To celebrate the UK retail release and worldwide e-book release of The Price of Success, I give you an exerpt from the book!
“I regret a lot that’s happened in the past twenty-four hours, not least of them watching my brother mangle himself and his car on the racetrack because he believed himself to be heartbroken. One more thing doesn’t make a difference.”
“Your emotions are overwhelming you right now. All I’m saying is don’t let it overrule your better judgement.”
A cold smile lifted one corner of his mouth. “My emotions? I didn’t know you side-practiced as the team’s psychologist. I thought you rode down with me to beg for your job back, not to practise the elevator pitch version of pop psychology. You had me as your captive audience for a full thirty seconds. Shame you chose to waste it.”
“Mock me all you want. It doesn’t change the fact that right now you’re acting like…” She bit her lip, common sense momentarily overriding her anger.
“Go on,” he encouraged softly. Tauntingly. “Acting like what?”
She shrugged. “Like…well, like an ass.”
His eyes narrowed until they were mere icy slits. “Excuse me?”
“Sorry. You asked.”
Anger flared in his eyes, radiated off his body. Sasha held her breath, readying herself for the explosion about to rain on her head. Instead he gave a grim smile. “I’ve been called worse.” He nodded to his bodyguard, who took a step towards them. “Romano will escort you off the premises. Be warned - my very generous donation to this hospital is contingent on you being arrested if you set foot anywhere near my brother. I’m sure the Administrator would relish that challenge.”
Despair rose to mingle with her anger. “You can’t do this. If you don’t listen to me, I’ll…I’ll talk to the press again. I’ll spill everything!”
“Ah, I’m glad to finally meet the real you, Miss Fleming.”
“Ten minutes. That’s all I want. Let me convince you to keep me on.”
“Trust me, blackmail isn’t a great place to start.”
She bit her lip. “That was just a bluff. I won’t talk to the press. But I do want to drive for you. And I’m the best mid-season replacement you’ll find for Rafael.”
“You do place a high premium on yourself, don’t you?”
Unflinching, she nodded. “Yes, I do. And I can back it up. Just let me prove it.”
His gaze narrowed on her face, then conducted a lazy sweep over her body. Suddenly, the clothes that had served as perfect camouflage against the intrusive press felt inadequate, exposing. Beneath the thin material of her T-shirt, her heart hammered, her skin tingling with an alien awareness that made her muscles tense.
As a female racer driver in a predominantly male sport, she was used to being the cynosure of male eyes. There were those who searched for signs of failure as a driver, ready to use any shortcomings against her. Then there were the predators who searched for weaknesses simply because she was a woman and therefore deemed incapable. The most vicious lot were those who bided their time, ready to rip her apart because she was Jack Fleming’s daughter. Those were the ones she feared the most. And the ones she’d sworn to prove wrong.
Marco de Cervantes’s gaze held an intensity that combined all of those qualities, multiplied by a thousand. And then there was something else.
Something that made her breath grow shallow in her lungs. Made her palms clammy and the hairs bristle on her nape.
Recalling the sheer intensity of the look he’d directed into the camera earlier, her heartbeat accelerated.
“Get in the car,” he bit out, his tone bone-chilling.
To everyone who's bought the book so far, thank you much!