Page 78 of His Ultimate Prize

‘Have you seen enough? Or would you like me to perform a slow striptease for you?’

Her cheeks burned. Her neck burned. In fact for several seconds Sasha was sure her whole body was on fire. Mortified, she hastily plucked her sunglasses from atop her head and jammed them onto her face.

‘I... You didn’t say where we were going.’

‘I’ve called a meeting with Russell and the chief engineer. I’m handing over the reins temporarily so I can concentrate on making arrangements for Rafael to be evacuated home to Spain.’

‘You’re moving him?’

‘Not yet, but the medical team is on standby. He’ll be moved the moment it’s deemed safe.’

‘I see.’

Sharp eyes bored into her. ‘Do you? You’ve talked your way into a last-chance meeting and yet you’re wasting time exhibiting false concern for my brother.’

She sucked in a breath. ‘My concern isn’t false. I’d give anything for Rafael not to be in that place.’

Sasha watched, fascinated, as his hand tightened around the box. ‘In my experience anything tends to arrive with a very heavy price tag and a carefully calculated catch. So be very careful with your choice of words.’

Sasha licked her lips, suddenly unable to breathe at the expression in his eyes. ‘I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.’

The look in his eyes hardened. ‘You really should try a different profession. Your acting skills are highly commendable.’

‘Driving suits me just fine, thanks. Where are we going, exactly?’

Keeping his gaze on her, he relaxed back in his seat. ‘My hotel.’

‘Your hotel?’ she repeated dully. Her senses, still reeling after she’d been caught staring at Marco de Cervantes’s man package, threatened to go into freefall. The thought of being alone with him—truly alone—made anxiety skitter over her skin. ‘I don’t think that’s a good idea.’

‘You don’t have a choice. You wanted this meeting.’

Desperation lent her voice strength. ‘The rest of the team will be wondering where I am. Maybe I should let them know.’ Tom had asked where she was going after the press conference, but she’d been deliberately evasive.

‘The team will be out doing what they do after every Sunday race. Bar hopping and trying it on with the local girls.’

‘I don’t think they’ll be doing that tonight. Not with Rafael...’ She bit her lip, unable to continue as she glimpsed the flash of pain in those hazel eyes.

But he merely shrugged. ‘Call them if you want. Tell them where you’re going. And why.’

Not expecting her bluff to be called, Sasha floundered. The circumstances of her past made it impossible to make friends with anyone on her team. The constant whispers behind her back, the conversations that stopped when she walked into a room, made it hard to trust anyone.

Tom only cared as far as her actions impacted upon his career. The only one who had cared—really cared—had been Rafael. A wave of pain and regret rushed through her. Until their row last night she’d foolishly let herself believe she could finally trust another human being.

Feigning nonchalance, she shrugged. ‘I’ll tell them later.’

Unable to stomach the mockery in Marco’s eyes, she turned away.

Absently she stroked the armrest, silently apologising for calling the Bentley Continental a monstrosity. Amongst the luxury, sometimes vacuous, creations car manufacturers produced, the Bentley was one of the more ingenious styles. It had been her father’s favourite non-racing car—his pride and joy until he’d been forced to sell it to defend himself.

‘We’re here.’

They were parked beneath the pillared portico of the Four Seasons. A liveried doorman stepped forward and opened the door on Marco’s side, his bow of deference deep to the point of being obsequious.

Casting her gaze past him, Sasha felt her mouth drop open at the sheer opulence of the marbled foyer of the stunning hotel. The whole atmosphere glittered and sparkled beneath a super-sized revolving chandelier, which was throwing its adoring light on sleekly dressed patrons.

Sasha remained in her seat, super-conscious of how inappropriate her old hipster jeans and worn top were for the gold-leaf and five-star luxury spread before her. She was pretty sure she would be directed to the tradesman’s entrance the moment the doorman saw her scuffed boots.

‘Come out. And lose the glasses and the scarf. No one cares who you are here.’

She hesitated. ‘Can’t we just talk in the car?’ she ventured.

He held out a commanding hand. ‘No, we can’t. We both know you’re not shy, so stop wasting my time.’

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