It was difficult not to look at her. Check and make sure she was truly okay. I would do that later when she slept. For now, she needed to be punished.

  Her footsteps faded as she walked back inside—I assumed to her room. She’d need dinner. I’d order that for her before I left for the evening. I hadn’t decided if I was going to go to Cressida or just join her brother for a few more hands of cards. I considered a movie. Something I could do alone.

  I reached for my phone and sent a text to the concierge, letting them know exactly what to have brought up to the room for her dinner. There was a limit to the punishment I could give her. The part of me that wanted to protect her was stronger than the cruelty that always seemed to be the majority of what my soul had been forged from.

  Perhaps a movie with Cressida. Something with nudity and sex. She could suck my cock while I watched. That sounded moderately appealing. In the dark, I could allow my imagination its free rein. The mouth I sank my dick into would belong on another face. A sweet one with very little makeup with big lips and pretty doe eyes. Fuck. I was getting hard. Had to stop thinking about her like that. I’d shatter her if I touched her, and I wouldn’t allow a soul to harm her. Even me.

  “And they’re into the stretch! Bloodline is moving on the outside. Taze is coming up to the neck of Gold Strike and Bloodline! And Bloodline takes the lead as they come to the final furlong. Gold Strike is moving up into second, and Taze is falling back while Bilthard takes third. Bloodline shoots out ahead with a three-length lead! Bloodline is getting away! And then it’s Gold Strike and Bilthard and Long Stride, and Bloodline has a six-length lead! It is Bloodline to win the Belmont Derby Invitational! Under Capri Jewel, who picks up her first win at the Belmont here at The Big A.”

  • Sixteen •

  “You’ll have to get more creative, little doll.”

  Capri

  The whirlwind of excitement, adrenaline, and photos all seemed to sink in as I sat in the back of the limo that was taking Thatcher and me back to the hotel. The energy that had been pumping through me was now slowly escaping, and I began to feel the fatigue. Which was a good thing with the silence that had been going on with Thatcher and me since Thursday. I’d only seen him a handful of times and for brief moments. He hadn’t spoken to me, except when it was at the track and only about Bloodline.

  I’d stopped trying to figure him out. It was impossible. He was the most difficult human I had ever met. If he wanted to ignore me, then so be it. I’d just won the Belmont Derby Invitational, and I wasn’t letting him ruin it for me.

  “What do you want to eat?” he asked me, breaking the silence I’d started getting accustomed to with him.

  I turned my head to look at him. Seeing him in the black-pearl snap, belt, and jeans today had taken my breath for a moment. He cleaned up too well. But then he’d not spoken to me the rest of the day, and I’d gotten over it.

  “Doesn’t matter,” I replied, then looked back out the window again.

  “Yeah, it does. You just won a race and made your biggest purse cut of seventy-five thousand dollars, and you haven’t had what you wanted to eat in weeks.”

  I was still trying to wrap my head around the fact that I’d made so much money. He was right. This was the biggest purse I’d ever won. I felt guilty for taking ten percent because I was sure just about any jockey could have ridden Bloodline and won. He was a born winner.

  “Honestly, I really do not care what I eat,” I told him.

  “Nashville buffalo chicken pizza with extra sauce or baked lobster mac and cheese?”

  I swung my head back around to look at him. How did he know my two favorite meals? He’d paid for our pizza and my salad, but that was very specific. The lobster mac and cheese was also from a local restaurant back home, and he’d never paid for my meal there. Was what I ate in my background check? Besides, we weren’t in Madison. I couldn’t order either of those items.

  “I doubt they will be easy to find here,” I said instead of asking him how he knew my two cheat meals. Which was hard not to do because I wanted to know.

  The corner of his lips twitched. “I can make either happen. Or both. You tell me, or I’ll have both delivered to the suite.”

  I shook my head in confusion. “How?”

  “Because I can,” he replied.

  Okay, fine, don’t tell me.

  I chewed my bottom lip. I wanted both, and I was curious as to if he could actually find both of them in the city. He sure looked smug about it.

  “Both.” It sounded like a challenge because it was.

  He seemed to be amused by it. I watched him drop his gaze to his phone and text something, then look back up at me.

  “Anything else?” he asked.

  He was so sure of himself.

  “Lemon crinkle cookies,” I added.

  He lifted one eyebrow as he held my gaze. “Those have already been delivered to the suite. You’ll have to get more creative, little doll.”

  There was that name again. My stomach got all funny, and I tried not to be affected by it. That name was very likely an insult. Having him call me little and doll made me sound childlike. Still, the way his voice got deeper and raspier when he said it got to me.

  “You want lemon drops or dirty martinis for your cocktails?”

  I raised both my eyebrows. He knew my drink choices too. Should I be concerned? Did these things make it into a background check?

  “Plural,” I replied. “You’re assuming I will want more than one.”

  “You just won a race. I thought you’d like to celebrate.”

  I pressed my lips together. Maybe drinking would ease the tension I felt when I was around him. Especially since Thursday. “Both.”

  He smirked then and went back to texting on his phone.

  “How do you know my favorite foods and cocktails?” I blurted out, unable to help myself.

  “I told you, I’m thorough.”

  Thorough in what? Stalking?

  I sighed and turned to look back out the window. This man was always going to be hard to understand. Or I wanted it to all mean more when, in reality, this was what they did for their jockeys. I’d never ridden for billionaires. They might be used to jockeys who expected it. I was not a diva.

  I kept silent the rest of the way back to the hotel. Replaying every moment today was enough to entertain me and not focus on the awkwardness between Thatcher and me. Who was I kidding? He was never awkward. That was all me.

  When the driver opened the limo door once we reached the hotel, I climbed out, not looking back at Thatcher. His presence behind me, however, was impossible to ignore. The desire to turn around and look at him, talk to him, listen to his voice made it difficult to keep walking toward the elevators.

  The older man, who wore a suit and stood at the doors to the elevators, smiled at me as I approached. I didn’t understand why they had someone to press the button for you or hold open the doors for you at the elevator. It seemed like a pointless job, but he had a kind smile and seemed to like what he did.

  “Good evening, Miss Jewel, Mr. Thatcher,” the man said with a nod of his head as the doors opened for us.

  “Good evening,” I replied.

  Thatcher’s hand touched my back, making me tense up, and with a nudge, he led me inside.

  When I turned around to see the doors closing, I glanced over at him. He was watching me with an amused smirk on his face. He didn’t do that a lot, but when he did, it was mostly directed at me.

  “What is it?” I asked, feeling somewhat annoyed.

  His right eyebrow lifted ever so slightly as he studied me. Then, the ding, signaling that we’d reached the top floor, went off, and he waved a hand for me to exit first. Demanding any kind of explanation from Thatcher was pointless. I walked out and kept going down the hallway, moving over to the side when I reached the double doors. His addictive scent, along with the warmth of his body standing so close to me, made me lightheaded as he opened the door, then walked inside.

  I needed to slap myself and stop getting all messed up in the head around him. I followed him inside the suite, and he made his way over to the bar as my gaze took in the scene in front of me. The dining table had four three-tiered serving trays. The first one was filled with berries and grapes, the next was macarons in an array of colors, the third had lemon crinkle cookies only, and the last had different exotic cheeses and fancy crackers. A bottle of champagne was in a gold bucket of ice at the end with only one flute beside it.

  “Help yourself,” he said, breaking the silence, and I swung my gaze over to him as he held a glass of whiskey in his hand. “You have to be starving.”

  I was, but this was something one would find at a party. Not in a hotel suite.

  “Is someone else coming too?” I asked.

  “No,” he replied.

  “This is all for us?”

  He nodded his head and walked over to the table to take a lime-green-colored macaron and popped it into his mouth. His dark eyes met mine as he chewed.

  Did the man have to be sexy even when he ate?

  I walked over to stand near the fruit tray and took a handful of the red grapes. “This looks amazing.”

  He glanced back at it as if he didn’t find it impressive at all. “Figured you could use an appetizer while we waited for your victory dinner.”

  This was his idea of an appetizer? Had he ordered this? Or was it just something that was done after a race? I wanted to ask him all these questions, but I refrained.

  “Thank you,” I told him.

  He reached for one of the lemon cookies, then closed the distance between us. When he stopped in front of me, he brushed my lips with the edge of it. “Open.”

  My lips parted, and I took a bite of the cookie, not taking my eyes off him. Thatcher’s gaze was locked on my mouth as I chewed. The wild, crazy rhythm my heart had decided to race off into made it hard to swallow.

  “You’re gonna need to eat more than that, or I’ll feed you until I’m satisfied.”

  My entire body felt warm. Blinking, I stared up at him silently and opened for him to place another bite of the cookie inside.

  What was I doing? What was he doing?

  He licked his bottom lip as he stayed completely locked in on my mouth.

  The doorbell startled me, and Thatcher’s eyes lifted to look over my shoulder toward the doors.

  “Dinner is here,” he said, then stepped around me and headed in that direction.

  I sucked in a deep breath and placed a hand on my heart to calm it down. There were things in life I knew to stay away from. The evil of the world was pretty cut and dry. I did my best to do good, be good, and make a positive mark on the world.

  The emotions that Thatcher stirred inside me couldn’t be labeled good. Now that I knew how exciting, tempting, and addictive the darkness could be, I wasn’t sure I would have the strength to stay away.

  • Seventeen •

  If she had any idea just how well I knew her, she’d be frightened.

  Thatcher

  Irritated, I looked down at my phone. King was texting me. I’d been enjoying myself, watching Capri eat her baked lobster mac and cheese. Possibly a little too much. A distraction was most likely a good thing.

  Did you threaten Evander Brodi?

  I picked up my drink and tossed the rest of the bourbon back before replying.

  Yes.

  Had the pussy ass called King? Why did people think King could handle me? King was aware he had no control over me. There were times I didn’t have control over me.

  Because he wanted to hire Capri to ride for Brodi Stables?

  I read it, then glanced up at Capri. She’d get more requests from other owners. She’d been incredible out there. Any other jockey would have been riding for more than one stable today. I’d made sure that didn’t happen. The idea of someone else working with her sparked shit in my soul that no one needed to ignite.

  Yes.

  She wouldn’t be riding for anyone other than me. It was selfish, but there was no other way around it.

  It’s her career! You’re gonna fuck it up by scaring off everyone else from hiring her? That’s fucked up, Thatch. You have to see how that isn’t okay.

  I didn’t need King to tell me how to handle Capri’s life.

  She placed her fork down beside her plate and sighed contentedly. No other owner was gonna make sure she was treated properly after a race. I did that. This was what she deserved. I’d allowed her to ride for Tom until I couldn’t handle it any longer. She was at Shephard Ranch now, and she was going to ride for us exclusively.

  I’ll worry about her career. Not your business.

  I set the phone down and decided to ignore anything more he had to say. Shephard Ranch was superior to Brodi Stables. Riding our horses would make her elite. And if she only rode for us, then I could protect her. I didn’t trust other fucking dicks around her.

  “I don’t know how you pulled it off, but that was amazing. Thank you,” she said as her eyes lifted to meet mine.

  The pink flush on her cheeks could be her reaction to being around me, which she did often. Or it could be the lemon drop martinis. She’d had three glasses because I’d kept filling her glass.

  “You earned it,” I replied before pushing my chair back and standing. I needed another drink.

  “I didn’t realize jockeys who rode for big stables were treated so well,” she said.

  I smirked as I reached for the bottle. She was fishing. The way her voice got high and that little quiver in it gave her away. If she had any idea just how well I knew her, she’d be frightened.

  “Why wouldn’t they be?” I asked, pouring my glass halfway full before turning back to her.

  She was fidgeting with her hands in her lap. I liked seeing her this way, but only with me. If another man made her nervous, anxious, uncertain, I’d have to hurt him.

  She shrugged. “I mean, yes, you need jockeys to win races, but we win money too. All this extra … I guess I didn’t know it was a thing.”

  It wasn’t. I had never spent more than five minutes in any jockey’s presence we’d hired. If we ever conversed with the jockeys that we hired, it was Sebastian or King who dealt with them. Miller was the trainer, and it was his place to truly form any relationship with the jockeys. Capri didn’t need to know that though. The more she knew about … things, it could become difficult.

  When another text from King didn’t come, I picked up my phone and slipped it in my pocket. She needed rest. Today had been a long one for her, and after making sure she was fed well, I knew she would sleep comfortably.

  “We will head to the airport at nine in the morning,” I informed her.

  Staying in here with her any longer wasn’t wise.

  “Okay,” she replied.

  The sound of her moving her chair back across the floor told me she was getting up. I looked back at her. The desire to fill the tub with salts and bubbles, then put her in it and bathe her was getting stronger by the minute. That was a line neither of us needed me to cross.

  Without another word, I walked back toward the master bedroom. I’d allowed myself to indulge in her company long enough. When my thoughts went to images of her naked, I knew I was edging too close to dangerous territory.

  • Eighteen •

  “Do you think about having that pretty pink cunt licked?”

  Capri

  Drying my hair with a towel after a long, hot shower, I stared at the door leading into the rest of the suite from the room I was sleeping in. Thoughts of Thatcher seemed to be all I could dwell on. Even when I tried to focus on my race today, my head always went right back to him. It was hard not to. He made me feel like a teenage girl with a crush. The kind that you fantasized about, but knew there was no chance it would ever become reality.

  I was a grown woman, and it was just sad that I couldn’t seem to get my head straight with that man. I should start dating. I wouldn’t race again for the Shephard Ranch until November. They wouldn’t require me there often. Miller hadn’t even mentioned me coming over to ride Zephyr at all. I’d hoped that Thatcher would bring it up tonight, but he hadn’t. Maybe on the flight home tomorrow, he would.

  Dropping the towel on the bed, I grabbed a brush and ran it through my hair until the tangles were gone. I needed a glass of water before finally climbing into bed. I’d drunk more lemon drops than anything this evening, and my mouth felt parched. I hadn’t drunk nearly enough water today.

  I went to open the door and glanced around to see the lights were off, and the area was illuminated by the city that never slept outside the floor-to-ceiling windows. Walking quietly over to the bar, I took a glass and opened the ice maker to fill it before adding water. It was going to be hard to go back to my house after being spoiled, staying here. This was a level of luxury I’d never had a taste of, and I had to admit, I liked it. I knew that it wouldn’t always be like this when I rode for others, and I shouldn’t get used to it.

  I took a drink from the glass, then turned around and almost dropped it. Instead of the glass shattering on the floor at my feet, Thatcher’s hand wrapped around it as I stared up at him with my heart now racing in my chest. I hadn’t heard him walk out of his room, much less move in so close behind me.

  “You scared me,” I gasped.

  “Good.”

  He smelled amazing. I inhaled the clean scent of his soap, and then my eyes dropped to his bare chest. The sight of the small barbell in his nipple up close had me sucking in my next breath. Dear Lord, his chest was the kind of chiseled perfection that sculptures were made of. Unable to stop myself, I continued greedily taking him in as my eyes moved lower until the towel that was wrapped around his waist left me frozen. He’d come out here in only a towel. I couldn’t breathe.