The Price of Success. Maya Blake
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.’
His 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 Espiritu.’
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.