Chapter 168 Horse Racing

Chapter 168 Horse Racing

[Sera]

The morning after our visit to our future home, I woke feeling lighter than I had in weeks. Barrett was already up, seated by the window with his tablet, though his attention was on the twins' nursery monitor rather than whatever business email demanded his focus.

"Good morning," I said, stretching lazily. "What time did you get up?"

"About an hour ago," he replied, setting down his tablet to focus on me. "You were sleeping so peacefully, I didn't want to wake you."

I smiled, remembering the previous evening—our moment in his office, the surprise of seeing our nearly finished home, and most importantly, the rare glimpse of vulnerability Barrett had shown when discussing fatherhood. It was these small moments of openness that continued to deepen my feelings for him.

"Any regrets about yesterday?" he asked with a knowing smirk.

"About the meeting interruption or about saying yes to the house?" I countered, feeling my cheeks warm.

"Either. Both." His eyes held a playful gleam.

"No regrets," I said firmly. "Though I might need to work on my timing."

Barrett laughed, then glanced at the television he'd turned on with the volume low. "I was just watching this while you slept," he said, gesturing toward the screen where horses were racing around a track, the announcer's voice barely audible.

I sat up, suddenly more interested. The graceful movements of the animals captured my attention as they thundered toward the finish line.

"Have you ever been to a race in person?" Barrett asked, noticing my attention had shifted to the television.

"Never," I admitted. "It looks exciting though—all those people cheering, the fancy outfits..."

Barrett reached for the remote and turned up the volume slightly. "The Thompson Annual Derby is happening this weekend. My family sponsors it every year."

"Really?" I set my sketchbook aside. "I didn't know your family was into horse racing."

A hint of amusement crossed his face. "It's more about politics than horses, honestly. Father uses it to network with international dignitaries while pretending it's about sport."

"That sounds... very Thompson," I laughed.

Barrett turned toward me, his expression thoughtful. "Would you like to go? You could wear one of those fancy hats you were admiring on screen."

"Me? At a high-society race?" I hesitated. "I wouldn't know the first thing about horse racing."

"That's the beauty of it—most people there don't either. They're just there to be seen." He squeezed my hand. "But we don't have to go if you'd rather not."

The idea of experiencing something so different from my normal life was tempting. "You know what? I think I would like to see it."

---

The morning air was crisp as Barrett and I arrived at the Thompson Annual Derby. The racecourse sprawled before us, immaculately maintained with emerald grass that seemed to shimmer under the autumn sun. Excitement buzzed through the crowd – a sea of designer outfits, elaborate hats, and champagne flutes.

"This is incredible," I whispered to Barrett, taking in the scene. After spending weeks in Valtoria's earthquake relief efforts, the opulence around us felt almost surreal.

Barrett squeezed my hand, his thumb tracing small circles on my palm. "Family tradition. Father uses it to strengthen political alliances while pretending it's just about horses." His voice carried that hint of sardonic amusement I'd come to recognize whenever he discussed Thompson family politics.

Donnell Thompson stood at the center of a circle of dignitaries, holding court like the seasoned politician he was. When he spotted us, he waved us over with surprising enthusiasm.

"There he is! My son, the horseman!" Donnell announced as we approached. "Did you know Barrett won the National Equestrian Championship three times in his youth? His understanding of horses is unmatched."

I glanced at Barrett, surprised. He'd mentioned riding but had never elaborated on his accomplishments. The slight tightening of his jaw told me he hadn't expected this introduction.

"Fascinating," said a tall, elegant man with an accent I couldn't quite place. "I've always believed a man's relationship with horses reveals his true character."

Donnell beamed. "Prince Maximilian, may I present my son Barrett and his wife Sera."

I tried not to show my surprise. This was the same Prince Maximilian from Valtoria whom we'd worked with during the relief efforts. His eyes lingered on me a moment longer than appropriate, recognition flickering in them.

"Mrs. Thompson and I are already acquainted," the prince said smoothly. "Her architectural designs for our temporary housing have been invaluable to my country's recovery efforts."

Barrett's arm slipped around my waist, his grip subtly firmer than usual. "My wife's talent continues to amaze me daily," he said, voice pleasant but eyes watchful.

"Perhaps we'll see a demonstration of your equestrian skills today, Mr. Thompson?" the prince suggested.

"Not today," Barrett replied with a modest smile that didn't reach his eyes. "I'm here to enjoy the races with my wife."

As the group dispersed toward the VIP boxes, I felt Barrett relax slightly beside me. "You never told me you were a champion rider," I said, nudging him playfully.

He shrugged. "It was a lifetime ago."

"I think it's impressive," I said honestly. Something in my tone made him look at me, his expression softening.

"Maybe I'll take you riding sometime," he offered, the corner of his mouth lifting in that half-smile I found so endearing.

As we walked the paddock area before the first race, a sleek black horse caught my eye. Unlike the more muscular favorites, this one had a leaner build and seemed oddly calm amid the pre-race commotion.

"That one," I said, pointing. "I have a feeling about him."

Barrett raised an eyebrow. "Midnight Shadow? He's a forty-to-one longshot."

"I still think he'll win," I insisted, feeling inexplicably certain.

"Midnight Shadow it is then," came Prince Maximilian's voice from behind us. I hadn't noticed him approach. "If Sera's betting on him, I'll follow suit."

Barrett's expression remained pleasant, but I felt his body tense beside me. "My wife does have remarkable intuition," he agreed, subtly shifting to stand between the prince and me.

"Perhaps you'd like to join the crowd in the general viewing area for a more authentic experience?" the prince suggested, his gaze lingering on me a bit too long.

Before I could respond, Barrett's arm tightened around my waist possessively. "That's thoughtful, Maximilian, but our box has the superior view." His voice was polite but firm. "The Thompson family box has been positioned at the finish line for over twenty years."

The prince's smile faltered slightly. "Of course. I should have expected as much from the Thompson legacy."

"Indeed," Barrett replied smoothly. "We should place our bets now. Sera has her heart set on Midnight Shadow."

As we walked toward the betting windows, I could feel the tension radiating from Barrett's rigid posture. I glanced up at him, noting the hard set of his jaw and the dangerous glint in his eyes.

"I can talk to him if you want," I said softly, placing my hand on his arm. "Make it clear that—"

"It's not your fault," Barrett cut me off, his voice gentling as he looked down at me. "You didn't encourage this. Some men just don't know when to back off."

I changed the subject. "Are you really betting on my horse?"

"Always," he said simply, and something in the way he said it made me suspect he wasn't just talking about the race.