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So she sent an email response. She would leave on one condition. That he let her recommend a physio who could help.
His curt text message agreeing to the condition made her heart contract painfully. Her next request was flatly refused.
No, Rafael stated, he had no wish to see her. But he wished her good luck with her future endeavours.
Raven watched the remaining All-Star events like most people did around the world—from the comfort of her couch. Except she had an extra reason to watch. She told herself she was making sure Rafael’s new physio was doing a good enough job. It only took a glimpse of Rafael walking down the paddock en route to his car at the Montreal race to know that he hadn’t suffered any setbacks.
At least not physically.
His haggard features told a different story. That and his studious avoidance of the media.
Her heart clenched as she devoured images of him; called herself ten kinds of fool when she froze his latest image and let her gaze settle on his hauntingly beautiful face.
The icy blue eyes staring into the camera still held the hint of devilish irreverence that was never far away but a raw desperation lurked there too, one that made tears prick her eyes. With a shaky hand, she pressed the release button and sat, numb, as the rest of the race unfolded.
Whatever Rafael had been running from still chased him with vicious relentlessness. The thought made her heart ache so painfully, she was halfway to picking up the phone when she stopped herself.
What would she say to him that she hadn’t said before? He’d made it painfully clear he didn’t want her interfering in his life. Like all his relationships, she’d been a means to an end, a sexual panacea to make him forget. She had no choice but to accept it was over.
She needed to put the past in the past and move on.
Which was why she nearly binned the invitation that arrived a week later.
The All-Star event’s last race was taking place in Monaco. To be followed by an All-Star gala in honour of the drivers who’d given up their time to raise money for the road safety programme.
The only thing that stopped her from throwing the invitation away was the hand-written note from Sasha de Cervantes on behalf of her and her husband.
Sasha had been a good friend to her when she’d first joined the X1 Premier. Raven knew she’d put her friendship with Rafael on the line because of her and it had almost caused an irreparable rift between them. Certainly, she knew that not admitting Raven’s role in Rafael’s accident was what had caused the initial friction between Sasha and Marco.
So although attending the gala would mean she ran the risk of coming face to face with Rafael, Raven slid the invitation and the accompanying first class aeroplane ticket into her bag, then spent the next three days desperately trying to stop her heart from beating itself into exhaustion every time she thought of returning to Monaco.
* * *
Rafael stood before the door leading to the study at Casa León, where his father waited. Contrary to his intentions when he’d left Mexico two weeks ago, he hadn’t made the trip to León. The indescribable need that had assailed him as he’d lifted off the racetrack in Mexico had led him down another path. A path which had brought him an infinitesimal amount of comfort. Comfort and the courage to grasp the door before him...and open it.
His father was seated behind his ancient desk in the room that seemed to have fallen into a time warp décor-wise.
‘Buenos tardes, Papá.’
‘Mi hijo,’ his father replied. My son. ‘It’s good to see you.’
Guilt and sadness welled in Rafael’s chest as he let his gaze rest properly on his father for the first time in eight years. His hair had turned almost completely grey and his limbs, paralysed thanks to Rafael, appeared shrunken. But his eyes, grey and sharp like Marco’s, sparked with keen intellect and an expression Rafael thought he’d never see again. Or maybe it was just wishful thinking. ‘Is it?’ he asked, his throat tight with all the emotions he held within.
‘It’s always good to see you. I’ve missed you. I miss you every day.’
Rafael advanced into the room on shaky legs, inhaling an even shakier breath. ‘How can you say that after all I’ve done?’
‘What exactly do you think you’ve done, Rafa?’
He let out a harsh laugh and speared a hand through his hair. ‘Por favor, Papá. Condemn me to hell. It’s where I belong, after all.’
‘I think you’ve done a good job all by yourself. Now it’s time to end this.’
‘End this?’
His father nodded to a file on his desk. ‘Sit down and read that.’
The hand he reached across the desk felt as feeble as a newborn’s. The file contained a three-page report, one he read with growing disbelief.
