11. Mika

11

MIKA

“ L et her go, Piper!” My voice cuts through the warm air, my grip tight on the stopwatch as I watch the scene unfold across the track.

There’s something mesmerizing about watching Fate run. The way her hooves pound rhythmically against the soft red sand, her body hugging the rail as though born to it. Piper, low and streamlined, moves with her, their rhythm in perfect harmony. It’s a beautiful sight, one that always leaves me in awe—this connection between rider and horse, this shared trust and power.

Yet, even as I focus on their run, my thoughts drift. The faint hum of machinery pulls my gaze toward the south pasture, where the cement mixer churns quietly in the distance. The foundation for the helipad is being laid on the far end of the property, something I never imagined I’d see. Alfie clearly took my words to heart, taking steps to keep his helicopter away from the horses. I should be relieved. I should feel satisfaction in having my message heard. But his absence weighs on me, a strange emptiness I can’t quite explain. I wanted him to understand, but I can’t help but feel unsettled about his absence.

I force my attention back to the track, just in time to see Fate round the bend. She changes leads seamlessly, launching into an even faster gear. It’s amazing how she makes it all look so easy. For a moment, everything feels right—Fate’s progress, Piper’s control, the way the world makes sense when they’re flying down the track.

Out here, in the quiet rhythm of hooves and the fresh scent of grass, I can almost forget everything else. The uncertainty with Alfie, the growing confusion I feel whenever he crosses my mind—it fades into the background when I’m with Fate. She’s the one constant, the one thing that hasn’t let me down.

“Bring her in!” I call out, and Piper reluctantly responds.

I can hardly blame her. There’s a temptation to let Fate keep running, to see how far she can go, how fast. But I won’t risk pushing her too hard, not now. Not when she’s showing so much promise. Piper knows this, too, and as she brings Fate down from her sprint, I watch the interplay between them. Fate is high-strung today, full of restless energy, but Piper handles it with the ease of someone who understands the balance between control and freedom. It’s what makes them such a good pair.

“I think she’s good,” Piper says, pulling Fate to a stop by the fence.

Ducking beneath the railing, I stride over to run a palm down the filly’s sweaty chest. Her energy comes down with her heart rate, and I know she’s had a good workout when she’s not tugging at the bit. I let them walk another fifteen minutes, until the veins have settled beneath Fate’s coppery coat, and I take the time to jot down the details of her progress. They’ll all go into the report I put together once a month for each horse that Alfie can review. The Carvers always took great care to read the details of their horses’ progress, and I wonder if Alfie will take any interest at all. Judging by the way he handled our meeting about the race schedule, I doubt it.

“Let’s take her back. Hector can hose her off.”

“Sounds good.” Pulling Fate to a stop, Piper slings her leg over the back of the saddle as I take the filly’s reins to keep her steady.

The moment Piper dismounts outside the barn, Hector steps in to guide Fate inside for her post-run grooming.

Over the rhythmic beat of Fate’s hooves against the cement floor of the alley, I catch the murmur of conversation drifting from the hands. Gossip, as usual, clings to the air, and unsurprisingly, Alfie’s name is at the heart of it. His presence, even in absence, seems inescapable, weaving itself into the fabric of our everyday lives. Despite my best efforts, I can’t stop my thoughts from returning to him and the unsettling tension that lingers after our last meeting. His name alone stirs something deep and unwelcome, and I feel my cheeks flush as Francisco’s voice rises, spinning yet another wild tale.

“He must be paying off the police,” Francisco says with a hint of certainty. “No one else could get away with arson like that.”

“Or maybe it’s his men who make sure there’s no trail,” Javier mutters before falling silent when he spots me.

Normally, I would dismiss the chatter with a sharp reminder to focus on work, but Alfie has occupied my thoughts for days, and my patience is wearing thin. I need answers, though I know they won’t come from him. Instead, I find myself leaning into the conversation, curiosity outweighing caution.

“What do you guys know about Mr. Bonetti’s personal life?” I ask, keeping my voice even, though my pulse quickens as their gazes land on me, startled.

After a pause, Francisco shrugs, his focus shifting back to grooming Bolt’s dappled gray barrel. “He’s the head of his family now. His father was killed in that shootout a few years ago—the one after that big drug bust. You remember?”

I shake my head no. “Should I?” I rarely pay attention to news from the city. It doesn’t have much effect on my life out here, and I don’t see the point of listening to all the depressing violence.

“It was a pretty big deal. It made national headlines,” Alex adds.

I nod, unsure of how to respond. Maybe I should know who these families are. I did a bit of digging on Alfie right after our first encounter and turned up plenty of stuff to raise the hairs on the back of my neck, but I hadn’t thought to look further into the Bonetti family. I didn’t even realize mafias were still a legitimate presence in New York until a few days ago. But that’s not the detail I’m digging for now .

“What about his current family? I heard he’s engaged.” I reach out to stroke Liza’s soft nose, hoping to appear indifferent.

“He’s marrying the daughter of the Kapranov family,” Alex says, his hands working over Liza’s bay coat with sudden intensity. He says their name with a kind of reverent fear similar to how the hands spoke about Alfie before he first came to look at Fate.

“That’s bad?” I ask, my voice faltering.

Javier’s sharp intake of breath sends a chill through me. “Both families are dangerous, se?orita . But the Russians—they’re something else.”

Francisco shakes his head. “The Bratva are crazy, is what they are. You don’t want to cross them—either family, really.”

A Russian and Italian mafia both occupying New York City? I feel like I stepped into some kind of alternate universe where men in pinstripe suits might pull up to a barbershop with tommy guns to demand payment in exchange for protection or something.

The atmosphere shifts, tension hanging heavy in the air. “You really haven’t heard?” Javier asks, eyes narrowing as they meet mine.

I swallow hard. “Heard what?”

A flicker of fear crosses Francisco’s face as if even speaking Alfie’s name could summon him. “People are talking about the wedding because if those two families unite, they could be the most powerful force in the city. Beyond any kind of law.”

His words sink in like lead, cold and unrelenting. The implications are far more dangerous than I imagined, and the knot in my stomach tightens. Alfie’s attention has already brought enough complications, and the last thing I need is to be caught between him and his fiancée—let alone her powerful family. My pulse races as I imagine the consequences if she were to discover his interest in me. The very thought sends a flush through my skin, one I fight to suppress as memories of Alfie’s hands on me flood back. I press my thighs together to ease the unwanted ache. I hate how often my mind recalls the feeling of his fingers expertly teasing my clit, and even worse is the instant arousal that follows. I can’t get him out of my head .

But from the sounds of it, I need to, if I want to live.

Francisco’s voice interrupts my thoughts. “Not that it matters, right, se?orita ? You and the bossman have been spending plenty of time behind closed doors.” His grin is sly, and the implication lands like a slap.

My temper flares, sudden and sharp. “If you think a change in management gives you the right to speak to me like that, you’re mistaken.” I stand tall, forcing calm into my tone even as anger burns beneath the surface. “This barn is my responsibility, and I won’t tolerate that kind of talk. My relationship with Mr. Bonetti is strictly professional. If anyone here thinks otherwise, maybe they should reconsider where they work.”

The silence that follows is thick with shock. I take a steadying breath, knowing I’ve let my frustrations spill over. It’s not just Francisco’s inappropriate comment—it’s everything. Alfie’s arrival has disrupted the order I’ve worked so hard to maintain, and I find myself constantly defending my integrity. It’s exhausting.

Javier is the first to break the silence. “Understood, se?orita ,” he says quietly, casting a warning glance at the others.

Francisco, looking more sheepish now, murmurs his apology. “I didn’t mean any offense. I was only joking.”

I accept his apology with a nod, but my nerves remain frayed. The truth is, I can’t even fully dismiss what he’s implied. Alfie’s presence in my office, the way our conversations shift behind closed doors—it’s not something I can easily explain away. And worse still, I can’t deny the part of me that’s curious about where things might have gone if I hadn’t stopped them.