Page 4 of Sin Wager
"You sound different from most owners I've met," she says.
"Different how?"
"Most of them talk about horses the way they talk about investments. Numbers and returns and profit margins. You sound… more involved."
"Horses aren't machines. They have personalities, preferences, moods that affect performance. Understanding those aspects improves outcomes for everyone involved."
The conversation develops naturally, my responses calibrated to reinforce the image of a man who combines business acumen with genuine appreciation for the animals themselves. I ask questions that demonstrate knowledge while inviting her to share expertise, creating the kind of intellectual exchange that builds rapport and establishes common ground.
She responds with growing enthusiasm, her initial caution dissolving as she discusses training methods, bloodline characteristics, the subtle signs that indicate a horse's condition and temperament. Her knowledge runs deep, acquired through hands-on experience rather than academic study, practical wisdom from years of patient observation.
"You should meet the owners who actually care about their animals," I say as our conversation winds down. "Most of them are in it purely for money, but there are exceptions, people who understand that success requires partnership between horse and human."
"I'd rather work with the horses," she says. "People are more complicated."
"Some people. Others are straightforward once you understand what motivates them."
The comment carries multiple meanings, a test to see how she responds to the suggestion that human nature follows predictable patterns. Her expression becomes thoughtful rather than defensive, indicating a level of sophistication that could make her either easier or more challenging to manipulate.
"What motivates you?" she asks.
"Excellence. Building something worthwhile rather than simply extracting profit from existing systems."
The answer is crafted to appeal to her values while maintaining plausible ambiguity. She can interpret it as referring to horse racing, business philosophy, or personal relationships—whatever resonates most strongly with her own desires and frustrations.
"That's refreshing," she says. "Most people here are focused on quick returns rather than long-term development."
"Quick returns usually indicate shortcuts that compromise quality. I prefer sustainable approaches that build value over time."
The metaphor applies equally to horses and human relationships, another layer of meaning for her to discover if she chooses to look deeper. I'm establishing myself as someone who thinks in terms of investment and development rather than exploitation and abandonment.
"I should get back to work," she says, glancing toward the other stalls that require attention. "But this has been… nice. It's rare to meet someone who understands both sides of the business."
"Would you be interested in continuing the conversation over drinks sometime? I'd enjoy hearing more about your work here, maybe learning things that would help me be a better owner."
The invitation is casual, low-pressure, framed as professional interest rather than personal attraction. She can accept without feeling that she's committing to anything beyond informal conversation with someone who shares her interests, and I see her wheels turning as she thinks it over.
"I don't usually… I mean, my schedule is pretty demanding."
"Of course. When you have time. Friday evening, perhaps? After your shift ends?"
"Friday could work," she says after a moment of consideration. "There's a place called Medved about ten minutes from here. Nothing fancy, but quiet enough for conversation."
"Perfect. Seven thirty?"
"Seven thirty."
The agreement settles between us, and Ms. Kovalenko doesn't realize she has just committed to the first step in a process that will systematically destroy her existing loyalties and replace them with dependence on me. She sees an attractive man who shares her interests and treats her with respect. She feels the possibility of connection with someone who understands her world and values her contributions.
"I look forward to it," I say, offering a calculated smile. "Until Friday, then."
I walk away with a measured pace, giving no indication that I've just set in motion a sequence of events designed to transform her from asset to liability in the eyes of her current handlers. The manipulation has begun with surgical precision, each element calibrated to exploit her specific vulnerabilities while offering the illusion of salvation.
By the time she realizes the true nature of our relationship, she'll be too deeply invested to consider alternatives. She'll trust me completely, confess everything, and help me dismantle the network that currently uses her as their unwitting tool.
The plan will work because I understand what she needs and I'll provide it. She needs appreciation, security, protection from forces beyond her control. I will become all of those things while pursuing objectives that serve my own survival and advancement.
Friday evening cannot arrive soon enough.
