Sensation overload, she registered dizzily as Nero’s long dark stare made her heart go crazy. Nero Caracas was ridiculously attractive and had more charisma than was good for any man. No woman wanted to be reduced to a primal mating state by an unreconstructed male. A woman wanted control—something Bella possessed in vast amounts…usually.
Nero raised his hands in mock surrender. ‘Don’t worry, I’m going. But I’ll be back to see you, Misty,’ he crooned to
the unusually compliant mare.
Bella’s eyes flashed fire. ‘When I’m not here, Misty is protected by the most stringent security measures.’
‘Which I’ll be sure to bear in mind—’ Nero’s Latin shrug could easily be translated as So what?
No one would keep him out. Nero Caracas could do anything he wanted, buy anything he wanted. Chatter around the yard suggested the famous Argentinian wanted to buy Misty, the polo pony Bella had foolishly allowed herself to love.
‘You’ve done well with Misty, Bella,’ Nero observed as he paused by the stable door. ‘She’s in prime condition—’
‘Because she’s happy with me—’
Nero’s head dipped in acknowledgement of this, but the sardonic smile on his lips suggested he had more to offer any horse than she did.
She was at risk of losing Misty. The thought struck Bella like a bombshell. There was always pressure—honour in the game that demanded the best players were given the best polo ponies to ride. Misty was the best, and only a fool would stand in the way of a rider like Nero Caracas and expect to keep the career she loved intact.
‘Until the next time, Bella—’
I wouldn’t count on it, Bella thought, tightening her lips. There would be no next time. Misty was all she had left of her late father’s yard—her late father’s honour. While Misty was on the field people still talked of Jack Wheeler as the best of trainers, and forgot for that moment that Bella’s father had been a gambler who had lost everything he had ever worked for. ‘Misty only runs for those she trusts.’
‘Like any woman.’ Nero’s smile deepened, carving an attractive crease in the side of his face. Coming back to the pony, he ran an experienced hand down Misty’s near foreleg. ‘Good legs,’ he commented as he straightened up.
And she felt hers tingling too. The look Nero gave her left Bella in no doubt that everything in the stable had been assessed. She was way out of her depth here. If only Nero would go and everything could return to normal. ‘Enjoy the match,’ she said numbly, conscious of the power he wielded in the game.
‘You too, Bella—’ There was both humour and challenge in his voice.
‘Misty will outrun your Criolla ponies from the Pampas—’
‘We’ll see.’ Nero shot her an amused glance. ‘My Criollo are descendants of the Spanish war horses. Their power is second to none. Their loyalty? Unquestioned. Stamina?’ His lips pressed down in the most attractive way. ‘Unrivalled, Bella. And it goes without saying that combat is in their genes.’
And Nero’s, Bella thought. She’d watched him play, and had marvelled at his speed and agility, his hand-to-eye coordination, uncanny intuition, and the eager way Nero’s ponies responded to him. She had never thought she would feel those subtle powers working on her. ‘May the best man win,’ she said, tilting her chin at a defiant angle as she rested a protective hand on Misty’s neck.
‘I have no doubt that he will,’ the undisputed king of the game informed her.
She had always felt safe in the stables, with the scent of clean hay in her nostrils and the warmth of an animal she could trust close by, but that safety had just been challenged by a man whose voice was like a smoky cellar, deep and evocative, though ultimately cold. What ever game it was, she must never forget that Nero Caracas always played to win. ‘Win or lose today, Misty is not for sale—’
‘I’ve completed my examination, and I like what I see,’ Nero remarked as if she hadn’t spoken. ‘Of course, Misty would need to pass the vet’s exam,’ he went on thoughtfully, ‘but if she fulfils her promise today, as I’m sure she will, I’d like to make you an offer, Bella. Name your price.’
‘There is no price, Señor Caracas.’ She wasn’t going to roll over just because Nero Caracas said she must. ‘I don’t need your money.’
Nero angled his head. He didn’t need to say anything to echo the thoughts of everyone else in the polo world, all of whom knew that couldn’t be true. ‘You might not need my money, chica,’ he said with a faint mocking edge to his voice, ‘but you must need something. Everybody does…’
‘Is that a threat?’ Was she to lose everything she had worked for? A flash of panic speared through her as the dark master of the game stared her down. Why should Nero answer when he was the centre of the polo universe, around which everything else revolved? He had more money, more skill on the field and a better eye for the horse than any man alive. Why was she challenging him when Nero Caracas could dash her career against the wall with a flick of his wrist?
‘Relax,’ he murmured. ‘You work too hard and worry too much, Bella. Polo?’ The massive shoulders eased in a shrug. ‘It’s only a game.’
Only a game?
‘I look forward to seeing Misty play.’ The dark eyes stared deeper into her soul than they had any right to and then he was gone.
Bella let out a shuddering breath and slumped back against the cold stone wall. How could she fight him? But fight him she would if Nero pushed her, Bella determined as one of her grooms came in and, after a few covert sideways glances, asked if Bella was all right.
‘I’m fine… Fine,’ Bella confirmed, wishing she was back at home with her dogs and horses, where life was uncomplicated, and where the children she encouraged to visit her stable yard learned how to care for animals in a blissfully down-to-earth setting. Mess with Nero and she would lose all that.
‘Shall I take Misty to the pony lines?’