“That would be fun for a little while,” I say honestly. “But I’d get homesick pretty quick and miss my home here, and my life.”
He falls silent, and I wonder what approach he’ll try to take this time. Thankfully, Olivia finishes up and I hurry to her side to see her handiwork. She’s done well, and I show her how to saddle up the mare. She’s a quick study, and she bridles up Dreamer without help.
“Always look forward when leading,” I tell her as she leads Dreamer out toward the round pen. Grabbing a hardhat, I follow her. While I don’t look to see if Knight is following, I sense his eyes on me once more and know he is without a doubt.
At the round pen, I help Olivia put on the hardhat. Once it’s secure, I help her mount and run her through the basics before letting her try for herself. I fall back toward the fence, knowing she’ll learn quickly. Dreamer has been training riders for well over a decade, and she’s good at it. If Olivia makes a mistake, Dreamer will let her know.
“Is she still doing good?”
Without looking at him, I answer. “She’s a natural. Are you sure she’s never had lessons?”
“Quite,” he says, the single word clipped.
“I’m never going to sell,” I tell him, needing him to hear it again. “There’s nothing you can do to me that will make me budge.”
“Why are you so unreasonable, Emma?” he asks. As he says my name, my body lights up like a Christmas tree. Nerves fire off white-hot and excited. It’s confusing, and I try to formulate a response.
“I’m not unreasonable.” How dare he be so rude?
He’s silent, and I can’t help but rise for the bait. “What makes you think I’m being unreasonable?” I ask, feeling anger surging in my gut.
“I offered twenty million on a property perhaps worth five million at most. You turned me down. That’s unreasonable.” He’s so calm and matter of fact it boils my blood.
“Perhaps you don’t understand the notion of sentimentality,” I say, hearing the fury in my words. “But how could you understand sentimental value? You always get what you want, therefore you value nothing.”
“That’s not very nice,” he says, his eyes locked on his daughter as she rides circles around the pen. Dreamer is keeping true to form, moving at a good pace that trains Olivia’s balance without being too quick or changing directions too suddenly.
“You expect me to be nice?” I ask, incredulous. “You’ve done everything you can think of, even resorting to using your daughter, to make me sell my home.”
His eyes leave Olivia to lock on me. There’s an icy chill in them as he stares me down. “I never used her,” he says, his voice dangerous. “She wanted lessons. I allowed it.”
“And it’s luck that brings you both to me?” I say a bit too sweetly. I know he’s lying.
There’s a flicker behind his eyes, as if he’s surprised I’m calling him on his bullshit.
As we both look toward Olivia again, I feel the question forming before I can tamp it back. “Where is Olivia’s mother?” I ask, dreading the answer.
Beside me, I feel Knight tense up and fury begins rolling off him like a choking fog.
Chapter 11
Kieran
She asked a question she has no right to ask, but I’m staring at her lips, wondering if she’d shut up if I kissed her. Would she forget her question then? Her innocent face is sweet, and there’s genuine curiosity in her fresh features.
And the anger that filled me drains away.
Of course I’ve got a canned answer. The same one I give people who ask. It’s been rehearsed to death. I say it in my sleep, I say it to strangers who ask, I say it to teachers who think it’s the root of Olivia’s issues.
But it’s a god damned lie.
As Emma studies me, I find myself unable to feed her that same old lie. And I begin to wonder who she is and why she’s interested. There’s no reason for her to ask. She’s got no vested interest. No reason to suspect anything out of the ordinary.
But as the silence stretches out between us, becoming awkward, I see her lips twist like she’s considering how to fill the void. I feel no such compulsion, and I wait, wondering what she’s going to come up with.
“I’m sorry,” she says, the words popping out like she tried to hold them back. Her face flushes red and she looks toward Olivia who’s still riding well, talking to the horse as she goes in circles. But all I can do is stare at Emma.
I’m torn. Part of me is pissed she’s trying to get so personal. Part of me wants to know why, if she’s someone I need to worry about. I know Cami is looking for me. Is Emma a spy? But the loudest part of me wonders why there’s a sudden sheen of tears in her verdant eyes as she watches Olivia.
“She’s a natural,” Emma says, and I sense she’s trying to fill the silence and bury her mistake.
“It’s none of your business,” I say, needing her to know where she stands as far as my family goes. We’re here so Olivia can learn to ride. Not so Emma can find a way under our skin or into our hearts. She’s got no reason to get personal.
And I don’t want her to.
Emma glances over at me, her cat-like eyes wide and worried. “I know,” she says softly, the words soothing like a bandage on an open wound. “I’m sorry.” Her eyes dart back and forth between mine as the wind toys with a stray lock of her golden hair that’s found its way free and clings to her neck. I want to move it, to brush it back, but I know better than to touch her.
Everything in me feels magnetized to her right now. Her eyes are warm and kind, and I sense something there; not pity – empathy. It’s a refreshing change. Even Nikki looked at me with pity. Everyone does.
But not Emma. There’s something so pure and real; kind, even, in her eyes. It melts the deepest layer of ice around my heart and I instantly struggle to rebuild the protective shield.
As if she feels it too, her eyes dart to my lips, then back up to mine. Her body softens, as if her spine is slowly failing her. But when her pink lips part, just a little bit, I feel like I’ve been kicked in the balls.
She’s hoping I kiss her. I know the look, the longing, the excitement, the feeling that it’s all kinds of wrong that make it the best kind of right.
But I’m not going there. As much as I’d like to, Olivia isn’t out of eyesight, and I know better than to get her hopes up. To her young mind, a kiss is a declaration of love, and I’m sure as hell not going to bring anything like that into her world.
As if reading my thoughts, Emma looks away, and I sense she’s trying to gather herself. Her expression says she’s shouting at herself internally.
“Don’t hold back,” I tell her, and she looks at me in shock. “Neither of us benefit from bullshit. You hate me, so you shouldn’t care if you hurt my feelings. But be honest.”
She shakes her head, her eyes on mine. “If we were mortal enemies, I’d still treat you with compassion,” she says, her pretty lips curling up a little at the corners. “Dad taught me to be kind, for everyone is fighting a hard battle.”
Her words are an arrow to my heart and I shut down. “Kindness is a trait of the weak.”
Without missing a beat, she responds. “Kindness takes effort. Cruelty is the mark of a lazy or fearful man.”
I’d never tell her, but she’s an interesting person. Someone I wouldn’t mind sitting across a table from and talking out every facet of life. But I have to remind myself she’s not my friend. She’s not someone I can have feelings for. She’s not someone I can get close to. She has something I need. And I’m going to get it, come hell or high water.
“While we’re being honest,” she says, looking back at Olivia, who’s impervious to our mounting tensions, “she said she misses her mom. That’s why I’m curious.”
“It’s till none of your business,” I say, “and Olivia shouldn’t be talking to you about it.”
But Emma seems a million miles away as she watches my daughter while speaking to me. “Perhaps she sees something in me th
at she can trust.” Her voice lowers to a near whisper that I feel isn’t aimed at me anymore, but is perhaps simply for herself. “Or maybe she sees a kindred spirit.”
I sense she’s dealing with her own painful memories even as mine rise toward the surface. But I shove them back down. I’ll drown them. Nothing good comes from reliving moments we suffered in. My secrets never need to come to light. Some things need to stay buried. And maybe she understands that. After all, she’s not talking about whatever it is that’s bringing her to the edge of tears now.
Hasn’t anyone ever told this woman it’s better to let old secrets stay dust?
Chapter 12
Emma
I know I hit a nerve. Beside me, Mr. Knight is all tensed up like a wounded great cat. So I focus on Olivia and let him gather himself. He’s rather reasonable, given all we’ve discussed. I’m surprised. He’s actually human under all those layers of monster.
“Keep your arms parallel to the ground,” I tell Olivia. She flashes a smile my direction and lifts her hands so they’re not resting on the pommel.
“This is fun!” She says. The way she grins leaves me feeling like she’s lighting up my whole world. I duck between the fence slats and walk up to Dreamer, who walks right up to me and places her chin on my shoulder.
“Want to try a trot?” I ask Olivia, who nods. “Show me,” she says, kicking both feet free of the stirrups. She waits for me to help her slip free of the saddle, and I carefully guide her to the ground. When she’s at the fence, I mount up and steady Dreamer.
I take the reins and make sure Olivia is watching. Past her, I see Knight watching me too. But I put him out of my mind. The best course of action with him seems to be ignoring him for the moment.
I urge Dreamer into a walk, then into a trot, rising with the pace easily and with all the rhythm that makes Dreamer a dream to ride. When I pull her up, I let her walk the ring twice before bringing her to the halt.
When my feet hit the ground, Olivia materializes by my side. “The trick is,” I tell her as I help her get a foot in the stirrup to mount up, “to move with the horse. You’ll find the right rhythm. Get comfortable. Dreamer is patient, even if you make mistakes.”
Olivia settles into the saddle and grins at me. “She had a good teacher, I’m sure,” she says, and I know the compliment is intended for me, but I can’t help correcting her.
“My dad taught her. And she taught me.” The memories that flood back leave me stunned with agony. Olivia squeezes my hand, then nudges Dreamer into a walk around the ring. I fall back and find myself beside Knight, who has moved up to stand beside the ring.
And I decide to be smart. Once Olivia’s lessons are over, they can leave and never come back. Between his rude pushing me to sell my home and her ability to destroy my peace of mind, I feel like having them here is more damaging than good.
“When her lessons are over, I’d like you to leave and not come back,” I tell him, keeping my voice down as Olivia pushes Dreamer into a trot. She struggles a bit, then finds the pattern and settles in like a pro.
“Fine,” Knight says, his tone decidedly cold. “How much longer?” he asks, and I shrug.
“She’ll already be sore with what she’s done. Usually the kids I teach don’t pick things up so fast, so she’s already ahead of the curve.” Realizing I didn’t answer the question, I speak again. “Whenever you’re ready, she’s had a solid day.”
Olivia flashes us a thrilled grin and Knight warms right up, giving her a thumbs up. She balls a hand into a fist and taps it to her chest twice. He does it right back and her smile grows.
“What does that mean?” I ask, curious.
He doesn’t look at me, but responds. “Still beating.” The double tap sounds like a heartbeat, I realize.
“I like that,” I say, wondering where they’d come up with it. “I bet there is an amazing story behind that.”
He glares at me, the expression so bitter I back up a step, stunned by the sheer force of it. While he says nothing, I stare at him, wondering what happened to hurt him so bad. And I react without thinking.
Opening my arms, I pull him into a tight hug. My arms wind around his shoulders and I pull him tight to my body as if I can hug away his pain and anger. His whole body goes stiff and he refuses to respond, but I refuse to let go.
Then he softens a little and his arms close around my ribs. His face nestles in near my neck and my body wakes from a deep slumber I was unaware I was in.
“The world will chew you up and spit you out,” he says into my ear, and I shiver.
“It hasn’t yet,” I respond. I release him and we both step back, as if repelled back by an invisible force. Something between us shifts. Something intangible. Something I couldn’t even put to words if I tried.
But the flash in his eyes tells me he feels it too.
Needing to turn away, I motion Olivia to pull Dreamer to a halt. She does, then slides from the saddle like a pro. With the reins in her little fist, she walks Dreamer to the fence and speaks in a mournful tone.
“Time to go?” she asks, gazing up at me soulfully.
“Sadly,” I tell her. I stand back and let her lead Dreamer back toward the barn. She walks her into the stall. I slip in and take the saddle off her as Olivia takes off the bridle.
“You did so amazingly today,” I tell her, and she grins at me. But there’s a decided sadness to her expression too.
“Dad messed this up, didn’t he?” she asks, and I find myself speechless.
At a loss for words, I force some out. “What? No, of course not.”
She seems so sad as she talks. “He’s not as mean as he seems. He’s just… hard on the outside. He’s really nice under everything.”
“No, no, no,” I say, needing to fix this. “He’s fine. You just did a lot today. You need a break. I bet your muscles will be sore tomorrow.”
She smiles, but I sense she’s not totally at ease. Once again, I wonder what the hell this girl has been through. “Hey,” I tell her, internally shouting at myself to shut my mouth even as the words escape, “If you ever need to talk, you have my number okay?”
She shakes her head slowly. “Dad wouldn’t like that. I’m only allowed to talk to my therapist.”
I nod, “That’s smart. A therapist is trained to help. I’m just a lady.”
To my surprise, she pulls me into a hug. Her arms wind around me tight and she holds on like I might disappear if she lets go. “Thank you,” She whispers, and I pat her head.
“Thank you,” I say, “I think you made Dreamer a happy lady tonight.”
I wonder if I’ll be able to just send them on their way when all is said and done. This girl has found her way into my heart. She reminds me of dad with her constant chatter to the horses, she’s so sweet and loving, yet so adult and aware at the same time. It’s heartbreaking. And beautiful.
When they walk out of my life, I might still own my land, but what about my heart?
Chapter 13
Kieran
Emma is a much more formidable opponent than I thought. Now that I’m at home, replaying every second of our encounter in my mind, I know she played me. She played me like a god damned pro.
Still, even now I feel my heart beat a little faster while her face is in my mind. I want her.
I want to destroy her.
I underestimated her. And I won’t make that mistake again. Despite the fury flowing freely through my veins, I swallow back the rage. I turn it inward. When it’s back on myself - the real reason things went belly up - I remind myself that I can’t let a pretty face and soft voice tear down the parts of me on guard against such things.
Sure, she’s a beautiful woman.
But she’s still a woman. She’s human. She has weaknesses. I’ll find them and I’ll exploit them. After all, isn’t that all she did to me today? Wrapped me around her little finger and made sure I was off guard and off my game so she could make sure things went to her advantage?
; I’m not giving up.
Fuck no.
Now I’m going to double down.
I’ve got a new plan.
Tomorrow. It’s not even about owning the land now, it’s about winning. She’s not going to get the better of me.
“Hey,” Jessica says, peeking at me from the bathroom. “Are you sure about this?” she asks, seeming unsure of herself. I nod, ready. Ready to take out my displeasure of Emma on someone receptive to pain.
Because I always get what I want.
I’m just settling for a proxy version tonight.
* * *
I wake, alone. Jessica left last night, her face alight like she’s in love or some shit. Stupid woman. Even after I took out my rage at another woman on her, she just enjoyed herself and asked if she could come back tonight.
I told her no.
And not to come back.
I get out of bed and head for the shower, solidifying the day’s plans. On the mirror in my bathroom Jessica left me a note written in lipstick.
Call me, lover.
I grab the Windex from under the sink and get scrubbing with no intention of calling her, ever. She’ll get it after a while. Once the mirror is scrubbed clean – Olivia doesn’t need to see shit like that – I get into the shower.
In the back of my mind, I hear dad. Between telling me I’m a failure, he’s congratulating me for putting that bitch in her place.
Shoving him out of my thoughts, I let the warm water course over my face and remember the sensation of having my head shoved under water. Dad’s methods were brutal. In his mind, the only way to respect life was to fight for it. And he made me fight for it by trying to take it away.
But I’m here; he’s not.
So which fucking one of us fought for it?
“I need you to clear those funds,” I say, arguing with the bank.
Billionaire Bash: The Complete Steele Series Page 33
