His Ultimate Prize(38)

'Um, I don't know what sort of women you've been cavorting with, but you know nothing about me.'

Impossibly, his features grew colder. 'I know everything I need to know.  So why didn't you just take it? What's your angle?' His intense gaze  bored into her, as if trying to burrow beneath her skin.

It took every control-gathering technique she'd learned not to step back from him.

'I have no angle-'

'Enough of your lies. Get out.' He wrenched the door open, fully expecting her to comply.

Her eyes flicked to Rafael's still form. Sasha doubted she'd see him  again before the team's month-long August break. 'Will you tell him I  came to see him when he wakes up-please?' she asked.

Marco exhaled in disbelief. 'With any luck, by the time my brother wakes  up any memory he has of you will be wiped clean from his mind.'

She gasped, the chill from his voice washing over her. 'I'm not sure  exactly what Rafael told you, but you've really got this wrong.'

Marco shrugged. 'And you're still fired. Goodbye, Miss Fleming.'

'On what grounds?' she challenged, hoping this time her voice would emerge with more conviction.

'I'm sure my lawyers can find something. Inappropriate enthusiasm?'

'That's a reason you should be keeping me on-not a reason to fire me.'

'You've just proved my point. Most people know where to draw the line. It seems you don't.'

'I do,' she stressed, her voice rising right along with the tight knot in her chest.

'This conversation is over.' He glanced pointedly at the door.

She stepped into the corridor, reeling from the impact of his words. Her  contract was airtight. She was sure of it. But she'd seen too many  teams discard perfectly fit and able drivers for reasons far flimsier  than the one Marco had just given her. X1 Premier Racing was notorious  for its court battles between team owners and drivers.

The thought that she could lose everything she'd fought for made her  mouth dry. She'd battled hard to hold onto her seat in the most  successful team in the history of the sport, when every punter with a  blog or a social media account had taken potshots at her talent. One  particularly harsh critic had even gone as far as to debate her sexual  preferences.                       
       
           



       

She'd sacrificed too much for too long. Somehow she had to convince Marco de Cervantes to keep her on.

She turned to confront him-only to find a short man wearing a suit and a  fawning expression hurrying towards them. He handed Marco a small  wooden box and launched into a rapid volley of French. Whatever the  man-whose discreet badge announced him as Administrator-was saying, it  wasn't having any effect on Marco.

Marco's response was clipped. When the administrator started in surprise  and glanced towards the reception area, Sasha followed his gaze. The  nurse who had let her in stood behind the counter.

The administrator launched into another obsequious torrent. Marco cut  him off with an incisive slash of his hand and headed for the lifts.

Sasha hurried after him. As she passed the reception area, she glimpsed  the naked distress in the nurse's eyes. Another wave of icy dread  slammed into her, lending her more impetus as she rushed after Marco.

'Wait!'

He pressed the button for the lift as she screeched to a halt beside him.

Away from the low lights of the hospital room Sasha saw him-really saw  him-for the first time. Up close and personal, Marco de Cervantes was  stunning. If you liked your men tall, imposing and bristling with tons  of masculinity. Through the gap in his grey cotton shirt she caught a  glimpse of dark hair and a strong, golden chest that had her glancing  away in a hurry.

Focus!

'Can we talk-please?' she injected into the silence.

He ignored her, his stern, closed face forbidding any conversation. The  lift arrived and he stepped in. Sasha rushed in after him. As the doors  closed she saw the nurse burst into tears.

Outraged, she rounded on him. 'My God. You got that nurse sacked, didn't you?'

Anger dissolved the last of her instinctive self-preservation and washed  away the strangely compelling sensation she refused to acknowledge was  attraction.

'I lodged a complaint.'

'Which, coming from you, was as good as ordering that administrator to sack her!'

Guilt attacked her insides.

'She must live with the consequences of her actions.'

'So there's no in-between? No showing mercy? Just straight to the gallows?'

Deep hazel eyes pinned her where she stood. 'You weren't on the list of  approved visitors. She knew this and disregarded it. You could've been a  tabloid hack. Anybody.'

His eyes narrowed and Sasha forced her expression to remain neutral.

'Or maybe she knew exactly who you were?'

She lowered her lids as a wave of guilty heat washed over her face.

'Of course,' he taunted softly. 'What did you offer her? Free tickets to the next race?'

Deciding silence was the best policy, she clamped her lips together.

'A personal tour of the paddock and a photo op with you once you became lead driver, perhaps?'

His scathing tone grated on her nerves.

Raising her head she met his gaze, anger at his high-handedness  loosening her tongue. 'You know, just because your brother is gravely  ill, it doesn't give you the right to destroy other people's lives.'

'I beg your pardon?' he bit out.

'Right now you're in pain and lashing out, wanting anyone and everyone  to pay for what you're going through. It's understandable, but it's not  fair. That poor woman is now jobless just because you're angry.'

'That poor woman abused her position and broke the hospital's policy for personal gain. She deserves everything she gets.'

'It wasn't for personal gain. She did it for her nephew. He's a fan. She wanted to do something nice for him.'

'My heart bleeds.'

'You do the same, and more, for thousands of race fans every year. What's so different about this?'

Dark brows clamped together, and his jaw tightened in that barely  civilised way that sent another wave of apprehension through her. Again  she glimpsed the dark fury riding just below his outward control.

'The difference, Miss Fleming, is that I don't compromise my integrity  to do so. And I don't put those I care about in harm's way just to get  what I want.'

'What about compassion?'

His brows cleared, but the volatile tinge in the air remained. 'I'm fresh out.'

'You know, you'll wake up one morning not long from now and regret your actions today.'

The lift doors glided open to reveal the underground car park. A few  feet away was a gleaming black chrome-trimmed Bentley Continental.  Beside it, a driver and a heavily muscled man whose presence shrieked  bodyguard waited. The driver held the back door open, but Marco made no  move towards it. Instead he glanced down at her, his expression  hauntingly bleak.

'I regret a lot that's happened in the past twenty-four hours-not least  watching my brother mangle himself and his car on the race track because  he believed himself to be heartbroken. One more thing doesn't make a  difference.'

'Your emotions are overwhelming you right now. All I'm saying is don't let them overrule your better judgement.'

A cold smile lifted one corner of his mouth. 'My emotions? I didn't know  you practised on the side as the team's psychologist. I thought you'd  ridden down with me to beg for your job back, not to practise the  elevator pitch version of pop psychology. You had me as your captive  audience for a full thirty seconds. Shame you chose to waste it.'

'Mock me all you want. It doesn't change the fact that you're acting  like-' She bit her lip, common sense momentarily overriding her anger.

'Go on,' he encouraged softly. Tauntingly. 'Acting like what?'

She shrugged. 'Like...well, like an ass.'

His eyes narrowed until they were mere icy slits. 'Excuse me?'

'Sorry. You asked.'

Anger flared in his eyes, radiated off his body. Sasha held her breath,  readying herself for the explosion about to rain on her head. Instead he  gave a grim smile.

'I've been called worse.' He nodded to his bodyguard, who took a step  towards them. 'Romano will escort you off the premises. Be warned-my  very generous donation to this hospital is contingent on you being  arrested if you set foot anywhere near my brother again. I'm sure the  administrator would relish that challenge.'

Despair rose to mingle with her anger. 'You can't do this. If you don't  listen to me I'll...I'll talk to the press again. I'll spill  everything!'

'Ah, I'm glad to finally meet the real you, Miss Fleming.'

'Ten minutes. That's all I want. Let me convince you to keep me on.'

'Trust me-blackmail isn't a great place to start.'

She bit her lip. 'That was just a bluff. I won't talk to the press. But I  do want to drive for you. And I'm the best mid-season replacement  you'll find for Rafael.'

'You do place a high premium on yourself, don't you?'

Unflinching, she nodded. 'Yes, I do. And I can back it up. Just let me prove it.'

His gaze narrowed on her face, then conducted a lazy sweep over her  body. Suddenly the clothes that had served as perfect camouflage against  the intrusive press felt inadequate, exposing. Beneath the thin  material of her T-shirt her heart hammered, her skin tingling with an  alien awareness that made her muscles tense.