CECILY REACHED FOR the iron control she was famous for as she cantered into the ring in Geneva for her world championship qualifying event. She found herself deluged by nerves instead, her stomach churning like a rollercoaster ride.
Saluting the judges, she breathed in deep, gathered the electric charge of the crowd and used it to propel her around the course in a very fast, clean round—the final in the jump off.
She pulled Bacchus to a dancing halt, her horse sensing he’d been a star today. Staring up at the clock, heart in her mouth, the roar of the crowd echoed the numbers on the screen.
She had finished in third place.
It wasn’t until Dale had pulled her off Bacchus in the collecting ring and engulfed her in a huge hug that it sunk in. She’d done it. Her world championship dream was still alive.
It wouldn’t erase the lackluster year she and Bacchus had had, nothing could do that, but it would go a long way toward convincing the committee she should be in the running for a spot on the team. And right now, that was all she could do.
All due to Colt who’d found the key to her and Bacchus. A low throb pulsed through her as she pulled off her hat to greet the press. Colt who’d been gone when she’d returned from Maryland, a ‘personal matter’ drawing him home.
She’d been worried at first, asking Cliff for his phone number so she could make sure he was okay. But he hadn’t left one. As if what they’d shared had meant nothing to him.
She kept the smile determinedly plastered across her face as she did half a dozen media interviews, wishing he were here. Which was ridiculous. She’d known he would leave. Had prepared herself for that. What had hurt the most was he hadn’t even said goodbye.
Her stomach gave another ominous churn as she finished her last interview. Bile climbing the back of her throat, she barely made it to the washroom before she was violently ill.
It wasn’t until she was on the jet flying home that pieces of the puzzle began sorting themselves into dizzying place. In the crush getting ready for Geneva, she hadn’t had her period. She’d attributed it to stress, but oh, my God. Her heart seized as a sea of blue flew past outside the window. It couldn’t be. Colt had worn a condom both times they’d made love.
A trip to her doctor, however, proved the impossible possible. She was pregnant with Colt’s baby, a fact that threw her whole life—her career—into disarray once again.
Few top performing riders ever competed while pregnant. The risk wasn’t worth it. Which meant there would be no world championships for her and Bacchus this year, the last thing she ever would have thought would derail her.
Shock and crushing disappointment consumed her as she fought her way through the next couple of days. What was she going to do? Her single, coherent thought was that Colt needed to know about his child. He might not want her, but it was his right to know they had conceived a baby together.
Finding him a preferable next step than telling her father she was pregnant with Colt’s baby, she hired a private investigator who had tracked a fellow rider’s birth mother down. Forty-eight hours later, Victoria Brown arrived at the coffee shop in town where Cecily had arranged to meet her, a manila folder in her hand.
Cecily lifted her gaze expectantly to the attractive brunette as she sat down, knots tangling her stomach.
“Did you find him?”
Victoria nodded. “There was a slight issue, however. Colt Banyon does not exist.”
Cecily shook her head, confused. “But you just said you found him.”
“I found the man who was posing as Colt Banyon.” Victoria set her gray-blue gaze on Cecily. “There are no Banyons in New Mexico with any connection to the man who worked here. The man who worked for you fabricated his identity. A very sophisticated fabrication I might add.”
Bemusement wrapped her brain in a gray haze. Why would Colt do that? What had he needed to hide? There had to be a logical explanation for it.
“I ran the photo you gave me from the party through my database,” Victoria continued, “minus the facial hair. Colt’s real name is Alejandro Salazar. He—”
The crash of china reverberated through the café, attracting stares from the clientele. Cecily looked down at the broken pieces of her cup littering the floor, then back up at Victoria, her brain frozen. There must be some mistake. It was not possible Colt could be Alejandro Salazar, the billionaire heir of her family’s greatest rival. He could not have been working at Esmerelda.
There was no mistake, Victoria assured her as the girl from the shop came by with a broom to clean up her mess. She’d tracked Alejandro Salazar’s movements during that time. He’d been in Kentucky. Colt was Alejandro.
She sat there in a daze after Victoria left, the world tilting on its axis. She was pregnant with Alejandro Salazar’s baby. It was utterly, completely incomprehensible. She’d seen pictures of him of course, years ago, but he’d been clean shaven at a society event, nothing like the man who’d worked at Esmerelda.
Clasping her fingers around the new cup of tea the shop girl had insisted on bringing her, she fought to make sense of it all. What had Alejandro been doing here? Why had he been posing as a groom?
She’d never understood the ridiculous feud their two families were embroiled in. Had asked her parents about it multiple times only to be told the crazy rumors that Zeus’s line had somehow been stolen from the Salazars were all in Adriana Salazar’s delusional head.
Her heart dropped, fingers curling tight around the cup. Had Alejandro’s presence here had something to do with that? Was he out to hurt her family?
Betrayal, hot and debilitating, slid through her. She’d thought she’d known him. That he’d cared about her. That he’d wanted her for who she was. When was she going to learn?
Davis had convinced her he’d wanted her too. She’d been so sure, so convinced he’d loved her she’d swanned all over town picking out china patterns, sending out rose-embossed wedding invitations, before she’d found out three weeks before the wedding from his drunken best man that her fiancé had a mistress he intended to keep. That instead of being the love of Davis’s life, she had been a politically advantageous match chosen for her name and fortune.
Don’t be so naïve, he’d raged at her when she’d broken things off. Marriages have nothing to do with love. Apparently she had been that naive, because it turned out she was the only one who hadn’t seemed to know about her fiancé’s dalliances.
Her teeth sank into her lip, the salt tang of blood staining her mouth. She’d promised herself she’d never let anyone hurt her that badly again. Use her that way. She’d let Colt—Alejandro—in for the precise reason she’d believed he was different.
Once again, she’d been a fool.
She moved a numb gaze to the manila folder on the table. She should go home right now and tell her father. God knew what Alejandro Salazar’s intentions were. But she couldn’t do that—not with the explosive secret she carried. Not when her entire future depended on finding out what the truth was.
The only place she was going to find that was in New York.