Nacho Figueras Presents (2 page)

A
ntonia burned herself as she pulled the red-hot piece of steel from her forge. The coal spit fire when she grabbed the metal rod with her tongs, and a tiny piece of ember landed on her arm, but she didn't even wince. She merely flicked the glowing spark off her wrist with the careless air of someone who had been burned many, many times before, slammed the burning rod onto the horn of her anvil, and set to work hammering it out.

Antonia was making horseshoes. They were pointless, really. She knew that her homemade shoes would probably just end up reforged as something else later. When shoeing the costly ponies in her care, she only used “polo plates,” machine-made, lightweight, specially designed shoes whose carefully dulled edges and rims were beyond her abilities as a smithy. She would never dare put her relatively crude work on a Del Campo pony. But when Antonia was upset, when she had something she needed to get off her mind, when she needed to check out, she went back to the first thing she had learned to smith. Which happened to have been horseshoes.

She hit the steel with more power and less precision than she normally would. But, at the moment, all Antonia wanted was the satisfying feel of metal against metal, the shower of sparks she created every time she landed a blow, the smell of burning coal and hot steel, and the resonant clank of her hammer shaping the work.

She'd had a bad day. Not because anything had gone wrong professionally. Everything had been fine as far as her farrier work went. She'd successfully shod three ponies, managed to fix a problem in the gait of one of her favorite horses just by opening up the back left heel a little and recalibrating the balance, and she had noticed a narrow but deep sand crack in the hoof of another pony and trimmed it down before it became something much worse.

But all that accomplishment came to nothing after Pilar Del Campo had shown up at the barn.

Antonia moved the metal to the center of the anvil and hit it still harder. Her hammer made an explosion of sparks bloom and fly, bouncing in a small hail of embers off her heavy leather apron.

Usually, Antonia didn't let Pilar's attitude get under her skin. In fact, she often had sympathy for the woman. After all, when Carlos Del Campo had died, Antonia's existence had come as a surprise, not just to Pilar but to the whole Del Campo family as well. Suddenly Sebastian and Alejandro had a twenty-two-year-old half sister they'd never even met, and their mother had a flesh-and-blood reminder of her husband's infidelity.

Antonia continued to hit, trying to draw the metal out into a curve, but the steel was losing heat and pliability now, no longer a bright orange-yellow but fading into a darker red.

She threw the shoe back into the forge for another heating.

At the end of the day, Noni and her older brother Alejandro had been in the barn office discussing the pony with the sand crack in her hoof. Alejandro had been effusive in his praise, telling her that he had picked that pony's feet that very morning and completely missed the injury.

“I am in your debt, Noni,” he'd said. “That crack would have been a disaster if you had not caught it in time. What can I do to thank you?”

Antonia had shrugged him off. It was her job, after all, but her brother laid a hand on her shoulder and met her eyes with a warm smile. “Come,
hermana
, there must be something you would like.”

Antonia's heart had beat a little faster than usual, and she'd thought,
Now's the time.
She took a deep breath and tried to seem as casual as possible when she'd said, “Maybe we can just, you know, play a little stick and ball together sometime? Even get Sebastian out on the field, too?”

Alejandro had looked surprised for a second, and then his smile had grown even wider, and he'd opened his mouth to answer her, and Antonia had been filled with a breathless hope, when the door to the office had banged open and Pilar had come charging in. Ignoring Antonia completely (as she always did), Pilar had started in on Alejandro in rapid-fire Spanish about what he was going to wear to Lord Henderson's party that night since the dry cleaner had failed to return Jandro's good tuxedo on time.

And just like that, the moment was gone. Jandro had rolled his eyes and shrugged at Antonia before plunging into a good-natured argument with his mother. Antonia, after catching an impatient sideways glare from Pilar, had stood there for just one more agonizing moment before she gave up and left the office.

For a brief time later, talking to Enzo after she'd helped him off the ground, she'd felt a little better. But then he'd gone and reminded her of Hendy's party, too, and all her disappointment and anger had flooded back.

She'd driven straight home to her shop, lit up her forge, and started making horseshoes.

She opened the door to the forge and caught up the partially made shoe in her tongs. Holding it in the air, she stared at it for a moment, chewing her lip. It was pulsing and alive—exactly the right temperature, she could tell by the yellow-orange color—as pliable as clay, ready to be thrown onto her anvil and hammered into something useful.

Instead, Antonia reached over and plunged the half-done work into her water bucket, extinguishing its heat and glow with a steamy hiss. Then she threw the thing, dripping, cold, and worthless, into her scrap pail, took off her safety glasses and apron, and shut down her forge.

“Luna, Mojo,” she called.

A black and white mass of fur curled up in the corner of the shop untangled itself into two separate huskies, one fluffy white, one glossy black, but both with the same slanted ice-blue eyes.

“Come on,” said Antonia, giving her thigh a little pat as she left the shop.

The sisters, tongues lolling, obediently trotted after their mistress. Next time, Noni thought as she strode into the soft Florida dusk, she wouldn't let Pilar Del Campo stop her. Next time, she wouldn't hesitate. She would make her move.

E
nzo was at the foot of the stairs at the back of the barn, heading up to his apartment, when a figure riding a black Ducati motorcycle pulled up next to him.

Enzo smiled as the rider took off his helmet, revealing a young blond man with a friendly grin. “Mark Stone,” said Enzo. “It has been a while. Nice bike.”

Mark dismounted awkwardly. “It's new. Still getting the hang of it.” The motorcycle began to lean, and he caught it just before it fell. “Obviously.”

Enzo laughed. He had always liked this young Internet genius. Enzo had given him polo lessons when Mark had substituted for Sebastian on the Del Campo team a few years back. Since then, the amiable billionaire had been a regular at Del Campo events.

“Where is Camelia?” Enzo asked, referring to Mark's new wife, an ex-groom from the Del Campo farm.

“Training,” said Mark proudly. “It looks like she and Skye have a really good shot of making the Olympic dressage team this year.” He frowned. “Oh, but hey, if you see her, do me a favor and don't mention the bike, okay? She'd pitch a fit if she knew I was riding it.”

Enzo snorted. “I am sure she just wants to keep you alive.”

Mark smiled roguishly. “One hopes.”

“You just missed Alejandro,” said Enzo as he started back up the stairs. “He left about thirty minutes ago, but I think you can probably catch him at the farm.”

“Actually,” said Mark, “it's you I want to talk to.”

Enzo paused, surprised. “Oh?”

“I'm putting together a team, Enzo.”

Enzo raised his eyebrows. “A polo team?”

Mark nodded. “Yes. High goal. I'm going to be the patron and play number four, and I've got two other players—a guy from Mumbai and another guy from Australia—lined up. They're both incredible. But I need a fourth player, a team captain, to play the number three position.”

“Ah,” said Enzo, “that is very exciting. Congratulations. Actually, there is a young groom in the stables—he's from Philadelphia. I don't know if he's ready to captain, but he's an incredibly promising player—”

“No, no,” said Mark. “You misunderstand. I want you to come play number three. And be the
piloto
of my team.”

“
Pilotos
don't play,” said Enzo automatically, “and I have a job here with the Del Campos.”

“I'll pay you twice what they pay you,” said Mark, “and who says that a
piloto
can't play?”

“I should have said that good
pilotos
don't play,” said Enzo. “It splits their attention.”

“I think you're capable of doing both.”

Enzo laughed. “Well, thanks for the offer, but—”

“I'll pay you three times as much,” interrupted Mark.

Enzo was silent for a moment. It wasn't the money. It was the timing. He knew that he was starting to weaken when it came to Antonia. Perhaps putting some distance between them wouldn't be the worst idea…

Mark seemed to sense his hesitation. “Or listen, if you don't want to play, just come and be my
piloto
, then. You can help me find my fourth player.”

Enzo chewed on his lip. “Can I think about it?”

Mark smiled happily. “Absolutely! Take all the time you need! No hurry. I want to get this right.”

Enzo nodded. “Okay. In the meantime, check out the kid I told you about—his name is David Jefferson. He's got a lot of potential.”

Mark shook his hand enthusiastically. “Okay, I will. Ah, man, I'm so excited! This is going to be an amazing team!”

Enzo laughed. “Don't get too excited. I just said I'd think about it.”

Mark grinned. “Better answer than I expected. I never figured anyone could poach you away from the Del Campos.”

Enzo shrugged. “It just might be time for a change is all.”

N
oni stood in front of her closet and considered her choices. Dressing for these Wellington parties was always a chore. She dearly wished she could just show up in her worn jeans and T-shirt, but she knew that wasn't an option.

She pushed aside a pile of half-hung sweaters, ignoring the ones that slipped to the floor. Like the rest of her house, the closet was a mess. Though she kept her smith shop immaculate, her cottage was something of a disaster zone. Noni was halfhearted about housecleaning at best, and even though she knew she could afford a housekeeper, she couldn't get over the idea of a stranger cleaning up after her.

She sighed, fantasizing about ditching the whole night, staying home with Chinese takeout and bingeing on her backed-up DVR. She was in no mood for a party, and getting dressed felt like such an effort.

Not that Antonia didn't have the clothes. In fact, for the first time in her life, she had plenty of clothes. She had wanted for nothing since that winter eight years ago when Alejandro had found her in that nearly empty studio in Berlin.

The heat had been turned off, so she'd taken to staying in bed as much as possible, fully dressed and huddled under five layers of blankets. When someone had knocked on the door, she considered not answering, afraid it was the landlord demanding the last two months' rent. But then she had thought, what if it was Jacob? What if he wanted her back? And just the faint hope of that possibility had propelled her out of bed and to the door.

But it hadn't been Jacob. It had been Alejandro Del Campo, her eldest brother, whom she had never before met. She'd recognized him immediately, though. Tall, dark, and broad shouldered, with Carlos's strikingly handsome and imperious face. Except that her brother had ocean-blue eyes, not black, and a much kinder, though sadder, smile.

He was there, he said, to let her know that she would inherit quite a large sum of money from their father and would need to return to America to claim it. He would take her back home with him, if she was willing.

She stared up at her brother as the breath left her body. She hadn't known their father had died.

It had been like a twisted fairy tale. Suddenly, after years of neglect, Carlos had finally claimed her, just as she had always dreamed he would. But instead of her strong, handsome father swooping in to take her away, there were just words on paper, signatures, and lawyers, and red tape, and no father at all. Only this stranger of an older brother here to deliver the news, who looked as grim and reluctant as Noni felt.

Alejandro had noticed her shivering then and frowned. She'd watched him realize that her flat was no warmer than the ice-cold hall he was standing in.

“Let's get a cup of coffee,” he'd said. Then, peering closer at her frail form and pale cheeks, his face softened. “Or perhaps lunch?”

She had hastily agreed, and after two bowls of soup, three cups of hot tea, and a slice of Linzer torte, she had also agreed to go back to Florida with him, where, he assured her, it was very warm, and she would be welcome to stay as long as she liked.

“I'm sorry I did not know of you sooner, Antonia,” he said, taking her hand. “It's a crime and a shame what our father has done to you. And to me and Sebastian.
Somos familia
. This should not have been the first time we met.”

And she had blinked, trying to keep back the tears. “Call me Noni,” she'd offered weakly in return, already starting to love this big brother she had always imagined she hated.

Since then, she'd had everything. A monthly stipend from her inheritance, her little cottage and blacksmith shop on the beach, the farrier job, the ponies, the clothes, world travel with the Del Campos, the parties, the connections, the glamour.

Once the initial rumors had cleared and everyone accepted that she was neither a junkie nor a prostitute, she'd been treated like a mysterious long-lost princess by the Wellington horsey crowd. She'd been invited everywhere, cultivated, and accepted like a true Del Campo.

Except that she was not.

Her brothers Jandro and Sebastian and, later, their wives Georgia and Kat had offered her nothing but kindness and friendship. They had welcomed her into their home—and what a home it was. The Del Campo farm was even more impressive than she had fantasized it would be. And once she had completed her blacksmithing classes, they had hired her on as their team farrier. She'd now been with them for almost eight years, and yet, she still felt like the little girl she had been—the one whose mother had constantly told her that her rich, handsome, and powerful father wanted nothing to do with her. She still felt she was watching her family from the outside, with her nose pressed up to the window. And they were all gathered around the table, laughing and teasing each other and having the loveliest time. Noni longed to be invited in, could almost touch them, they were that close…but somehow she could never make it past the door.

Part of the problem was Pilar. Hell, most of the problem was Pilar. Even as Alejandro and Sebastian had rallied around their little sister, inviting her into their lives, Pilar had made it very clear that she preferred Antonia to stay well outside the family. She would, for her sons' sake, tolerate Noni's presence, and of course, she'd never be so gauche as to actively confront Noni with her displeasure, but to her, Antonia was simply Carlos's bastard. Just the greatest disappointment in a lifetime of disappointments visited upon her by her charming, wretched, late husband. And despite all her brothers' good intentions, this attitude kept Noni firmly out of the inner circle.

Antonia could have left, of course. Certainly she had never planned on staying for long. But she'd been so weak in the beginning, still reeling over what had happened to her in Berlin. She had just wanted to rest. Rest somewhere sunny, and easy, and beautiful, somewhere she didn't have to struggle. She'd fallen into life with the Del Campos like a sleep-deprived child tucked into a warm, soft bed.

Just a little break, she had promised herself. Just a little time, and once she was stronger, then she'd be on her way. She'd inherited a generous monthly allowance from Carlos, and when she turned thirty, she was due to receive a full fourth of the Del Campo estate, making her worth hundreds of millions of dollars. She didn't need her job. She didn't need anyone to support her. She could start her life over somewhere remote and quiet and pretty, where no one knew her name or wondered about her history. She could do or be anything.

It was the only gift that her father had ever given her, and she had fully intended on taking advantage of it.

But as Antonia had grown stronger, as her pain had dulled, she had started to notice things about her brothers. She had spent her whole life thinking of them as spoiled, untouchable aristocrats. She'd only seen them as distant strangers who kept her father out of her life. However, now that she had finally gotten the chance to know them, she realized that, even though Alejandro and Sebastian had grown up with wealth and privilege, their lives were not necessarily so easy either.

When Noni first arrived, before Alejandro had met Georgia, he'd been entangled in his own kind of grief. He'd recently lost his wife in a fatal riding accident, and he was raising a difficult teenage daughter, Valentina, on his own. The whole Del Campo legacy was on his shoulders, and Noni could see that he was struggling, barely keeping his head above water, and that he desperately needed help.

Handsome, green-eyed Sebastian had, at first, seemed the opposite of Alejandro—full of joy and mischief, always ready to have a little fun. But Noni soon became aware that he had his own demons. All his partying was simply a front for a man who didn't think he would ever measure up, who was so afraid of failure that he never allowed himself to try.

As Noni got stronger and started to heal, she'd found herself falling in love with her brothers and her niece—with her
family
—and she longed to help them as much as they had helped her.

She did whatever she could to help them through their hard times.
My rock
, Alejandro had once called Noni, and just hearing those words had sent a thrill of joy zinging through her, had made her feel important and necessary and included in a way she'd never felt before.

And then her brothers had both married women who were strong, and smart, and funny, and interesting, and Noni had fallen for them as well. Valentina had moved away for college and then started her career dancing with the San Francisco Ballet, but Alejandro and Georgia had baby Tomás, a beautiful, laughing child with Alejandro's black curls and Georgia's wide, hazel eyes.

When Noni held her nephew for the first time, she wept. After a lifetime of having no one she could truly depend upon, Antonia's circle only seemed to be growing bigger.

That was an almost impossible thing for her to walk away from. All of a sudden, she no longer wanted out; instead, she desperately wanted in. She wanted to belong to these people, heart and soul; she wanted the family she'd never had. She wanted to truly be a Del Campo.

Antonia attacked her closet with renewed force, just hoping to find something clean. She wanted to be a Del Campo? Well, then, she had better suck it up, get dressed, and get to the end-of-the-season party for the Del Campo team. She was already late.

Her hand snagged on a dark brown leather gaucho belt. A gift from Enzo. She smiled, remembering the way he had surprised her with it. He had brought it back from Argentina after he had gone back home to visit his family. He claimed it was no big deal, that he had just seen it and thought she would like it. Noni had been so touched, tears had sprung into her eyes, and she'd had to turn away to hide them. No one had ever given her a gift “just because” before.

Her fingers lingered on the belt, tracing the brightly colored embroidery, as she experienced the familiar butterflies swooping in her stomach that she always felt when she thought of Enzo. Enzo sitting on the pitch that day, looking up at her as he took her hand. She blushed, wondering if he'd noticed the way she'd held on to his hand just a bit longer than she should have, but she hadn't been able to bring herself to let go.

Enzo, her best friend, which meant all the more to Noni since she had never had many friends, and certainly never a best one. Enzo, who had, from the beginning, helped her and advised her and kept her spirits up even when she felt her darkest. Enzo, who, aside from her brothers, was the kindest, truest man she'd ever met. Enzo, who always made her laugh. Enzo, who was smart and strong and so incredibly good-looking and pretty much the sexiest man on the face of the planet as far as Noni was concerned. Enzo, who would only have to crook his finger and beckon and Noni would be out of her clothes and into his bed before he could count to three…

Except, she reminded herself, that Enzo had never shown any interest in her beyond brotherly affection. He'd never even made the smallest move on her. As far as Noni could tell, she was so thoroughly friend-zoned that it seemed pointless to even think about trying to turn what was between them into anything more.

She frowned, shaking her head, and dropped her hand from the belt. Now was not the time to be thinking of Enzo.

She finally found a white Calvin Klein suit, brushed off the dog hair (living with two huskies, there was no avoiding it), and examined it. It was blessedly clean. She decided that, rather than dig out a proper blouse, she would wear the jacket buttoned up with nothing underneath. It had a plunging neckline, but Noni was small-breasted and slight and she knew that, even with a lot of skin exposed, her boyish figure would keep her from looking like she was showing too much.

The suit was immaculately cut but bordering on severe, so to dress it up a bit more, Noni untangled a thick gold lariat necklace from her dressing table and gold cuffs she had made herself for each wrist. She topped the outfit off with flat, metallic gold sandals.

She pushed her hair behind her ears and despaired at getting it to do anything but what it always did, which was basically hang there looking lank. She applied a little tinted moisturizer, a lick of mascara, clear balm to her lips, and called herself done.

She didn't like to look in the mirror for too long, as it was too easy to start focusing on all she was not, but she gave herself a quick last glance, making sure everything was basically in place and that there were no errant stains or holes she had somehow overlooked before impatiently turning away. She fed her dogs, gathered up her bag and keys, and hurried out to her old Chevy truck, determined not to be any later than she already was.

She would talk to her brothers tonight, she decided as she turned the ignition. Do or die.