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‘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

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

Recent titles by the same author:

MARRIAGE MADE OF SECRETS

THE SINFUL ART OF REVENGE

THE PRICE OF SUCCESS

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

Contents

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.