Race

by Bethany Walkers

  "Never," Ronan said, but it was hard to tell if he was telling the truth. He pulled her in for another kiss.

  There was no going back now. Ronan had her under his spell: he owned her, and could do whatever he wanted with her, whether she liked it or not.

  Ronan and Chantelle both ran into their house at the end of the day, and slumped down on to the couch, breathless.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  A TWIST OF FATE

  "What drink will you have?" Ronan asked Chantelle, grinning.

  "You know I don't drink," Chantelle said seductively, joining him at the mini bar of the house. She wrapped her arms around him and gazed into his eyes. "Ronan, look how quickly we've both fallen in love," she smiled. "Let's get married."

  Ronan began to laugh. "How can we get married?"

  "Why not?" Chantelle asked, her arms still around him, but she was frowning.

  "Why not?!" Ronan repeated. "Because a wedding takes a lot of preparation."

  Chantelle detached her arms from him and resolved to standing next to him. "So ... is it that you think I don't love you, and you think I'm still in love with Noah or something?"

  "Nope," Ronan denied, and a smirk started to form on his lips.

  "Come on baby, stop joking!" Chantelle said, wrapping her arms around him again and kissing his lips, wanting more, just like he'd kissed her on the ship. But he didn't kiss her back. He looked truly disgusted at her.

  Ronan pulled away from her, and began to laugh loudly. "I'm not joking," he said, as Chantelle frowned even more. "I'm serious." He walked away from her and towards the bookshelf, where he took a piece of paper out from an old, battered book. "How can I love a girl like you?" he said finally. He held the paper up in his hands, and walked towards her again. "After reading this, I don't think anyone will be prepared to marry you."

  "What is that?" Chantelle asked, because she truly didn't know how he could hold something as little as a piece of paper against her.

  "Your bio data," Ronan said, smirking more. Chantelle gulped and stared at the papers.

  'Runaway girl from orphanage apprehended' was one of the bold articles, and so many terrible mistakes from her past were all outlined.

  "From your childhood to the present day, this is what nobody has ever discovered. These names aren't your mother's or father's, because they were the ones who sent you to the orphanage, even though you weren't an orphan. Oh Chantelle, what are you going to do? When you were fifteen years old, you got up to some naughty things with the men, you committed crimes ... and then you tried to run away from the orphanage. When you got caught, you murdered the person who found you ... Goddammit. Honestly, mate. This has all come out today when I got hold of this from that institution. Then you became a famous bar dancer, dancing on poles, and you did wrong things, you stole money, you tried to have sex with the men to get what you wanted and get them on your side, and then you tried to steal a huge load of cash and someone saw you ... you killed the poor bastard. You're a really filthy little girl, aren't you? And there's not to mention what you did next ..." Ronan laughed hardly, and then sat down on the couch. She heard him mutter the word 'whore'.

  Chantelle collapsed on to the floor at his knees purposefully, holding them and staring at him. "Ronan, I wanted to tell you everything about me by myself, but I was too scared that I might take your heart away from you." She tried her best to find the right words to compose her sentence with.

  "Take my heart away from me?" Ronan repeated nastily, laughing harshly. "Do you think that this file is the only evidence I have? My eyes were only actually on yours when I was drunk, the rest of it was just part of my plan..."

  Chantelle didn't understand what Ronan meant. She sprung to her feet, and then took the glass of alcohol from Ronan's hands. She sat at the other side of the room, face to face with him, and she drank the entire contents of the glass. She'd never drank alcohol before in her life, and she'd just done it now to prove to him that she'd sacrifice anything just so that he wouldn't hold his past against her. "Now, you tell me. What do you want?" she asked in a bitchy tone.

  "Me? I want exactly what you want. Money," Ronan said. "The property that you tightened Noah up for, that will all be done in time. But I've got a plan for something worth one hundred million dollars. If you help me out with this and take my side, I'll give you twenty million of those dollars."

  Chantelle stared at him with interest, as one hundred million dollars was such a huge amount of money. "Where are you going to get all that money from?"

  "The things that I hate most in life, death after death, they end up having some good uses. Me and my brother have an eighty five million dollar insurance policy ... If my brother died in an accident, then I would get one hundred million." Ronan said vaguely.

  Chantelle laughed. "Well. Compared to you, my file is nothing. Until today, I've never met such a bastard, someone who would, for money, sacrifice his own brother." She said this in a foul voice.

  "What's so bastard-like about this?" Ronan shot back, trying to act all innocent about it. "Noah always tells me that he loves me, and for me, he'd sacrifice his life. So I'm fulfilling him of that duty."

  "If your plan was all set, then what was the bloody need to pretend to love me for such a long time?" Chantelle asked him, intrigued. "I was so stupid, I thought you liked me, and on that ship ... I thought ..."

  "You think of a lot of things, don't you?" Ronan said bitterly. He was no longer the sweet, romantic man that Chantelle had fallen in love with, now, he was a foul bastard, who showed that he didn't care about anything other than himself. "I made this fake romance because it's important that Noah thinks we've got a natural love relationship and nothing was rushed."

  Chantelle felt a little hurt by what Ronan said, because the romance felt so real to her. She actually thought that Ronan had feelings for her. "So, what do I have to do?" Chantelle sighed, long and hard.

  "You're going to have to marry me then, aren't you?" Ronan grinned, his face fixed with an untrustworthy look.

  Chantelle looked shocked. There was no way that she wanted to get married to Ronan now, especially after everything that had just happened, all in a rush.

  "Don't worry," Ronan said, interrupting her thoughts. "This wedding will be just like a business deal. It'll be nothing serious."

  "And then?" Chantelle pushed on.

  "First things first, baby. Are you in?" Ronan asked with a devilish smirk.

  Slowly but surely, Chantelle nodded her head. She had nothing left to lose. "I'm in," she confirmed.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  THE PEN

  Noah was practising his racing on the tracks of his stud farm, as fast as he could, whilst Leonardo timed him. When he finally reached the finish line, Leonardo waddled up to him in his cowboy boots. "Exactly two minutes and seven seconds, sir," Leonardo stated matter of factly.

  "And seven seconds," Noah repeated, his voice bitter. "I need to banish those seconds." He paused, and then continued to talk to Leonardo about a different topic. "Anyway, yesterday, I denied signing some of Jacob Hoover's papers. Can you go and discuss it with him?" Someone caught Noah's eye. "Look, he's walking over to us now." Noah indicated Jacob Hoover, who was walking towards them.

  "Hi Noah!" Jacob said in a business like way, his voice a little too enthusiastic, and it had a sarcastic edge to it. "I think the amount of times you've rode a horse is so great that no other animal could compete with it." They shook hands. Since Jacob Hoover was complimenting Noah, it was clear that he wanted something.

  "That's not the only animal I've rode with. There's also you on that list," Noah said, pretending for it to be a joke all though he actually meant it. But Jacob did see it as a joke, and he roared with laughter.

  "That's a good one. That's a good joke," Jacob grinned.

  "OK, let's talk about work," Noah said seriously. "Why are you here now? What is it that you want?"

  "I heard that the stud farm is mortgaged by the bank and all that crap."
Jacob said vaguely. "If you like, I can stop that happening for you. In exchange for clearing the bank settlement I'm willing to give you ten million dollars, if you sell this stud farm to me."

  Noah laughed at Jacob as if he was stupid. "Did you know what I've heard? Those people who have small brains are the people that talk too much." He picked up a damp cloth and pat it on his face, which was sweating after the tough racing practice..

  "I don't understand." Jacob frowned. "Those people who have small brains are the people that talk too much. What do you mean by that?"

  "That's the thing, Jacob. You don't understand. These horses, this stud farm ... they all gallop in my home. Racing is my passion, my life. Stallion's is something I love, something that's in my blood It's not for sale, no matter what you offer. I will never sell it."

  Jacob frowned.

  Then, Leonardo bounded up to Noah.

  "Sir, here are the papers," he said.

  "Can I borrow your pen please?" Noah asked Jacob, and then snatched it from Jacob's pocket without asking. He signed the papers and then put the pen in the inside of his own jacket pocket.

  "Excuse me, that's my pen!" Jacob Hoover said pointedly.

  "Oh, sorry," Noah said vaguely, and then, deliberately, he handed over a different pen that was in his pocket.

  "Thank you," Jacob said, because he loved that pen: it was very expensive, and was in fact one of his most prized possessions. However he had not realized that it wasn't his pen. He put it in his pocket absent mindedly. "My offer is still open, you know. You might want to re think your decision."

  "Jacob, I always think before I make a decision. I don't make a decision and then think about it. Bye," Noah said flatly, in a firm tone.

  "Bye bye," Jacob Hoover shrugged, speaking in that ridiculously deep accent of his, and then turned around to leave.

  "Can I have the signed papers back, please, Sir?" Leonardo asked Noah. "I need to hand them back in to the Stallion's office head quarters."

  "No," said Noah, and he tore the pieces of paper into shreds.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  THE NEXT RACE

  "Sir," said Jacob Hoover's friend, Ahmed, as they both sat at the stands of the stud farm. "The sixth horse is a personal favorite. It's rank is very good."

  "And the others?" Jacob asked.

  "Those horses ranks aren't as good as number six." Ahmed said proudly.

  "What about number twelve?" Jacob pushed on.

  "What?" Ahmed looked confused. He pulled his furrowed eyebrows together, wrinkling his nose.

  "I'm talking about Noah's horse," Jacob Hoover prompted.

  "Noah's horse is new. I think it has a ten to one chance." Ahmed felt guilty as he said this.

  "Ten to one?" Jacob repeated angrily.

  Noah's pen was still in Jacob's pocket, and it had a recorder on it. Noah was sat at the other side of the room, listening to Jacob's every word.

  "You do one job," Jacob said to Ahmed. "Bet every last cent of the money on Noah's horse."

  "But Sir, that's a twenty million dollar risk!" Ahmed stared at Jacob as if he was stupid.

  "Just do as I say," Jacob said. "Noah's style of horse is something that I can compete with. Even if Noah's horse is good, I'm going to make sure he doesn't win. I have my own ways of doing things."

  "You mean that if Noah's horse wins, we will get the money from it?" Ahmed asked happily.

  "You're right," Jacob confirmed.

  "Good idea, Sir!" Ahmed exclaimed.

  "Thank you!" Jacob grinned, and Ahmed departed.

  Noah sighed as he heard all this, angry at Jacob Hoover, wondering why he couldn't just be a good sportsman. He turned to Alice. Today, Alice was wearing a silky green top with green jeggings to match.

  "Alice, don't put my four million bet on my horse," he ordered.

  "Why won't we bet money on our own horse?" Alice asked, because what Noah had just said was completely random.

  "Please, just do as I say," Noah said. Alice nodded after staring at Noah for a long moment, unsure what was going on.

  "Horse number twelve by Noah, horse number six ..." the commentator dictated his speech into the microphone. "All of the horses, gather round to the track!"

  Noah and Alice watched at the sidelines with their binoculars. Jacob and Noah's eyes met for a moment, but Noah averted his eyes and focused on watching the race. Jacob laughed darkly, thinking he had it all thought out and planned. But not everything you think of always goes to plan.

  The horses continued to race. The horses began at a steady pace ... they gradually got faster ... some of the horses slowed down, others went a little faster ... then number six and twelve were almost neck and neck ... but number twelve stayed behind ... and horse number six raced through to the finish line.

  "What?" Jacob Hoover roared in anger. "Bloody ... What the hell just happened?!"

  "Sir, we bet so much money on that horse! We're going to lose it all!" Ahmed piped up, worried. Tears actually began to build up in his eyes.

  "Oh God ..." Jacob Hoover cried. Then, lots of men and women started crowding around him, hugging and congratulating him because his horse had got through to the finish line, and they didn't know the slightest thing about what was going on. "Please, leave me alone! Leave me alone!" Jacob shouted, unable to control his anger and frustration.

  Alice, Noah and other clients at Stallion's all stared at Jacob Hoover, wondering why he was getting all worked up, and it was only Noah who knew the real truth as he had been listening to Jacob's conversation with Ahmed through the recording pen. Noah walked up to Jacob and took the pen out of his pocket, holding it up for Jacob to see the microphone on the other end. "This is my pen," Noah stated.

  Noah was practising his racing on the tracks of his stud farm, as fast as he could, whilst Leonardo timed him. When he finally reached the finish line, Leonardo waddled up to him in his cowboy boots. "Exactly two minutes and seven seconds, sir," Leonardo stated matter of factly.

  "And seven seconds," Noah repeated, his voice bitter. "I need to banish those seconds." He paused, and then continued to talk to Leonardo about a different topic. "Anyway, yesterday, I denied signing some of Jacob Hoover's papers. Can you go and discuss it with him?" Someone caught Noah's eye. "Look, he's walking over to us now." Noah indicated Jacob Hoover, who was walking towards them.

  "Hi Noah!" Jacob said in a business like way, his voice a little too enthusiastic, and it had a sarcastic edge to it. "I think the amount of times you've rode a horse is so great that no other animal could compete with it." They shook hands. Since Jacob Hoover was complimenting Noah, it was clear that he wanted something.

  "That's not the only animal I've rode with. There's also you on that list," Noah said, pretending for it to be a joke all though he actually meant it. But Jacob did see it as a joke, and he roared with laughter.

  "That's a good one. That's a good joke," Jacob grinned.

  "OK, let's talk about work," Noah said seriously. "Why are you here now? What is it that you want?"

  "I heard that the stud farm is mortgaged by the bank and all that crap." Jacob said vaguely. "If you like, I can stop that happening for you. In exchange for clearing the bank settlement I'm willing to give you ten million dollars, if you sell this stud farm to me."

  Noah laughed at Jacob as if he was stupid. "Did you know what I've heard? Those people who have small brains are the people that talk too much." He picked up a damp cloth and pat it on his face, which was sweating after the tough racing practice..

  "I don't understand." Jacob frowned. "Those people who have small brains are the people that talk too much. What do you mean by that?"

  "That's the thing, Jacob. You don't understand. These horses, this stud farm ... they all gallop in my home. Racing is my passion, my life. Stallion's is something I love, something that's in my blood It's not for sale, no matter what you offer. I will never sell it."

  Jacob frowned.

  Then, Leonardo bounded up to Noah.
/>   "Sir, here are the papers," he said.

  "Can I borrow your pen please?" Noah asked Jacob, and then snatched it from Jacob's pocket without asking. He signed the papers and then put the pen in the inside of his own jacket pocket.

  "Excuse me, that's my pen!" Jacob Hoover said pointedly.

  "Oh, sorry," Noah said vaguely, and then, deliberately, he handed over a different pen that was in his pocket.

  "Thank you," Jacob said, because he loved that pen: it was very expensive, and was in fact one of his most prized possessions. However he had not realized that it wasn't his pen. He put it in his pocket absent mindedly. "My offer is still open, you know. You might want to re think your decision."