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‘He didn’t. My grandfather had a small hotel business and wanted my father to study business so he could help him run it. But he never lost his love of racing. The moment his business grew successful enough, he enrolled Marco, then me in learning the sport. And he took us to all the European races, much to my mother’s distress.’
The pang of envy for what she’d never had made her feel small so she pushed it away. Especially given what she knew of the strain between father and son now.
‘That sounds just like what happened to Carlos in your story.’
He glanced at her with a tense smile. ‘Does it?’
‘Yes.’ When he just shrugged, she decided not to pursue the subject of his story. ‘So your father took you to all the races? Sounds like an idyllic childhood.’
‘Sure, if you’re prepared to forgive the fact that back then I was so intent on winning I didn’t feel any compunction in crashing into every single car in front of me just to put them out of business. I was disqualified more times than I actually won races.’
‘But I’m guessing your father persevered. He saw the raw talent and did everything he could to nurture it.’ Something her own father hadn’t even come close to attempting with her.
‘Sí, he showed me the difference between winning at all costs and winning with integrity. And I repaid that by making sure he would never be able to drive a car again.’ His face was taut with pain, his eyes bleak with a haunting expression that cracked across her heart.
‘I saw how things were between you two at Jack’s christening, but have you spoken to him at all since the accident?’
He tensed, waited for the waiter who’d brought their drinks to leave before he answered. ‘Of course I have.’
‘I mean about what happened.’
‘What would be the point?’
‘To find out how he feels about it?’
‘How he feels? Trust me, I have a fair idea.’
Recalling the look on his father’s face, she shook her head. ‘Maybe you don’t. Perhaps you should talk to him again. Or maybe let him talk to you. He could have something to say to you instead of you thinking it only works the other way round.’
He frowned suddenly. ‘You’re head shrinking me again. And how the hell did we get onto this subject anyway? It’s boring me.’
‘Don’t,’ she said softly.
A glaze of ice sharpened his blue eyes. ‘Don’t what?’
‘Don’t trivialise it. You’ll have to tackle it sooner or later.’
‘Like you have tackled your father?’
Her breath shut off in her chest. ‘This is different.’
‘How?’ He had to raise his voice to be heard over the sound of engines leaving the garages to line up on the racetrack. Rafael barely glanced at them, his attention riveted on her face.
‘Despite everything that’s happened, your father loves you enough to want to connect with you. My father doesn’t care if I’m alive or dead. He never has, and he never will.’
Rafael saw the depth of pain that slashed across her features before she turned to watch the action unfolding on the racetrack. He wanted to say something, but found he had no words of wisdom or of comfort to give her.
Because he didn’t agree with the redeeming quality she seemed to want to find in him. He had no doubt that if she knew the extent of his sins, she wouldn’t be so quick to offer her comfort.
An icy vice threatened to crush his chest, just as it did every time he thought of his mother. He’d awoken this morning with her screams ringing in his ears, the image of her lifeless eyes imprinted on his retinas.
No, he had no words of comfort. He’d trashed everything good in his life, and had come close to dismantling his relationship with his brother last year. The last thing he wanted to do was admit to Raven that part of his refusal to speak to his father was because he didn’t want to discover whether he was irredeemably trashed in his father’s eyes too.
His gaze flicked to the cars lining up on the track. Unlike the normal grand prix races when the cars lined up according to their qualifying time, the six All-Star cars were lined up side by side.
Team El Camino’s red and black racer, driven by the young driver he’d been working with, was the first off the mark. Rafael felt a spurt of pride, which he immediately doused.
He had no right to feel pride. All he’d done was take what his father had taught him and passed it on. His father deserved the credit here, not him.
‘Don’t be so hard on yourself.’
Irrational anger sprang up within him. The fact that she seemed so determined to make him feel better when she was content to wallow in her own daddy issues filled him with anger. The fact that he was sexually frustrated—heck, he was going on eight months without having had sex—was setting his teeth on edge. The fact that he was up here, cooling his heels when he wanted more than anything to be down there...behind the wheel of a racing car—
