26. CHAPTER 23 #2
I glanced down at myself—dark breeches, polished black riding boots, and a black polo shirt embroidered with the Kade family crest. I hadn’t worn this particular uniform for anyone’s benefit in years.
But today, standing under the wide country sky, I wanted her to see it.
To see me stripped of the usual suit and tie, even though the man underneath was just as calculated.
I looked up at her and saw her eyes lingering on the line of my shoulders before she quickly looked away. She clearly recognized the full effect of what I was trying to project. If I was going to change the environment to win her over, I might as well dress for the victory.
“Like someone who knows what he’s doing,” I offered.
“I was going to say like you’re filming a luxury ad or something.”
Luc coughed into his hand, hiding a smile.
“I’m in my territory, Léonie,” I said, stepping closer until I could catch the scent of her shampoo. It hit my spine, then low, really quickly. I didn’t let it reach my face. “The suits stay in the city. Here, things are a little more… different.”
Visceral.
She adjusted on her heels, her gaze darting to the stables and back as if looking for an escape route that didn't exist. The sarcasm was still there, but the edge had blunted.
"Different is… fine," she said, looking away. The admission seemed to surprise even her.
I tapped the black riding gloves once across my palm slowly letting the leather crack in the space between us. Then I slipped them on, feeling her eyes track the movement before she forced herself to look away.
By the time we reached the paddock, Luc had already brought the horses around. Satisfied everything was in order, he left us to it.
“This is mine,” I said, gesturing to the dark bay stallion whose ears were already pinned back in a dare. “His name is Bucephalus.”
“Like Alexander the Great’s horse,” she noted, her voice lacking any of the expected awe.
“Yes. He’s a powerful stallion. It’s a befitting name.”
She tilted her head, her gaze moving from the restless, powerful horse to me.
“Alexander the Great tamed a horse no one else could ride.” Her eyes held mine; there was still a challenge there, but now threaded with an unsettling spark of interest that hadn’t been there before.
“Did you name him out of respect for the animal, or as a testament to your own ego?”
An arrogant smile escaped me before I reined it in. “Both.”
I let it linger for a heartbeat longer than was strictly polite, then shifted the focus before she could dig any deeper.
“And the dapple-grey for you,” I continued, nodding toward the mare. “Her name is Selene.”
She stepped toward the mare, her hand hovering just inches from the silver-grey coat, uncertain where to begin.
“She’s beautiful,” she murmured, her hand finally finding its place as it glided down Selene’s neck.
Her eyes lifted to mine. “Why her?”
“Because she’s a steady horse,” I said, watching the way the mare leaned into Léonie’s touch. “What you see is what you get with her. I thought you’d appreciate that for a change.”
Léonie looked back at me, suddenly understanding why I'd chosen Selene for her.
I’d personally spent hours in the paddock with Selene last month after one of my business trips, making sure her temperament was flawless before I ever let Léonie near her. I didn’t tell her that, of course. A Kade doesn't admit to being thoughtful; we only admit to being prepared.
“Ever been on a horse?”
She shook her head. “Closest I’ve been is admiring them from the safety of the ground.”
“We’ll keep it simple.”
I stepped toward her, reaching for her hips, and she froze.
“I need to lift you,” I said. “Unless you want to climb up there on your own and fall on your ass.”
Her lips twitched. “Fine.”
She placed her hand on my shoulder, the tremor in her fingers betraying her. The horse ceased to exist. My attention stayed entirely on her.
Stepping closer until my chest nearly brushed hers, I gripped her hips. My thumbs hooked into the waistband of her leathers, anchoring her in place.
When I lifted her, her face hovered inches from mine.
I could see the pulse at her neck ticking, and the catch of her warm breath on my cheek.
For that one suspended second, she belonged entirely to the strength in my hands, and I wanted nothing more but to pull her closer.
Then she swung her leg over and settled into the creaking leather seat, leaving my palms empty and my skin humming.
“Not bad,” I said, stepping back. “Ten out of ten for not panicking.”
Couldn't say the same for my pulse.
“I’m saving it for when we start moving,” she said, adjusting her helmet.
I dragged my eyes away from her, and mounted my own horse with practiced ease.
We walked them into the training ring. The only sound was the steady crunch of hooves on the gravel.
I talked her through the basics of riding. She listened, biting on her bottom lip—a tell for when she was intently listening, seductive in its lack of self-consciousness.
Her movements were stiff at first. The horse outweighed her by hundreds of pounds, but she didn't back down. She never backed down from a challenge. I liked that about her.
“We should go a few more rounds.”
She took a tense turn, and the mare felt it, tossing her head in protest. I brought Bucephalus alongside, reaching over to adjust her reins. My fingers touched hers briefly, and I felt her entire frame go taut.
“Loosen your grip,” I told her. “You’re guiding, not strangling her.”
“Easy for you to say,” she snapped. “You’ve done this for years—” She looked down at Bucephalus. “—with your horse that looks like it came out of the womb judging people.”
“He did,” I said, not looking away from her. “Hence why we get along.”
She shot me a sideways look, and a laugh almost slipped out.
We circled the ring—once, twice. Slowly, Selene began to do exactly what I'd hoped she would. Léonie's shoulders dropped, and her hands stopped jerking. Before long, horse and rider were moving together as one.
“Better,” I said. “See? It’s not complicated.”
“You say that about everything,” she replied, her voice breathless from the exertion. “Bodyguards, cars, horses—”
“Are you comparing yourself to a horse now?”
She shot me a narrow-eyed look that went straight into my veins.
“I’m saying you like control. Even when you call it guidance or label it as care.”
Fair.
We moved into a slow trot. She bounced awkwardly at first, swearing under her breath, but then she found the rhythm, her body finally syncing with the animal beneath her.
“You’re laughing at me,” she accused, catching the brief quirk of my lips.
“Yes.”
“At least you’re being honest about it.”
“I am,” I said. “Always.”
I leaned in. “For what it’s worth, you’re doing really well so far.”
She fought a smile. I caught it.
We rode out of the ring and onto one of the trails that cut through the property.
The world narrowed to the sound of hooves, the creak of saddle leather, and the gentle rush of wind around us as we slowed.
Sunlight filtered through the trees, forming streaks of gold lines against her lucious brown skin. The light illuminating her cheekbones.
“Why did you decide to bring me here?” she asked after a while, her voice softer now.
“My father taught me to ride my first horse here,” I said. “Way before he taught me anything about the family business. This place holds a lot of good memory.”
“So you’re sharing your good memories… with me?”
I nodded, leaning into Bucephalus’s rhythm, watching her.
She was quiet for a moment, taking in more of the environment or maybe taking in what I’d just admitted.
“I would’ve liked to see that,” she said. “You as a boy.”
I let out a short, dry laugh. “I was chaotic. Constantly bruised from falling off my horse, but I refused to give up because I was too egotistical to admit defeat. It wasn't impressive. Just plain old Kade ego.”
“It’s still you,” she said, her gaze meeting mine.
I didn't look away. “The ego just got more expensive, Léonie. But you’re right. The boy who refused to stay off the horse is the same man who saw what he wanted and convinced himself he had a right to keep it. Some things are too ingrained to change.”
I wasn’t sure why I'd said all of that out loud. But it was true.
She went quiet again, the gold light on her face suddenly losing its warmth.
“You know… there’s a difference between holding onto something because you care for it, and holding onto it because you’re afraid of what happens if you let go. That boy sounded brave. You? You just sound like a man who doesn't know how to lose.”
This woman. She knew exactly the right buttons to press with me.
I held her gaze, her beautiful brown eyes peering into mine. I wasn’t sure how to respond to her.
“You’re the only person I’ve ever met,” I whispered, the words feeling like shards of glass in my throat, “who's brave enough to tell me I’m a coward. Most people are too busy looking at what I can offer, while others are too scared to disagree with me.”
I looked at her closely, and for once, the defiance was gone. Her face was a map of everything she was feeling—the sudden, deep intake of her breath, her eyes assessing mine in genuine shock, and then, the most devastating part: a flash of raw empathy.
She looked at me as if she were seeing a person for the first time, not the man she’d been sold off to.
It all sat there between us. The understanding that she'd gone farther than intended, and the terrifying weight of knowing she’d finally found the man behind the walls I’d spent years building.
She immediately tore her eyes away from mine, like whatever this was had become too much for her. She gripped the reins tightly, the pity vanishing from her face, replaced by an urgent need to put distance between us and the conversation.
“I’ll see you at the front,” she said, unable to keep her voice from cracking.