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He pulled back slightly, his earlier tension returning. ‘That doesn’t answer my question.’
‘They knew I was a good driver before I started sleeping with you. They just didn’t want to acknowledge it because of who I am. I only care about what they think of me as a driver. What they think of me personally doesn’t matter. It never has.’
‘You’re a fighter,’ he said, his expression reflective.
‘I’ve had to fight for what I’ve achieved.’ She cast him a droll look. ‘As you well know.’
When he didn’t smile back, a cloud appeared on the horizon of her happy haze. ‘It bothers you that I don’t care what other people think about me?’
‘Single-mindedness has its place.’
‘I smell a but in there somewhere.’
His gaze because suspiciously neutral. ‘Following a single dream is risky. When it’s taken from you you’ll have nothing.’
‘When? Not if? Are you trying to tell me something?’
‘Nothing lasts for ever.’
‘You must be jet-lagged again, because you’ve gone all cryptic on me. I’m three races away from securing the Constructors’ Championship for you. Unless I don’t finish another single race, and our nearest rival wins every one, it’s pretty much a done deal.’
He got out of bed and pulled on his boxer shorts. For a man who embraced nudity the way Marco did, the definitive action sent a shiver of unease down her spine.
‘Done deals have a way of coming undone.’
Her anxiety escalated. ‘Enough with the paradoxes. What’s going on, Marco?’
Marco strode to the champagne chilling in a monogrammed silver bucket, filled up a glass and brought it back to her. Returning to the cabinet, he poured a whisky for himself and downed it in one go.
He slammed the glass down and spun towards her. ‘Madre di Dios, you nearly crashed today!’
Her fingers tightened around the delicate stem of her glass as the full force of his smouldering temper hit her. Her car had stalled at the start of the race, leaving her struggling to retain pole position. Her rivals hadn’t hesitated in trying to take advantage of the situation. She’d touched tyres with a couple of cars and nearly lost a front wing.
‘I found myself in a slightly hairy situation. I dealt with it.’ She glanced at him. ‘Were you worried?’
‘That my lover would end up in a mangled heap of metal just like my brother did mere weeks ago? What do you think?’ he ground out.
She trembled at the harshness in his tone even while a secret part of her thrilled that he’d been worried about her. ‘I know what I’m doing, Marco. I’ve been doing it almost all my life.’
He speared a hand into her hair, tilting her face up to his. ‘Rafael knew what he was doing too. Look where he ended up. You can’t do it for ever. You do realise that, don’t you?’
The question threw her, for Sasha had been deliberately avoiding any thoughts of the future. Even the end of the racing season didn’t bear thinking about. If by some sheer stroke of bad luck she lost the Constructors’ Championship then she was out of a job.
If she won her professional future would be secured for another year. But what about her personal future?
The reality was that she’d fallen into Marco’s bed expecting little more than a one-night stand. But with each day that passed she was being consumed by the magic she experienced there. With no thought to the future …
‘Yes,’ she finally whispered. ‘I realise nothing lasts for ever.’
‘Bueno,’ he breathed, as if her answer had satisfied him.
He shucked his boxers in one smooth move. ‘Are you going to drink that? Only, after watching you nearly crash, I feel an urgent need to re-affirm life with you again. Repeatedly.’
She passed him the glass and opened her arms. It wasn’t until their breaths were gasping out in the aftermath of soul-shattering orgasms that she tensed in disbelief.
‘Marco!’
‘What?’ He raised his head, a swathe of hair falling seductively over one eye.
