reduced.
‘And you were having such a great time you decided not to answer your phone?’
‘I think it’s died.’
‘You think?’
‘You’re annoyed with me. Why?’
Sasha asked the question in that direct way he’d come to expect from her. No one in his vast global organisation would dare to speak to him that way. And yet … he found he liked it.
Rising, he walked towards her. A few steps away, the scent of her perfume hit his nostrils. Marco found himself craving more of it, wanting to draw even closer. ‘Why bother with a phone if you can’t ensure it works?’
‘Because no one calls me.’
Her words stopped him in his tracks. For a man who commanded his multi-billion-euro empire using his BlackBerry, Marco found her remark astonishing in the extreme. ‘No one calls you?’
‘My phone never rings. I think you were the last person to call me. I get the occasional text from Tom, or Charlie, my physio, but other than that … zilch.’
Marco’s puzzlement grew. ‘You don’t have any friends?’
‘Obviously none who care enough to call. And, before you go feeling sorry for me, I’m fine with it.’
‘You’re fine with being lonely?’
‘With being alone. There’s a difference. So, is there another reason you’re annoyed with me?’
She raised her chin in that defiant way that drew his gaze to her throat.
He shoved his phone into his pocket. ‘I’m not annoyed. I’m tired. And hungry. Rosario had gone to bed when I arrived.’
‘Oh, well, that’s good. Not the tired and hungry part. The not annoyed part.’ She bit her lip, her eyes wide on his as he moved even closer. ‘And about Rosario … I hope you don’t mind, but I told her not to wait up for me.’
Marco shook his head. ‘So where did you go for this drink?’ He strove to keep his voice casual.
‘A bodega just off Plaza Mayor in Salamanca.’
He nodded, itching to brush back the stray hair that had fallen against her temple. ‘And did you enjoy your evening out?’
Her shrug drew his eyes to her bare shoulder. ‘Leon is beautiful. And I was glad to get out of the villa.’
Her response struck a strangely discordant chord within him. ‘You don’t like it here?’
‘I don’t mind the proximity to the track, but I was tired of knocking about in this place all by myself.’
Marco stiffened. ‘Do you want to move to the hotel with the rest of the team?’
She thought about it. Then, ‘No. The crew and I seem to be gelling, but I don’t want to become overly familiar with them.’
Marco found himself breathing again. ‘Wise decision. Sometimes maintaining distance is the only way to get ahead.’
‘You obviously don’t practise that dogma. You’re always surrounded by an adoring crowd.’
‘X1 Premier Racing is a multi-million-spectator sport. I can’t exist in a vacuum.’
‘Okay. Um … do you think we can turn the lights on in here? Only we seem to be making a habit of having conversations in the dark.’
‘Sometimes comfort can be found in darkness.’
Facing up to reality’s harsh light after his own crash ten years ago had made him wish he’d stayed unconscious. Angelique’s smug expression as she’d dropped her bombshell had certainly made him wish for the oblivion of darkness.
Sasha gave a light, musical laugh. The sound sent tingles of pleasure down his spine even as heat pooled in his groin. His eyes fell to her lips and Marco experienced the supreme urge to kiss her. Or to keep enjoying the sound of her laughter.
‘What’s so funny?’ he asked as she reached over his shoulder and flipped on the light switch.
‘I was thinking either you’re very hungry or you’re very tired, because you’ve gone all cryptic on me.’
He was hungry. And not just for food. A hunger—clawing and extremely ravenous—had taken hold inside him.
Pushing aside the need to examine it, he followed her as she headed towards the kitchen. The sight of her bare feet on the cool stones made his blood thrum faster as he studied her walk, the curve of her full, rounded bottom.
‘I could do with a snack myself. Do you want me to fix you something?’
Walking on the balls of her feet made the sway of her hips different, sexier. He tried to stop himself staring. He failed.
‘You cook?’ he asked past the strain in his throat.
‘Yep. Living on my own meant I had to learn, starve or live on takeaways. Starving was a bore, and Charlie would’ve had conniptions if he’d seen me within a mile of a takeaway joint. So I took an intensive cookery course two years ago.’
She folded her wrap and placed it on the counter, along with a small handbag. Only then did he see that her top was held up by the thinnest of straps.
Opening the fridge, she began to pull out ingredients. ‘Roast beef sandwich okay? Or if you want something hot I can make pasta carbonara?’ she asked over her shoulder.
Marco pulled up a seat at the counter, unable to take his eyes off her. ‘I’m fine with the sandwich.’
Her nod dislodged more silky hair from the knot on her head. ‘Okay.’ Long, luxurious tresses slipped down to caress her neck.
She moved around the kitchen, her movements quick, efficient. In less than five minutes she’d set a loaded plate and a bottle of mineral water before him. He took a bite, chewed.
‘This is really good.’
Her look of pleasure sent another bolt of heat through him.
He waited until she sat opposite him before taking another bite. ‘So, how long have you lived on your own?’
‘Since …’ She hesitated. ‘Since my father died four years ago.’
She looked away, but not before he caught shadows of pain within the blue depths.
‘And your mother? Is she not around?’
She shook her head and picked up her sandwich. ‘She died when I was ten. After that it was just Dad and me.’
The sharp pain of losing his own mother surfaced. Ruthlessly, he pushed it away.
‘The team are wondering how Rafael is,’ Sasha said, drawing him
