beg your pardon?’ she squeaked as the backs of her legs touched the side of the bed. ‘Did you just say—?’
‘You need to learn to finesse your art.’
‘What in heaven’s name are you blathering about? Are you sure you’re not the one who’s high?’ she flung back.
‘No man likes to be bludgeoned over the head with sex. No matter how … enticing the package.’
‘You’re either loopy or you’ve got me confused with someone else. I don’t bludgeon and I don’t entice.’
He kept coming.
She leaned back on the bed and felt the hem of her shirt riding up her thighs. ‘For goodness’ sake, stop!’
He stopped, but his gaze didn’t. It continued its destructive course over her, leaving no part of her untouched, until Sasha felt sure she was about to combust from the heat of it.
Desperate, she let her tongue dart out to lick her lips. ‘Look … Derek—I presume that’s where you got your little morsel from—said a lot of unsavoury things about me when we broke up. But I’m not who … whatever you think I am.’
‘Even though I can see the evidence for myself?’ he rasped in a low voice.
She scrambled over the side of the bed and grabbed the robe she’d dropped on the floor last night. With shaking fingers, and a mind scrambling to keep pace with the bizarre turn of the conversation, she pulled the lapels over her traitorous body.
Having pursued her profession in fast cars financed by billionaires with unlimited funds, Sasha knew there was a brand of women who found the whole X1 Premier Racing world a huge turn-on: women who used their sexuality to pursue racers with a single-mindedness that bordered on the obsessive.
She’d never considered for a second that she would ever be bracketed with them—especially by the wealthiest, most sought-after billionaire of them all. The idea would have been laughable if the sting of Derek’s betrayal still didn’t have the ability to hurt.
‘Well, whatever it is you think you see, there’s no truth to the rumour. Now, can we please get back to the reason you came here in the first place?’
Her words seemed to rouse him from whatever dark, edgy place he’d been in. He looked up from her thighs, slowly exhaled, and looked around the room, taking in the rumpled bed and the contents of her satchel strewn on the floor.
When he paced to the window and drew back the curtain she took the opportunity to tie the robe tighter around her, hoping it would dispel the electricity zinging around her body.
He turned after a minute, his face devoid of expression. ‘I’ve decided not to recruit a new driver. Doing so mid-season is not financially viable. Besides, they all have contracts and sponsorship commitments to fulfil.’
Hope grew so powerful it weakened her legs. Sinking down onto the side of the bed, she swallowed. ‘So, does that mean I have the seat for the rest of the season?’
He shoved his hands into his pockets, his gaze fixed squarely on her. ‘You’ll sign an agreement promising to honour every commitment the team holds you to. Half of the sponsors have agreed to let you fulfil Rafael’s commitments.’
He hadn’t given a definite yes, but Sasha’s heartbeat thundered nonetheless. ‘And the other half?’
‘With nowhere to go, they’ll come round. My people are working on them.’
Unable to stem the flood of emotion rising inside, she pried her gaze from his and stared down at her trembling hands. She struggled to breathe.
Finally. The chance to wipe the slate clean. To earn the respect that had been ruthlessly denied her and so callously wrenched from her father. Finally the Fleming name would be spoken of with esteem and not disdain. Jack Fleming would be allowed to rest in peace, his legacy nothing to be ashamed of any more.
‘I … thank you,’ she murmured.
‘You haven’t heard the conditions attached to your drive.’
She shook her head, careless of the hair flying about her face as euphoria frothed inside her. ‘I agree. Whatever it is, I agree.’ She wouldn’t let this opportunity slip her by. She intended to grab it with both hands. To prove to anyone who’d dared to naysay that they’d been wrong.
His eyes narrowed. ‘Yesterday you promised to give anything not to have Rafael in hospital. Today you’re agreeing to conditions you haven’t even heard. Are you always this carefree with your consent? Perhaps I need to rethink making you lead driver. I shudder to think what such rashness could cost me on the race track.’
‘I … Fine—name your conditions.’
He quirked a mocking brow. ‘Gracias. Aside from the other commitments, there are two that I’m particularly interested in. Team Espiritu must win the Constructors’ Championship. We’re eighty points ahead of the next championship challenger. I expect those points only to go up. Understood?’
A smile lit up her face. ‘Absolutely. I intend to wipe the floor with them.’
‘The second condition—’
‘Wait. I have a condition of my own.’
His lips twisted. ‘Déjà vu overwhelms me. I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised.’
Sasha ignored him, the need to voice a wish so long denied making her words trip from her lips with a life of their own. ‘If … when I secure you the Constructors’ Championship, I want my contract with Team Espiritu to be extended for another year.’
When his eyes narrowed further, she rushed to speak again.
‘You can write it into my contract that I’ll be judged based on my performance during the next three months. If we win the Constructors’ you’ll hire me for another year.’
‘Winning a Drivers’ Championship means that much to you?’
His curiously flat tone drew her gaze, but his expression remained inscrutable. Her heart hammered with the force of her deepest yearning. ‘Yes, it does.’
His eyelids descended, veiling his gaze. The tension in the room increased until she could cut the atmosphere with a butter knife. But when he looked back up there was nothing but cool, impersonal regard.
‘Very well. Win the Constructors’ Championship and I’ll extend your contract for another year.’
She couldn’t believe he’d agreed so readily. ‘Wow, that was easy.’
‘Perhaps it’s because I don’t believe in talking every subject to death. My time is precious.’
‘Yes, of course …’
‘As I was saying, before you interrupted, my second condition is more important, Miss Fleming, so listen carefully. You’ll have no personal contact with any male member of the team; you will go nowhere near my brother. Any hint of a non-professional relationship with another driver or anyone within
