Chapter 9
Drew
“What the hell was that?” Carlos asks as we lead two of the horses out of the stables.
“What?” I reply, unable to keep the smile from my face.
“You kissing the princess? What the hell are you thinking?” he whispers loudly.
“It’s nothing to do with you. It was in the moment, and I wasn’t thinking. Keep your voice down.”
“You know you’re getting us both into boiling hot water? Doyle isn’t going to take this lying down.”
“Oh I know, and you can walk away from all of this, but there’s something pulling me towards her. She’s stronger than she looks.”
“I hope so, because Doyle is going to rain all sorts of shit at us. You already know that Zara is his prized possession. Couldn’t you have been satisfied with just taking Jasmine back?”
“I thought about it, but she doesn’t want to be there. I’m not holding her hostage. She can go whenever she wants. I’ll even drive her back.”
“So, why is she staying here then?”
“Because she said her father would kill her, and I don’t think she was exaggerating. You’ve seen the way she behaves with him around. She’s like a shrew, but she’s not like that when you get her on her own.”
“Sounds like you could be catching the feels . . . I never would have believed it.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. I just want to help her, and she seems pretty scared of her asshole father. Is it so wrong of me to help a fellow human being?”
“It’s not wrong, but it’s unlike you.”
“You saying I’m an asshole? That I don’t care about people?”
“It’s not been something you’ve been known for. You don’t smile very often in public, and you have this Batman thing going on.”
“Batman? What the hell are you talking about? Have you been on the vodka again?”
“No. I’ve heard the girls talking; they say you’re mysterious.” Carlos laughs, and I can’t help but laugh a little too.
“Just because I don’t put my life on social media, and I stay away from female clients and younger women—”
“Until now. So, what’s the plan when he brings his shit to the door?”
“We face him, and hopefully he’ll back off. I don’t want to have trouble, but if he brings it . . .”
Carlos smiles. He knows I’m not scared of or worried about Doyle, no matter what he brings, but I’d rather not show my hand too early. The crunching of tyres on the gravel path gets our attention, and when Doyle comes storming inside, I have to hold myself back. This fucking prick things he can come here and lay down the law to me? Try it, fat man, fucking try it.
Carlos and I both stand tall in the doorway. Carlos is only slightly smaller than me so two six foot plus guys who lift bales of hay every day are not who you want to go up against especially when you a short fat and balding guy in his sixties.
“Where are they?!” the fat bastard shouts.
“Keep your voice down. I don’t want you spooking my horses,” I reply, trying to keep my cool.
“Where is my horse and my daughter?”
“Safe!” I almost growl.
“Well, I’m here to take them back.”
I laugh and fold my arms across my chest. “You’re here to take what back? There is nothing here that belongs to you.”
His fat face turns even more red. “I want that horse and my daughter. I know she’s here.”
I control everything running through me, just like I do at races and auctions. “And what makes you so sure?”
“Stop fucking with me, Blackmoore. Give me back what’s mine, and we’ll leave the police out of it,” he barks, his face nearly purple.
“Oh, no, you call the police, by all means. I have enough on you to have you locked up for a while, plus all the bad publicity you’d get, and . . . Do I need to go on?”
“You have nothing. I’m as clean as a whistle, so stop fucking around and go and get Zara. I’ll get Richard to pick up the nag.”
My whole body freezes. He’s just pushed the button he should have stayed away from.
“Leave,” I snarl, almost losing my composure.
“No, not without my daughter,” he replies, but I can sense him wavering.
“She doesn’t want to go with you. It’s such a shame; she’s a lovely girl.” I smirk, my nasty side almost coming through.
“This is your last warning, Blackmoore. Go and fetch my daughter now!”
I take a step towards him and then another. It’s only then I realise Carlos is right beside me, and as I get within swinging distance of the fat bastard, a voice I’ve not used before erupts.
“Get. The. Fuck. Off. My. Property. Come here again, and I’ll be the one calling the police.”
“You’ve not heard the last of this!” he shouts as he gets back into his car, pointing his stubby finger in my direction.
I take the deepest of breaths and finally speak, “Never doubted that for a minute.” The tension floods out of me as he slams his car door, making me laugh. Fucking prick . . .
I let Zara know he’s gone but to wait a few minutes to be sure. When she finally arrives in the stable block, I put her to work. She needs something to take her mind off her father being here, and hard work never hurt anyone, and I need coffee.
I’m just finishing up when my phone pings with a notification.
Voicemail: Hey it’s Brax. Brook’s friend has gone missing, so they are flying home earlier than planned.
I dial Brax’s number immediately.
“What the hell? Who is it that’s gone missing?” I ask.
“Evie. Something to do with an ex of Brook’s. It’s all under control. Grace’s cousins have stepped up to help,” Brax explains.
“Fuck, do you mean the McGarry’s?”
“Yeah, they were at a wedding, but they’ve driven down from Scotland to help out.”
“It must be serious if they’ve got involved.”
“I have a feeling it is. By the way . . . are you okay? That stunt you pulled on the plane, it’s not like you.”
“I’m fine, I was just having a bit of an off couple of weeks.”
“Go on . . .” he says, not giving me any option of not telling him.
“It’s nothing. I sold one of my horses, and I wish I hadn’t. I don’t even understand why I agreed. Then Princess Zara’s father kicked me off his land— Well, it was actually Zara acting on his behalf.”
“So, what are you going to do?” he asks.
“I’ve already done it. I’ve been and taken the horse back.”
“And what about the princess? Was she okay with it?”
“Not exactly, but . . . there is something weird going on with her dad. He’s a fucked-up fat bastard, and I have an awful feeling that he’s been more than a bit rough with her.”
“Don’t get involved with family shit, Drew. It might not be what you think.”
“It’s a little late for that. She’s staying with me for a while.”
“In your apartment or your house?” he asks, and I can hear the deeper question.
“The apartment. She didn’t want to stay in the house on her own.”
“Not surprised. It’s creepy as fuck. So, you’re going to be having a female house guest?”
“That’s what I said, isn’t it?” I snap.
“Cut the crap, Drew. You like her, don’t you?”
“I might, but not like you think. I’ve only known her a few weeks and not really got to know her.”
“Is she hot?”
I laugh, and then a smile creeps on my lips. “Yes, she’s hot and beautiful and loves Jasmine almost as much as I do.”
“Sounds like a match—”
“Shut up!” I interrupt. “Let me know how Carter gets on or if you need me for anything. I can be there in a flash.”
“I’ll let him know, but take care, Drew. Don’t bite off more than you can chew with this girl and horse drama.”
“Catch you later, big brother. I need to make the coffees.” I laugh and smile.
Braxton is my eldest brother and often the one I’d turn to if I had a problem. He’s also hot-headed, but he loses his temper far more than I do. Kane is the most placid of us all, and he hates any kind of problem. Carter is the joker of the family and always in some sort of strife, and that leaves me the youngest of us boys. My parents had pretty much had enough of bringing kids up by the time I was a teenager. Not that they didn’t love me, I know they did and still do, but they were far stricter with Brax, but they never held any of us back. They always supported us in anything we wanted to do. Kane was into his music, Carter was a top football player who was pitched to be the best ever seen until his accident, and Brax followed Dad with his love of theme parks. The scarier the better.
I have always loved horses. I seemed to understand them and vice versa, and it wasn’t long after my first junior race that I started winning on a regular basis. At first, I thought I’d inherited my mother’s genes and was going to be smaller than my brothers, but as I went from teenager into adulthood, the inches kept coming until I was too tall to be a jockey, and to be at an ideal weight, I would have been far too unhealthy. By the time I turned eighteen, I was six feet, two inches and too heavy to race, but that didn’t stifle my passion. I just adapted it and began training, owning, racing, and trading horses.
With Mom being British born, she helped me find the perfect place to start up my business, and she helped me settle here. I still miss living in the States, but I need to be here as much as I can be.
I’ve got several trips planned for the rest of the year to some of the world’s biggest horse racing meetings. I’ve got the best horses on the planet, and this year, they are going to make me a bucketload of cash.
Imagine my surprise when I go back downstairs with the coffees and biscuits to see Princess Zara covered in horse shit, her hair hanging around her pinked cheeks and stripes of muck across her forehead and up her arms.
My kind of woman.
A woman dressed to the nines is attractive, but seeing Zara like this sends my dick into overdrive. So much so, the tray I’m carrying begins to shake, and when Carlos tells me Zara is going to need a long hot bath, it only makes it worse. Fuck . . . Why does she have to look even more beautiful caked in shit?
I’ve not shown Zara her room yet, so when we’ve finished putting the horses away, Carlos says his goodbyes, which leaves us alone.
“I better show you around upstairs. I’m sure you had a look around, but—”
“No, I wouldn’t snoop. I was tempted, but . . . you’ve been so kind already,” she says, blushing.
“Come on.” I take the stairs two at a time whilst she follows behind, and when we get inside the apartment, I walk her through to the back. “This is my room. There is a choice of two rooms just down the hall, take your pick. Both have their own bathrooms, but if you want an actual bath then it’s in here.” I open the door to my pride and joy.
It’s the most luxurious bathroom I could imagine when designing this apartment. The bath is a two-person bath, with two head rests, Jacuzzi jets, and a rain shower that falls from the ceiling. When you’ve been riding all day, it’s the best place on earth, and I like to spread out in the bath and stretch out my long legs.
“This is something else,” she says, looking around. “Is that a TV?”
“Yeah, and there’s also a music system. The water temperature is set to forty degrees, so if you need to lower it, you just twist this here.” I show her the thermometer. “It’ll stay at temperature for an hour or so, and no need to top up. It’s pretty cool.”
“It looks it. Are you sure you’re okay with me using it?”
“Yes, of course. I forgot to ask; did you manage to order anything online? Clothes? Toiletries?”
“I looked at a few things, but I didn’t really know what would be good. Show me designer dresses, and I can pick out a winner every time.”
“Okay, you take a bath. I’ll get you some of my sweatpants and a few T-shirts. That should do you for tonight, and after dinner, we’ll have a look at kitting you out.”
“You don’t have to do all this. I feel terrible.”
“Stop with the whining, woman. By the time the bath is run, I’ll have everything sorted. Oh . . . don’t put the Jacuzzi on if you’re using any bath foam.”
“Oh . . . makes sense I suppose.” She smiles sweetly, and it’s hard not to grab her and kiss her again, but today has been difficult enough, and I’ve already fucked up once.
I show her how to turn on the water. It’s all digital, right down to how deep you want it, and then I leave her to look around whilst I go and find her something to wear.
“I’ve brought you these,” I say, handing her some towels, T-shirts, and a variety of sweats. “You’re a lot slimmer than me, but it’s only for tonight. We can wash your clothes and dry them so at least they’re clean for tomorrow.”
She looks at me strangely and then smiles. “Thank you. I really mean it.”
“Do you have any food allergies? Or foods you don’t like?” I ask, wondering myself where I’m going with my line of questioning.
“No. I’m not a huge fan of mayonnaise, but everything else is good. Oh, and I don’t like snails either.”
That makes me laugh out loud, and she appears startled. “You’re not getting gourmet food, Princess. I just didn’t want to poison you and add attempted murder to your father’s list of charges.”
“You’re funny,” she says, smiling, and it’s like a beautiful sunrise. Her eyes are sparkling, and her cheeks are flushed.
“Never been called that before. I’ll go start dinner.” I turn and walk away with a stupid grin on my face. I could have stood there talking to her all night, but that won’t get my hunger sated, and she must be starving, too, since neither of us have eaten much all day.
I’m not a useless bachelor; I can cook and clean, but I’m not used to doing it for anyone else. I search the refrigerator and pull out some eggs, bacon, some potatoes I boiled last night and never got around to eating, some peppers, and herbs.
I lay it all out on the counter and rub my chin in deep thought. I then take a deep breath in and realise I need to shower before going anywhere near this food. Zara is going to be a while, I suspect. So, I take my time, showering, shaving, and making myself look at least half alive. The last few weeks have been troublesome, and it shows with the dark circles that have started to appear under my eyes.
At least tonight, I’ll get a decent sleep. Jasmine is back where she belongs, and Zara is right where she should be.
I’m surprised when I walk back into the kitchen to find Zara standing over the stove.
“What are you doing? I said I was going to make dinner,” I grumble at her, and her face turns from smiling to sad.
“I wanted to help. You don’t need to wait on me. I know you think I’m a princess, but I’m really not.”
“I’m only teasing when I say that. I did used to think that, but I’ve come to know differently. I wanted to make you feel comfortable, that’s all.”
I walk around to where she’s standing, and the wonderful aroma coming from the frying pan makes my mouth water.
“I was going to make something similar, but it probably wouldn’t have looked as good as that.“
“It’s an omelette, Drew. I don’t know what those herbs are, but I added them, as I thought you must like them to have pulled them out.”
“I have no idea what the hell they are, but it smells amazing.”
Ten minutes later, we are sitting next to each other at the table. It’s only a small table for four people. If I’m entertaining, under sufferance, I would normally use the house. But as Zara is now my lodger, she gets to see how I really live, and it’s not how you would imagine a billionaire’s lifestyle to be.
We both take huge forkfuls of the beautiful-looking dish, but as soon as it enters my mouth, I instinctively swallow it down. Oh my god . . . It’s vile. I look directly at Zara, who is going red in the face, and her hand has covered her mouth.
“Spit it out; don’t force yourself to eat it,” I say, laughing.
She jumps up and runs in the direction of the bedrooms, returning a few minutes later. “I am so sorry. That . . . that was the worst thing I’ve ever made in my entire life. I should have left you to cook after all.”
“I don’t know what those herbs were, but they don’t go in an omelette.”
“Why do you have them if you don’t know what they are?”
It’s my turn to blush a little. “I have a housekeeper who comes in once or twice a week. I do my own laundry, and I cook mostly for myself, but sometimes, she’ll bring me a few bits, and half of the time, I don’t know what to do with them. I usually toss them in the trash, but I thought those might come in handy.
“I know what one of those herbs are . . .” she says, lifting the plate up and smelling it.
“Really? What is it?”
“Mint!”
“Mint . . . and eggs and bacon . . . No wonder we both nearly puked.” I laugh harder and harder.
“But that doesn’t help with the lack of food we’ve eaten today. I’ll take a look and see . . .”
“Do you like cheese on toast?” I ask, still laughing.
“Yeah, but that’s not enough for a big guy like you.”
“It’ll do, come on. Let’s get some food sorted.”
We ditch the omelettes into the trash, and Zara cleans up a little while I prepare the masterpiece that is Drew’s Cheese on Toast Spectacular.
We both keep laughing whenever we look at each other. I can’t get the picture out of my mind of her nearly vomiting on the table. It should turn me completely off, but it’s doing the exact opposite. She’s standing at the sink, her hands in the soapy water, and all I want to do is wrap my arms around her waist and kiss her open neck. Her wet hair is tied up on top of her head, and it’s driving me crazy. Does she have any idea what she’s doing to me? I don’t think she does. She’s not got a scrap of makeup on her face, yet she’s glowing, fresh, and beautiful.
I’m not sure I’m going to get a good night’s sleep after all.