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When she glanced at him, he merely shrugged. ‘We have an early flight in the morning. Don’t want you to accuse me of depriving you of your beauty sleep.’
She waited until they were in the car, leaving the bright lights of Monte Carlo behind. ‘You strive to put a brave face on it all, don’t you?’
‘A brave face?’
‘I saw how the paparazzi affected you just now. And even though you stopped to speak to people, you didn’t really want to be there.’
He tilted his head. ‘Your powers of deduction are astounding.’
‘Don’t dismiss me like that, Rafael,’ she murmured. ‘You’ve changed.’
Although his expression didn’t alter, she saw his shoulders stiffen beneath his expensive cotton shirt.
‘Of course I have, querida. My hip no longer works and I carry a walking stick.’
‘I don’t mean physically. You turned away from the cameras at the airport too. You answer their questions but you no longer bask in the limelight. Oh, the playboy is very much a part of your DNA, probably always will be, but...something’s changed.’
‘Sí, I’ve turned into a decrepit recluse who’s been banned from having a bed partner.’
She ignored the quip. ‘I bet you’re not going to buy that villa, are you?’
The corner of his mouth lifted in a mirthless smile. ‘You assume correctly,’ he replied, his gaze steady on her face. ‘You were right, it’s a little too...stalker-ish for me. I think the owner studied what I liked and tried to replicate it without taking the location into consideration. It’s slightly creepy, actually. Besides that, Monaco is great for a visit but not somewhere I prefer to live. But then neither is León.’
‘Why?’
‘Too many bad memories,’ he stated.
Somewhere inside, Raven reeled at the easy access he seemed to be giving her. A strong need to know the man made her probe further. ‘Your father?’
He paled a little beneath his tan, but he nodded after several seconds. ‘Sí. Amongst other things. He moved to Barcelona after...for a while, but he’s back in León now. Seeing him there reminds me of what a disappointment I’ve been to my family.’
She gasped. ‘A disappointment? How...why? You’ve won eight world championships and ten Constructors’ Championships for Team Espíritu. How in the world can that be termed a failure?’
‘Those are just trophies, querida.’
‘Trophies coveted by the some of the world’s most disciplined athletes.’
‘Why, Raven, I almost think you’re trying to make me feel better about myself.’
‘You’ve achieved a lot in your life. Self-deprecation is one thing. Dismissing your achievements out of hand is an insult to the team that has always supported you. Now, if you’re talking about your private life...’
‘What if I said I was?’
‘I’ve met your father, albeit very briefly. I saw no trace of disappointment when he tried to talk to you. And, as far as I can see, Marco and Sasha worship the ground you walk on, despite you saying you tried to break them up.’
He lifted a hand, his knuckles brushing her cheeks before she knew what he was doing. ‘That may have been an over-exaggeration. Was I annoyed when I woke up from my coma to find my best friend had fallen for my brother? Sí. But I’m a big boy, I’ll learn to adapt. As for worshipping the ground I walk on—appearances can be deceptive. I’ve done things—things I’m not proud of; things that haunt me in the middle of the night, or in the middle of the day when I smile and shake hands with people who think I’m their golden boy. They don’t know what I’ve done.’
‘What have you done, Rafael? Tell me.’
He shook his head, a bleak expression stamped on his face that sent a bolt of apprehension through her.
‘Did you notice the condition my father is in?’
She frowned. ‘You mean his wheelchair? Of course I did.’
‘What if I told you I put him in that wheelchair?’
* * *
Rafael looked into her face, trying to read her reaction while at the same time trying to decipher exactly why he was spilling his guts when he never, ever talked about what he’d done eight years ago.
The car passed under a streetlamp and illuminated for a moment her pale, shocked face. ‘H...How did you put him in the wheelchair?’
A deep tremor went through him, signalling the rise of the blistering pain that seemed to live just below his skin. ‘Take a wild guess.’
‘A car accident?’
He nodded, his peculiar fascination with her escalating when she made a move as if to touch him. At the last moment, she dropped her hand.
