“Yes. I just found out. His name is all over the team sheets. And I intend to beat the shit out of him the first chance I get.”
Again, there’s an audible reaction from Clementine, and I spin around. “Clem, what’s the matter?”
“Nothing.”
I roll my eyes. I’ve got enough on my plate without having to deal with whatever shit Clementine has going on today—lumpypool lounger, misplaced yoga mat, too much pulp in her fucking orange juice.
“Look, Milo,” Lando says before Clementine and I begin arguing, “I get it. I do. I totally understand the need for revenge. I was hell-bent on finding it myself. But this is fucking insane. This is fraud, and if you get caught, you could be looking at prison time.”
My head drops back, because frankly . . . “Don't be so melodramatic.”
“I’m not being fucking melodramatic,” Lando growls, banging his hands on the desk hard enough that the coffee in his mug nearly sloshes over the side. “This is illegal. What part of that do you not understand?”
I fume in silence, except for my teeth grinding together. Turning to my mother, who’s yet to weigh in, I stare at her until she says something. She usually takes my side, no matter what, but I have the feeling that might not be the case today.
After all, my brother is the duke.
He’s in charge of our family trust. It’s upon his shoulders that all the shit falls. And while I do try to pay heed to that most of the time, this is one area that I need to take matters into my own hands. And, as usual, not one of them understands.
“Miles, does this girl know why you brought her over?” she asks eventually.
“She knows that I want her to play for my team, and I do. I’m lucky she’s available because she’s exceptionally talented. But no, I haven't mentioned why.”
Lando sighs heavily, like I’ve just confirmed all his fears. “Then what’s she getting out of it?”
“She’s getting to play for an international high-goal team, when she's never even had a lesson before?—”
“What?”
“Lando, be quiet and let me speak. She's an incredible horsewoman, but she’s been overlooked, working as a groom.” I don’t add that I’ve had the distinct impression Ruby wants to get out of her life in Colorado.
Resentment bubbles so near the surface that it’s hard to believe she’s lasted as a groom as long as she has. I understand why the patrons I spoke to called her short-tempered. I’d be the same if I’d been overlooked as she has.
Instead of replying to me, Lando turns to Hendricks. “What do you think?”
“She's a nice girl?—”
“You’ll like her once you get to know her.”
“Doyoueven know her, Milo?” Lando says.
“She knows exactly what she's doing, if that’s what you’re worried about,” says Hendricks again. “And she already has Miles buttoned up. She’s not one of his usual groupies?—”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Everyone knows what that means, Milo,” Alex mutters, though it’s loud enough for us all to hear.
And I do know what he means. He’s also correct. The women who come into my life are only too happy to do anything it takes to please me, whether I ask them or not. Whereas Ruby looks at me like she’s practicing her skills at eliminating people with a single stare.
“If it makes you feel any better, I'm not entirely sure she even likes me. But I don't think she hates me quite as much as she did when she soaked me at New Year’s?—”
“The girl at New Year’s?”
“Yes.”
Lando’s brow furrows, though he’s not as confused as my mother.
“What girl from New Year’s?” she asks.
