‘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.
