Sweet Revenge: I Married His Billionaire Uncle

stine private grounds of the Meadowbrook Polo

dered by brilliant white fences, sprawling marquees do

he door, and Ivy stepp

pologetic cut striking an immediate, vivid contrast against the sea of muted twee

eavy wool cape draped broad over his shoulders, his silver-top

gravel VIP lot. Grant slid his silver 911 into an open bay, killed the ign

x a small European principality, Iv

a tailored charcoal three-piece suit and wire-rimmed spec

"My name is Miles Vance. Mr. Rhett asked me to personally welcome you. The bespoke En

t, prickling spark of curios

," Arthur grunted, nodding with

exclusively for the club's founding benefactors. Grooms and trainers stopped mid-stride, pressing the

recise, slow circuit around the perimeter track to test the new saddle before letting the st

mber lounge, glaring sideways at Grant. "You. Hayes boy. Come over here. Your posture in the

a desperate look of surrender before being

y walked along the stone aisle until

ming like polished obsidian under the halogen heat lamps, nostrils flar

e iron latch. "That's Storm. Imported pureblood out of Dubai. He threw a national steeplechase

hing the wild, intelligent fire b

" she said, her vo

nely, the cl

her dark eyes pinning the

om twenty paces down the aisle, o

drew the brass pin, and sw

de without a sec

rs bunched to pivot and charge. Ivy didn't step back. She moved forward with absolute, commanding sti

e behind the jawline, her voice dropping into a low

icked forward, startled by the strange,

, shoved her leather boot into the iron stirrup, and swung he

t, but Ivy's core remained centered and immovable as iron. Sh

ll

barn doors, surging dire

rth-shaking gallop, kicking up plumes of dark soi

r hair, caught in a dark ribbon, whipped behind her as she guided the volatile beast through sharp, br

rozen in mid-air as society patrons turned toward the field, transfixe

bservation pavilion, a single figure stood resting

ilored trousers, a crystal tumbler of neat

black stallion, tracking the line of her spine, the arch

ut his carved, aristocratic profi

y onto the stone terrace b

proach, sir. The General is in

, taking a slow, burning sip of the

amusement stirred in his

he murmured sof

halt directly beneath the shadow of the main VIP pavilion. The horse

cascade over the shoulders of her scarlet coat. Her cheeks were flushe

ting straight upward toward the p

th the tall, dark-clad figur

datory intensity of those blue eyes hit her

was

f cedar. The cold, mocking pres

et

ce did not flinch, n

ed his crystal glass toward her, offering a deliberate, unhurrie