Page 17 of Virgin's Stolen Nights with the Boss

She was so used to making such decisions that it was going to be hard to hold her tongue.

‘Blake!’ someone called out, and she was told to ‘wait there’ as he headed off to do whatever he needed to.

Carmen stood there, feeling redundant, as the yard came to life and the grooms started to let the horses out and the day got underway.

It felt pleasingly familiar to be there, yet frustrating to stand idle and not be a part of it.

She thought not just of her own yard, and of how Presumir would be whinnying and calling out for attention if she was left to stand still doing nothing, but also of the busy mornings she’d spent at the famed equestrian school in Jerez, which had been such a big part of her life.

By now she’d be out riding, or would have just returned, breathless, from taking the most difficult of the mounts out. Or perhaps she would be sipping a well-earned coffee with colleagues and friends before starting schooling or rehearsing for the famous shows. Sometimes she taught a class—never beginners, but riders who had travelled from all across the globe to learn from masters of the art of equestrian ballet...

For six weeks Carmen had told herself that she didn’t miss it...that after twenty-two years of riding, she needed time away from the horses...

Now she was trying to fathom how she’d survived so much time apart from them.

She wanted to be the one dealing with Domitian.

She watched as Elias exited the stable, pleased to note that he didn’t close the door, thereby letting the horse know he was the boss. When Domitian’s black nose appeared, Elias didn’t hold a stick, or use the flag that was pinned next to the stable door, but instead lifted an arm and pointed, telling him firmly to get back. Domitian clearly complied, because she heard a snort and the nose disappeared.

Elias stood patiently, refusing to bolt the door closed and walk away until he had control of their relationship. He ran his hand through tousled hair. It had been sleek and brushed back from his face the other night, but it was now black and shining from sweat. His white jodhpurs and black polo shirt were drenched, though how much was exertion and how much was from hosing down the restless horse she wasn’t sure.

‘Elias?’ a female voice shouted. ‘Your father’s on a video call. He wants you there...’

‘Tell him I’m busy,’ Elias said, still not closing the stable door.

‘I already have,’ she called back. ‘He says they’ll wait.’

‘Great...’ he muttered under his breath.

Carmen looked over and saw a silver-haired, middle-aged woman poking her head out of the office.

‘Give him this,’ she said, and threw a bundle to Carmen, who caught it.

She realised it was a towel wrapped around a shirt. A business shirt...

Was she supposed to hand them to him?

Elias wasn’t paying attention to her. He was still focused on Domitian, but it was clear the horse was staying well back in the stable.

‘Do you want me to feed him now?’ Carmen offered. ‘While he’s back?’

He briefly glanced over. ‘You’re not to go in with him until Blake or I give the all clear.’

Carmen shrugged. ‘Here.’ She tossed him the bundle and he caught it.

‘Thank you.’

Notthanks, as was more commonly used here. For a brief second—verybrief—she felt his eyes on her, and she recalled that he’d been one of the very few guests at the event the other night to thank her.

For the first time she wondered if perhaps he did, after all, recall her, but then he turned back to Domitian, who was still behaving and staying well back in his stall, despite the other horses being moved through the yard.

Though Elias was sweaty and dishevelled, and still a touch breathless, he looked somehow more at ease than he had the other night. And, to Carmen, ridiculously more handsome—if that were possible. He had been dressed in the finest tailoring then, and yet the jodhpurs showed off long, muscular thighs and taut buttocks.

Just when Carmen was about to look away, Elias made it impossible for her to do so—because he pulled off his drenched top.

Carmen worked with sports people all the time, and was more than used to well-exercised and toned bodies—professionally, a body was simply a vehicle, a machine to be fed, exercised and maintained. Personally, she’d dated all the men her father had approved of, and had spent a lot of time on the beach or at parties, sometimes aboard Sebastián’s yacht. She was usually surrounded by a plethora of men who perfected their bodies solely to be seen, or to impress, or to provoke a reaction...

Usually they did not. Not in her.

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