Page 12 of Taming Mika

Logically, I know that. I’ve been putting that into practice for years. And most of the time, I really don’t mind my solitude. The men I work with respect my personal space, and the Carvers have been nothing but kind and supportive in that regard. Only now they’re gone. And the man who’s taken charge has no qualms about trampling my boundaries.

I’ve never had a boss cross that line before. Objectively speaking, I know the safest choice would be to hand in my resignation, to leave before he has the opportunity to try anything like that again. And yet, I’m painfully reluctant to do so.

What happened in Fate’s stall is beyond reason. As inappropriate as Alfie’s behavior was, I can make sense of it. I know what kind of man he is. His actions are predictable, and I can see where it’s headed. What I’m struggling to wrap my mind around is my response. Alfie triggered something in me that I don’t quite understand. When he encouraged me to deny my feelings for him, evenchallengedme to do so, I couldn’t.

I might have pushed him away in the end, but for a moment, I’m pretty sure I lost my fucking mind.

Not only is he my employer, he has afiancée, for fuck’s sake. And I won’t relegate myself to being someone’s side piece. Never again. The pain it causes in the end, to me and to others, isn’t worth the momentary pleasure. Not that there was even that much ofthat, from the selfish men I’ve encountered before.

The tension eases slightly from my shoulders as my house comes into view. It’s where I’ve lived since the Carvers hired me four years ago. The residence sits beside the property manager’s house, andsince I’m here almost 24/7, it made sense when they offered me the accommodations. There’s no commute, and I can check on the horses at night and be at work within minutes every morning.

My white Ford F250 sits in the drive, trailer hitch attached to the back, waiting to haul us to the next race. But I prefer walking the short distance to and from the barn every day. It gives me time to get my head in the right place for the day ahead.

Taking a deep, steadying breath, I step inside my house, a simple two-bedroom home with plush, dark-leather couches, wood floors, muted pistachio-colored walls, and generic farmhouse paintings adorning them. It came furnished, and it’s nothing special or exceptionally stylish, but it’s perfectly utilitarian and comfortable. And it feels like home.

I stop and unzip my barn boots as soon as I’m in the door, kicking them off so I won’t get the house dirty. Then, I move further inside.

The air is still, clean, and cool. The scent of eggs and toast—my breakfast from this morning—lingers subtly in the mustard-colored kitchen. I close my eyes, breathing deeply to remind myself of who I am. Why I’m here.

It’s most definitelynotfor Alfie Bonetti.

But the scent of patchouli and eucalyptus triggers an image of him in my mind, and my breath hitches as I realize his scent still clings to my clothes. Shrugging out of my plaid button-down, I toss it to the floor and head toward my room, desperate to get away from the stifling reminder of his presence.

Peeling my tank top over my head, I toss it into my hamper, quickly following it with my jeans and underwear. And though it’s only midafternoon, I feel the intense need for a bath—something calm and soothing that will help me cleanse the throbbing ache between my thighs, and hopefully wash the memory of my new boss’s lips from my mind.

I turn the water on hot and wait, testing it as steam steadily billows from the rising surface. I pour a healthy amount of lavender Epsom salts into my soak. I dip a toe in once more before slowly sinking into the soothing floral concoction.

It’s the perfect remedy for a long day on the track. I’ve often taken baths after a horse managed to toss me unexpectedly from the saddle—usually a baby so new to being ridden, that it didn’t know what to make of a human on its back. But today, I need the calming heat and the rich scent of comfort to ease my tumultuous thoughts.

What is it about Alfie Bonetti that has me tied into such knots?

He’s prideful, entitled, and highly annoying. He doesn’t know the first thing about caring for the gentle creatures he’s just poured millions of dollars into. And I have no doubt he would never put an animal’s needs above his own. He’s just like the rest of them—rich, self-serving, and pushy.

So, why am I this painfully attracted to him?

I hate it.

Men like that don’t give a second thought to women—let alone a woman who has climbed, tooth and nail, from the bottom of the heap to make a name for herself. And it leaves a bitter taste in my mouth to think he’s stepped into my life and upturned all my plans with the flick of his wrist. One signature, and he all but owns me.

He most certainly owns every animal I’ve poured my blood, sweat, and tears into for the past four years. The Carvers didn’t even stop to consider what it would mean if they sold their barn to Alfie Bonetti. And here I am, contemplating if I’ll even have a future now that Alfie’s taken an interest in horse racing. An interest inme.

Despite the steam rising around me, the liquid heat seeping into my skin and pounding through my veins, an icy shiver trickles down my spine. It doesn’t matter how hot the bathwater is. I can’t run from what happened today. The man who purchased every one of the Carvers’ horseswantsme. He spent a hundred million dollars just so he could retain me. And now I’m starting to think the decision had nothing to do with my skills as a trainer—not that I really believed that was a factor in the first place. But today confirmed my suspicion beyond a doubt.

He bought them because he wantsme. It’s a grand gesture—one that could almost be flattering if he admired my work as a trainer. Once upon a time, I might have been young and naive enough toeven consider it romantic. But my instincts about Alfie were correct. He might be willing to throw his money around to get closer to me, but that doesn’t mean he values me as a person.

All he wants is to satisfy his desire. And apparently, he’s willing to pay an astronomical amount for a casual fuck. I’m not a material person, but even I have to admit the price he paid for my company is astonishing. No doubt most women in my position would be willing to go along with his proposition for that kind of money.

Not me. But apparently, physical chemistry is another matter entirely.

Heat blossoms in my cheeks when I think of Alfie’s molten hazel gaze. The way he trapped me against the wall in Fate’s stall, capturing me between his arms so I couldn’t escape.

Unwanted desire pools in my belly as I relax back against the porcelain tub.

And when my eyelids drift closed, all I see are those intense golden-green eyes telling me there’s nowhere that he can’t find me.

Alfie Bonetti is maddeningly presumptuous and terrifyingly forward. I can’t believe that he bought the Carvers’ entire estate—including the home I’m now hiding in like a frightened little bunny.

He’s crossed every boundary I’ve carefully laid in place. And he did so after merehoursof getting to know me.

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