A Spanish Seduction (17 page)

Chapter Fourteen

In the early hours of Thursday morning, when Ricardo returned from the police station, Jessica sat despondently on the window seat of their hotel suite.

‘I have to do this, Jessica,’ he told her when she looked up without greeting him. ‘I have no choice.’

‘There’s always a choice, Ricardo.’

‘My decision is made.’

‘I...’ The speech she’d been practising died on her lips. What could she say? She found it difficult to move past Ricardo not having discussed his decision to race. It reinforced that her only value to him was in being between his sheets. It also made her realise their affair was fast approaching its conclusion.

Even as heartache gripped her, she couldn’t stop loving him. She knew she should be supportive. He must be going through all types of hell agreeing to race in the Grand Prix again when the last time he’d taken to the track, he’d seen his cousin die. But Jess was drowning in her own private hell and support was the last thing she could offer him. It was all she could do to bite her tongue rather than ranting and raving at him.

Protesting wasn’t her right. Registering the resolution on his face, she realised her opposition would do no good even if she dared to voice it. He’d made no promises they’d have a future together. In fact, he’d warned her they didn’t.

His choices were his own.

‘Come to bed,’ he said.

She couldn’t deny him, for in doing so she’d also deny herself. She acknowledged she was grasping at straws. In making love to him, she would try to hold on to the closeness they shared. It was her hope and prayer she could get through to him on the one level they seemed to understand each other.

Tears pooled in her eyes as they made love with a sweet tenderness that pierced her soul. Somehow, it was as though they said goodbye.

They didn’t speak afterwards. They just held each other as the light of dawn filtered in through the curtains she’d failed to close. Right before he left her to make his way to the pits, he said, ‘I’ll be busy all day.’

‘Then, I’ll see you tonight.’

‘No. I sleep alone in the nights leading up to a race.’

It was the last time they were alone. She was out on his arm in public only once more before the race, but they hardly spoke. Ricardo seemed to withdraw from her completely. There was no easy conversation between them — no opportunity and, it seemed, no desire on his part to talk.

Was he signalling to her that he’d grown tired of her, or was he just entirely consumed by the race?

Manuel had worked through the remainder of Wednesday night, contacting race officials and entering Ricardo as the driver for Garcia. News of his return to racing had spread fast, and Ricardo couldn’t move now without camera crews and paparazzi members hot on his heels.

The world’s media was in a frenzy. In a matter of hours after the first media release on Thursday morning, all flights to airports anywhere close to Monaco were booked solid as formula one fans decided they couldn’t miss Ricardo Garcia’s return to the sport. Hotels as far away as a couple of hours drive announced they had no vacancies.

Ricardo’s security was beefed up. Jessica was directed not to leave the hotel without a bodyguard, and her dream trip to Monaco became a nightmare.

Incredibly, Ricardo blitzed the practice session on Thursday.

Now, it was Saturday — race day. Only a few hours ago, he achieved the fastest lap time in qualifying. Jess watched as the cars lined up for the start and Ricardo claimed pole position in the grid. He hadn’t seen her before the race and when she’d asked Manuel if she could visit him in the pits, her request had been denied.

‘He can’t afford any distractions,’ Manuel had told her. ‘He needs to be totally focussed on the race and in tune with the car.’

Feeling highly sensitive, Jess turned over Manuel’s words. She wanted to be so much more than a distraction to Ricardo.

She and Manuel had been invited to watch the race from the royal box. This time, Jess didn’t feel any nervousness about mingling with royalty because all her attention was focussed upon Ricardo. Everything in her willed him to emerge from this race unscathed.

Manuel placed a hand on Jessica’s arm in a gesture of comfort. ‘He’ll be fine. He’s driving like he’s never left the track.’

‘I feel sick.’ It was a gross understatement. Even though it was mid-afternoon, her stomach threatened to bring up the tiny portion of breakfast she’d forced down. Her abdomen was tied up in knots. The horrendously loud revving of the car engines reverberated through her pounding temples and the petrol fumes threatened to overwhelm her.

As the flag lowered to start the race, and Ricardo’s car accelerated at a sickeningly fast rate, Jessica’s eyes welled with tears.

‘Stop worrying. Compared to other Grand Prix courses, this one has relatively slow speeds,’ Manuel yelled to her over the noise of the engines.

His words would only have reassured her had she been ignorant as to why that were the case. Someone had mentioned average speeds were slower on this course because of how dangerous it was!

At the royal reception, she’d been disturbed to hear one former champion describe the hazards of Monte Carlo’s tunnel and how drivers had to adjust their vision as they emerged from the darkness of the tunnel at the fastest point of the track, only to brake for the chicane as daylight blinded them.

‘Years ago, the track was much more hazardous,’ Manuel continued to shout. ‘They’ve put all the Armco protective barriers around it now so the drivers won’t end up in the Mediterranean.’

Wonderful!

She’d go mad if she had to listen to all this
positive
talk for seventy-eight laps!

A waiter offered her champagne, but she couldn’t contemplate the thought of alcohol with her churning stomach.

Manuel persisted in talking to her, appearing to have taken responsibility for her while she was separated from Ricardo. He pointed out and named parts of the course as Ricardo’s car was shown racing around the track on the huge television screen opposite them. ‘That part of the track is named after Anthony Noghes, the founder of the Monaco Grand Prix.’

Jess took in little of all the facts and figures he reeled off. Every second of the race was interminably long.

Manuel was like an excited school boy as Ricardo made his last scheduled pit stop before the end of the race. ‘He’s going to hit the track with the new tyres, and he’s already outperforming every other driver out there! He’s going to make the podium, but even if he didn’t, he’s still put the Garcia name right back in the spotlight. Sales are going to soar!’

For the thousandth time, Jess wanted to throttle Manuel. She couldn’t reconcile that such a lovely man wasn’t worried at all about Ricardo’s safety and still spoke of the company’s success.  Sales were irrelevant in her opinion, and even though she should probably be willing Ricardo on to victory, all she prayed for was a safe finish.

Ricardo pulled out of the pits and the crowd roared. Before long, a rival challenged him on a curve they called Massenet. It was Ricardo and the other driver wheel to wheel as they went past the Casino, flew along to the point called Mirabeau, around a couple of turns and into the tunnel. Jessica held her breath.

‘There’s been a crash in the tunnel!’ the announcer called.

No! Eyes widened with sheer terror, Jess let out a sob. Ricardo and the other driver were the only ones in the tunnel.

Time slowed.

Panic fired through each of her nerve synapses.

The crowd fell into a hushed silence.

Eyes glued to the television screen, Jess released a sob as Ricardo emerged.

His rival was hot on his tail.

‘No accident!’ the announcer corrected. ‘I repeat, there’s been no accident. Everything’s good.’

Jessica stifled another sob and called the announcer rude names in her head. She could do without unnecessary stress.

Going into the chicane, the cars were still close.

‘Garcia’s pushing too hard,’ the course announcer called. ‘He must slow down around the critical Piscine area. Too much aggression here hitting the curbs and his vehicle will jump and end up in the guard rails.’

Jess willed him to slow down.

He didn’t.

His rival did, and Ricardo increased the distance between them.

‘Look at Garcia go!’ the announcer cried. ‘He’s making his comeback in spectacular fashion, and if he keeps up this speed he’ll have broken the record for the fastest lap time on this
Circuit de Monaco
!’

‘Slow down, now, son,’ Manuel’s words penetrated through Jessica’s fear. For the first time, she heard concern in his voice.

‘He’s got a clear lead. Why doesn’t he slow down?’ Jess grew more distraught as Ricardo approached the second last bend of the course. ‘You said he doesn’t need to win now to boost publicity for the company’s car launch.’ He’d also shown the crowd what the Garcia car was capable of and he’d proven himself an outstanding driver once again. The championship was his. He didn’t need to keep driving at such high speed.

‘Something’s wrong,’ Manuel muttered.

Jessica’s heart fisted and her throat closed over.

Ricardo took the bend known as La Rascasse and his car started to slide.

Manuel cursed profanely.

‘Garcia’s back right tyre’s starting to wobble,’ the race caller pronounced.

Jess bit her lip and watched as Ricardo pulled the car out of the slide.

‘That was a close call for Garcia. He seems to have slowed a little, but he’s still going way too fast into the Anthony Noghes’ corner, and that back tyre is definitely loose. What’s he thinking? Can’t he feel his loose tyre?’

Adrenaline coursed through her veins. Her eyes tracked his movement on the screen. A close up shot now showed instability in the rear of the vehicle and the wobbling tyre. She willed the tyre to stay on.

‘He’s got the chequered flag!’ the caller cried. ‘Garcia’s done it again! On his comeback race, he’s taken the Monaco Grand Prix Championship.’

In the next few seconds, Ricardo’s car left the track in dramatic fashion, missing the critical braking point past the finish line and heading straight into an emergency exit. The car came to an abrupt stop in the gravel bed just after the rear tyre completely rolled off and crashed into a barrier. Mercifully, Ricardo got out of the car, took off his helmet and gave a wave to the crowd.

The crowd erupted with cheering and applause.

‘He’s okay! Ricardo Garcia’s uninjured in what has been the most remarkable finish of any Grand Prix I can remember!’ the voice declared over the loudspeaker.

Jess wanted to strangle Ricardo and hug him at the same time.

Manuel grabbed her into a tight embrace and she burst into tears of relief.

Ricardo walked down the side of the track toward the finish line as his crew members and stewards descended upon his vehicle to remove it from the gravel bed. He hadn’t gone far before he was met by an official vehicle which, for safety reasons, took him the rest of the relatively short distance to the royal box.

The second he’d acknowledged the congratulations of the Crown Prince and Formula One Race Officials, he departed from protocol and was by her side. ‘Jessica!’

Manuel slapped him on the back. ‘You did it! I knew you could.’

Ricardo didn’t respond. His regard welded to Jessica.

The roar of the engines on the circuit only minutes before was nothing compared to the roar of the crowd as television cameras zoomed in on Ricardo taking Jessica into his arms and kissing her.

Tears streaming down her face, Jess looked up at him. She wanted to plead with him not to ever do that to her again, but she knew she didn’t have that right. Instead she offered him a wobbly, ‘Congratulations!’

They kissed again until race officials intervened. ‘You’re being summoned to the podium, Ricardo!’

Jess wiped at her tears as the awards were handed out.

‘I told you there was nothing to worry about,’ Manuel told her.

‘Nothing at all!’ Jess had reached the limits of her tolerance level. ‘Just a loose tyre that nearly sent him crashing into the barrier in a slide, and something obviously wrong with the car that he had to use an emergency gravel pit to stop!’

Manuel had the audacity to chuckle at her rage. ‘All in a day’s work, Jessica.’

Day’s work be damned!

But, as she turned away from Manuel and sought Ricardo, her heart swelled.

Ricardo only had eyes for her as he held his trophy aloft, and stood as the Spanish National Anthem was played.

Then, he was whisked away for interviews with the media.

Exhaustion hit Jess hard. All around her, people claimed that only a driver with Ricardo’s skill could have steered his car through those bends at such speed. The snippets she heard informed her there’d been a malfunction of the braking system and a couple of wheel nuts had not been tightened properly on his last stop for a tyre change in the pits.

Had the excitement of Ricardo’s expected victory made the pit crew err, or had the mistakes been deliberate? The possibility his car may have been deliberately sabotaged placing him at risk for a fatal accident was too much for Jess to dwell on.