Page 53 of The Billionaire's Baby Betrayal

Piper heard him laughing as he terminated the call. In her heart, she knew what Felix said was true. If no one hired her to do the job she loved, nothing was left for her but a quiet, unfulfilled life. She felt nauseous at the thought and rushed to the bathroom to be sick. When she came out of the bathroom, her mother was standing in her room.

“You’re pregnant, Carrie.”

CHAPTER23

ANDRÉS

Andrés would not let hearsay and conjecture defeat him. As far as he was concerned, the investigation was not complete even though his usual lab had retested the sample only to reach the same conclusion. He kept his plans to go to Kentucky for the race. He refused to be defined by his failures in business or breeding and racing; he would not hide away.

The racing commission had advised that an independent large animal veterinarian be brought in to examine Señor Alberto Luis to determine if the horse suffered any condition that would necessitate steroid injections and take another blood sample. But that couldn’t be arranged until after the Kentucky race. Andrés admitted to Eleanor that he had trouble wrapping his mind around the idea that Piper was responsible, and that there had to be more to the story.

Sitting in the hotel bar in Kentucky, drinking a very expensive Irish whiskey, he recalled the most difficult conversation he had ever had with his son. Andrés had put off telling his son about Piper’s departure, but Luis had come to him two days after she left.

“Papa, I haven’t been riding with Piper any day this week, and she hasn’t been here for supper either. Is she sick?”

Andrés looked at his son’s face and admired the concern and compassion he saw there. “No, Luis, she’s not ill. Piper no longer works here, and she had to leave quickly. I know you will be sad…”

Luis’ expression changed from concerned to hurt. “What did you do to make her leave us? Piper wouldn’t leave me and not tell me or say goodbye. We have more chapters to read, and you said she could give me real lessons.” He wiped the tears from his face. “Bring her back, Papa, or I won’t like you anymore.”

Andrés watched the person who meant the most to him turn and run away from him.

“And my son hasn’t looked at me since,” he said to the whiskey glass.

“I’m sorry, sir, did you say something?” asked the bartender.

“No. Only talking to myself. You’ll put this on my room bill?”

“Yes, Mr. Olivera. It’s already been charged.”

“Thank you.”

Andrés downed what was left of the whiskey and left a generous tip for the bartender. He had scheduled a video call with his investors for six o’clock that evening, so he headed to his hotel room to set up his laptop. He got on the elevator and heard someone yell to hold it, which he did. The face he saw in front of him surprised him.

“Armand, what are you doing in Kentucky?”

“I am here to support my friend, of course,” said Armand. “I am sorry for your misfortune, mon ami, but I knew it would not stop you from making a showing at this race.”

Andrés clapped his friend on his back. “I am grateful for your support, Armand. It’s been a horrendous week on several fronts. Are you staying at this hotel?” The elevator pinged at Andrés’ floor, and the two friends left the elevator.

“No, I’m staying with friends who have a magnificent home above the river. That’s one of the reasons I came to see you; they have invited you to join our group in their box suite at the racetrack.”

Andrés didn’t respond until they were in his suite. “That’s very gracious of them, but I’m afraid I must decline.” He opened a bottle of wine and poured two glasses.

“Please don’t tell me you came all this way and don’t plan to attend.”

“I plan on watching from here and going to a few after-parties. It is not my intention to hide behind this so-called scandal but going to the race is too blatant a display of arrogance, in my opinion.”

Armand shrugged. “Then let it not be blatant. The suite is above the grandstand, and you and I will take our seats early and drink expensive champagne until the others arrive. I have supplied a case of our winery’s finest champagne.”

“Of course you have.” Andrés laughed as he joined Armand in the suite’s living room.

“You are aware all our racing friends are waiting for you to comment on the matter, aren’t you?” Armand took a drink of the wine. “This is an excellent wine. It is ours, non?”

“Not all excellent wines come from your winery, Armand. You, mon ami, are the definition of arrogance.” Andrés knew the direction their conversation would take if he answered his friend’s question. “There is no comment to make until the investigation is finished.”

“And will the investigation explain why Piper Marshall is no longer employed as your head trainer and no one knows where she disappeared?”

“If I go to the race with you, can this be the end of this conversation?”

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