Page 65 of Unwillingly His

This wasn’t a game to him.

It was a war.

He sat on his horse in front of his men ready to lead them into battle like a true king.

CHAPTER 25

LUCIAN

She was a distraction.

My head should have been in the game.

I should have been focused, ready to take down the opposing team, but instead, I was watching her out of the corner of my eye.

Stella was sitting with my daughter-in-law, as well as my daughter and her husband.

Stella should have been safe.

And she would have been, despite the way the liquor flowed in the VIP tent, if she’d had enough sense to sit in the fucking middle.

Instead, she was sitting on the edge, leaving the married women in the center.

Every man at this club knew who Amelia was married to, and there was no way that a fucking security guard was going to let anyone near Charlotte.

Stella, however, didn’t have that kind of protection from the vultures that liked to pick up women at polo matches for a quick nooner.

The fucking spineless bastards who liked to sit in the white tent, drinking the whisky I so graciously gave to the club at a heavy discount, and socialize like they didn’t have a care in the world.

They weren’t real men.

They were children who liked to pretend that they were refined enough to enjoy the art of polo, the mastery of the horses, and the thrill of the game, but without the balls or talent to actually play.

I couldn’t count the number of times I’ve heard them laughing, joking about the number of women, usually someone’s wife, they had lured into the forested area for a quickie.

Or how they’d sweet-talked so-and-so’s daughter into blowing them in the stables.

I never thought too much of it, mostly because they knew who I was so they knew who my daughters were and that they were not to be fucked with.

But my status as trustee over Stella’s estate was not common knowledge.

Her father was not a member here.

They would see her in that pretty blue dress and immediately assume she was fair game. Or worse, they would recognize her as a recently orphaned billionaire heiress and pounce on the opportunity.

The game began, so I poured my frustration into battle.

I rode harder than I needed to, stole the ball every chance I got, and definitely hit it with far more force than was needed to get it between the goalposts.

I also came very close to fouling several of the opposing team, even one of my own because they wouldn’t get the fuck out of my way.

They should have known better.

It almost made me feel better, except every time I looked up, there was Stella, drinking a mint julep, laughing with Charlotte, Amelia, and some little fucker in a pink blazer and white pants who’d decided to take the seat next to her.

What kind of self-respecting man dressed like a pink lollipop?

The kind of man who wanted to be seen as non-threatening to innocent little girls like Stella.

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