailing senses. She  hadn't even been aware he'd finally arrived in Hungary. In her two years  as reserve driver for Team Espíritu, Marco de Cervantes hadn't missed a  single race-until this weekend.

The whole paddock had been abuzz with his absence, the celebrities and  royalty who jetted in from all over the world specifically to experience  the de Cervantes lifestyle, visibly disappointed. From Rafael's terse  response when she'd asked of his brother's whereabouts, Sasha had  concluded the brothers had fallen out.

Her heart twisted tighter in her chest at the thought that Marco had finally arrived only to witness his brother's crash.

A daring cameraman broke through the flanking bodyguards and caught up  with Marco. Tight-jawed, his olive skin showing only the barest hint of  paleness, he kept his gaze fixed ahead, his set expression not revealing  the slightest hint of his emotional state as he strode towards the  courtesy car waiting a few feet away.

Just before he got into the car he turned his head. Deep hazel eyes stared straight into the camera.

Sasha's breath stilled. Icy dread flooded her veins at the banked fury  in their depths. His features were pinched, his mouth a taut line, the  lines bracketing his mouth deep and austere. Everything about him  indicated he was reining in tight emotion. Not surprising, given the  circumstances.

But, eerily, Sasha knew his emotion extended beyond the events unfolding  now. Whatever emotion Marco was holding in, it went far beyond his  reaction to his brother's horrific accident.

Another shiver raked through her. She turned away from the screen,  searching blindly for an escape. The back of the garage where the tyres  were stacked offered a temporary sanctuary.

She'd taken one single step towards the opening when her heart sank. Tom  Brooks, her personal press officer, broke away from the crew and made a  beeline for her.

'We need to prep for an interview,' he clipped out, fingers flying over his iPad.

Nausea rose to join all the other sensations percolating inside her.  'Already? We don't even know how Rafael is.' Or even if he was still  alive.

'Exactly. The eyes of the world will be on this team. Now's not the time  to bungle our way through another disastrous soundbite,' he said  unsympathetically.

Sasha bit her lip. Her heated denial of a relationship with Rafael only a  week ago had fuelled media speculation, and brought unwanted focus on  the team.

'Surely it's better to be well informed before the interview than to go on air half-cocked?'

His face darkened. 'Do you want to be a reserve driver for ever?'

Sasha frowned. 'Of course not-'

'Good, because I don't want to play press officer to a reserve driver  for the rest of my career. You want to be one of the boys? Here's your  chance to prove it.'

A wave of anger rose inside her. 'I don't need to be heartless to prove myself, Tom.'

'Oh, but you do. Do you think any of the other drivers would hesitate at the chance that's been presented?'

'What chance? We don't even know how Rafael is doing yet!'

'Well, you can sit on your hands until the moment's snatched from you.  The handful of female X1 Premier Racing drivers who've gone before you  barely made an impact. You can choose to become a meaningless statistic,  or you can put yourself in the driver's seat-literally-and lay the  paddock rumours to rest.'

She didn't need to ask what he meant. A wave of pain rolled through her.  Pushing it back, she straightened her shoulders. 'I don't care about  rumours. I'm a good driver-'

'You're also Jack Fleming's daughter and Derek Mahoney's ex. If you want  to be taken seriously you need to step out of their shadows. Do the  interview. Stake your claim.'