His Ultimate Prize

‘So, which is it to be—compliance without question or physical restraints?’ Raven strolled towards Rafael, her gaze cool and collected.

The laughter that ripped from his throat felt surprisingly great. He’d had nothing to laugh about for far longer than he cared to remember. Several heads turned to watch him but he didn’t care. He was more intrigued by the blush that spread over Raven’s face.

He leaned in close. ‘Do you think the angels are about to strike me down? Will you save me if they do?’ he asked, sotto voce.

‘No, Rafael. I think, based on your debauched past and irreverent present, all the saints will agree by now that you’re beyond redemption. No one can save you.’

Despite his bitter self-condemnation moments ago, hearing the words repeated so starkly caused Rafael’s chest to tighten. Because, knowingly or unknowingly, she’d struck a very large, very raw nerve.

‘Then tell me, Raven, if I’m beyond redemption, what the hell are you doing here?’

His Ultimate Prize

Maya Blake

www.millsandboon.co.uk

MAYA BLAKE fell 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

Recent titles by the same author:

MARRIAGE MADE OF SECRETS

THE SINFUL ART OF REVENGE

THE PRICE OF SUCCESS

Did you know these are also available as eBooks? Visit www.millsandboon.co.uk

To Lucy Gilmour, for making my dream come true, and also because I know she loves bad boys!

Contents

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

EPILOGUE

CHAPTER ONE

‘PUT YOUR ARMS around me and hold on tight.’

The rich, deep chuckle that greeted her request sent a hot shiver down Raven Blass’s spine. The same deep chuckle she continually prayed she would grow immune to. So far, her prayers had gone stubbornly unanswered.

‘Trust me, bonita, I don’t need guidance on how to hold a woman in my arms. I give instructions; I don’t take them.’ Rafael de Cervantes’s drawled response was accompanied by a lazy drift of his finger down her bare arm and a latent heat in ice-blue eyes that constantly unnerved her with their sharp, unwavering focus.

With gritted teeth, she forced herself not to react to his touch. It was a test, another in a long line of tests he’d tried to unsettle her with in the five weeks since he’d finally called her and offered her this job.

Maintaining a neutral expression, she stood her ground. ‘Well, you can do what I say, or you can stay in the car and miss your nephew’s christening altogether. After agreeing to be his godfather, I’m sure you not turning up in church will go down well with your brother and Sasha.’

As she’d known it would, the mention of Sasha de Cervantes’s name caused the atmosphere to shift from toying-with-danger sexual banter to watch-it iciness. Rafael’s hand dropped from her arm to grip the titanium-tipped walking stick tucked between his legs, his square jaw tightening as his gaze cooled.

Deep inside, in the other place where she refused to let anyone in, something clenched hard. Ignoring it, she patted herself on the back for the hollow victory. Rafael not touching her in any way but professionally was a good thing.

Recite. Repeat. Recite. Repeat—

‘I didn’t agree...exactly.’

Her snort slipped out before she could stop it. ‘Yeah, right. The likelihood of you agreeing to something you’re not one hundred per cent content with is virtually nil. Unless...’

His eyes narrowed. ‘Unless what?’

Unless Sasha had done the asking. ‘Nothing. Shall we try again? Put your arms—’

‘Unless you want me to kiss that mouth shut, I suggest you can the instructions and move closer. For a start, you’re too far away for this to work. If I move the wrong way and land on top of you, I’ll crush you, you being such a tiny thing and all.’

‘I’m not tiny.’ She moved a step closer to the open doorway of the sleek black SUV, stubbornly refusing to breathe in too much of his disconcertingly heady masculine scent. ‘I’m five foot nine of solid muscle and bone and I can drop kick you in two moves. Think about that before you try anything remotely iffy on me.’

The lethal grin returned. ‘Dios, I love it when you talk dirty to me. Although my moves have never been described as iffy before. What does that even mean?’

‘It means concentrate or this will never work.’

Rafael, damn him, gave a low laugh, unsnapped his seat belt and slid one arm around her shoulders. ‘Fine. Do with me what you will, Raven. I’m putty in your hands.’

With every atom in her body she wished she could halt the stupid blush creeping up her face, but that was one reaction she’d never been able to control. In the distant past she tried every day to forget, it had been another source of callous mirth to her father and his vile friends. To one friend in particular, it had provoked an even stronger, terrifying reaction. Pushing away the unwelcome memory, she concentrated on the task at hand, her job.

Adjusting her position, she lowered her centre of gravity, slid an arm around Rafael’s back and braced herself to hold his weight. Despite the injuries he’d sustained, he was six foot three of packed, lean muscle, his body honed to perfection from years of carefully regimented exercise. She needed every single ounce of her physiotherapist training to ensure he didn’t accidentally flatten her as promised.

She felt him wince as he straightened but, when she glanced at him, his face showed no hint of the pain she knew he must feel.

The head trauma and resulting weeks-long coma he’d lain in after he’d crashed his Premier X1 racing car and ended his world championship reign eight months ago had only formed part of his injuries. He’d also sustained several pelvic fractures and a broken leg that had gone mostly untreated while he’d been unconscious, which meant his recovery had been a slow, frustrating process.

A process made worse by both his stubborn refusal to heed simple instructions and his need to test physical boundaries. Especially hers.

‘Are you okay?’ she asked. Because it was her job to make sure he was okay. Nothing else.

He drew himself up to his full height and tugged his bespoke hand-stitched suit into place. He slid slim fingers through longer-than-conventional hair until the sleek jet-black tresses were raked back from his high forehead. With the same insufferable indolence with which he approached everything in life, he scrutinised her face, lingered for an obscenely long moment on her mouth before stabbing her gaze with his.

‘Are you asking as my physiotherapist or as the woman who continues to scorn my attentions?’

Her mouth tightened. ‘As your physio, of course. I have no interest in the...in being—’

‘Becoming my lover would make so many of our problems go away, Raven, don’t you think? Certainly, this sexual tension you’re almost choking on would be so much easier to bear if you would just let me f—’

‘Are you okay to walk, Rafael?’ she interjected forcefully, hating the way her blood heated and her heart raced at his words.

‘Of course, querida. Thanks to your stalwart efforts this past month, I’m no longer wheelchair-bound and I have the very essence of life running through my veins. But feel free to let your fingers keep caressing my backside the way they’re doing now. It’s been such a long time since I felt this surge of essence to a particular part of my anatomy, I was beginning to fear it’d died.’

With a muted curse and even redder cheeks, she dropped her hand. The professional in her made her stay put until Rafael was fully upright and able to support himself. The female part that hated herself for this insane fever of attraction wanted to run a mile. She compromised by moving a couple of feet away, her face turned from his.

For the second time in as many minutes, his laugh mocked her. ‘Spoilsport.’

She fought the need to clench her hands into agitated fists and faced him when she had herself under sufficient control. ‘How long are you going to keep this up? Surely you can find something else to amuse yourself with besides this need to push my buttons?’

Just like that, his dazzling smile dropped, his eyes gleaming with a hard, cynical edge that made her shiver. ‘Maybe that’s what keeps me going, guapa. Maybe I intend to push your buttons for as long as it amuses me to do so.’

She swallowed hard and considered staring him down. But she knew how good he was at that game. Heck, Rafael was a maestro at most games. He would only welcome the challenge.

Reaching behind him to slam the car door, she started to move with him towards the entrance of the church where baby Jack’s ceremony was being held. ‘If you’re trying to get me to resign by being intolerable, I won’t,’ she stated in as firm a tone as possible, hoping he’d get the hint. Aside from the need to make amends, she needed this job. Her severance package from Team Espíritu when Marco de Cervantes had sold the racing team had been more than generous, but it was fast running out in light of her mother’s huge treatment bills. It would take a lot more than Rafael’s sexual taunts to make her walk away.

He shrugged and fell into step beside her. ‘Good. As long as you’re here tormenting yourself with your guilt, I feel better.’

Acute discomfort lodged in her chest. ‘I thought we weren’t going to speak about that?’

‘You should know by now, rules mean nothing to me. Unspoken rules mean even less. How’s the guilt today, by the way?’

‘Receding by the second, thanks to your insufferable tongue.’

‘I must be slacking.’ He took a step forward, gave a visible wince, and Raven’s heart stopped, along with her feet. He raised a brow at her, the hard smile back on his face. ‘Ah, there it is. Good to know I haven’t lost my touch after all.’

Ice danced down her spine at his chilled tone. Before she could answer, the large bell pealed nearby. Pigeons flew out of the turrets of the tiny whitewashed church that had been on the de Cervantes’s Northern Spanish estate for several hundred years.

Raven glanced around them, past the church poised at the summit of the small hill that overlooked miles of prime de Cervantes vineyards, to the graveyard beyond where Rafael’s ancestors lay interred.

‘Are we going to stand here all day admiring the landscape or do we actually need to go inside the church for this gig?’ A quick glance at him showed his face studiously averted from the prominent headstones, his jaw set in steel.

She drew in a deep breath and moved towards the arched entrance to the church. ‘It’s not a gig; it’s your nephew’s christening. In a church. With other guests. So act accordingly.’

Another dark chuckle. ‘Or what, you’ll put me over your knee? Or will you just pray that I be struck down by lightning if I blaspheme?’

‘I’m not rising to your baits, Rafael.’ Mostly because she had an inkling of how hard this morning would be for him. According to Rafael’s housekeeper, it was the first time he’d interacted with his family since his return to León from his private hospital in Barcelona. ‘You can try to rile me all you want. I’m not going anywhere.’

‘A martyr to the last?’

‘A physiotherapist who knows how grumpy patients can be when they don’t get their way.’

‘What makes you think I’m not getting exactly what I want?’ he rasped lazily.

‘I overheard your phone call to Marco this morning...twice...to try and get out of your godfather duties. Since you’re here now, I’m guessing he refused to let you?’

A tic in his jaw and a raised brow was her only answer.

‘Like I said, I know a grumpy patient when I see one.’ She hurried forward and opened the large heavy door.

To her relief, he didn’t answer back. She hoped it was because they were within the hallowed walls of his family’s chapel because she was close enough to feel his tension increase the closer they got to the altar.

De Cervantes family members and the few close friends who’d managed to gain an invitation to the christening of Sasha and Marco de Cervantes’s firstborn turned to watch their slow progress up the aisle.

‘Shame you’re not wearing a white gown,’ Rafael quipped from the side of his mouth, taking her elbow even as he smiled and winked at a well-known Spanish supermodel. But, this close, Raven could see the stress lines that faintly bracketed his mouth and the pulse throbbing at his temple. Rafael really did not want to be here.

‘White gown?’

‘Think how frenzied their imagination would be running right about now. It would almost warrant a two-page spread in X1 Magazine.’

‘Even if I were dressed in bridal white with a crown on my head and stars in my eyes, no one would believe you would actually go through with anything as anathema to you as a wedding, Rafael. These poor people would probably drop dead at the very thought of linking you with the word commitment.’

His grip tightened for a minuscule moment before that lazy smile returned. ‘For once, you’re right. Weddings bore me rigid and the word marriage should have a picture of a noose next to it in the dictionary.’

They were a few steps away from the front pew, where his brother and sister-in-law sat gazing down adoringly at their infant son. The sight of their utter devotion and contentment made her insides tighten another notch.

‘I don’t think that’s how your brother and his wife see it.’

Rafael’s jaw tightened before he shrugged. ‘I’m prepared to accede that for some the Halley’s Comet effect does happen. But we’ll wait and see if it’s a mirage or the real thing, shall we?’

Her breath caught at the wealth of cynicism in his tone. She couldn’t respond because an usher was signalling the priest that it was time to start.

The ceremony was conducted in Spanish with English translations printed out on embossed gold-edged paper.

As the minutes ticked by, she noted Rafael’s profile growing even tenser. Glancing down at the sheet, she realised the moment was approaching for him to take his godson for the anointing. Despite her caution to remain unmoved, her heart softened at his obvious discomfort.

‘Relax. Babies are more resilient than we give them credit for. Trust me, it takes a complete idiot to drop a baby.’

She was unprepared for the icy blue eyes that sliced into her. ‘Your flattery is touching but the last thing I’m thinking of is dropping my nephew.’

‘You don’t need to hide it, Rafael. Your tension is so thick it’s suffocating.’

His eyes grew colder. ‘Remember when I said weddings bore me?’

She nodded warily.

‘Christenings bore me even more. Besides, I’ve never been good in churches. All that piety.’ He gave a mock shudder. ‘My abuela used to smack my hand because I could never sit still.’

‘Well, I’m not your grandmother so you’re spared the smacking. Besides, you’re a grown man now so act like one and suck it up.’

Too late, she remembered certain words were like a naked invitation to Rafael. She was completely stunned when he didn’t make the obvious remark. Or maybe it was a testament to just how deeply the whole ceremony was affecting him.

‘I just want this to be over and done with so I can resume more interesting subjects.’ Without due warning, his gaze dropped to the cleavage of her simple, sleeveless orange knee-length chiffon dress. The bold, heated caress resonated through her body, leaving a trail of fire that singed in delicate places. ‘Like how delicious you look in that dress. Or how you’ll look out of it.’

Heat suffused her face. It was no use pointing out how inappropriate this conversation was. Rafael knew very well what he was doing. And the unrepentant gleam in his eyes told her so.

‘Rafa...’ Marco de Cervantes’s deep voice interrupted them.

Raven glanced up and her eyes collided with steel-grey ones which softened a touch when they lit on his brother.

Like most people who’d worked the X1 Premier circuit, she knew all about the de Cervantes brothers. Gorgeous beyond words and successful in their individual rights, they’d made scores of female hearts flutter, both on and off of the racing circuit.

Marco had been the dynamic ex-racer team boss and race car designer. And Rafael, also insanely gifted behind the wheel, had at the age of twenty-eight founded and established himself as CEO of X1 Premier Management, the multi-billion euro conglomerate that nurtured, trained and looked after racing drivers. Between them they’d won more medals and championships than any other team in the history of the sport.

The last year had changed everything for them, though. Marco had sold the team and married Sasha Fleming, the racing driver who’d won him his last Constructors’ Championship and stolen his heart in the process; and Rafael had spectacularly crashed his car, nearly lost his life and stalled his racing career.

The icy jet of guilt that shot through Raven every time she thought of his accident, and her part in it, threatened to overwhelm her. Her breath caught as she desperately tried to put the incident out of her head. This was neither the time nor the place.

But then, when had timing been her strong suit?

Over and over, she’d proven that when it came to being in the wrong place at the wrong time, she took first prize every single time. At sixteen, it was what had earned her the unwanted attention that had scarred what remained of her already battered childhood.

As a grown woman of twenty-three, foolishly believing she’d put the past behind her, she’d been proved brutally wrong again when she’d met Rafael de Cervantes.

Rafael’s mouth very close to her ear ripped her from her painful thoughts. ‘Right, I’m up, I believe. Which means, so are you.’

Her heart leapt into her throat. ‘Excuse me?’

‘I can barely stand up straight, pequeña. It’s time to do your duty and support me just in case it all gets too much and I keel over.’

‘But you’re perfectly capable—’

‘Rafa...’ Marco’s voice held a touch of impatience.

Rafael’s brow cocked and he held out his arm. With no choice but to comply or risk causing a scene, Raven stood and helped him up. As before, his arm came around her in an all-encompassing hold. And again, she felt the bounds of professionalism slip as she struggled not to feel the effortless, decidedly erotic sensations Rafael commanded so very easily in her. Sensations she’d tried her damnedest to stem and, failing that, ignore since the first moment she’d clapped eyes on the legendary racing driver last year.

What had she said to him—suck it up? She took a breath and fought to take her own advice.

They made their way to the font and Raven managed to summon a smile in answer to Sasha’s open and friendly one. But all through the remainder of the ceremony, Raven was drenched with the feeling that maybe, just maybe, in her haste to assuage her guilt and make amends, she’d made a mistake. Had she, by pushing Rafael to take her on as his personal physiotherapist, jumped from the frying fan into the proverbial fire?

* * *

Rafael repeated the words that bound the small person sleeping peacefully in the elegant but frilly Moses basket to him. He firmed lips that wanted to curl in self-derision.

Who was he to become godfather to another human being?

Everything he touched turned to dust eventually. Sooner or later he ruined everything good in his life. He’d tried to tell his brother over and over since he’d dropped the bombshell on him a month ago. Hell, as late as this morning he’d tried to get Marco to see sense and change his mind about making him godfather.

But Marco, snug in his newfound love-cocoon, had blithely ignored his request to appoint someone else his son’s godfather. Apparently, reality hath no blind spots like a man in love.

Was that a saying? If not, it needed to be.

He was no one’s hero. He was the last person any father should entrust with his child.

He gazed down into his nephew’s sweet, innocent face. How long before Jack de Cervantes recognised him for what he was? An empty shell. A heartless bastard who’d only succeeded at two things—driving fast cars and seducing fast women.

He shifted on his feet. Pain ricocheted through his hip and pelvis. Ignoring it, he gave a mental shrug, limped forward and took the ladle the priest passed him. Scooping water out of the large bowl, he poised it over his nephew’s head.

At the priest’s nod, he tipped the ladle.

The scream of protest sent a tiny wave of satisfaction through him. Hopefully his innocent nephew would take a look at him and run screaming every time he saw him. Because Rafael knew that if he had anything at all to do with his brother’s child, the poor boy’s life too would be ruined.

As well-wishers gathered around to soothe the wailing child, he dropped the ladle back into the bowl, stepped back and forced his gaze away from his nephew’s adorable curls and plump cheeks.

Beside him, he heard Raven’s long indrawn breath and, grabbing the very welcome distraction, he let his gaze drift to her.

Magnet-like, her hazel eyes sought and found his. Her throat moved in a visible swallow that made his fingers itch to slide over that smooth column of flesh. Follow it down to that delectable, infinitely tempting valley between her plump breasts.

Not here, not now, he thought regrettably. What was between the two of them would not be played out here in this place where dark memories—both living and dead—lingered everywhere he looked, ready to pounce on him should he even begin to let them...

He tensed at the whirr of an electronic wheelchair, kept his gaze fixed on Raven even as his spine stiffened almost painfully. Thankfully the wheelchair stopped several feet behind him and he heard the familiar voice exchange greetings with other family members. With every pulse of icy blood through his veins, Rafael wished himself elsewhere...anywhere but here, where the thick candles and fragrant flowers above the nave reminded him of other candles and flowers placed in a shrine not very far away from where he stood—a constant reminder of what he’d done. A reminder that because of him, because of callous destruction, this was his mother’s final resting place.

His beloved Mamá...

His breath caught as Sasha, his sister-in-law, came towards him, her now quietened son in her arm.

Sasha...something else he’d ruined.

Dios...

‘He’s got a set of lungs on him, hasn’t he?’ she laughed, her face radiant in the light slanting through the church windows. ‘He almost raised the roof with all that wailing.’

He took in the perfect picture mother and child made and something caught in his chest. He’d denied his mother this—the chance to meet her grandchild.

‘Rafael?’

He focused and summoned a half-smile. ‘Sí, my poor eardrums are still bleeding.’

She laughed again as her eyes rolled. ‘Oh, come on, my little champ’s not that bad. Besides, Marco tells me he takes after you, and I don’t find that hard to believe at all.’ She sobered, her gaze running over him before piercing blue eyes captured his in frank, no nonsense assessment. ‘So...how are you? And don’t give me a glib answer.’

‘Thoroughly bored of everyone asking me how I am.’ He raised his walking stick and gestured to his frame. ‘See for yourself, piqueña. My clever physiotherapist tells me I’m between phases two and three on the recovery scale. Dios knows what that means. All I know is that I’m still a broken, broken man.’ In more ways than he cared to count.

She gently rubbed her son’s back. ‘You’re far from broken. And we ask because we care about you.’

‘Sí, I get that. But I prefer all this caring to be from afar. The up-close-and-personal kind gives me the...what do you English call it...the willies?’

Her eyes dimmed but her smile remained in place. ‘Too bad. We’re not going to stop because you bristle every time we come near.’ Her determined gaze shifted to Raven, who was chatting to another guest. ‘And I hope you’re not giving her a hard time. From what I hear, she’s the best physio there is.’

Despite telling himself it wasn’t the time or place, he couldn’t stop his gaze from tracing the perfect lines of Raven Blass’s body. And it was a perfect body, honed by hours and hours of gruelling physical exercise. She hadn’t been lying when she said she was solid muscle and bone. But Rafael knew, from being up close and personal, that there was soft femininity where there needed to be. Which, all in all, presented a more-than-pleasing package that had snagged his attention with shocking intensity the first time he’d laid eyes on her in his racing paddock almost eighteen months ago.

Of course, he’d been left in no uncertain terms that, despite all indications of a very mutual attraction, Raven had no intention of letting herself explore that attraction. Her reaction to it had been viscerally blunt.

She’d gone out of her way to hammer her rejection home...right at the time when he’d been in no state to be rejected...

His jaw tightened. ‘How I choose to treat my physiotherapist is really none of your business, Sasha.’

A hint of sadness flitted through her eyes before she looked down at her son. ‘Despite what you might think, I’m still your friend, so stop trying to push me away because, in case you need reminding, I push back.’ She glanced back at him with a look of steely determination.

He sighed. ‘I’d forgotten how stubborn you are.’

‘It’s okay. I’m happy to remind you when you need reminding. Your equally demanding godson demands your presence at the villa, so we’ll see you both there in half an hour. No excuses.’

‘If we must,’ Rafael responded in a bored drawl.

Sasha’s lips firmed. ‘You must. Or I’ll have to leave my guests and come and fetch you personally. And Marco wouldn’t like that at all.’

‘I stopped being terrified of my big brother long before I lost my baby teeth, piqueña.’

‘Yes, but I know you wouldn’t want to disappoint him. Also, don’t forget about Raven.’

He glanced over his shoulder at the woman in question, who now stood with her head bent as she spoke to one of the altar boys. Her namesake hair fell forward as she nodded in response to something the boy said. From the close contact necessitated by her profession, Rafael knew exactly how silky and luxuriant her hair felt against his skin. He’d long stopped resenting the kick in his groin when he looked at her. In fact he welcomed it. He’d lost a lot after his accident, not just a percentage of his physical mobility. With each groin kick, he ferociously celebrated the return of his libido.

‘What about Raven?’ he asked.

‘I’ve seen her in action during her training sessions. She’s been known to reduce grown men to tears. I bet I can convince her to hog-tie you to the SUV and deliver you to the villa if you carry on being difficult.’

Rafael loosened his grip on his walking stick and gave a grim smile. ‘Dios, did someone hack into my temporary Internet files and discover I have a thing for dominatrixes? Because you two seem bent on pushing that hot, sweet button.’

Sasha’s smile widened. ‘I see you haven’t lost your dirty sense of humour. That’s something to celebrate, at least. See you at the villa.’

Without waiting for an answer, she marched off towards Marco, who was shaking hands with the priest. His brother’s arm enfolded her immediately. Rafael gritted his teeth against the disconcerting pang and accompanying guilt that niggled him.

He’d robbed his family of so much...

‘So, which is it to be—compliance without question or physical restraints?’ Raven strolled towards him, her gaze cool and collected.

The mental picture that flashed into his mind made his heart beat just that little bit faster. Nerves which his doctors had advised him might never heal again stirred, as they’d been stirring for several days now. The very male satisfaction the sensation brought sent a shaft of fire through his veins. ‘You heard?’

‘It was difficult not to. You don’t revere your surroundings enough to keep your voice down when you air your...peccadilloes.’

The laughter that ripped from his throat felt surprisingly great. He’d had nothing to laugh about for far longer than he cared to remember. Several heads turned to watch him but he didn’t care. He was more intrigued by the blush that spread over Raven’s face. He leaned in close. ‘Do you think the angels are about to strike me down? Will you save me if they do?’ he asked sotto voce.

‘No, Rafael. I think, based on your debauched past and irreverent present, all the saints will agree by now you’re beyond redemption. No one can save you.’

Despite his bitter self-condemnation moments ago, hearing the words repeated so starkly caused Rafael’s chest to tighten. All traces of mirth were stripped from his soul as he recalled similar words, uttered by the same voice, this same woman eight months ago. And then, as now, he felt the black chasm of despair yawn before him, growing ever-wider, sucking at his empty soul until only darkness remained. Because knowingly or unknowingly, she’d struck a very large, very raw nerve.