Argentinian Billionaire (Blood and Thunder 2)

A complex? Rose had thought as a child. Was that the same thing as a complexion? Picturing the women on the front covers of the magazines in the corner shop with their smooth, freckle-free skin, she had prayed fervently each night that her freckles would fade and her complex would improve. When that happened, she could easily imagine herself in the role of disadvantaged but plucky princess who would earn the love of the handsome prince. But her freckles hadn’t faded. If anything, they’d gotten worse. Not that she cared these days so long as the ponies loved her. That was why she was making this last inspection tonight. The wind was blowing up, and she wanted to reassure them. She was particularly concerned for a big chestnut called Lucif

er. She’d been working with him on a regular basis, and he’d calmed down a lot. She didn’t want him going backward now.

Lucifer was the favorite mount of Dante Formosa—or the devil, as Rose had thought of him since Amber’s wedding. The Romani chieftain was what everyone else called Dante, and always with the deepest respect, but Rose guessed this was only because they hadn’t had the same type of run-in with Dante that she had. She had more sense than to fall for Dante’s deadly charm. She’d seen the stream of rejects crying into their soup in the cookhouse and had no intention of becoming one of them. He might be the best-looking man this side of a cinema screen, but his heart was made of stone. Dante was the mystery man of the Blood and Thunder team. There was some tragedy surrounding him, some talk of a really dangerous thug targeting someone close to him to get one over on Dante, but no one would talk about it. If he hadn’t asked her to work with his ponies on the international circuit, she would have avoided him altogether. As it was, they saw each other every day, and though what had happened at the wedding was never spoken about, she could see the clock ticking in Dante’s eyes. Six months, she’d told him that night, and six months was up.

Only a fool walked into danger with their eyes wide open, Rose concluded as she padded silently around the huge stable block. So maybe she was a fool, because all the negatives surrounding Dante only made him seem more attractive. She smiled as she slipped into Lucifer’s stall to reassure him. Weren’t dreams meant to be big and bold? Hers included Dante holding her in his arms. And doing a lot more than that.

That wasn’t big and bold, that was just plain stupid, Rose concluded as Lucifer snuffled the breast pocket of her shirt where she kept his mints. No one had been able to ride Lucifer apart from Dante, until Rose came along. Dante wasn’t riding him until Lucifer finished his training with Rose.

Dante had moved from one difficult horse to another, Rose reflected as an image of his fierce black stallion striking sparks off the cobbles with his impatient hooves sprang into her mind. She’d work on him next, given half a chance.

Stallion, not Dante, she told herself firmly.

Fiend to friend was just a matter of love and trust, Rose concluded as she rested her face against Lucifer’s smooth, warm neck. “Shame about your owner. I doubt I could change him.”

Not that she’d want to. Dante Formosa regarded women as a step down from a hot dinner—essential to his sexual well-being, but of variable quality, and he never kept them around long enough to get cold. Rose, on the other hand, in spite of growing up surrounded by fierce men, still had hearts and flowers in her eyes when it came to romance. Otherwise, she’d do without, she had vowed, which was pretty much where things were.

“I’ve never been frightened of you,” she whispered to Lucifer. “And I’m not frightened of your master either.” Though if Lucifer had once been known as the demon horse of Isla Celeste, then Dante must be the dark angel.

Lucifer responded by exhaling noisily, which prompted Rose to drop a kiss on his velvety nose. When Lucifer stilled and pricked up his ears, she stilled too.

And groaned inwardly. Wasn’t it bad enough having to work alongside randy polo players without intruding on them when they were obviously doing things she didn’t want to see?

The stable block was huge and the noise was coming from close to another entrance, which was some distance away. Pa had always said she had ears on stalks. She regretted it now. She’d been so busy thinking about Dante, she’d missed the fact there were others in the block.

Creeping down the line of stalls, she peered cautiously around a dividing wall, and pulled back fast. A man with his eyes closed was being serviced; Dante Formosa was getting a blowjob.

Unfortunately, she hadn’t pulled back quickly enough. He’d seen her. She should have remembered Dante was every bit as intuitive as she was. Opening his astonishingly beautiful eyes, he stared straight at her. She could either sneak out the way she’d come, or…

There were some people Rose would happily leave to their own devices, allowing nature to take its course, and there were others, like Dante Formosa, where the idea of throwing a spanner into his abundant works proved totally irresistible. She only had to remember his enchanting chat-up line at the wedding to know that revenge was a dish best served cold. “You’re the only girl I haven’t fucked yet. How about it, horse whisperer?” At which point, he’d consulted his watch. “I’ve got time now, if you’re ready?”

“I swoon at your feet,” she’d responded, blinking rapidly as she tried to get her country head around such an unexpected invitation. Years of banter with her brothers didn’t let her down. “But I suggest you ask someone who gives a damn you’ve got a shlong for brains and a peanut where your cock should be.” This, of course, was untrue. Dante Formosa was known as educated muscle, and anyone with one eye open could see he had a majestic schlong. As if that wasn’t bad enough, she’d had to spend the rest of the day chanting the mantra: He’s my boss; I love my job; please don’t be rude to him again…

So maybe she was a little jealous of Ms. Pants-Down, Rose conceded. She didn’t flatter herself she was Dante’s type, other than for a quick shag, which was not on her agenda, but she had just discovered she didn’t like the idea of him doing it with anyone else either. Especially not Lucinda, who considered herself a cut above everyone else on the island, and who would almost certainly brag about her fling in the stable with the Gypsy King. Rose hated that idea. She hated the fact she was stuck here, an unwilling eavesdropper.

Okay. She’d heard enough. Seizing her instrument of revenge, she stepped out of hiding.

Chapter Two

“Fucking hell!”

Lucinda’s screams hurt Rose’s ears. Dante barely seemed concerned as he deftly slotted his oversized cock into his unzipped breeches.

“Apologies. I never did get the hang of these things,” Rose said, hosepipe still dangling from her hand as she stared straight at Dante. “I hope I didn’t wet you?”

Was that the hint of a smile playing around his hard, sexy mouth?

“Maybe I can help to dry you off?” she offered as she tossed a well-used pony towel in his general direction.

Lucinda, meanwhile, had backed away, shrieking, “Get away from me, you Irish tinker!”

Even Rose was startled by the change in Dante. “You’re dismissed,” he told Lucinda in a calm, quiet voice. “Your services are no longer required. And I don’t just mean the special services you offer,” he added as Lucinda snatched up her clothes. “You can pack your bags and leave the island. There’s a ferry at nine o’ clock.”

“You’re choosing her over me?” Lucinda stripped Rose with a look.

“I’m not choosing anyone,” Dante said coldly.

Rose almost felt sorry for Lucinda. She guessed the other girl hadn’t heard that because of his Romani heritage, Dante was ultra-protective of all minorities. As Lucinda flounced off, Rose turned to face him. Dante stared coolly back.