“For a fuckin’ tight bastard Brad Sommers sure knows how to throw a lavish party,” I observe, looking around the luxurious penthouse. It’s overflowing with beautiful people he has flown in from all over the world to enjoy his hospitality, admire his generosity, and envy his great fortune. This party is supposed to be in my honor, but in fact he wants the whole world to know he is the proud owner of Magnificent Obsession, the champion horse I bred for him.

“Yeah,” Chaz agrees with a laugh. “When he throws a party, you have to look past the fact that he is a total dick. Anyway, you bloody deserve this bash. How do you do it? How can you tell that a three-year old foal will become a champion horse?”

“I don’t know. I just do,” I say with a shrug. It’s true. There is no science to it. It is pure instinct. Horses are my work, my life, and my passion. I have no time for human beings. They are disloyal, greedy, cruel, ungrateful, self-obsessed, vain creatures. Horses. They are gentle beasts capable of great love. Every horse I have bred I have loved with all my heart.

Kinda breaks my heart even now to know Magnificent Obsession will be the property of such a shallow philistine like Brad. He’ll never see her as anything more than an expensive bit of horseflesh with the potential to bring him the fame and adulation he craves. I wish she could’ve gone to someone a little more worthy of her. Somebody who could appreciate her as more than a fast set of hooves.

Chaz throws an arm around my shoulders. “Come on, Tyson. I dare you to show me that all the legends about an Irishman’s ability to hold his liquor aren’t bullshit.”

I chuckle at the challenge. Chaz has no idea. To start with he’s been drinking all afternoon, and is already halfway in the bag. Even if he wasn’t I could drink him under the table no problem. They didn’t call me Hollow Legs back at the young offender’s correctional institute in Ashfield for nothing. “You might find yourself regretting that challenge, my friend,” I warn.

“Empty words,” he taunts with a cheeky smile.

We make our way to one of the three bars set up for just the occasion and I order a double whiskey neat. Chaz wants to see what I can do? Why not?

“There he is!” Brad’s enthusiastic voice booms over the party noises from across the room. I wince inwardly as I turn to face him. “The miracle worker! The man who’s gonna get me a permanent seat in the winner’s circle! You should come work for me. I promise to make it worth your while.”

I laugh, but it’s strained. I regard him from above the rim of my glass. I received his payment for Magnificent Obsession, so I know how much coin he dropped on her, but even the idea of working for him makes my skin itch. “Let’s wait until she wins a few more times before you crown me.”

“Look at all that modesty.” His eyes glitter with excitement.

To a man like him she will always be just an investment. He will never see beyond her shining perfect form. If she was injured tomorrow he would never suffer other than to regret the investment.

He slings a hand up to my shoulders, and I smell sweet champagne on his breath. “So how do you like it?” he asks, swinging his arm in an arc to encompass the entire suite. It’s grand, to be sure, with its high ceilings—four or five meters, in my estimation—and windows which stretch the full height and length of three walls, granting guests an incredible night view of the twinkling lights of Paris. Fuck knows what he paid for the privilege.

“It’s like sitting on a cloud, looking down on the city below,” I sum up.

Throwing his head back, he starts cackling like a fucking hyena, the action pitches him off-balance and he starts to fall backwards. I catch him in time to keep him from cracking his head open on his fine Italian marble floor. He pats me on the hand as I set him upright.

He winks at me. “Magnificent Obsession is a hell of a lot prettier and faster than any blue-chip share.”

If I stay around him any longer my fist is going to end up connecting with his jaw. I take a belt from my whiskey. I look around and wonder where the hell Chaz escaped to.

He leans against the bar and looks at me with a sly expression. “Actually, I could introduce you to a few pretty things that are so fast they’ll make you see Jesus!”

Before I can react, he signals to a woman in a long red dress and she immediately starts walking towards us. One look at her and I can see that she is a high-class hooker. I finish my whiskey and signal to the bartender to refresh my drink.

“Hellllllllo,” she drawls.

“Be nice to him,” Brad says, and walks away.

“Gosh, you’re a good looking one,” she says looking up into my eyes and running her manicured nails along my jacket lapel. Her perfume lingers in the air between us.

“Listen, I’m flying out tonight. So this might not be such a good idea …” I shrug.

“I don’t need the whole night,” she whispers.

I take her hand in mine and put it on the bar. “Thanks sweetheart, but I’m not really in a party mood tonight.”

“That’s a pity. We would have had a great time together,” she says, and even manages to look regretful.

I leave her and take a slow walk around the perimeter of the room. It seems like some of the most beautiful women in Europe are gathered in Brad’s vast living room.

“See anything you like?” Chaz asks from my side.

“How the hell do you randomly pop up out of nowhere?” I ask with a frown. “And while I’m at it, where the fuck did you disappear to while I was trying to keep myself from punching Brad in the mouth?”

“Oh, sorry about that,” he says with a sly grin. “I was busy. A redhead pulled me aside and asked me a thousand questions about you. Beauty she was too … fucking legs that went up to her neck.”

I take a sip of my whiskey. “Really now? Why didn’t she come up to me herself?”

He shrugs. “I’m not as intimidating as you. Women see a short guy with a dad bod and automatically think he’s easy to talk to. One of the many misconceptions I have to deal with on a daily basis.”

“Like they don’t warm up real quick when they find out how full your bank accounts are,” I say dryly.

“If I can keep them hanging around long enough to find out,” he points out, laughing.

I scan the room lazily, my eyes traveling over the many firm, half-naked bodies, some of which sway in time with the music pumping out of Brad’s exceptional sound system. More than a few of them notice me sizing them up and flash “come hither” smiles my way. I’ve learned to not let it go to my head … too much. I’m only a man, after all. “Which one is she?” I ask.

“There she is.” Chaz points across the room to a corner. Four girls sitting on a sofa. Sure enough, one of them is a stunning redhead. Porcelain skin, sapphire eyes, and a body that would tempt the devil himself. Yes, she’s very tasty, but it’s not her my eyes can’t get enough of. It’s the girl sitting next to her.

“Who’s the girl on her left?” I ask, eyes glued.

“Which one? The blonde?”

“Yeah. The blonde.”

“No idea, mate. If you’re not going to have the redhead …”

He’s still talking, but I stop hearing him. I can’t break focus. The blonde is all I can look at, all I can think about. Her hair shines like gold, and she swings it from side to side as she laughs at something one of her friends said. The light shines directly on her and her eyes are emeralds, sparkling and clear. Her full lips curve into a smile as she playfully shoves the redhead.