His Ultimate Prize(41)

A wary frown touched her forehead. 'No. How would I?'

'Let me enlighten you. It contains the personal effects that were found  on Rafael's person when he was pulled out of the car.' He opened the  box. The inside was smeared with blood. Rafael's blood.

Blood he'd spilled because of this woman.

He lifted a gold chain with a tiny crucifix at the end of it. 'My mother  gave this to him on the day of his confirmation, when he was thirteen  years old. He always wears it during a race. For good luck.'

A look passed over her face. Sadness and a hint of guilt, perhaps? He  dropped the chain back into the container, closed it and set it down.  Reaching into his pocket, he produced another box-square, velvet.

She tensed, her eyes flaring with alarm. 'Mr de Cervantes-'

His lips twisted. 'You're not quite the talented actress I took you for,  after all. Because your expression tells me everything I need to know.  Rafael asked the question he'd been burning to ask, didn't he?' he  demanded.

'I-'

He cut across her words, not at all surprised when the colour fled her  face. 'My brother asked you to marry him. And you callously rejected  him, knowing he would have to race directly afterwards. Didn't you?'





 CHAPTER THREE

SASHA CLENCHED HER fists behind her back, desperately trying to hold it  together. Even from across the room she could feel Marco's anger. It  vibrated off his skin, slammed around the room like a living thing.

Her heart thudded madly in her chest. She opened her mouth but no words emerged.

'Here's your chance to speak up, Miss Fleming,' Marco incised, one long  finger flipping open the box to reveal a large, stunning pink diamond  set within a circle of smaller white diamonds.                       
       
           



       

She'd never been one to run from a fight, and Lord knew she'd had many  fights in her life. But, watching Marco advance towards her, Sasha  yearned to take a step back. Several steps, in fact...right out through  the door. Unfortunately she chose that moment to look into his eyes.

The sheer force of his gaze trapped her. It held her immobile, darkly  fascinating even as her panic flared higher. She'd dealt with  disrespect, with disdain, even with open slurs against her.

Seething, pain-racked Spanish males like Marco de Cervantes were a different box of frogs.

'Did you refuse my brother or not?' he demanded, and his low, dangerous voice scoured her skin.

Suppressing a shiver, she said, 'You've got it wrong. Rafael didn't ask me-'

'Liar.' He snapped the box shut. 'He sent me a text last night. You said no.'

'Of course I said no. He didn't mean-'

He continued as if she hadn't spoken. 'He thought you were just playing hard to get. He was going to try again this morning.'

Sasha knew the brothers were close, but Rafael hadn't given her any  indication he was this close to his brother. In fact the reason she'd  grown close to him, despite his irreverent antics with the team and his  wildly flirtatious behaviour with every female he came into contact  with, was because she'd glimpsed the loneliness Rafael desperately tried  to hide. Loneliness she'd identified with.

She watched Marco's nostrils flare with ever deepening anger as he  waited for her answer. She licked her lips, carefully choosing her  words, because it was clear that Rafael, for his own reasons, hadn't  given Marco all the facts.

'Rafael and I are just friends.'

'Do you take me for a fool, Miss Fleming? You really expect me to  believe that you viewed the romantic dinners for two in London or the  spontaneous trip to Paris last month as innocent gestures of a mere  friend?'

Another stab of surprise went through her at the depth of Marco's  knowledge. 'I went to dinner with him because Rav...his date stood him  up.'

'And Paris?'

'He was appearing at some function and I was at a loose end. I tagged along for laughs.'

'For laughs? And you then proceeded to dance the night away in his arms?  What about the other half a dozen times you've been snapped together by  the paparazzi?' he demanded.

She frowned. 'I know you two are close, but don't you think you're  taking an alarmingly unhealthy interest in your brother's private life?'

His head jerked as if she'd slapped him. His hazel eyes darkened and his  shoulders stiffened as if he held some dark emotion inside. Again she  wanted to step back. To flee from a fight for the first time in her  life.

'It's my duty to protect my brother,' he stated, with a finality that sharpened her interest.

'Rafael's a grown man. He doesn't need protecting.'

He raised a hand and slowly unfurled his fingers from around the velvet  box. 'Then what do you call this? Why did my brother, the reigning world  champion, who rarely ever makes mistakes, deliberately drive into the  back of a slower car?'

Her gasp scoured her throat. 'The accident wasn't deliberate.' She  refused to believe Rafael would have acted so recklessly. 'Rafael  wouldn't put himself or another driver in such danger.'

'I've watched my brother race since he was six years old. His skill is  legendary. He would never have put himself into the slipstream of a  slower car so close to a blind corner. Not if he'd been thinking  straight.'

Sasha couldn't refute the allegation because she'd wondered herself why  Rafael had made such a dangerous move. 'Maybe he thought he could make  the move stick,' she pursued half-heartedly.

Long bronze hands curled around the box. Features tight, Marco breathed  deeply. 'Or maybe he didn't care. Maybe it was already too late for him  when he stepped into the cockpit?'

Horror raked through her. 'Of course it wasn't. Why would you say that?'

'He sent me a text an hour before the race to tell me he intended to have what he wanted. At all costs.'

Sasha's blood ran cold. 'I...no, he couldn't have said that! Besides, he  didn't mean-' She bit her lip to stop the rest of her words. Although  they'd rowed, she wasn't about to betray Rafael's trust. 'We're just  friends.'

'You're poison.' His hand slashed through the denial she'd been about to  utter. 'Whatever thrall you hold over your fellow team mates, it ends  right now.'

Sliding the box containing the engagement ring into his pocket, he  returned to the desk. Several papers were spread across it. He searched  through until he found what he was looking for.

'Your contract is a rolling one, due to end next season.'

Still reeling from the force of his words, Sasha stared at him.

'My lawyers will hammer out the finer details of a pay-off in the next  few days. But as of right now your services are no longer needed by Team  Espíritu.'

With the force of a bucket of cold water, she was wrenched from her numbness.

'You're firing me because I befriended your brother?'

The hysterical edge to her voice registered on the outer fringes of her  mind, but Sasha ignored it. She'd worked too hard, fought too long for  this chance to let mere hysteria stand in her way. If she had to scream  like a banshee she would do so to make Marco de Cervantes listen to her.  After years of withstanding vicious whispers and callous undermining,  she would not be dismissed so easily. Not when her chance to see her  father's reputation restored, the chance to prove her own worth, was so  close.

'Do you want to stop for a moment and think how absurd that is? Do you  really want to carry on down that road?' she demanded, raising her chin  when he turned from the desk.

'What road?' he asked without looking up.

'The sexist, discriminatory road. Or are you going to fire Rafael too when he wakes up? Just to even things up?'

His gaze hardened. 'I've been running this team for almost a decade and  no one has ever been allowed to cause this much disruption unchecked  before.'

'What do you mean, unchecked?'

'I warned Rafael about you three months ago,' he delivered without an  ounce of remorse. 'I told him you were trouble. That he should stay away  from you.'

Her anger blazed into an inferno. 'How dare you?'

He merely shrugged. 'Unfortunately, with Rafael, you only have to  suggest there's something he can't have to make him hunger desperately  for it.'

'You're unbelievable-you know that? You think you can play with people's lives!'

His face darkened. 'Believe me, I'm not playing. Five million.'

Confused, she frowned. 'Five million...for what?'

'To walk away. Dollars, pounds or euros. It doesn't really matter.'

Fire crackled inside her. 'You want to pay me to give up my seat? To  disappear like some sleazy secret simply because I became friends with  your brother? Even to a wild nut-job like me that seems very drastic.  What exactly are you afraid of, Mr de Cervantes?'

Strong, corded arms folded over his chest. His body was held so tense  she feared he would snap a muscle at any second. 'Let's just say I have  experience with women like you.'

'Damn, I thought I was one of a kind. Would you care to elaborate on that stunning assertion?'

One brow winged upward. 'And have you selling the story to the first  tabloid hack you find? I'll pass. Five million. To resign and to stay  away from the sport.'

'Go to hell.' She added a smile just for the hell of it, because she  yearned for him to feel a fraction of the anger and humiliation coursing  through her. The same emotions her father had felt when he'd been  thrown out of the profession that had been his life.