Besides, poaching had never been his style.
‘So, what would it take to convince you to keep me on?’ She addressed him without taking her eyes from the view.
Annoyance fizzled through him.
‘You’re known for having relationships with your team mates.’
Her breath caught and she turned sharply from the window. Satisfaction oozed through him at having snagged her attention.
Satisfaction turned to surprise when once again she didn’t evade the question. ‘One team mate. A very long time ago.’
‘He also crashed under extreme circumstances and lost his drive, I believe?’
A simple careful nod. ‘He retired from motor racing, yes.’
‘And his seat was then given to you?’
Her eyes narrowed. ‘Your extrapolation is way off base if you think it has any bearing on what has happened with Rafael.’
‘Isn’t it curious that you bring chaos to every team you join? Are you an unlucky charm, Miss Fleming?’
‘As a former racer yourself, I’m sure you’re familiar with the facts—drivers crash on a regular basis. It’s a reality of the sport. In fact, wasn’t a crash what ended your racing career?’
For the second time in a very short while the reminder of events of ten years ago cut through him like the sharpest knife. Forcing the memories away, he folded his arms. ‘It’s your circumstances that interest me, not statistics. You dumped this other guy just before a race. This seems to be your modus operandi.’
Her chest lifted with her affronted breath. He struggled not to let his gaze drop. ‘I resent that. I thought you ran your team on merit and integrity, not rumour and hypothesis.’
‘Here’s your chance to dispel the rumours. How many other team mates have you slept with?’
‘I had a relationship with one. Derek and I went out for a while. Then it ended.’
‘But this … relationship grew quite turbulent, I believe? So much so that it eventually destroyed his career while yours flourished?’
She snorted. ‘I wouldn’t say flourished, exactly. More like sweated and blooded.’
‘But you did start out being a reserve driver on his team. And you did dump him when his seat became available to you?’
Marco watched her lips tighten, her chin angling in a way that drew his eyes to her smooth throat.
‘It’s obvious you’ve done your homework. But I didn’t come here to discuss my personal life with you—which, as it happens, is really none of your business.’
‘When it relates to my brother and my team it becomes my business. And your actions in the past three months have directly involved Rafael.’ He reached for the box on the table. ‘Do you know what’s in this box?’ he asked abruptly.
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—’