The Price Of Desire: The Price of Success / The Cost of Her Innocence / Not For Sale

‘Sasha.’

She smiled an excuse at the older man before turning to him.

‘Yes?’

At the sight of her wide, genuine smile—the same one she’d worn when she’d offered her friendship at Casa de Leon—something in his chest contracted. He forced himself to remember the reason Sasha Fleming was here beside him. Why she was in his life at all.

Rafael. The baby brother he’d always taken care of.

But he isn’t a child any more …

Marco suppressed the unsettling voice. ‘The ceremony’s about to start. You’re presenting the second award.’

Her eyes widened a fraction, then anxiety darkened their depths.

‘Yes, of course. I … I have my speech ready. I’d better read it over one more time, just in case …’ Her hands shook as she plucked a tiny piece of paper from her bag.

Without thinking, he covered her hand with his. ‘Take a deep breath. You’ll be fine.’

Eyes locked onto his, she slowly nodded. ‘I … Thanks.’

The MC took to the stage and announced the first award-giver. Sasha smiled and clapped but, watching her closely, Marco caught a glimpse of the pain in her eyes. Forcing himself to concentrate on the speech, he listened to the story of a four-year-old who’d saved her mother’s life by ringing for an ambulance and giving clear, accurate directions after her mother had fallen down a ravine.

The ice-cold tightening his chest since he’d stepped from the car increased as he watched the little girl bound onto the stage in a bright blue outfit, her face wreathed in smiles. Forcing himself not to go there, not to dwell in the past, he turned to gauge Sasha’s reaction.

She was frozen, her whole body held taut.

Frowning, he leaned towards her. ‘This is ridiculous. Tell me what’s wrong. Now.’

She jumped, her eyes wide, darkly haunted with unshed tears. Her smile flashed, only this time it lacked warmth or substance.

‘I told you, I’m fine. Or I would if I’d remembered to bring a tissue.’

Wordlessly, he reached into his tuxedo jacket and handed her his handkerchief, a million questions firing in his mind.

Accepting it, she dabbed at her eyes. ‘If I look a horror, don’t tell me until I come back from the stage, okay?’ she implored.

It was on the tip of his tongue to trip out the usual platitudes he gave to his dates. Instead he nodded. ‘Agreed.’

Marco watched her gather herself together. A subtle roll of her shoulders and a look of determination settled over her features. By the time she rose to present the award her smile was fixed in place.

Watching the lights play over her dark hair, illuminate her beautiful features and the generous curve of her breasts, Marco felt the familiar tightening in his groin and bit back a growl of frustration.

‘As most of you know, Rafael de Cervantes was supposed to present this award to Toby this evening. Instead he’s skiving off somewhere in sunny Spain.’

Laughter echoed through the room.

‘No, seriously, just as Toby said a prayer before rushing into his burning home to save his little sister and brother, so we should all take a moment to say a prayer for Rafael’s speedy recovery. Toby fought for his family to live. Not once did he give up. Even when the rescuers told him there was no hope for his little brother he ignored them and rescued him. Why? Because he’d promised his mother he’d take care of his siblings. And he never once wavered from that promise. There are lessons for all of us in Toby’s story. And that’s never to give up. No matter how small or big your dreams, no matter how tough or impossible the way forward seems, never give up. I’m delighted to present this award to Toby Latham, for his outstanding bravery against all odds.’

Sasha’s voice broke on the last words. Although she tried to hide it, Marco caught the strain in her face and the pain behind her smile even as thunderous applause broke out in the ballroom.

Automatically Marco followed suit, but inside ice clenched his heart, squeezing until he couldn’t breathe. It was always like this when he allowed himself to remember what Angelique had taken from him. What his weakness had cost him. He’d failed to take care of his own.

Never again, he vowed silently.

Sasha stepped down from the stage and made her way back to her seat. Despite the rushing surge of memories, he couldn’t take his eyes off her. In fact he wanted to jump up, grab her hand and lead her away from the ballroom.

She reached the table and smiled at him. ‘Thank God I didn’t fall on my face.’

Sliding gracefully into the seat, she tucked her hair behind one ear. In that moment Marco, struggling to breathe and damning himself to hell, knew he craved her.

Impossibly. Desperately.

Sasha caught the expression on Marco’s face and her heart stopped.

‘What’s the matter? Oh, my God, if you tell me I have food caught in my teeth I’ll kill you!’ she vowed feverishly.

Desperately blinking back the threatening tears, she tried to stem the painful memories that looking into Toby Latham’s face had brought. She couldn’t afford to let Marco see her pain. The pain she’d let eat her alive, consume her for years, but had never been able to put to rest.

She heard sniggers from across the table but ignored them, her attention held hostage by the savagely intense look in Marco’s eyes.

‘Your teeth are fine,’ he replied in a deep, rough voice.

‘Then what? Was my speech that bad?’ Caught in the traumatising resurgence of painful memories, she’d discarded her carefully prepared notes and winged it.

‘No. Your speech was … perfecto.’

Her heart lurched at his small pause. Before she could question him about it the MC introduced the next guest. With no choice but to maintain a respectful silence, she folded her shaking hands in her lap.

Frantically, she tried to recall her speech word for word. Marco was obviously reacting to something she’d said. Had she been wrong to mention Rafael? Had her joke been too crass? A wave of shame engulfed her at the thought.

She waited until the next award had been presented, then leaned over. ‘I’m sorry,’ she whispered into his ear.

His head swivelled towards her. His jaw brushed her cheek, sending a thousand tiny electric currents racing through her.

‘What for?’ he asked.

‘I shouldn’t have made that crack about Rafael skiving off. It was tasteless—’

‘And exactly what Rafael himself would’ve done had the situation been reversed. Everyone’s been skirting around the subject, either pretending it’s not happening or treating it with kid gloves. You gave people the freedom to acknowledge what had happened and set them at ease. I’m no longer the object of pitying glances and whispered speculation. It is I who should be thanking you.’

‘Really?’

‘Sí,’ he affirmed, his gaze dropping to her mouth.

‘Then why did you look so … off?’

His eyes darkened. ‘Your words were powerful. I was touched. I’m not made of stone, Sasha, contrary to what you might think.’