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‘You’ve let yourself suffer enough. You have to learn to forgive yourself, Rafael.’
His head went back as if she’d struck him. ‘Forgive myself? For not only crippling my own father but for taking away the one person he treasured the most?’
‘What did you do?’
‘I killed my mother, Raven. I put her in my car, drove too fast into a sharp corner and executed a perfect somersault that snuffed her out within minutes.’
The horror that engulfed her had nothing to do with his emotionless recounting of events. No, the dismay that rocked through her stemmed from knowing just how much more he’d suffered, how he’d buried it all under the perfect front.
His laugh was a harsh, cruel sound. ‘Now that’s more like it. That look of horror is what I expect. Maybe now you’ll listen to me when I suggest you stay away from me.’
He pulled on his jeans, fished out a black polo shirt and shrugged into it.
Reeling as she was from the news he’d delivered, it took her a moment to realise what he was saying into his phone.
‘You’re leaving Mexico?’ she asked when he hung up.
‘The race is over. The next one isn’t for another four days.’
She started in surprise. ‘Where are you going?’
He gave her a grim smile. ‘No. The twenty questions is over, quer—’ He stopped, looked around, then shoved more things into the large bag he’d placed on the bed.
Scrambling wildly, she said, ‘What about your physio sessions?’
‘I’ve just endured a two-hour race. I hardly think I’m going to crumble into a million little pieces if I go without a session for a few days.’
Her lips firmed but the questions hammered in her mind. ‘No, you won’t. As long as you’re not attempting to skydive over any volcanoes?’
‘Been there, done that.’
His phone rang. He stared at it for several seconds, pain rippling in tides over his face. Finally, sucking in a deep breath, he answered it.
‘Sí, Papá?’ he rasped.
Raven’s heart caught. The faint hope that help for Rafael would come from another angle was stymied when the conversation grew heated with bursts of staccato responses.
Rafael grew tenser with each passing moment until his body was as taut as a bow.
The moment he hung up, he reached for his bag. The action held an air of permanence about it that terrified her.
‘So, I’ll see you at the track in Rio?’ she asked, hating herself for the desperation in her voice.
He gave her a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. He started to answer but his phone rang again. He stared into her eyes, his expression inscrutable save for the tinge of relief she glimpsed before he masked it.
‘No, you won’t. Adios, bonita.’
He pressed the answer button, raised the phone to his ear and walked out of the door.
* * *
Rafael told himself to keep moving. To walk away before he brought chaos to her life. Time was running out for him.
He knew he wasn’t ready to give up racing. Just as he knew it was his guilt that was causing the feelings rushing through him. For him to hang onto the only thing that kept him sane, he had to try to make amends.
No, racing wasn’t the only thing that kept him sane. If he admitted nothing else, he would admit that.
Raven Blass kept him sane, made him laugh, made him feel things he hadn’t felt in a long time. But for her sake he had to walk away. Keep walking away. He was toxic in this state.
He couldn’t allow himself to be swayed into thinking he was anything else but what she’d first thought him to be.
As for what he planned to do... His father had summoned him.
Since he had nothing to lose, he saw no reason to refuse the summons. Just as he saw no reason to examine why his heart felt as if it would burst out of his chest with every step he took away from her.
Gritting his teeth, he walked out, threw a ‘no comment’ to a stunned media before he stepped up in his helicopter and buckled himself in. He had no heart. So he had nothing to worry about.
* * *
Raven got the email an hour later. She’d been fired. Rafael de Cervantes no longer needed her services. She would be paid her full contract fee and an insanely hefty bonus for her inconvenience. Et cetera...et cetera...
Thing was, she wasn’t surprised. Or even hurt. The man she’d fallen in love with was in full retreat mode because she’d got under his skin, had glimpsed the ravaged soul of the outwardly irreverent but desperately lonely playboy who had been grappling with monstrous demons.
She could’ve fought to stay, cited contract clauses and notice periods, but she knew first-hand how intransigent Rafael could be. And she knew offering her help when it was unwelcome would only set back the progress she’d made.
