Free The Price of Success by Maya Blake Page A

succeed were living things that charged the air around her. Marco knew only too well the high cost of blind ambition, and yet knowing the depths of Sasha Fleming’s ambition and what she would do to achieve her goals didn’t stop him from imagining how it would have felt to lift her T-shirt higher … just a fraction …
    He was also more than a little puzzled that she’d made no attempt to gain his attention since that episode in her room. Women flaunted themselves at him at every opportunity—used every excuse in the book to garner his interest. Some even resorted to …
unconventional
means. Most of the time he was happy to direct them Rafael’s way. He’d long outgrown the paddock bunny phase; had outgrown it even before Angelique, the most calculating of them all, had stepped into his orbit and turned his world upside down.
    Marco sobered, seething at himself for the memories he suddenly couldn’t seem to dispel so easily. Focusing on the controls, he banked the chopper and followed the straights and curves of the race track hundreds of metres below.
    ‘I built it ten years ago,’ he clipped out in answer to her question.
    ‘After you retired?’ she asked, surprised.
    ‘No. Just before.’ His harsh response had the desired effectof shutting her up, but when he glanced at her again, he noted the spark of speculation in her eyes. Before he could think about why he was doing so, he found himself elaborating. ‘I thought I’d be spending more time here.’ He’d woven foolish dreams about what his life would be like, how perfect everything had seemed. He’d had the perfect car; the perfect woman.
    ‘What happened?’
    The crushing pain of remembrance tightened around his chest. ‘I crashed.’
    She gave a sad little understanding nod that made him want to growl at her. What did she know? She was as conniving as they came.
    Forcing his anger under control, he flew over the track towards the mid-point hill.
    Sasha pointed to six golf buggies carrying mechanics who hopped out at various points of the track. ‘What are they doing?’
    ‘The track hasn’t been used for a while. They’re conducting last-minute checks on the moveable parts to make sure they’re secure.’
    ‘I can’t believe this track can be reshaped to simulate other tracks around the circuit. I can’t wait to have a go!’
    Excitement tinged her voice and Marco couldn’t help glancing over at her. Her eyes were alight with a smile that seemed to glow from within. His hands tightened around the controls.
    ‘The track was built before simulators became truly effective. One concrete track would’ve served only to make a driver expert at a particular track, so I designed an interchangeable track. The other advantage is experience gained in driving on tarmac, or as close to tarmac—as you can get. Wet or dry conditions can make or break a race. This way the driver gets to practise on both with the right tyres. Electronic simulators and wind tunnels have their places, but so does this track.’
    The helicopter crested another small hill and cold sweat broke out over his skin. Several feet to the side of the track a mound of whitewashed stones had been piled high in a makeshift monument. Marco’s hand tightened on the lever and deftly swerved the aircraft away from the landmark he had no wish to see up close.
    ‘Trust me, I’m not complaining. It’s a great idea. I’m just surprised other teams haven’t copied the idea. Or sold their firstborn sons to use your track.’
    ‘Offers have been made in the past.’
    ‘And?’
    He shrugged. ‘I occasionally allow them to use the track I designed. But for the whole package to come together they also need the car I designed.’
    A small laugh burst from her lips. The sound was so unexpectedly pleasing he momentarily lost his train of thought, and missed her reply.
    ‘What did you say?’
    ‘I said that’s a clever strategy—considering you own the team you design for, and the only