Page 2 of A Billionaire's Secret

“Ugh, Tony—” I frowned. “I've never seen a horse run as fast and recover as quickly as Desert Rose—”

“Yes, I was surprised too,” he interrupted me, “but we need to focus on what you could have done differently out there rather than questioning the performance of the other jockey and their horse."

I nodded in agreement, suppressing my suspicions, and entered the changing room. I let the hot water clear away any remnants of pity and despair, stepped into a pair of tight jeans and a loose-fitting t-shirt, and put my hair up in a ponytail.

I felt a renewed sense of determination wash over me. Yes, the defeat still stung, but it wouldn't define me.

***

‘Harry’s Bar’, a famous watering hole known for its lively atmosphere and potent drinks, welcomed me with its flickering neon sign. Tony and I would often go there to discuss strategies after long days of training or to celebrate our wins. Or, like today, numb the pain of losses.

The familiar aroma of warm wood and aged whiskey embraced me as I walked toward the entrance. The bar was dimly lit, casting a mysterious ambiance upon the bustling crowd. Tony motioned me toward the bar, and I settled into a worn-out stool.

“I’ll have a whiskey sour,” I yelled to the bartender.

The bar hummed with chatter, laughter, and the aroma of liniment filled the air. Jockeys, both victorious and defeated, mingled and exchanged stories, their voices blending into a symphony of shared experiences.

For the next few minutes, Tony and I delved into a detailed analysis of the race—every turn, every decision, every stride. Tony offered his insights, pointing out areas where I could have made different choices, and emphasized the importance of timing and strategy.

“Daddy!” Diana’s shriek pierced the musty bar air and unsettled the sense of calmness that had finally begun swimming through my veins.

I slowly turned my head in the direction of her voice and squinted my eyes to make out the person she was referring to as her father.

Blood rushed to my face. For the second time today. I recognized the same man who had caught me staring at him after the race. He towered over Diana with a snug smile and raised his glass to me and Tony the moment he felt my eyes on him.

Did I hear that right? That guy is her father?

Shaking off my confusion, I turned my attention back to the bar and ordered another drink. The bartender served me with a wink and a nod, sensing my need for a little liquid comfort.

“Vicky, I see you ordered another, but I have to head out,” Tony informed me as he got up from his barstool. “I promised Sarah I’ll get home on time tonight.”

“Ok, Tony, no worries,” I nodded in agreement, but a lump formed in my throat at the thought of continuing the night alone.

As I watched Tony walk out the door, I contemplated finishing my drink and heading home. I couldn’t bear to look at Diana celebrate. I also couldn’t afford to rack up a hefty bill at the bar. I took one last sip, climbed off the stool, and looking at the floor in an attempt to avoid everyone’s glares, I proceeded to walk away.

And then I felt his stern hand on my shoulder as I bumped into him.

“Victoria, is it?” He looked down at me as I looked up at him to apologize.

“It is,” I confirmed coldly. “Excuse me, I was heading out.”

“I’m Christian, Diana’s father.” He declared victoriously.

“Good for you,” I mumbled, trying to walk away again. I needed to hide away from those green eyes before they saw right into my soul.

“You were amazing today. Your horse is truly regal.” Christian attempted to butter me up.

“Thanks. So was your daughter.” I reluctantly complimented Diana.

“Can I buy you a drink?” He offered but immediately regretted it at the sight of my eyes rolling. “And talk to you about horses?”

Sure, if you’d only tell me how your horse beat mine.

My heart raced with a mixture of apprehension and an unfamiliar feeling of excitement. I froze in my place while Christian Forbes, the father of my enemy, waited for an answer. I had a choice to make—I could either go home to my dull existence, or I could wipe the smile off of Diana’s face by befriending her father and hopefully proving that my suspicions about her horse were correct.

“I’d like to talk about Desert Rose.” I stared back at him and watched a wide smile take over his handsome face.

A flock of butterflies awakened in my core.

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