4. Alfie

4

ALFIE

T he chopper’s propellers whir overhead, fading into white noise as the rich green New York countryside passes far beneath me. With the paperwork signed and the ink several days dry, I’m on my way back up to the massive estate I purchased from Millie and Roger Carver earlier this week.

Anticipation surges through my veins when I think about the trainer who came with my newly acquired property. I’ll be sitting down with Mika to go over the strategy she’s used to train the Carvers’ racehorses, and how it pertains to the profit side of the business. I’m more than a little curious how open she’ll be with me about it. Now that I own the horses she’s training, I’m curious to find out just how closely she and my mother’s philosophies align.

Nina, my little sister, is what really made me want to get back into the world of horses, however. She’s always loved them, and I know she would enjoy being around them again. With money coming in faster these days than I can spend or invest it, I had the idea to purchase a racehorse for her. But now there’s another draw for me, one that I’m eager to spend time with again. Mika.

I find myself dangerously intrigued by the outspoken trainer—and wildly attracted to her confident willfulness. In my world, I’m surrounded by well-bred, proper, demure young ladies who spend their days shopping for pretty dresses and worrying about their professionally styled hair or perfectly manicured nails. They’re so primped and primed and shaped to act like delicate china dolls that they don’t know how to behave like actual people . And while other men in my position seek women who know how to be seen, not heard, I find Mika’s down-to-earth passion and borderline offensive candor… refreshing. She’s rough and raw and unmistakably real .

She’s everything that women in my world aren’t supposed to be.

I want her.

What do I care if it took buying a barn rather than a horse to get her? Nina will be thrilled, and it gives me a good excuse to visit Mika whenever I want. Now, I just have to figure out what happens next with my new investment, which is why I’m flying up to meet with Mika. But my anticipation for our conversation stems from an entirely not-business-related reason. And as the helicopter starts to descend toward the rippling green grass of my new pasture, I catch myself smiling.

Mika’s waiting for me at the edge of the red gravel parking lot, a deep scowl on her face. Her blonde hair is pulled up in another messy bun today, just like it was earlier this week, but the wind from the chopper has freed several curly blonde locks that whip around her face. She narrows her almond-shaped eyes until I can no longer see their striking green-blue color.

She looks less than pleased by my arrival—just like she did the first time we met. And though I already gathered that she’s more comfortable around her horses than people, I’m of the distinct impression that she dislikes me specifically. As fun as it might be to find her buttons that I seem to push so easily—today, I intend to uncover why she doesn’t like me—among many other things.

“Mr. Bonetti,” she says stiffly as I step out of the helicopter and onto the smooth pavement of the parking lot.

Marco and Vincent follow me—my silent shadows—the men who don’t just protect me, but manage all aspects of my security. I trust them with my life, but it would seem Mika’s far less confident about their presence. It would be hard to miss the reluctant glance she casts in their direction before turning her gaze back to me. She’s not intimidated, but she hasn’t decided what to make of them either. At least, that’s what her expression would say.

“Call me Alfie,” I insist, extending my hand to her. “It’s a pleasure to see you again, Miss Harper.”

“Congratulations on your new acquisition. You’re now the proud owner of a stable full of Thoroughbreds,” she says with a distinct lack of enthusiasm, her stunning blue-green eyes guarded.

“Thanks.” I flash a toothy grin—one of the ways I’ve learned to disarm people and put them at ease. At least, it usually works that way. But with Mika, it only seems to make her bristle. “Let’s get out of the sun to discuss where we go from here, shall we?” I suggest.

Rather than leading me to the house, as I had anticipated, Mika takes me into a small office directly off the barn alley. I catch a glimpse of several horse tails through the stall bars, a few more velvet noses peeking out from the open aisle windows on our way. And though her expression remains stern, I catch a twitch of amusement at the corner of her lips when one of the foals snorts.

Mika closes the office door behind her, flicking on a light that also triggers a ceiling fan. Her office is a simple space, decorated sparsely with high-quality but utilitarian furniture—just an oak desk and several wooden chairs. The walls—made of the same fresh-scented pine wood boards as the stalls—are covered with framed pictures. Each one showcases a different horse posing with their jockeys, trainers, and the Carver family, a blanket of flowers resting on their withers.

I take a moment to study them, passing the seating options to walk along the wall. Mika features in several of the more recent photos, and I catch a glimpse of her genuine smile for the first time, in a picture where she’s holding a horse’s reins. It’s a beautiful smile, wide and symmetrical. It makes her look years younger, and for the first time, I wonder what age she might actually be. She looks young to be an accomplished trainer, but it would appear she’s brought several racehorses into the winner’s circle before .

“Feel free to have a seat wherever you like,” she says pointedly, heading to a small sink tucked in one corner of the room, and turning on the faucet to wash her hands.

For a moment, I consider taking the chair behind the desk—just to see her reaction. But if I keep teasing her, I suspect our relationship might pass the point of redemption. So, instead, I take the chair nearest the door.

Unbuttoning my suit jacket, I lean back and cross my ankle over my knee as I watch her finish at the sink and join me. It’s impossible not to admire her long, sexy legs, her well-worn jeans hugging her curves in a way that gives me an excellent preview of her lean, tight ass. Her burgundy plaid shirt brings out a hint of strawberry in her curly blonde hair, but it also hides her toned arms and strong shoulders, which I got a glimpse of the day I met her. What I wouldn’t give to peel back the layers and ravish her naked body with my tongue.

She looks powerful, confident—and her eyes spark with irritation when she catches me studying the curves of her body. She takes the seat behind her desk, pointedly putting a barrier between us.

Tension crackles in the air—desire on my part, hostility on hers. It makes me smile, pleasure humming in my blood at the anticipation of what’s ahead of us.

“Thank you for agreeing to meet with me,” I say. “Since this is my first stable of racehorses, I thought it best to educate myself about the program you have them in. I’d also like to know what hand the Carvers had in the process.”

“Mostly, they stayed out of my hair,” Mika says flatly, her eyes flashing with a silent challenge.

My cock twitches in response. Who is this woman with nerves of steel, thinking she can get away with talking to me like that? I wonder how many orgasms it would take to fuck her into submission.

She seems to somewhat read my expression as she reins in her tone. “But if you’d like to do something to help?—”

“I would,” I press, intrigued by what she might ask for— a bigger budget for supplies to train the horses with? Maybe time off? Now would be the right time to negotiate a better contract for herself. I’m prepared to go to considerable lengths to retain Mika as my trainer. At least until I’ve gotten my fill of her.

Her gaze flicks to mine, assessing whether my interest is genuine. She finally nods. “If you’re serious about helping, there’s one immediate adjustment I’d suggest.”

“Name it.”

“The helicopter,” she says bluntly. “It needs to be relocated to the far end of the property. Your current landing spot disrupts the horses, putting both them and my staff at risk.”

Her request catches me off guard—not because it’s unreasonable, but because it’s entirely practical. She’s advocating for the animals’ well-being, not her own comfort. It’s the first glimpse I’ve had of the passion that drives her, and I find myself captivated.

Rising from my chair, I approach her, closing the distance between us. “Of all the things you could ask for, you ask for a fucking helipad?”

Mika doesn’t flinch, though her cheeks flush faintly. “It’s a matter of safety,” she replies, her voice steady despite the growing tension between us.

I lean closer, my hands braced on the desk beside her. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were trying to give me easier access . And here I thought you didn’t like me.”

Her lips part, a sharp retort dying on her tongue as my words hang in the air. Her breath quickens, and for a moment, the charged silence between us promises something more.

Then, a knock shatters the moment.

“ What? ” I reply angrily.

Mika jerks upright, her eyes darting to the door as Marco steps inside.

“Sorry to interrupt, sir,” he says evenly, “but Mr. Kapranov is on the line. It’s about your fiancée.”