Maya Blake - The Price of Success

‘I make it a point not to credit rumours, but it seems in this instance the rumours are true, Sasha Fleming.’

The way he said her name—slowly, with a hint of his Latin intonation—made goosebumps rise on her flesh. ‘What exactly do you think you know about me?’

‘Sex is your weapon of choice.’

‘I 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, though. 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 darted out her tongue to lick her lips. ‘Look, I’m not who … whatever you think I am.’

‘Even though I can see the evidence for myself?’ he rasped in a low voice.

MAYA BLAKEfell in love with the world of the alpha male and the strong, aspirational heroine when she borrowed her sister’s Mills & Boon ®at age thirteen. Shortly thereafter the dream to plot a happy ending for her own characters was born. Writing for Harlequin Mills & Boon is a dream come true. Maya lives in South East England with her husband and two kids. Reading is an absolute passion, but when she isn’t lost in a book she likes to swim, cycle, travel and Tweet!

You can get in touch with her via e-mail,

at mayablake@ymail.com, or on Twitter:

www.twitter.com/mayablake

THE PRICE OF SUCCESS

is Maya’s debut book

for Mills & Boon ®Modern™ Romance!

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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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.

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 Espiritu 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 …’

Sasha forced in a breath, her fingers moving convulsively to loosen the Velcro securing her constricting race suit. A shudder raked her frame, followed closely by another. She tried to swallow but she couldn’t get her throat to work.

Alongside the thoughts zipping through her head, her last conversation with Rafael filtered through.

He’d been so angry with her. And the accusations he’d flung at her when she’d only been trying to help …

Ice clutched her soul. Was this her fault? Had she played a part in this carnage?

‘The ambulance is there now. And there’s Rafael’s brother, Marco, the owner of Team Espiritu. He’s on his way to the crash site … hopefully we’ll get a progress report soon.’

Marco . Another fist of shock punched through her flailing senses. She hadn’t even been aware he’d finally arrived in Hungary. In her two years as reserve driver for Team Espiritu, Marco de Cervantes hadn’t missed a single race—until this weekend.

The whole paddock had been abuzz with his absence, the celebrities and royalty who jetted in from all over the world specifically to experience the de Cervantes lifestyle, visibly disappointed. From Rafael’s terse response when she’d asked of his brother’s whereabouts, Sasha had concluded the brothers had fallen out.

Her heart twisted tighter in her chest at the thought that Marco had finally arrived only to witness his brother’s crash.