by Teri Wilson
He slammed the door of his Jag hard enough to make the car shake.
“And here I thought you’d be thrilled to be back,” someone said.
Franco turned to find Coach Santos standing behind him. “Good morning.”
“Is it? Because you seem pissed as hell.” His gaze swept Franco from top to bottom. “A tuxedo? At ten in the morning? This doesn’t bode well, son.”
Franco was lucky he kept a bag packed with his practice gear in the trunk of his car. There hadn’t been time to stop by his apartment. “Relax. I wasn’t out partying. You caught me at my fiancée’s apartment this morning. I’m a changed man, remember?”
“Let’s hope so. Ellis isn’t so sure, but he’s willing to give it a shot. For now.” Santos looked pointedly at Franco’s rumpled tux shirt. “But try not to arrive at practice looking like you just rolled out of someone’s bed. It’s not helping your cause. Got it?”
“Got it.” Franco gave him a curt nod and tried not to think about that bed. Or that particular someone.
He needed to have his head in the game, today more than ever. But he hated the way he and Diana had left things. He’d thought this time would be different.
If he was being honest with himself though, it was for the best. Diana Drake had always been out of his league. He didn’t have a thing to offer her.
Time hadn’t changed who he was. It hadn’t changed anything. He and Diana had ended back where they’d begun.
“We’ve got a scrimmage in an hour. And don’t forget about Argentine Night at the Polo Club tonight. Ellis expects you there with your doting fiancée on your arm.”
Franco’s gut churned. Getting Diana anywhere near the Polo Club would be next to impossible. It seemed as though she hadn’t gotten within a mile radius of a live horse since her accident.
There was also the slight complication that she hated him. Now, more than ever.
“What are you waiting for? Get suited up.” Coach Santos jerked his head in the direction of the practice field, where the grooms were already getting the horses saddled up and ready.
Before Franco had come to America—before all the championship trophies and the late-night after parties—he’d been a groom. He’d been the one who brushed the horses, running a curry comb over them until the Argentine sunshine reflected off them like a mirror. He’d bathed them in the evenings, grinning as they tossed their heads and whinnied beneath the spray of the water hose. Franco had lived and breathed horses back then. When he wasn’t shoveling out stalls, he was on horseback, practicing his swing, learning the game of polo.
Sometimes he missed those days.
But grooms didn’t become champions, at least not where Franco had come from. He was one of the lucky ones. Not lucky, actually. Chosen. He owed Luc Piero everything.
“You did it, man.” Luc greeted Franco with a bone-crushing hug the moment he stepped onto the field. “You’re back.”
“I told you there wasn’t anything to worry about.” Franco shrugged and fastened his helmet in place.
“Engaged, though?” Luc lifted a brow. “Tell me that’s not real.”
“Does it matter?” Franco planted one of his feet into a stirrup, grabbed onto the saddle and swung himself onto his horse’s back. His grooms had gotten the horses to the field just in the nick of time.
“Yes, it matters. It matters a whole hell of a lot. I mean, you’ve never been the marrying kind.”
“So I hear.” He was being an ass, and he knew it. But he wasn’t in the mood to discuss his marriageability. Not when he couldn’t shake the memory of the hurt in Diana’s gaze this morning.
He sighed. “Sorry. I just don’t want to discuss Diana Drake. Or any of the Drakes, for that matter.”
They had been the means to an end. Nothing more. Why did he keep having to remind himself of that fact?
Luc shrugged. “I can live with that. You’re back. That’s what important. Nothing else. Right?”
Franco shot him a grim smile. “Absolutely.”
He rode hard once the scrimmage got underway. Fast. Aggressive.
By the close of the fourth chukker, the halfway point of the game, the scoreboard read 11 to 0. Franco had scored each and every one of the goals. He managed four more before the end of the game. He was back, indeed.
His teammates gathered round to congratulate him. Ellis applauded from his box seat, but didn’t approach Franco. And that was fine. Franco didn’t feel much like talking. To Ellis or anyone. The urge he felt to check his cell phone for messages was every bit as frustrating as it was pressing. When he finally did, he had over forty voicemails, all from various members of the media.
Not a single word from Diana.
He shoved his phone in his back pocket and slammed his locker closed. What was he supposed to do now? Were he and Diana engaged? Were they over?
He had no idea.
He stopped by his apartment in Tribeca and packed a bag, just in case. No news was good news. Wasn’t that the old adage? Besides, he couldn’t quite shake the feeling that if Diana Drake had decided to dump him, he would have heard it first from the press...
Because that’s how monumentally screwed up their fake relationship was.
But the mob of photographers outside Diana’s building didn’t say a word about a breakup when Franco arrived on the scene. They screamed the usual questions at him, along with a few new ones. About the wedding, of course. He kept his head down and did his best to ignore them.
The doorman waved Franco upstairs, just as he had before. That didn’t necessarily mean anything. Diana probably wouldn’t have broken the news first to her doorman, but Franco was beginning to feel more confident that he, indeed, had a fiancée waiting for him in the penthouse.
Sure enough, when Diana answered the door, there was a colossal diamond solitaire situated on her ring finger. “Oh, it’s you.”
For some nonsensical reason, the sight of the ring rubbed Franco the wrong way. If their engagement had been real, he would have chosen a diamond himself. And it wouldn’t be a generic rock like the one on her hand. He would have selected something special. Unique.
But what the hell was he thinking? None of this was real. The ring shouldn’t matter.
It did, though. He had no idea why, but it mattered.
“Nice ring,” he said through gritted teeth.
“I picked it up at Drake Diamonds today since my fiancé forgot to give me one.” She lifted an accusatory brow. “What are you doing here, anyway?”
He gave her a grim smile and swished past her with his duffle and a garment bag slung over his shoulder. “Honey, I’m home.”
She gaped at him. “I beg your pardon?”
Lulu shot toward him, all happy barks and wagging tail. At least someone was happy to see him. He tossed his bags on the sofa and gathered the puppy into his arms.
Diana frowned at Lulu, then back at Franco. Someone looks jealous. “What’s going on? Surely you don’t think you’re moving in with me.”
“We’re engaged, remember? This is what engaged people do.”
She shook her head. “Please tell me you’re not serious. I’ve already taken in one stray. Isn’t that enough?”
It was the wrong thing to say.
“You’re comparing me to a stray dog now?” he said through clenched teeth.
She opened her mouth to say something, but Franco wouldn’t let her. He’d heard enough.
“I’ve put up with a hell of a lot from you and your family in the past few weeks, Diana. But you will not speak to me that way. Is that understood, wifey?”
She blinked. “I...”
He held up a hand. “Save it. We can talk later. We have a date tonight, anyway. You should get dressed.”
“A date?”
“We�
�re going to Argentine Night at the Polo Club. If you have a problem with it, I don’t want to hear it. I’ve accompanied you to every gala and party under the sun in the past few weeks. You can do one thing for me.” He gave Lulu a scratch behind the ears. “Unless you’d like to kick both of the strays out of your life once and for all?”
She wouldn’t dare. If she wanted him gone, she wouldn’t be wearing that sparkling diamond on her ring finger. Franco honestly didn’t know why she wanted to play along with the engagement, but he no longer cared.
You care. You know you do.
If he didn’t, the stray dog comment wouldn’t have gotten under his skin the way it had.
“Well?” he asked.
“I’ll be ready in half an hour.” She plucked the dog from his arms. “And Lulu isn’t going anywhere.”
She sauntered past him with the little pug’s face peering at him over her shoulder and slammed the bedroom door.
Franco wanted to stay angry. Anger was good. Anger was comfortable. He knew a lot more about what to do with anger than about what to do with the feelings that had swirled between them last night.
But seeing her with the dog took the edge off. He’d been right to force the puppy on her. He’d done something good.
For once in his life.
Chapter Fifteen
Diana had spent the better part of her life around horses, but she’d never been to the Polo Club in Bridgehampton. Show jumping and polo were clearly two separate sports. She’d known polo players before, obviously. She’d certainly seen Franco at her fair share of equestrian events. But she’d never run in the same after-hours circles as Franco’s crowd.
Even before the night she’d lost her virginity to Franco, she’d noticed a brooding intensity about those athletes that both fascinated and frightened her. They rode hard and they play hard. Deep down, she knew that was one of the qualities about Franco that had first drawn her toward him. He didn’t care what anyone else had to say about him. He behaved any way he chose. Both on and off the field.
Diana had no idea what that might feel like. She was a Drake, and that name came with a myriad of expectations.
If she’d been born a boy, things would have been different. Drake men were immune to rules and expectations. At least, that had been the case with her father. He’d spent money as he wished and slept with whomever he wished, and everyone in the family had to just deal with it. Her mother included.
“You look awfully serious all of a sudden,” Franco said as she stepped out of the Drake limousine at the valet stand outside the Polo Club. “What are you thinking about?”
“Nothing.” Marriage. Why was she even pondering such things? Oh, yeah, because she was engaged now. “I’m fine. Let’s just go inside.”
“Very well.” He lifted her hand and kissed it before tucking it into the crook of his elbow.
Diana looked around, expecting to see a group of photographers clustered by the entrance of the club. But she didn’t spot a single telephoto lens.
“Good evening, Mr. Andrade and Miss Drake.” A valet held the door open for them as Franco led her into the foyer.
“Wow,” she whispered. “This is really something.”
The stately white building had been transformed into a South American wonderland of twinkling lights and rich, red decor. Sultry tango music filled the air. Diana was suddenly very glad she’d chosen a red lace gown for the occasion.
She and Franco were situated at a round table near the center of the room, along with his coach and several other players and their wives. When she took her seat, the man beside her introduced himself as Luc Piero.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” she said.
“The pleasure’s all mine, I assure you.” Luc grinned from ear to ear. “I’ve known Franco for a long time, and I’ve never seen him as captivated with anyone before as he is with you. I’ve told him time and again that I wanted to meet you, but he’s been hiding you away.”
“I’ve done no such thing,” Franco countered.
“That’s right. Your pictures have been in the newspaper every day for two weeks running. How could I forget?” Luc smiled.
Diana kind of liked him. She probably would have liked him more if she weren’t so busy searching the room for Natalie Ellis. She had a morbid curiosity about the woman Franco had apparently considered worth risking his entire career over. Diana had seen the woman on a handful of occasions, but she wanted a better look. She wasn’t jealous, obviously. Simply curious.
Right. You’re a card-carrying green-eyed monster right now.
“I’m going to go get us some drinks, darling.” Franco bent to kiss her on the cheek, which pleased her far more than it should have. “I’ll be right back.”
She reminded herself for the millionth time that she hated him, then turned to Luc. “You say you’ve known Franco a long time?”
“All our lives. We grew up together in Argentina.”
“Really?” Franco had never breathed a word to her about his childhood. She couldn’t help being curious about the way he’d grown up. “Tell me more.”
“He’s loved horses since before he could walk. You know that, right?”
She didn’t. But she understood it all too well. “That’s something we have in common.”
“My father owned one of the local polo clubs in Buenos Aires. I used to hang out there when I was a kid, and that’s where I met Franco.”
“Oh, was he taking riding lessons there?”
Luc gave her an odd glance. “No, Franco’s one hundred percent self-taught. A natural. He was a groom at my father’s stable.”
“I see.” She nodded as if this wasn’t stunning new information. After all, she should probably have some sort of clue about Franco’s childhood since he was her fiancé.
But a groom?
In the equestrian world, grooms and riders belonged in two very different social classes. Not that Diana liked or condoned dividing people into such groups. But it was an unpleasant fact of life—she’d never known a groom who had gone on to compete in show jumping. Maybe things were different in the sport of polo.
Then again, maybe not.
“It’s unusual, I know. But Franco was different, right from the start.”
Indeed. Her throat grew tight.
She should be furious with him after the stunt he’d pulled. He’d strong-armed her into an engagement, plain and simple. An engagement she didn’t want.
And she’d let him. She wasn’t sure who she was angrier at—Franco or herself.
“Different. How so?” She glanced at Franco across the room, where he stood standing beside a man she recognized from equestrian circles as Jack Ellis, the owner of the Kingsmen.
Her breath caught in her throat. No matter how many times she looked at Franco—whether it was from the other side of a crowded room or beside him in bed—his physical perfection always seemed to catch her off guard. He was the most handsome man she’d ever seen. Ellis, on the other hand, appeared immune to Franco’s charms. The expression on his face was grim. Even the woman on Jack Ellis’s arm didn’t seem to notice Franco’s charming smile or dark, chiseled beauty. Natalie Ellis looked almost bored as she glanced around the room. When her gaze fell on Luc, her lips curved into a nearly imperceptible smile.
Odd.
“Well...” Luc continued, dragging her attention back to their conversation. “Like I said, he was a talented rider. Fearless. Instinctual. Even as a kid, I knew I was witnessing something special. He had a bond with the horses like nothing I’d ever seen. They were his life.”
A chill went up Diana’s spine. She had a feeling she was about to hear something she shouldn’t.
“His life,” she echoed.
“I found out he was sleeping in the stables and kept it a secr
et from my father for over year before he found out.” Luc gave her a sad smile. “I thought he’d be angry and kick Franco out. Instead, he gave Franco a room in our family home.”
She most definitely shouldn’t be hearing this. Franco had never said a thing to her about his life in Argentina. Now she knew why. These were the sort of intimate details only a lover should know. A real lover.
She should change the subject. Delving further into this conversation would be an invasion of Franco’s privacy. But she was so distraught by what she’d heard that she couldn’t string together a single coherent sentence.
She’d called Franco a stray.
And he’d been homeless.
Oh, God.
“Are you all right, Diana?” Luc was watching her with guarded curiosity. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
No, just a monster. And that monster is me.
“Fine.” She cleared her throat. “Is that when Franco started playing polo? After he moved in with your family?”
Luc shrugged. “Yes and no. He was still working as a groom, but I’d begun playing. Franco was my training partner. In the beginning, he was just there to help me improve my game. That didn’t last long.”
“He’s that good, isn’t he?” She forced herself to smile like a doting bride.
What was happening? She was acting just like the nauseatingly sweet engaged couples she’d loathed so much when she worked in Engagements.
It was an act, wasn’t it?
“He’s the best. He always has been. His talent transcends any traditional rules of the game. That’s why my father put him on the team.” He smiled at Franco as he approached the table. “We’ve been teammates ever since.”
A lump formed in Diana’s throat. “I’m glad. Franco deserves a friend like you.”
“He’s more like a brother than a friend. He’s always got my back. The guy’s loyal to a fault, but I’m sure you know that by now.”
Loyal to a fault...
Before Franco had walked through the door of Drake Diamonds a month ago, Diana would have never used those to words to describe him. Now she wasn’t so sure.
