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She got back into the warm interior, thankful for the heat that softened the surprising chill still stinging her arms. The fresh air had wiped away the jetlag she hadn’t so far been aware of. Having stayed awake during most of the flight, she had effectively worked through the night and arrived in Argentina late morning, with only two hours’ time difference.
She settled back into the plush leather seat, desperately trying to ignore the proximity to her boss that shouldn’t be affecting her the way it did.
Antonio’s fierce gaze was locked on the scene outside the window, as if he was actively trying to ignore her presence. But he had agreed that she could accompany him to the stables, and Antonio was not a man who would have agreed had he really not wanted her there, she assured herself.
The car took a sweeping loop away from The Excelsus, and Emma was slightly disappointed to find that it pulled up again only a short while later. The stables were housed directly beside the hotel, and she vaguely remembered that being the reason Antonio preferred to stay there.
This time she waited for the driver to open her door, and a half relieved, half satisfied look crossed the man’s features. She thanked him and then stood up to take in the incredible view as he went to open Antonio’s door.
The grounds of the racetrack were long and rectangular, flat and surrounded by thin fencing. Off to the left the impressive stretch of the hotel building loomed over the edges of the race course, with thin lines of aqua-blue hinting at the infinity pools that were boasted by the hotel. In her mind she filled in the hundreds and thousands of people who would cover the stands and the balconies on race day, and the incredible noise they must make.
She heard the slam of the car door behind her, and turned to see Antonio stalking off towards a group of large white buildings with terracotta-coloured roofs that reminded her oddly of the American stables she had seen amongst the Winners’ Circle holdings. She followed him through the fenced-off area, where there were more signs of life, people and horses emerging from corners and
shadows as if they had previously been hidden from view.
She was two steps behind Antonio as he went deeper and deeper into the large central building.
To call it a barn would be wrong. The sheer size of it could have enveloped the whole apartment block she lived in back in Brooklyn. This structure had sleek lines, all glistening steel and chrome, and the expansive concrete floor was spotless and wet from where a young teenager further down was cleaning it. The smell of horse sweat and manure was barely discernible, and the only sound she could make out aside from Antonio’s leather-soled footsteps was a hushed conversation coming from one of the stalls.
* * *
Antonio was so conscious of Emma’s presence he almost missed the broad sound of John’s northern English accent coming from the stalls where Veranchetti was currently housed. At sixteen and a half hands, the horse was glorious. Its black coat gleamed in the shafts of sunlight filtering through the window at the back of the stall.
As he neared, the voices became more distinct, and the feminine lilt of an Australian accent came to a halt.
‘Antonio?’ John’s voice called out from inside. ‘That you? Reckoned you’d have swung by before now.’
Only John could make the reproach sound like a greeting. Antonio caught Mason’s eye as she made her way out of the stall. A brief nod was all she threw at him before heading off out of the building.
‘How are you?’ John asked, coming out from the stable.
‘Good, John. I’m good.’
‘I’ll say,’ John observed, watching as Emma stayed just behind Antonio. ‘I take it this is the lass, then?’
Antonio felt himself on unsteady ground as he suddenly realised that he had failed to take into account yet another person he now had to add to his list of deception. John was the only member of his father’s staff he’d stayed in contact with after he, his mother and sister had been forced to return to Italy.
It was a contact that he and the other members of the Winners’ Circle syndicate had very much used to their advantage.
‘Must say, I would’ve thought I’d not have to hear about it on Twitter.’
‘Since when are you on Twitter?’ Antonio asked, a smile playing at the edges of his mouth. ‘John—allow me to introduce you to Emma Guilham, my fiancée.’ The word felt strange on his tongue.
Emma came forward, having hesitated only slightly when he’d said fiancée. ‘Nice to meet you, John,’ she said warmly, reaching out to shake his hand.
‘Oh, no, lass, I’m all mucky,’ he said, wiping straw and mud onto his already dirty jeans.
‘Don’t be silly. I’d hardly be a match for Antonio Arcuri if I was worried about a little dirt.’
John let out a bark of laughter, shook Emma’s hand and turned to Antonio, his eyes approving. ‘I’m going to like her. First one I’ve met of yours—and the last, by all accounts.’
Something like guilt threatened to spark in Antonio’s gut, but Antonio pushed it aside. Dio, he couldn’t let her anywhere near his sister Cici. His sister would be broken-hearted when it all came to nothing.
‘How’s V?’ he asked, swiftly changing the focus of the conversation.
‘Veranchetti,’ replied John, ‘is doing fine. Survived the trip over and has been acclimatising for a good while now.’
‘And McAulty?’ Antonio asked.
