Race Girl (31 page)

‘Thanks,' Tully said. She realised she'd been holding her breath and stepped quickly inside, one hand on her waist. She tried her best to breathe deeply, moving to the white wall of the room.

‘Just through there, Miss Athens,' the woman appeared, pointing down a long hall to the left.

‘Right, sorry.' Tully forced her legs forward and tapped down the hall, gazing up at a vast double staircase sweeping up to higher levels. A marble kitchen lay ahead and what looked to Tully like a top-class, hotel-furnished lounge room. She took a left, towards the music and dim candle lighting. Her breath caught as the room opened up, and a short stone staircase descended into a vast great room about the size of the Athens's main house combined with the stable and the worker's cottage and the dam – pretty much the whole working area of her farm.

Tully took a step back as she took in the red velvet curtains, the never-ending expanse of windows, and the view of Pearce's racehorse city, down through their valley, across the highway into town, to the far, far mountain range running parallel to Beaudesert. Sections of the glass opened up onto a stone terrace and the gardens, bursting with irrigated green and lush colour beyond. Tables with glass bowls full of rare fruits and hors d'oeuvres and pastries and breads and cheeses and prawns and lobster . . . and food Tully didn't even recognise lined the far wall of the room. A classical orchestra played on a stage at the opposite end. A chocolate fountain cascaded next to a rearing horse ice sculpture in the middle of the room.

There really were no words.

Many of the women below Tully turned from their conversations, their manicured hands clutching goblets of wine or flutes of champagne. Tully felt the eyes of the suited-up, well-groomed men upon her; she felt like a deer in headlights.

She was taking a step back to retreat to a restroom when a hand ran up her hip, across the bare skin of her back left exposed by her plunging dress, over the embellished details of the bodice, to tighten on the curve of her waist. The warmth of his hand singed Tully's skin through the silky fabric of her dress.

‘You look . . .' Brandon whispered into Tully's ear, his lips brushing the soft skin of her neck. ‘Well, there's no words, really. Friggin' gorgeous.'

‘Hello,
Master
Weston,' Tully said, taking a brisk step to the side. She sipped feverishly at her orange juice, her eyes on the stone floor, her fingers fidgeting with the spaghetti straps of her dress, then finding her up-styled hair. Tam had worked magic with the straightener, pulling Tully's hair up into a pile of cascading curls. She'd also done Tully's makeup, and had insisted on a cat-like, smoky dramatic eye. Tully hated the makeup at first, but now, standing in front of Brandon Weston at this mind-blowing party, in this glistening Cinderella dress, Tully found herself peering at him from under her eyelashes, her head tilting to the side, shoulders creeping back, her whole body pouring its energy into the gaze from her cat-like eyes.

She'd never considered herself beautiful. Growing up on Avalon, everything had been about being capable, tough – looking pretty was a bonus. Now, standing before Weston, she felt like a bold lily just waiting to open.

But not tonight,
Tully reminded herself, straightening like the ice sculpture.
Not for Brandon Weston!

Brandon's hand eased down her back and Tully jumped, wriggling free. She grabbed him by the arm, pulling him back from the landing overlooking the packed great room, around the corner behind one of the thick, dramatic curtains. ‘You've got some explaining to do. How
dare
you invite me to this, Brandon!' she said, pushing her glass, then her finger in his face. ‘I don't hear from you in, what, over a year?! I try to call, and you ignore me.
Then
I get this mysterious invitation to the bloody
Windsor Palace
and you just expect me to jump! Well, I tell you—friggin' Master of the Manor. I plan to let
every
one of these
lovely
people know just who you are and what you're capable of; you and your horrible father.'

‘Yeww,' Brandon whistled, a speculative grin lighting up his face. He cupped his chin, on one hand, leaning back against the wall. His eyes glinted with excitement, running up and down her body in unabashed admiration.

‘Quit looking at me like that!' Tully's face was hot, burning up, her heart thumping so hard she was sure he could see it through the gripping bodice of her dress. ‘This isn't gonna go down how you want, Brandon. Take me to see your father, please—
now
. I want him to hear what I have to say.'

Brandon shook his head and smiled, a kind, genuine smile. His eyes locked on hers and he took a slow step forward – much, Tully realized, as you'd approach a wild brumby on the range.

Tully's body shuddered, then froze as he took her by the hands, pulling her against his solid chest. ‘I'm sorry,' he said simply, as if it was all he needed to say to send her heart jumping, longing for him. She hated herself for admitting that he was right.

Tully's eyes went wide, her body rigid like one of Pearce's stone statues. ‘
Why
are you sorry, Brandon?'
Why am I asking him that?!
She screamed at herself.
Repeat after me: You
don't care
what he has to say!
Suddenly, coming to the ball seemed like a bad idea. A really, really
bad
plan. But she couldn't make herself move. She wanted to be in his arms.

Tully let her eyes sweep reluctantly over him, – tall and broad in a black and white tuxedo, his hair styled wild, but short enough to still be classy, Brandon Weston looked every bit a billionaire from a Hollywood film, and there'd been a time when he was
hers
. The night of her sweet sixteen, the best night of Tully's life. He was hers, or so she thought, before he'd left her in the cold . . .

‘Why did you ask me to come, Brandon?' Tears suddenly spilled out of her eyes, her heart swelling and stinging raw. She wiped them away with a shaking finger, beyond caring if her mascara smudged.

‘I was miserable in the city,' Brandon said, his deep eyes pleading with hers, soft in a way she'd never thought possible. ‘I freaked, Tull. I'm sorry, okay? I'd never fallen for a girl the way I fell for you, and never so quickly . . . I knew our families would never allow it, and I knew you were already having trouble with everything going on. I didn't want to complicate things any more for you.

‘Then Dad sent me away to Kentucky, when I finally got out of the city after school. He made me leave my phone – wouldn't let me have any distractions. If I'd known you were trying to get hold of me . . .' He clenched a fist and raised it at the wall, before taking a quick breath, returning to her. ‘I interned as the assistant to the
assistant
trainer at one of the biggest stables in Kentucky; learned a lot. But I never stopped thinking about you.' A muscle rippled across his jaw and he inched closer, so close Tully could smell his skin, feel the beating of his heart. In that moment, Brandon was again the genuine cowboy she'd raced on the road that morning. The one she'd fallen for – the boy from her valley she'd never been allowed to know.

‘I put the invitation in Mrs. Hoxton's letterbox because I was afraid of your father getting the mail first. I've noticed you haven't been home a lot lately – you've been doing so well, Tulls. I was sure Mrs. Hoxton would bring it straight to you; she hates our fathers that much.' Brandon paused, one corner of his mouth flicking up into an irresistible smile. ‘It was probably a stupid plan, really, but I didn't feel right just sending you a message. I wanted to do something . . . special, I guess. After I stuffed up, I didn't know how to fix it. I saw your career going so well, and I didn't want to stuff anything else up for you. I know I've got a lot to make up for, Tully. But I want to try.'

Tully swallowed down a fresh wave of tears, taking a step back, crossing her arms across her chest. ‘You
hurt
me, Brandon.'

‘I know—' He reached for her, but she resisted his heat, even when he hugged her tightly, one hand wrapping protectively around the back of her head— ‘I'll never hurt you again, I
promise you
, Tully Athens.'

‘Well, isn't
this
cute.' Tully went rigid at the sound of Pearce Weston's clipped, arrogant voice.

‘Dad,' Brandon said, moving between his father and Tully.

‘Hey, Tully!' A chirpy blonde bobbed at Pearce's side. Tully was sure she recognised the girl, and then it clicked –
Trinity
Braxton
, one of Pearce's legion of hot female strappers.

‘Great ride at the Sunshine Coast,' Trinity said, shifting a hip in her impossibly tight, tiny red dress, her full boobs and tiny butt cheeks clearly defined as if she wasn't wearing anything underneath.
Judging by the absence of lines,
Tully thought,
she probably isn't.

‘Um, thank you,' Tully said.

‘Go get us a coupla drinks, doll,' Pearce said, his eyes fixed to his son's.

‘Great to see you,' Trinity said, leaning in to peck Tully on the cheek. ‘Oh—and don't forget about the bachelor auction, Brandon! On the stage, nine thirty. Don't forget,
please
—some girl named Annalise has been driving me cray cray
about it. Cheers!' She blew them all a kiss before strutting for the stairs.

‘Yeah, I won't be doing that,' Brandon said, turning to Tully.

Pearce's eyes flared, the bodies of the men looming over Tully so that she felt diminished, like she was disappearing down a tunnel.

‘I don't remember approving anyone with the last name Athens on the guest list, Brandon.'

‘I'm a partner in the business, now—remember, Dad?' Brandon said, taking a step forward. ‘Your gift for finishing Year 12, and apprenticing in Kentucky. I don't think I need any approval.'

‘You'll always need my approval, mate,' Pearce said, his searing blue eyes slipping to Tully.

She gritted her teeth, glaring up at him.

Pearce smiled, looked back to his son. ‘She's cute when she's angry, Brandon,' he said. ‘I can see the attraction. But it doesn't change the fact it's inappropriate for her to be here.'

‘Why?' Tully said, lifting every centimetre out of her frame, chin raised. ‘Because you're trying to steal our farm?'

Pearce raised his eyes to the ceiling, let out a loud, impatient sigh. ‘I sent you to the States hoping you'd get a fair understanding of the business, Brandon. It's something people out here just don't understand.'

‘Whatever,' Brandon said, taking Tully by the arm. She kept her eyes glued to Pearce's smug face as Brandon led her down the steps into the ballroom, through the gaping crowd – which had fallen eerily quiet. Tully wondered if they'd been listening the whole time.

Brandon grabbed two bread rolls, a handful of strawberries and a few drinks before sweeping Tully out the doors into the refreshing night air.

26

Life, Love and Death

‘I'm sorry about that,' Brandon said, leading Tully across the terrace, down to a pathway between tall hedges.

Tully's body was hot and shaking and she struggled to keep up with him in her ridiculous shoes. The night was out of control, as everything seemed to get when Brandon Weston was involved. Her mind was a whirlwind, but as she followed Brandon down the pathway into the vibrant fragrant garden, the sun setting across the valley bathing them in a bright pink light, Tully imagined them clearly together – for the very first time, she could see her and Brandon standing strong with the crazy world spinning around them. Their private world, complete when they were together. And she didn't want to fight it.

She paused across from a veiled ivory statue, white magnolias bursting from her base. Tully breathed in the empowering scent, her eyes meeting Brandon's. ‘Thank you for getting me out of there,' she said, smiling. ‘Is he always such a bully?'