One more inch.
That was the only distance separating Revan’s lips from Alesya’s wet, slightly parted, ripe lips in the stifling air of the wash bay.
Their chests pressed against each other.
Revan could feel every hurried breath she took, the wild heat radiating through her thin, translucent white t-shirt, and smell the scent of lavender mixed with rainwater that nearly paralyzed his sanity.
His right hand tightened around Alesya’s slender waist so hard his knuckles turned white.
He wanted to destroy this woman.
He wanted to kiss her until Alesya forgot how to breathe, until she stopped throwing those poisonous questions that flayed his soul.
“Did he fall with you…
or did he fall BECAUSE of you?”
The question spun in Revan’s head like a rusty dagger twisted in an open wound.
“You’re playing on the edge of a cliff, Dr.
Vargas,” Revan whispered, his voice hoarse, vibrating with anger and lust colliding in his throat.
Alesya’s honey-brown eyes didn’t blink.
There was a flicker of fear in her pupils as she felt the hardness of Revan’s body pinning her, yet she still stared at him with a courage that drove Revan insane.
“If you’re afraid of falling, Revan…” Alesya whispered, her warm breath sweeping over Revan’s lips, “…let me go.”
One torturous second.
Revan’s heart pounded so hard it hurt behind his ribs.
With a rough exhale, Revan released the woman’s waist and stepped back two paces.
The cold night air immediately rushed into the space between them.
Alesya leaned against the concrete wall, her chest heaving wildly, her hands trembling as she straightened her wet shirt.
Revan didn’t look at her again.
He couldn’t.
If he looked into her eyes for one more second, his remaining defenses would shatter into pieces.
“Get out of my barn, Alesya,” Revan’s voice was freezing cold as he turned his back on her.
“Before I cancel this contract tonight.”
Silence.
Only the sound of Alesya’s hurried footsteps remained, leaving Revan alone amidst the dripping cold water and Phantom’s anxious snorts in the darkness.
11:00 PM.
The main house of Blackstone Estate was drowned in oppressive silence.
The multi-million dollar modern mansion felt like a dead glass cathedral.
No laughter.
No warmth.
There was only Revan, a glass of bourbon without ice in his hand, and the giant projector screen in his office displaying a silent, looping recording.
Aachen Grand Prix.
Eight months ago.
On the four-meter screen, Phantom galloped in slow motion.
The giant black horse looked extraordinarily majestic.
The muscles of his back flexed perfectly, his mane flowing in the German storm wind.
Then obstacle number 13 approached.
A double oxer, 1.60 meters high and two meters wide.
The exact same obstacle that had claimed his mother Catalina Reyes’ life eighteen years ago in Bogotá.
Revan took a sip of his bourbon.
The alcohol burned his throat, but it couldn’t numb the pain in his head.
He advanced the video frame by frame.
And there it was.
Exactly three strides before the takeoff point.
Revan saw it.
What Alesya had said in the wash bay earlier wasn’t an amateur guess.
It was a lethal diagnosis.
On the screen, Revan’s left shoulder tensed a fraction of a second too early.
His hand pulled the left rein five millimeters too short—a subconscious movement of a frightened boy, not a professional athlete.
Phantom read that panic pull.
The horse thought his rider was refusing the jump.
Phantom tried to abort his stride at the last second, his hooves slipping on the wet sand, his chest slamming into the hundred-kilogram wooden pole, and Revan’s body was thrown into the air like a broken ragdoll.
BAM.
The sound of his shoulder bone cracking seemed to echo again in the silent room.
Revan squeezed his eyes shut.
The crystal glass in his hand trembled.
Alesya was right.
The horse hadn’t failed.
The horse wasn’t traumatized by the obstacle.
Phantom had stopped jumping because the horse was trying to save Revan from his own fear.
And Revan had spent the last eight months blaming his horse, injecting the most expensive sedatives, and hiring the best animal psychiatrists in the world just to cover up the shameful fact that he was the coward.
“Damn it,” Revan whispered hoarsely into the darkness.
He set his glass down with a loud clink on the glass table.
His hand moved to the locked iron drawer under his desk.
He entered the combination, then pulled out a thick black leather folder stamped with a red seal: CONFIDENTIAL – CALDWELL VETERINARY ARCHIVES.
This was a file never seen by the media, the WEF committee, or even the Ashworth sponsors.
A file containing the dirtiest truth behind the Aachen accident.
Revan grabbed his black leather jacket, gripped the folder, and stepped out into the cold Florida night.
The porch light of the west cottage was still dimly lit when Revan arrived.
Thin mist crept over the lawn grass, shrouding the shadows of the tall oak trees.
The watch on Revan’s wrist read 23:45.
He stood in front of the cottage’s wooden door for thirty seconds, listening to his own irregular heartbeat.
He shouldn’t be here.
A sane man wouldn’t visit the bedroom of a woman he had just insulted and expelled a few hours ago.
But Revan knew that if he didn’t give her this file tonight, he would never be able to look her in the eye in the arena tomorrow morning.
Revan raised his hand.
Knock.
Knock.
Knock.
Soft, yet firm.
A moment of silence.
Then came the sound of a key turning from inside.
The wooden door slowly opened.
Revan’s breath caught instantly in his throat.
Alesya stood in the doorway.
The woman had just finished showering or was about to sleep.
Her wavy brown hair was let loose over her shoulders, still slightly damp, spreading an intoxicating scent of vanilla and lavender into the night air.
She wasn’t wearing her stiff work clothes.
Alesya wore only a thin olive silk tank top that revealed the fragile curve of her collarbone and her flawless shoulder skin, paired with short cotton sleep shorts that showed off her bare, slender legs.
Under the dim porch light, the silhouette of her body looked so soft, so vulnerable, and so tempting that Revan felt all the blood in his body boil down to his lower abdomen.
Alesya’s honey-brown eyes widened when she saw who was standing in front of her.
“Revan?” Alesya whispered, her voice raspy with sleep but instantly hardening with alertness.
Revan’s gray gaze refused to be polite.
His eyes moved slowly, sweeping over the curve of her neck, down to the slight cleavage visible beneath the loose neckline of her tank top, then to the slender waist he had gripped in the wash bay earlier that afternoon.
Alesya instinctively crossed one arm over her chest, feeling stripped bare by the intensity of the man’s stare.
“What are you doing here in the middle of the night?” Alesya asked coldly, trying to close the door halfway.
“I thought you had fired me.”
Before the door could close, Revan’s right hand moved quickly, holding the door leaf with his strong palm.
“I’m not done with you, Dr.
Vargas.”
Revan’s voice was low.
Hoarse and heavy with thick tension.
Revan stepped forward an inch, narrowing the space between them until the scent of his night cologne and Alesya’s natural body scent collided in the cold night air.
“You asked a question this afternoon,” Revan continued, his eyes locking onto Alesya’s pupils mercilessly.
“About what really happened in Aachen.”
Alesya fell silent, tension instantly crawling over her petite posture.
Revan raised his left hand holding the thick black leather folder and thrust it toward Alesya’s chest.
Alesya looked at the folder hesitantly, then slowly reached out to take it.
As Alesya’s fingers grasped the edge of the leather folder, Revan’s warm fingertips deliberately touched the back of her hand.
Zzzzt.
The skin-to-skin contact sent a shockwave that made Alesya draw a sharp breath.
Alesya’s hand felt as smooth as silk under Revan’s rough fingers.
Revan didn’t pull his hand away.
Instead, he let his thumb gently stroke the back of Alesya’s hand for two full seconds—a forbidden caress that burned in the silence of the night.
Alesya stared at their joined hands, her pupils dilating, her breath held in her chest.
“Revan…” Alesya whispered, her voice trembling between protest and dangerous surrender.
Revan leaned his body forward, bringing his face close to Alesya’s ear until her strands of hair brushed against his rough cheek.
The scent of wet lavender from Alesya’s neck was so strong it made Revan’s head spin with passion he had to suppress with half his strength.
“This is Phantom’s original medical file,” Revan whispered right beside Alesya’s ear.
His hoarse voice made the hairs on the woman’s neck stand up instantly.