His Ultimate Prize

This magic, this overwhelming sense that she was exactly where she wanted to be, was too great to deny. Reality would encroach soon enough.

So where was the harm in experiencing it for a little while longer?

CHAPTER ELEVEN

IT TURNED OUT a little while was all she would get.

Things started to go wrong the moment the helicopter touched down at the Autódromo Hermanos Rodríguez in Mexico City the next morning. The replacement driver Angelo had lined up didn’t turn up. As the day went on with no immediate solution, Raven felt the pressure mount as everyone turned to Rafael for a solution.

Even though this was primarily a charity event, high profile sponsors had channelled millions of euros into it in the hope of gaining maximum exposure, courtesy of the sold-out events. Racing five cars instead of the usual six would make the headlines and throw negative publicity on the event—something X1 Premier Management and Rafael in particular couldn’t afford to let happen.

Already the paparazzi, sensing blood in the water, were sniffing around, cameras and microphones poised to capture any salacious gossip.

She recalled how they’d decimated Sasha de Cervantes and her gut churned at the thought of what that type of publicity could do to Rafael.

As if she’d conjured him up, Rafael walked past the window, his pace carrying him from one end of the air-conditioned VIP lounge to the other, his gait remarkably improved despite the physical stress she’d put on his body in the last three days.

Feeling a blush creep up her face, she glanced away before he or any of the other management team hastily assembled for the meeting could guess at her thoughts.

Angelo, Rafael’s assistant, approached him, a phone in his hand. Rafael listened for several seconds, his tension increasing with each breath he took.

‘Tell him if he threatens me with a lawsuit one more time, I’ll personally see to it that his brand of vodka never leaves the icy wilderness of Siberia...bueno, I’m pleased you’re finally seeing things my way. We will find a driver, and your logo will be emblazoned on the side pod just as we agreed.’

He hung up, glanced around the room and caught a few nervous gazes. ‘They want to play dirty; I’m more than happy to oblige.’

A three-time world champion, now in his early sixties, cleared his throat. ‘The race starts in three hours. I don’t see that we have much of a choice here. You all but agreed to step in two days ago when we were a driver short. I’m not sure what changed your mind but perhaps you’d revisit the idea of racing?’

Raven half rose out of her seat, the scrape of her chair on the tiled floor drawing attention from the rest of the room.

She collapsed back into her seat when Rafael’s fierce gaze settled on her. When the quick shake of her head didn’t seem to register, she cleared her throat.

His eyes narrowed. Then he turned, slowly, deliberately away from her.

A block of ice wedged in her chest and her stomach hollowed out. From very far away, she heard him address the race coordinator and chief engineer of the driverless team.

‘I have a couple of spare seats around here somewhere. Angelo will arrange to supply you with one to fit into the car. I’ll be along in ten minutes to go over race strategy with you.’ He looked around the room, the devil’s own grin spreading over his face. ‘Gentlemen, let’s go racing.’

The explosion of excitement that burst through the room drowned out her horrified gasp. Manly slaps of his shoulder and offers of congratulations echoed through her numb senses.

When someone suggested a quick press conference, Raven finally found the strength to stand and approach him as the room emptied.

‘R...Rafael, can I talk to you?’

‘Now is not a good time, bonita.’ His voice was brusque to the point of rudeness.

The endearment she was beginning to adore suddenly grated. But she refused to be dismissed. ‘I think this is a bad idea.’

‘Sí, I knew you would think so. But I can’t help what you think. Needs must and I stand to become embroiled in all sorts of legal wrangling if this isn’t sorted out.’

She frowned. ‘But it was the driver who broke the contract. Isn’t he liable?’

‘No, he isn’t. XPM is staging this event, so I’m responsible. I should’ve taken more time to ensure contingencies were in place before we arrived. Everyone here knows someone’s dropped the ball. Unfortunately, they’re looking at me to pick it up and run with it.’ He was the hard businessman, the ruthless racer who’d held a finite edge over his competitors for years.

He was certainly nothing like the lover who’d taken her to the heights of ecstasy.