The phone on the wooden table of the cottage vibrated again.
One name.
One number from Bogotá that made Alesya’s stomach twist in painful knots.
Sebastián never called without an agenda.
And right below the missed call notification, there was an email from a clinic in Medellín: details of her mother’s hemodialysis bill for the next month.
Cold numbers.
Numbers that didn’t care whether Alesya had money or not.
Alesya closed her eyes.
She took a deep breath until her chest felt tight with the air scented with pine and Wellington’s wet sand.
She had two choices this morning.
Coward: pack her suitcase, run away from the arrogant man named Revan Caldwell, and let Sebastián laugh at her destruction from afar.
Or stay.
Take every cent from this hundred-thousand-dollar contract.
And prove that this doctor from Colombia could not be bought, intimidated, or destroyed.
She turned off her phone screen.
She tied her wavy brown hair into a high ponytail, letting a few strands fall onto the back of her neck, which was cold with sweat.
Then she stepped out toward the arena.
Thin mist still crept over the sand of the indoor arena as Alesya entered.
The air there was humid, smelling of old saddle leather, cedar wood, and something far sharper—male sweat and dense pheromones of tension.
Revan was already there.
The man stood in the center of the round pen, wearing a black sleeveless shirt that revealed the dense contours of his shoulder muscles.
And on his left shoulder…
Alesya stared at it a fraction of a second longer than she should have.
A fifteen-centimeter surgical scar ran across that tanned skin.
Rough.
Horrifying.
Yet strangely, it gave his athletic body a dangerous, wild impression.
Phantom stood beside him, tied with a long lead rope.
The black stallion was restless, snorting shortly every time Revan pulled the rope a little too tightly.
“You’re three minutes late,” Revan’s voice sliced through the silence.
Low.
Raspy.
Sounding like velvet rubbing against sandpaper.
Alesya walked past the wooden gate, closing it with a decisive click.
“And you’ve already violated our agreement before sunrise.”
Revan turned.
His gray eyes were dark, like a storm held behind glass.
That gaze swept over Alesya’s body—from the thin gray t-shirt that fit her snugly, the riding breeches hugging her hips and thighs, to her dusty boots.
A flash of hunger passed through his pupils.
Very fast.
But enough to make the surface of Alesya’s skin prickle with heat.
“I’m just holding the rope, Dr.
Vargas.”
“You’re pulling it.”
Alesya approached.
Every step was measured.
“And every pull of your left hand sends a signal that you are panicking.”
“I am not panicking.”
“Your body can’t lie to me, Revan.”
Alesya stopped right in front of the man.
The distance between them eroded until only a hand’s width remained.
Too close.
Alesya could feel the heat radiating from Revan’s body, smelling the aroma of cedarwood, expensive tobacco, and masculine sweat that burned her senses.
Revan’s broad chest rose and fell with a heavy rhythm.
“Let go of the rope,” Alesya commanded softly.
“No.”
“Revan.”
“Show me first what you call ‘groundwork’.”
The man’s eyes were challenging.
Demanding.
Alesya did not blink.
She raised her hand, reaching for the thick leather rope just below Revan’s grip.
It wasn’t the rope she touched.
But the back of Revan’s hand.
The first intentional touch.
Revan’s skin was rough, warm, powerful.
Alesya felt how the man’s arm muscles instantly tensed under her palm.
Revan’s breath hitched slightly.
Only one second.
But the vibration traveled from Alesya’s fingers, up her arm, and exploded into an electric shock at the base of her neck.
“Let go,” Alesya whispered.
Her voice was no longer cold.
It trembled with something far more dangerous than anger.
Revan’s eyes dropped to Alesya’s slightly parted lips.
There was a suffocating silence between them.
The air around them suddenly felt devoid of oxygen.
Revan’s fingers slowly relaxed.
Not because he lost.
But because the woman’s gaze burned him from within.
The leather rope fell completely into Alesya’s hands.
Alesya took a short, trembling breath, then stepped back half a step, trying to reclaim her sanity that had nearly evaporated.
“Watch this,” Alesya said, her voice hardening again.
She turned to face Phantom, her back to Revan.
But she knew exactly that the man’s gray eyes were still fixed on her back.
Staring at her waist.
Staring at her exposed nape.
Alesya unclipped the metal buckle on Phantom’s halter.
Leaving the 500-kilogram stallion free without any restraint inside the round arena.
Marcus, watching from behind the outer fence, held his breath.
Javi, standing beside him, gripped the wooden rail so tightly his knuckles turned white.
“What are you doing?” Revan stepped forward, his voice demanding.
“He could jump the fence if he panics.”
“He won’t panic if you stop projecting your fear onto him.”
“Alesya…”
“Be quiet, Revan.”
The word was spoken without turning around.
Firm.
Commanding a billionaire on his own ranch.
Alesya lowered her posture.
Shoulders relaxed.
Her gaze did not look aggressively into Phantom’s eyes, but directed toward the ground near her feet.
She began walking in a circle.
Her step rhythm was stable.
Phantom lifted his head high.
Snorted loudly.
The muscles in his hind legs tensed, ready to bolt.
“Shh…
Tranquilo, mi rey,” Alesya whispered softly.
Her Spanish flowed like a lullaby in the silence of the arena.
Phantom rotated one ear toward the sound.
One step.
Two steps.
The stallion did not run.
Instead, he lowered his head until it was level with Alesya’s shoulder.
Then, as if an invisible thread bound them, Phantom began to walk following Alesya’s rhythm.
Wherever Alesya stepped, the giant black horse matched her speed.
When Alesya stopped, Phantom stopped.
Resting his nose in the curve of Alesya’s waist, exhaling warm breath that vibrated against her thin shirt.
Marcus shook his head, his mouth shut tight in amazement.
Revan stood frozen in the center of the circle.
His jaw hardened so strongly that the veins in his neck bulged.
Not just because his beloved horse submitted without violence.
But because of the way the woman moved.
So graceful.
So wild.
So powerful.
And the way Phantom touched the woman’s waist…
Damn it.
Revan found himself hating his own horse for being able to touch Alesya so freely.
“Now,” Alesya turned, looking at Revan from across the circle.
Her breathing was slightly ragged, making her chest rise and fall in a tempting rhythm.
“Your turn.”
Revan stared at her sharply.
“I know how to ride a horse, Alesya.”
“But you don’t know how to ask for permission.”
Alesya stepped closer to Revan, bringing Phantom beside her without any rope.
“Enter his space.
Without your arrogance.
Without your whip.
Without your fear.”
Revan stepped forward.
But his competitive instinct was too dominant.
His movements were too fast, too hurried to prove that he hadn’t lost control.
His footsteps hit the sand too hard.
Phantom reacted immediately.
The horse’s eyes widened, his head threw up, and he backed away two steps with a sharp snort.
Revan cursed softly and reflexively reached out his left hand roughly to catch Phantom’s halter.
“Revan, NO!”
Alesya moved faster.
She slipped her body right between Revan and Phantom.
Alesya’s palm crashed against Revan’s bare chest behind his sleeveless shirt.
Pushing him back.
The touch was hard.
Intimate.
Alesya’s palm pressed directly over Revan’s heart, which beat wildly like a war drum.
Revan’s chest skin was hot, burning through his shirt fabric, his hard pectoral muscles clearly felt under Alesya’s fingers.
Their bodies collided so closely that their breaths exchanged.
“Don’t touch him like a broken asset!” Alesya hissed right in front of Revan’s face.
Her honey-brown eyes sparkled with pure anger.
Their lips were only a few centimeters apart.
Close enough for Alesya to see fragments of dark gold in Revan’s gray iris.
Close enough for her to feel Revan’s hot breath sweeping over her lips.
“He is not a trophy you can force when you are frustrated,” Alesya whispered sharply, her voice trembling while holding back mixed emotions.
“If you treat him like a machine, you will kill him in that arena.
Just like you almost did eight months ago!”
Silence exploded between them.
Revan’s face paled for a moment, before dark anger burned across all his features.
Revan’s hand moved lightning fast.
Circling Alesya’s wrist, which was still pressed against his chest.
Gripping it.
Strong.
But not painful.
Revan’s thumb pressed directly over Alesya’s pulse on her wrist… feeling how the woman’s heartbeat was just as wild as his own.
“You know nothing about that day,” Revan’s voice dropped to a dangerous low growl.
“I know you are afraid,” Alesya replied without flinching, staring straight into the man’s deepest wound.
“And that fear is what nearly killed you both.”
Revan’s eyes narrowed.
His grip on Alesya’s wrist did not loosen; instead, he pulled the woman an inch closer.
Until the tips of their boots touched.
Until Alesya could feel the solid shape of the man’s body pressing against her stomach.