His Ultimate Prize(44)

'I... Can you give me two minutes?' If she could get in and out of a  race suit in ninety seconds, she sure as hell could make herself  presentable in a fraction of that time.

'You have five seconds. Then I move on to my next call.'

'No. Wait!' Keeping the phone glued to her ear, she rushed to the door.  Pulling it open, she stuck her head out, trying her best to shield the  rest of her body from full view.

And there he stood. Unlike the casual clothes of yesterday, Marco was  dressed in a bespoke suit, his impressive shoulders even more imposing  underneath the slate-grey jacket, blue shirt and pinstriped tie, his  long legs planted in battle stance. His hair was combed neatly, unlike  the unruly, sexy mess it'd been yesterday. The strong desire to see it  messy again had her pulling back a fraction.

Eyes locked on hers, he lowered his phone. 'Invite me in.'

'Why? Are you a vampire?' she shot back, then swallowed a groan.

Frown lines creased his brow. 'Excuse me? Are you high?'                       
       
           



       

Sasha silently cursed her morning brain. 'Hah-I wish. Oh, never mind.  I'm...I'm not really dressed to receive guests, but I didn't want you to  leave, so unless you want to extend that five-second ultimatum this  will have to do.'

His frown deepened. 'Are you in the habit of answering your hotel door naked?'

Heat crawled up her neck and stung her face. 'Of course not. I'm not naked.'

'Prove it' came the soft challenge.

'Fine. See?' Belatedly she wondered at her sanity as she stepped into  his view and felt the dark, intense force of Marco's gaze as it  travelled over her.

When his eyes returned to hers, the breath snagged in her lungs. His  hazel eyes had darkened to burnt gold with dark green flecks; the clench  of his jaw was even more pronounced. He seemed to be straining against  an emotion that was more than a little bit frightening.

She stepped back. He followed her in and shut the door. The luxury hotel  suite that had seemed so vast, so over the top, closed in on her. She  took another step back. He followed, eyes locked on her.

Her phone fell from her fingers, thankfully cushioned by the shag-pile  carpet. Mouth dry, she kept backing up. He kept following.

'I make it a point not to credit rumours, but it seems in this instance the rumours are true, Sasha Fleming.'

The way he said her name-slowly, with a hint of Latin intonation-made  goosebumps rise on her flesh. Her nipples peaked and a sensation she  recognised to her horror as desire raked through her abdomen, sending  delicious darts of liquid heat to the apex of her thighs.

'What exactly do you think is true about me?'

'Sex is your weapon of choice,' he breathed, his eyes lingering on the  telltale nubs beneath her T-shirt. 'The only trouble is you wield it so  unsubtly.'

'I beg your pardon?' she squeaked as the backs of her legs touched the side of the bed. 'Did you just say-?'

'You need to learn to finesse your art.'

'What in heaven's name are you blathering about? Are you sure you're not the one who's high?' she flung back.

'No man likes to be bludgeoned over the head with sex. No matter how...enticing the package.'

'You're either loopy or you've got me confused with someone else. I don't bludgeon and I don't entice.'

He kept coming.

She leaned back on the bed and felt the hem of her shirt riding up her thighs. 'For goodness' sake, stop!'

He stopped, but his gaze didn't. It continued its destructive course  over her, leaving no part of her untouched, until Sasha felt sure she  was about to combust from the heat of it.

Desperate, she let her tongue dart out to lick her lips. 'Look...Derek-I  presume that's where you got your little morsel from-said a lot of  unsavoury things about me when we broke up. But I'm not who...whatever  you think I am.'

'Even though I can see the evidence for myself?' he rasped in a low voice.

She scrambled over the side of the bed and grabbed the robe she'd  dropped on the floor last night. With shaking fingers, and a mind  scrambling to keep pace with the bizarre turn of the conversation, she  pulled the lapels over her traitorous body.

Having pursued her profession in fast cars financed by billionaires with  unlimited funds, Sasha knew there was a brand of women who found the  whole X1 Premier Racing world a huge turn-on: women who used their  sexuality to pursue racers with a single-mindedness that bordered on the  obsessive.

She'd never considered for a second that she would ever be bracketed  with them-especially by the wealthiest, most sought-after billionaire of  them all. The idea would have been laughable if the sting of Derek's  betrayal still didn't have the ability to hurt.

'Well, whatever it is you think you see, there's no truth to the rumour.  Now, can we please get back to the reason you came here in the first  place?'

Her words seemed to rouse him from whatever dark, edgy place he'd been  in. He looked up from her thighs, slowly exhaled, and looked around the  room, taking in the rumpled bed and the contents of her satchel strewn  on the floor.

When he paced to the window and drew back the curtain she took the  opportunity to tie the robe tighter around her, hoping it would dispel  the electricity zinging around her body.

He turned after a minute, his face devoid of expression. 'I've decided  not to recruit a new driver. Doing so mid-season is not financially  viable. Besides, they all have contracts and sponsorship commitments to  fulfil.'

Hope grew so powerful it weakened her legs. Sinking down onto the side  of the bed, she swallowed. 'So, does that mean I have the seat for the  rest of the season?'

He shoved his hands into his pockets, his gaze fixed squarely on her.  'You'll sign an agreement promising to honour every commitment the team  holds you to. Half of the sponsors have agreed to let you fulfil  Rafael's commitments.'

He hadn't given a definite yes, but Sasha's heartbeat thundered nonetheless. 'And the other half?'

'With nowhere to go, they'll come round. My people are working on them.'

Unable to stem the flood of emotion rising inside, she pried her gaze  from his and stared down at her trembling hands. She struggled to  breathe.

Finally. The chance to wipe the slate clean. To earn the respect that  had been ruthlessly denied her and so callously wrenched from her  father. Finally the Fleming name would be spoken of with esteem and not  disdain. Jack Fleming would be allowed to rest in peace, his legacy  nothing to be ashamed of any more.

'I...thank you,' she murmured.

'You haven't heard the conditions attached to your drive.'

She shook her head, careless of the hair flying about her face as  euphoria frothed inside her. 'I agree. Whatever it is, I agree.' She  wouldn't let this opportunity slip her by. She intended to grab it with  both hands. To prove to anyone who'd dared to nay-say that they'd been  wrong.

His eyes narrowed. 'Yesterday you promised to give anything not to have  Rafael in hospital. Today you're agreeing to conditions you haven't even  heard. Are you always this carefree with your consent? Perhaps I need  to rethink making you lead driver. I shudder to think what such rashness  could cost me on the race track.'

'I... Fine-name your conditions.'

He quirked a mocking brow. 'Gracias. Aside from the other commitments,  there are two that I'm particularly interested in. Team Espíritu must  win the Constructors' Championship. We're eighty points ahead of the  next championship challenger. I expect those points only to go up.  Understood?'

A smile lit up her face. 'Absolutely. I intend to wipe the floor with them.'

'The second condition-'

'Wait. I have a condition of my own.'

His lips twisted. 'Déjà vu overwhelms me. I suppose I shouldn't be surprised.'

Sasha ignored him, the need to voice a wish so long denied making her  words trip from her lips with a life of their own. 'If...when I secure  you the Constructors' Championship, I want my contract with Team  Espíritu to be extended for another year.'

When his eyes narrowed further, she rushed to speak again.

'You can write it into my contract that I'll be judged based on my  performance during the next three months. If we win the Constructors'  you'll hire me for another year.'

'Winning a Drivers' Championship means that much to you?'

His curiously flat tone drew her gaze, but his expression remained  inscrutable. Her heart hammered with the force of her deepest yearning.  'Yes, it does.'

His eyelids descended, veiling his gaze. The tension in the room  increased until she could cut the atmosphere with a butter knife. But  when he looked back up there was nothing but cool, impersonal regard.

'Very well. Win the Constructors' Championship and I'll extend your contract for another year.'

She couldn't believe he'd agreed so readily. 'Wow, that was easy.'

'Perhaps it's because I don't believe in talking every subject to death. My time is precious.'

'Yes, of course...'

'As I was saying, before you interrupted, my second condition is more  important, Miss Fleming, so listen carefully. You'll have no personal  contact with any male member of the team; you will go nowhere near my  brother. Any hint of a non-professional relationship with another driver  or anyone within the sport, for that matter, will mean instant  dismissal. And I'll personally make it my mission to ensure you never  drive another racing car. Do we understand each other?'