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‘You’re now a de Cervantes too. You can’t take back your vows.’
She gave a mock grimace. She was still getting used to her new name, just as she was getting used to wearing the exquisite engagement and wedding ring set that had belonged to Rafael’s mother. ‘Raven de Cervantes is such a mouthful.’
‘Hmm...’ He nuzzled her neck, instantly melting her insides. ‘We could shorten it.’
‘You mean like just initials or a symbol like that rock star?’
‘Not quite.’
‘What have you in mind?’ she asked, her fingers toying with buttons she couldn’t wait to undo later. The promise of exploring the flesh underneath made her hot.
He worked along her jaw until he reached the side of her mouth. With a whisper-soft kiss, he raised his head and looked directly into her eyes. ‘How about just...amor querida?’
Her heart, her soul and the rest of her body melted into him.
When his thumb brushed her cheek, she blinked back tears.
‘That works. That works very well for me.’
* * * * *
The Price of Success
First and foremost, for my dear sister, Barbara, who gave me the book that started this wonderful journey. For my husband, Tony, for his unwavering support and firm belief that this dream would become reality. For my HEART sisters—your incredible support kept me going right from the beginning—thank you! And finally, for my darling MINXES! You are the best cheerleaders a girl can have and I’d be totally lost without you.
Contents
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
EPILOGUE
EXCERPT
CHAPTER ONE
THE MOMENTS BEFORE the crash played out almost in slow motion. Time paused, then stretched lethargically in the Sunday sun. And even though the cars were travelling at over two hundred and twenty kilometers an hour, there seemed an almost hypnotic, ballet-like symmetry in their movement.
Sasha Fleming stared, frozen, her heart suspended mid-beat, terrified to complete its task as Rafael’s front wing clipped the rear tyre of the slower back marker. Hundreds of thousands of pounds’ worth of carbon fibre bent backwards, twisted in on itself. Ripped metal tore through the left tyre, wrenching the car into a ninety-degree turn.
The world-renowned racing car launched itself into the air. For several brief seconds it looked more like a futuristic aircraft than an asphalt-hugging machine.
Inevitably, gravity won out. The explosion was deafening as sound erupted all around her. The screech of contorting metal rang through her head, amplified by the super-sized loudspeakers all around her. In the next instant the white concrete wall just after the Turn One hairpin bend was streaked with the iconic racing green paint of Rafael’s car.
‘He’s crashed! He’s crashed! The pole sitter and current world champion, Rafael de Cervantes, has crashed his Espíritu DSII. Only this morning the papers said this car was uncrashable. How wrong were they?’
Sasha ripped off her headphones, unable to stomach the frenzied glee in the commentator’s voice or the huge roar that rose around the Hungaroring circuit.
Her heart, now making up for its sluggishness, was beating so hard and so fast it threatened to break through her ribcage. Her eyes remained glued to the bank of screens on the pit wall, and she and two dozen pit crew members watched the horrific events unfold.
‘Turn up the sound,’ someone yelled.
Curbing a wild need to negate that command, she clamped her lips together, arms folded tight around her middle. Memories of another time, another crash, played alongside the carnage unfolding on the screen. Unable to stem it, she let the memories of the event that had changed her for ever filter through to play alongside this appalling spectacle.
‘Sometimes the only way to get through pain is to immerse yourself in it. Let it eat you alive. It’ll spit you out eventually.’
How many times had her father told her that? When she’d broken her ankle learning to ride her bike. When she’d fractured her arm falling out of a tree. When she’d lost her mum when she was ten. When she’d suffered the desperate consequences of falling for the wrong guy.
She’d got through them all. Well...almost.
The secret loss she’d buried deep in her heart would always be with her. As would the loss of her father.
The commentator’s voice scythed through her thoughts. ‘There’s no movement from the car. The race has been red-flagged and the safety car is on its way. So is the ambulance. But so far we haven’t seen Rafael move. His engineer will be frantically trying to speak to him, no doubt. I must say, though, it’s not looking good...’
