His Ultimate Prize(4)

       
           



       

I'M NOT HERE to save you, if that's what you think.

The words hovered like heat striations in Raven's brain an hour later as  she stood on the large sun-baked terrace of Marco and Sasha's home.  This time the rich surroundings of the architecturally stunning Casa  León failed to awe her as they usually did.

I'm not here to save you...

She snorted. What a load of bull. That was exactly why she'd begged  Marco to let her visit Rafael in hospital once he'd woken from his coma  all those months ago. It was why she'd flown to León from London five  weeks ago, after months of trying to contact Rafael and being stonily  ignored by him; and why she'd begged him to let her treat him when she  found out what an appalling job his carers were doing-not because they  were incompetent, but because Rafael didn't seem inclined in any way to  want to get better, and they'd been too intimidated to go against his  wishes. It was most definitely why she continued to suffer his  inappropriate, irreverent taunts.

She wanted to make things right...wanted to take back every single word  she'd said to him eight months ago, right before he'd climbed into the  cockpit of his car and crashed it into a solid concrete wall minutes  later.

Because it wasn't Rafael's fault that she hadn't been able to curb her  stupid, crazy delusional feelings until it was almost too late. It  wasn't his fault that, despite all signs that he was nothing but a  carbon copy of her heartless playboy father, she hadn't been able to  stop herself from lusting after him-

No, scratch that. Not a carbon copy. Rafael was no one's copy. He was a  breed in his own right. With a smile that could slice a woman's heart  wide open, make a woman swoon with bliss even as she knew her heart was  being slowly crushed. He possessed more charm in his little finger than  most wannabe playboys, including her father, held in their entire  bodies.

But she'd seen first-hand the devastation that charm could cause.  Swarthy Spanish Lothario or a middle-aged English playboy, she knew the  effect would be the same.

Her mother was broken, continued to suffer because of the very lethal thrall Raven's father held over her.

And although she knew after five weeks in his company that Rafael's  attitude would never manifest in sexual malice, he was in no way less  dangerous to her peace of mind. Truth be told, the more she suffered his  blatant sexual taunts, the more certain she was that she wanted to see  beneath his outwardly glossy façade.

With every atom of her being, Raven wished she'd known this on his  unfortunate race day. But, tormented by her mother's suffering, her  control when it came to Rafael had slipped badly. Instead of walking  away with dignified indifference, she'd lashed out. Unforgivably-

'So deep in thought. Dare I think those thoughts are about me?' Warm air from warmer lips washed over her right lobe.

'Why would you think that?' she asked, sucking in a deep, sustaining  breath before she faced the man who seemed to have set up residence in  her thoughts.

'Because I've studied you enough to recognise your frowns. Two lines  mean you're unhappy because I'm not listening to you drone on about how  many squats or abdominal crunches you expect me to perform. Three lines  mean your thoughts are of a personal nature, mostly likely you're in  turmoil about our last conversation before my accident.' He held out a  glass of champagne, his blue eyes thankfully no longer charged with the  frosty fury they'd held at the chapel. 'You're wearing a three-line  frown now.'

She took the proffered drink and glanced away, unable quite to meet his gaze. 'You think I'm that easy to read?'

'The fact that you're not denying what I say tells me everything I need  to know. Your guilt is eating you alive. Admit it,' he said  conversationally, before taking a sip of his drink. 'And it kills you  even more that I can't remember the accident itself but can remember  every single word you said to me only minutes before it happened,  doesn't it?'

Her insides twisted with regret. 'I...Rafael...I'm sorry...'

'As I told you in Barcelona, I'm sorry won't quite cut it. I need a lot more from you than mere words, mi corazon.'

Her heart flipped and dived into her stomach. 'And I told you, I won't  debase myself like a cheap paddock bunny just to prove how sorry I am  for what I said.'

'Even though you meant every single word?'

'Look, I know I shouldn't have-'

'You meant them then, and you still believe them now. So we shall  continue as we are. I push, you push back; we both drown in sexual  tension. We'll see who breaks first.'

Her fingers tightened around the cold glass. 'Is this all really a game  to you?' The man in turmoil she'd glimpsed at the chapel seemed very  distant now. But she'd seen him, knew there was something else going on  beneath all the sexual gloss.

'Of course it is. How else do you expect me to pass the time?'

'Your racing career may be stalled for the moment but, for a man of your  wealth and power, there are a thousand ways you can find fulfilment.'

A dull look entered his eyes but disappeared a split second later.  'Fulfilment...how New Age. Next you'll be recommending I practise  Transcendental Meditation to get in touch with my chakra.'

'Meditation isn't such a bad thing. I could teach you...'

His mocking laugh stopped her in her tracks. 'Will we braid each other's  hair too? Maybe share a joint or two while we're at it?'

She tried to hide her irritation and cocked her head. 'You know  something? I have no idea what all those girls see in you. You're cocky,  arrogant and dismissive of things you know nothing about.'

'I don't waste my time learning things that hold no interest for me.  Women hold my interest so I make it a point to study them. And I know  plenty about women like you.'

She stiffened. 'What do you mean, women like me?'

'You take pleasure in hiding behind affront, you take everything so  personally and pretend to get all twisted up by the slightest hint of a  challenge. It's obvious you've had a...traumatic experience in the  past-'

'That's like a psychic predicting someone's been hurt in the past. By  virtue of sheer coincidence and indisputable reality, half of  relationships end badly, so it stands to reason that most people have  had traumatic experiences. If you're thinking of taking up clairvoyance,  you'll need to do better than that.'

His bared teeth held the predatory smile of one who knew he had his prey  cornered. 'Claro, let's do it this way. I'll make a psychic prediction.  If I'm wrong, feel free to throw that glass of vintage champagne in my  face.'

'I'd never make a scene like that, especially not at your nephew's christening.'

The reminder of where they were made him stiffen slightly but it didn't  stop him moving closer until his broad shoulders and streamlined body  blocked out the rest of the party. Breath catching, Raven could see  nothing but him, smell nothing but the heady, spicy scent that clung to  his skin and seemed to weave around her every time she came within  touching distance.

As if he knew his effect on her, his smile widened. 'No one will see my humiliation if I get it wrong.'

Afraid of what he'd uncover, she started to shake her head, but Rafael was already speaking.

'You've been hurt by a man, someone you really wanted to depend on,  someone you wanted to be there for you.' He waited, his eyes moving to  the fingers clenched around her glass. When she didn't move he leaned in  closer. 'Since that relationship ended, you've decided to take the  tired all men are bastards route. You'd like nothing more than to find  yourself a nice, safe man, someone who understands you.' His gaze moved  to her face, his incisive stare probing so deep Raven wanted to take a  step back. With sheer strength of will, she stood her ground. 'You hate  yourself for being attracted to me but, deep inside, you enjoy our  little skirmishes because the challenge of sparring with me makes your  heart beat just that little bit faster.' His gaze traced her hopefully  impassive face down to her throat.

For a blind moment, Raven wished she'd worn her hair down because even  she could feel the wild tattoo of her pulse surging underneath the skin  at her throat.

She tried to speak but the accuracy of his prediction had frozen her tongue.

'Since my face is still dry, I'll take it Psychic Rafa is accurate on all accounts?'

His arrogance finally loosened her tongue. 'Don't flatter yourself. I  told you when you started playing these games that I wouldn't  participate. I know you're challenged by any woman who doesn't fall for  your charms, but not everyone subscribes to the OMG-Rafael de  Cervantes-makes-my-knickers-wet Fan Club.'

Rafael's smile was blinding, but it held a speculation that made her  hackles rise. 'Piqueña, since there's only one way to test that you're  not a member, I now have something to look forward to. And just like  that, my days suddenly seem brighter.'