The Spaniard's Untouched Bride. Maisey YatesЧитать онлайн книгу.
have not yet seen it.”
“You think insulting your boss is the way to long-term employment?”
“I assume that you are a man who would appreciate honesty. You are allowing your pride to get in the way of making the most of your animal, and I daresay I have seen it many times before.”
One of Matías’s dark brows shot upward. “Many times?”
“Yes. During the year I was employed with Cesar Alvarez. There were a lot of rich men with animals they could not handle.”
“I’m a horseman,” Matías said. “Not simply a rich man.”
“You are a businessman primarily. That is nothing to be ashamed of, but it does mean that your focus is split.”
Then Matías did something she did not expect. He laughed.
“All right then, boy. Come into the arena and show me what you can do.”
Matías could not believe the unmitigated gall of the youth standing rooted in the grass only a few feet away from him. He could not be older than fourteen, and he spoke with the kind of boldness that grown men did not have in his presence. Although, in many ways that made sense.
Fourteen was that sort of age. When a boy could have all the bravado in the world, and not be aware of what consequences might befall him.
Matías was certain he had been similarly brash at that age. In all actuality at thirty-three he was still as brash, it was just that when you were a billionaire with limitless funds and no small amount of power, it was not considered brashness. It was simply considered reasonable.
He was a man of responsibility also, and one who—unlike the rest of the men in his family—cared about doing what was right. He cared about the ranch. About the village the ranch supported.
His abuelo was currently playing games with it. But Matías wasn’t to be trifled with. The old man had pitted Matías and his older brother Diego against each other, saying they had to comply with specific terms, and whichever of them managed in an allotted time frame would get their share of the ranch and the family assets upon the old man’s death.
If they both complied, they would get half each.
But if only one did...to the victor went the spoils.
Matías had no doubt he would be the one to win. Marriage was one of his grandfather’s stipulations, and Matías had secured his union to Liliana Hart a couple of months earlier. He had known her casually for years. Had seen her at various functions with her parents, and her father had indicated he wouldn’t be opposed to the union and Matías had seen it as an opportunity.
That was the sort of man he was. Decisive. Not opportunistic in the way his grandfather or brother were. He did things right.
And he reaped rewards for it.
He had expected the youth to back down the moment he had realized the manner of the man he was coming at. But he had not. Which Matías could only grudgingly admire.
The boy followed his command, moving closer to the arena, a scowl on his face.
Matías looked over at Fuego, his tempestuous new acquisition. The horse possessed the ability to be great. Matías knew it. He was an excellent judge of horseflesh. He was also an extremely skilled trainer. But the animal had refused to come to heel, no matter how long and hard Matías worked with him.
Though it galled him to admit the boy was correct, he was. Matías was also a businessman, and his work often demanded that he spend time away from the rancho. That meant having others work with the horses in his stead.
His family was an old one in Spain, and had been breeding champions for generations. But it had long ceased to be their primary source of income. And Matías was involved in various retail conglomerates across the world, his business centered in London, not in Spain.
Though he had achieved a level of status that allowed him to work from wherever he wanted, as various other business associates and dignitaries would meet with him wherever he chose, it still required a fair amount of travel.
So yes, in that way, this urchin boy was correct. The fact that Matías was a businessman did keep him from dedicating everything he had to the animals.
Matías regarded the boy as he walked over to the animal, who immediately seemed to still in his presence. If he had not, Matías would never have allowed the boy to get any closer. He hadn’t lied when he said he was not going to subject himself to an inquiry over a teenage boy’s stupidity.
Completely unafraid, the boy lifted his hand and brought it to Fuego’s nose. The horse sniffed his hand and seemed to find him familiar. For he stilled, almost immediately. The boy grabbed the rope, close to the bridle, and then looked over at Matías, nodding his head once, in a clear bid for Matías to drop his end.
Matías complied.
The boy leaned into the horse, pressing his face against the horse’s nose, stroking him gently and speaking to him in soft tones that Matías could not readily understand.
As if by magic, the horse quieted.
Then the boy turned to look at Matías. “I didn’t lie to you. Fuego knows me. Now, he’s not going to perform perfectly right away. He didn’t always obey me. But I can ride him. I can work with him. And I can make it so that someone else can ride him, as well. Which is what you need if you want him to be able to race. As it is, his temperament is too hot. And the fact that no one can manage it makes it impossible. I can make him manageable. I will never make him well behaved, but manageable I can accomplish. And I assume your jockeys are strong enough riders to go from there.”
“This is unprecedented,” Matías said, looking over at Juan. “I do not allow children to train my animals.”
“And yet,” Juan responded, “clearly Cesar Alvarez did.”
Matías looked back over at the boy, who was regarding him with rather hopeful eyes. “Fine. Whatever your duties are, you’re relieved of them. Fuego is now your responsibility. Fernando Cortez is going to be the jockey that we use for him, so eventually you’re going to be working with Fernando. But you may start by yourself.”
“Good,” the boy said, tilting his face upward.
He suddenly looked a bit older than Matías had thought originally. But perhaps that was the bravado again.
“Then it is good,” he responded.
He moved over to the edge of the fence. Matías nodded once, signaling the boy to proceed.
The boy paused, then stared at him. “Don’t you want to know my name?”
“If I know your name will you become a better horse trainer?” Matías asked.
“No,” the boy said, blinking. “I don’t suppose.”
“Then I do not care to know your name.”
The boy said nothing but set about silently moving Fuego through his paces. The horse was jumpy, skittish, but not completely immovable as he had been when Matías had attempted the same.
There was no denying that the boy had a way with the horse. And if Matías wanted him trained in time, he was going to have to allow the boy to step in. The last thing he wanted to do was mishandle such a magnificent creature.
Acquiring Cesar Alvarez’s stock had been a boon for him, and he was not about to waste it.
“What about the other horses from the Alvarez rancho?” Matías called. “You are familiar with them, as well?”
“All of them,” the boy said, not looking over at Matías. “I have worked with all of them.”
“You will work with all of them here,” he said, decisive now. “My trainers keep logs. Juan will show you the proper way to do this. That way I can read about your progress without having to speak