Alesya’s lips still burned.
Even after twenty-four hours.
Even after Victoria Ashworth’s cold words about wedding dresses and three days in New York had poisoned the very air of Blackstone Estate.
Every time Alesya drank cold water, every time the dawn wind brushed her face, her memory betrayed her, replaying every second inside that dark tack room.
The rough way Revan’s hand tangled in her hair.
The way his mouth claimed every breath, demanded every last piece of her.
And how his solid body pressed hers against the saddle rack, as if he’d burn the whole world down just to spend one minute with her.
Then those final words:
“I shouldn’t have done that.”
Alesya gave Phantom’s cavesson a sharp, hard tug.
Enough.
She hadn’t come to the United States to be the warm distraction of a billionaire trapped in his own gilded cage.
She had her mother’s medical bills to pay.
She had her name to clear from Sebastián Montero’s lies.
And if Revan Caldwell wanted to pretend that the kiss that shattered both their souls never happened, then Alesya would give him the coldest, most flawless display of professionalism the world had ever seen.
6:30 a.m.
The outdoor arena lay veiled in thin mist, already beginning to burn away beneath the Florida sun.
The sand was damp and heavy, glowing pale orange where the light touched it.
In the center, the white vertical oxer had been raised five centimeters.
3 feet 9 inches.
A height that should have been easy after yesterday’s spectacular success.
But this morning, the atmosphere inside the arena was so thick with tension that even the oak trees seemed to hold their breath.
Revan was already mounted.
He wore a dark gray long-sleeve riding shirt that pulled tight across his broad chest and shoulders, paired with crisp white breeches and polished black tall boots.
His face looked carved from granite.
His gray eyes were dark, unreadable, and burning into Alesya where she stood at the fence line.
She held a stopwatch and her medical notes.
She wore a thin, long-sleeved denim shirt with the cuffs rolled neatly, and black riding breeches.
Her hair was pulled into a tight, severe bun — not a single strand out of place.
“Approach from the left,” Alesya’s voice cut through the morning air.
Cold.
Formal.
Completely flat.
“Maintain a four-beat canter rhythm to the base, Mr.
Caldwell.”
Mr.
Caldwell.
Revan didn’t answer.
But Alesya saw his jaw lock so tight the tendon in his neck bulged above his collar.
Revan pressed his heels into Phantom’s sides.
The black stallion launched into a canter.
His hooves thudded into the damp sand with powerful, steady rhythm.
But from twenty meters away, Alesya’s trained eye caught the problem instantly.
There was a new stiffness in Phantom’s back.
The muscles of his neck weren’t loose and arched like yesterday; they were rigid, locked tight as a wooden beam.
His ears flicked wildly not toward the fence ahead, but swiveling constantly backward, picking up the frequency of suppressed rage radiating from the man on his back.
Fifteen meters out.
Ten meters.
Revan shortened the reins in his left hand.
And that was where everything fell apart.
His left hand was too stiff.
He was trying to force control, channeling every ounce of his own frustration and turmoil straight down the snaffle bit and into the horse’s mouth.
Five meters.
Three meters.
Phantom suddenly jerked his head high into the air.
He slammed both front hooves hard into the sand.
SKRRRRT!
Sand sprayed high into the air.
The stallion spun sharply to the right, refusing the jump as if the fence itself were on fire.
Revan kept his balance with the instinct of a world-class athlete.
He didn’t fall.
His back stayed straight in the saddle.
But his left shoulder wrenched violently as he fought the sudden change of direction.
He hissed through his teeth, his jaw clenching against a sharp, stabbing pain beneath his kinesio tape.
“Dammit!” he growled, his voice rough and raw across the arena.
He spun Phantom back toward the fence, jerking the reins hard.
“Again!”
Phantom snorted, eyes rolling white, shifting restlessly refusing to take one step forward.
“Stop it, Revan!”
Alesya’s voice cracked like a whip.
She stepped over the low fence and marched across the damp sand, straight into the center of the arena.
“Get out of the way, Alesya,” Revan warned from the saddle, his eyes flashing dangerously.
“He’s clearing this fence.
Now.”
“I said stop!”
She didn’t stop until she stood directly in front of Phantom’s head.
Quick and fearless, she reached up, took the cheekpiece of his bridle firmly in her hand, and forced the half-ton stallion to stand still.
She looked up.
Her honey-brown eyes burned into his gray ones, blazing with pure, unfiltered anger.
“Get off the horse,” she said, her voice sharp and trembling.
“I’m the rider, Vargas.
I decide when this session is over.”
“And I’m the vet!” she shot back, loud enough to echo.
“And as the doctor responsible for this animal worth tens of millions of dollars, I’m telling you…you are in no condition to ride him this morning!”
Silence dropped over the arena like ice.
Revan stared down at her for three long, deadly seconds.
Then, with one fluid, furious motion, he swung his leg over and dismounted.
His boots hit the sand with a heavy thud right beside her.
There was no space left between them.
He towered over her.
The heat of his body, the scent of cedar and anger and pure, unmasked masculinity, surrounded her completely.
His broad chest heaved with ragged breaths, crowding her until she had to fight to breathe to keep from inhaling him too deeply.
“Don’t you ever dare embarrass me in my own arena, Alesya,” he murmured, his voice dropping to a low, wounded growl.
“You’re the one embarrassing yourself!” she shot back, not backing down an inch.
She released Phantom’s bridle, letting him step back to stand quietly, then stepped forward right into Revan’s space.
Their boots nearly touched.
“You think Phantom is stupid?” she said, her voice rough with everything she’d held back since dawn.
“This horse is a mirror, Revan!
He feels every single thing you’re holding back.
He knows you’re panicking.
He knows you’re furious.
And he refuses to jump because you’re using him to dump all your frustration!”
Revan’s eyes narrowed, dangerous and dark.
He stepped closer, until his shadow swallowed her whole.
“I’m not frustrated with my horse,” he said, his voice low and intense, inches from her face.
His warm breath fanned her lips, and in an instant, the memory of their kiss came flooding back vivid, burning, impossible to ignore.
“Then with what?” she challenged, sharp and unflinching, staring straight into his dilated pupils.
“Your contract marriage?
Victoria’s wedding dress?
Or the fact that you kissed me last night like a dying man and then acted like I was nothing more than some staff member you accidentally touched?!”
The words hung between them, raw and exposed.
No more masks.
No more professionalism.
Revan froze.
His handsome face went pale for a heartbeat and then dark, wild, burning desire crashed over him, drowning every last shred of his self-control.
His hand moved faster than she could follow.
Fingers curled firmly around her upper arm, and he pulled her forward until their chests collided hard.
BAM.
Alesya gasped as she felt the solid weight of him pressing against her.
His thighs pressed to hers.
The wild, thunderous beat of his heart hammered against her ribs.
“You want me to admit it, Alesya?” he rasped, his voice shaking right against her ear.
His grip tightened not to hurt her, but to keep himself from pulling her into his arms and never letting go.
“You want to admit that since last night, I haven’t been able to think about anything but the taste of your mouth?”
He leaned in, his breath hot against her neck, sending shivers racing down her spine.
“That every time I see you standing here, I want to throw this whole damn contract into the fire and take you somewhere where no one else can ever look at you?!”
Her heart pounded so hard her vision blurred.
Heat exploded through her — starting at her arm, spreading through her stomach, melting every bit of cold resolve she’d built up.
She looked up at him, saw the agony written plainly in his eyes.
“If you feel all that, Revan…” her voice broke, raw with pain, “…then why did you pull away?
Why did you let her walk all over me right in front of you?”
Revan’s gaze shattered.
The truth about the clause, about his father, about Phantom sat right on the tip of his tongue, screaming to be let out.
He wanted to tell her.
He wanted to explain that he was bargaining his soul to the devil just to keep this horse safe and her safe.
But he couldn’t.
It was too dangerous.
Too much to lay on her shoulders.
Slowly, he loosened his grip.
But he didn’t step back.
He stared at her lips swollen, parted, trembling only inches from his own.
“I didn’t pull away, Alesya,” he whispered, his voice rough and dark as a moonless night.
His eyes locked onto hers with a promise that was dangerous and absolute.
“I’m just making sure… that when I finally take you, nothing in this world will ever be able to take you away from me.”
He stepped back, breaking the magnetic pull between them.
He turned toward Phantom, who stood waiting a few meters away.
“Morning session is over,” Revan said, his voice cold and authoritative once more, his back to her.
“Marcus will have the trailer ready by two.”
Alesya frowned, struggling to catch her breath.
“A trailer?
For where?”
He looked over his shoulder, his expression unyielding.
“Phantom can’t jump here anymore,” he said flatly.
“This arena is too full of us.”
“We’re heading to the main venue of the Winter Equestrian Festival in Palm Beach this afternoon.”
He met her gaze directly.
“And you’re coming with me, Dr.
Vargas.
Three full days at the competition.
Right by my side in front of thousands of people, every camera, and the enti
re Ashworth family.”
He led Phantom away, across the sand and out of the arena.
Leaving Alesya standing alone in the damp sand, breathless and shaken.
Realizing with sudden, terrifying clarity Revan had just thrown them both straight into the lion’s den.