His Ultimate Prize

‘Sasha... I... God, this is a mess,’ Tom stuttered. ‘Will you be all right? I need to secure that footage...’

‘Please, go. I...I’ll be fine,’ she managed through frozen lips.

He hurriedly retreated and she was alone.

Dropping her head between her thighs, she tried to breathe evenly, desperately willing herself not to pass out. The TV hummed in the background but she didn’t have the strength to walk over to turn it off.

Oh, God, how had Derek found out? Not that it mattered now. Her secret was out. Out there for the whole world to pore over...

Tears welled in her eyes. Derek was all about causing maximum damage. But she’d never dreamed he’d sink this low.

The door flew open and Marco walked in.

Her gaze collided with his, and every single thing she’d told herself over the last three weeks flew out of the door.

He’d lost weight. The gap at the collar of his light blue shirt showed more of his collarbones and his jacket hung looser. But he was just as arresting, just as breathlessly beautiful, and her heart leapt with shameless joy at the sight of him.

‘I need to talk to you,’ he said tautly, his gaze roving intensely over her before capturing hers again.

She licked her dry lips. ‘I...I need to tell you...’ How could she tell him? She’d never vocalised her pain, never told another human being.

‘What is it?’ He came over and took her hands. ‘Whatever it is, tell me. I can handle it.’

That gave her a modicum of strength. ‘You promise?’

‘Sí. I have a few things I need to tell you too, mi corazón. The things I said in León...’ He paused and shook his head, a look of regret in his eyes. ‘You were right. I’m an ass.’

‘I didn’t...’ I didn’t mean it, she started to confess, but her eyes had strayed to the TV. There, like a vivid recurring nightmare, her interview was being replayed.

Seeing her distraction, Marco followed her gaze.

Just in time to hear the interviewer’s damning question.

Marco dropped her hands faster than hot coals and surged to his feet. ‘No! It’s a lie. Isn’t it, Sasha? Isn’t it?’ he shouted when she couldn’t speak.

‘I...’

He paled, his cheekbones standing out against his stark face as he stepped back from her.

‘Marco, please—it wasn’t like that.’ She finally found her voice. But it was too late.

He’d taken several more steps backwards, as if he couldn’t stand to breathe the same air as her.

‘Did you race knowing you were pregnant?’ he insisted, his voice harsh.

‘Not the day Derek’s talking about—’

‘But you did race knowing you were pregnant?’

‘I suspected I was—’

‘Dios mío!’

‘I’d already lost the baby when I crashed. That was why I crashed! Racing was all I knew. After the doctor told me I’d lost the baby I didn’t know what else to do.’

‘So you got straight back in your car? You didn’t even take time to mourn the loss of your child?’ he condemned in chilling tones.

Somehow she found the strength to stand and face him. ‘The doctor said it wasn’t my fault. The pregnancy wasn’t viable to begin with. But I still cried myself to sleep every night for years afterwards. If you’re asking if I carry a picture of a scan to punish myself with, or as an excuse to push people away, then no, I don’t. She lives in my heart—’

“She?” His voice was a tortured rasp, his fists clenching and unclenching and his throat working as he paled even more.

Tears spilled from her eyes and she nodded. ‘Mine was a girl too. She lives in my heart and that’s where I choose to remember her. You say you don’t live in the past, but that’s exactly what you’re doing. You’re judging me by what happened to you ten years ago.’

He inhaled sharply. ‘And you’ve proved to me just how far you’ll go. I told you about Angelique, about my child, and you said nothing. Because a small thing like a lost pregnancy is less important to you than your next race, isn’t it?’

She swayed as pain clamped her chest in a crushing vice. ‘You know why I wanted to race!’

‘I was a fool to believe you were trying to preserve the memory of your father. You were really just seeking to further your own agenda.’

Pain arrowed through her. ‘Don’t pretend you don’t think he was guilty.’

‘I said he was found guilty. I didn’t say I agreed with the verdict.’

‘But—’

He slashed a hand through her words. ‘I had my lawyers investigate the case. Some of the testimony didn’t add up. If your father had spent less time feeling sorry for himself and more time getting his lawyers to concentrate on his case he’d have realised that. That’s one of the things I came here to tell you.’