Page 88 of Entwined

“Where are you?”

“At the barn.”

“I’ll be there in ten minutes.”

“No, really, I’m fine.” But I’m talking to the air. He already hung up.

Sally comes back with an ice pack and some wrap. She wraps the ice around my ankle. “Stay put for a few minutes before you put any weight on it. I’m going to access the security camera files from my laptop.”

“Okay.”

Thankfully, no other riders were in the ring or someone else could’ve gotten hurt. Is Cressida really capable of sabotaging me?

The answer in my gut is a resounding “yes.”

“Put an arm around me.”

“No. Allow me.” Before I can even say his name, I’m swept up in his arms as he carries me like a bride out of the ring. My arms cling wrap around him, I bury my face against his neck breathing him in.

Every wall around my heart collapses in his embrace.

I’m home.

He’s home.

I always knew that.

“What happened? He speaks softly against my hair.

“Simone spooked.”

“Someone tampered with the saddle pad,” Sally answers at the same time.

“What?” His voice is a low and deadly growl.

“It’s being handled.” Sally assures.

“It the fuck better be. She could’ve been killed.”

I shudder in his arms. He holds me tighter. “I’ll be in touch. I want answers.”

Sally nods as Christos carries me out of the barn, gently placing me down for a moment to open his car door. I hiss as I hobble inside. His left jaw ticks, his fists clench as he rounds to the other side.

“I’m taking you back to my flat. And I don’t want to hear one word about it. Not one. I’m this close Jessie,” he holds his fingers together, “from snapping and taking what the hell, I want.”

Me.

I gulp.

He wants me. Maybe even more than before since he’s never had to wait like this. The powerful engine of his car purrs as it streaks through the streets. He’s pissed as fuck. So am I. Less about me but mostly at how Simone could’ve been injured. That sweet horse has been my rock and the thought that she could’ve been hurt kills me.

He pulls along side the curb, parking in front of a stunning brick townhouse. A butler greets us at the door as Christos carries me through. He gently places me on a leather and arranges pillows under my injured ankle. “Don’t move,agápe. We need to keep your ankle elevated. I’m phoning a private doctor to come and take a look at it.

He walks briskly into another room, coming back a few minutes later with pain killers and a glass of water. I gratefully take the pills then lay back against the couch as he wraps more ice around my ankle and covers me with a blanket.

His lips touch the top of my head and his finger trails down my cheek. He shudders as he rises. “You could’ve been killed.”

“You… you won’t take her back will you?”

---