in Brazil, which was the most cherished part of his worldwide equine empire. Control and order ruled throughout. His control. His rule. Horses loved order and certainty, and he loved horses, so the smooth running of this ranch was non-negotiable.
‘New recruits, Maria,’ he snapped out crisply.
Crossing the wooden floor of his pristine office, his elderly secretary handed him a sheet of paper listing the new students.
He exchanged warm glances with Maria, who was the only woman in the world he trusted. Maria had been with him from the start. They adored each other. It was more a mother and son relationship than that of employer, employee. Maria had occupied a neighbouring shed in the barrio, the violent slum where they had both started out, where someone was murdered on average every twenty minutes. Maria’s son, Felipe, and Chico’s brother, Augusto, had been in the same gang, and had been shot dead in front of Chico in the same brutal incident. Chico had been ten years old at the time with a father in prison and a mother on the game. He had vowed to look after Maria, as he had vowed to bring justice and education to the barrio. He’d done both.
‘So,’ he mused, scouring the list. ‘These brave few have come to study at Fazenda Fernandez so they can leave with a diploma stating they have survived and thrived beneath the riding boot of the acknowledged master of the equine world?’ He exchanged an amused glance with Maria. ‘And still they come, Maria.’
‘Thanks to you, Chico,’ Maria insisted. ‘Because you are the best.’ Maria’s characterful mouth pressed down as she shrugged expansively. ‘The best want to study with the best.’
He laughed. ‘So, who have we got here?’ His gaze stalled on one name. Thank God Maria hadn’t noticed his reaction. Explanations would have spoiled her day. Seeing the name Fane and that distinctive address had spoiled his day. He had thought he was done with that family.
‘There were more applicants than ever this year, Chico.’
He didn’t want to upset Maria when she was in full flow. Maria was proud of him. She treated him like the son she had lost, and in return he loved Maria and protected her in every way he could. He would not upset her now, so a short hum was his only response to her rapid-fire résumé of each of the new students.
‘And this one’s from the barrio, Chico—’
‘Good,’ he murmured, still debating what to do with one particular student on the list. As for the barrio, that was an ongoing project and very close to his heart. It was a battle he’d never win, some said, but he refused to accept that. To be the best he could be was his personal goal; to help young people from all backgrounds was his mission in life.
‘And we have a member of the British aristocracy with us this year—’
This he already knew. And he was a whole lot less impressed about that fact than Maria.
‘No wonder,’ Maria enthused. She was brandishing an official-looking document at him. ‘Fazenda Fernandez is up for yet another award this year. We are even famous in Scotland where this aristocratic young lady comes from.’
‘Really? That’s good, Maria.’
He made a point of standing next to Maria as he read the letter over her shoulder to assure her of his interest. The letter confirmed that Lizzie Fane was a member of that year’s new student intake. He smiled at first, remembering how Lizzie had teased him about his broken English, and how she’d patiently taught him, and how he’d loved those lessons. He had loved watching her mouth form the words more than the words themselves. It was a surprise he’d learned anything new, but Lizzie had assured him that he was her best student.
Her only student, he thought now, his hackles rising when he thought back to her parents, who hadn’t liked Lizzie to have any friends—in case they talked about what they saw at Rottingdean House, he had presumed at the time. They couldn’t get rid of him, because he was with Eduardo, but they had targeted Chico, levelling the most terrible accusations against him in the hope of getting Eduardo to buy them off.
At the time he was angry with Eduardo and Lizzie’s grandmother for spiriting him away before he’d had chance to clear his name, but now he realised they had saved him from going head to head with the establishment, which, back then, was a battle he could never have won. The only thing he didn’t understand about that time was why Lizzie hadn’t stepped forward to defend him. He had thought they were friends, but blood was thicker than water, it turned out, and she had chosen her lying, cheating family over him.
And now Lizzie was here on his ranch, hoping to benefit from his teaching? It was so incredible it was almost funny, but he wasn’t in the mood for laughing.
‘My success is thanks to you, Maria, and to the wonderful staff you have gathered around you,’ he said, determined to look forward, not back.
Maria turned to give him a glowing smile. ‘And to you, Chico,’ she insisted proudly. ‘Without you none of us would be working in this world-class facility.’
He watched fondly as Maria busied herself filing the letter away with all her other treasured possessions, as she referred to the many letters of praise they received.
‘As soon as we receive the official certificate I’m going to have it framed and hung on the wall with the rest,’ she told him proudly.
‘And I’m going to treat you and the staff to a party to celebrate, and thank you all for everything you’ve done for me, Maria.’ He gave her a hug.
‘We’ve come a long way together, Chico.’
As he released Maria and stepped back he could see in her eyes that Maria was thinking how easily Chico could have taken a very different path. His road out of the gutter had begun the day he wandered into Eduardo’s recruitment rally by mistake. Another do-gooder, he’d thought scornfully, contemptuous of the rapt faces all around him. He had believed Eduardo to be one of the rich pigs that came to hand out largesse in the slums to make themselves feel better. Soft bastardo! he’d thought viciously. Ten years old and all fired up, he had been on his way to confront the drug pushers who had killed his brother and Maria’s son, with a loaded gun stuck into his belt and murder on his mind. Eduardo must have seen something of this in his eyes and had called him forward. Chico had remained stubbornly planted, but Eduardo wasn’t so easy to refuse, and Eduardo was big, and hard, and firm, though Chico could still remember shooting venom from his eyes when Eduardo took a firm hold of him. He hated authority. What had authority done for him? Where were the police when his brother was shot? He hated the privilege that brought individuals like Eduardo sightseeing to the barrio and bought rich boys out of trouble. And he hated Eduardo for no better reason than the esteemed polo player was trespassing on Chico’s territory, confronting issues Chico was so sure Eduardo couldn’t understand. But Eduardo had his arm in an iron grip, and his gun was soon in Eduardo’s pocket. There would be no murders committed that day.
‘I owe it all to you and to Eduardo, Maria,’ he said now. ‘Everything I have is because you two believed in me.’
‘And we weren’t wrong, were we?’ Maria planted her capable hands on her ample hips as she confronted him. ‘Against all the odds, the poor boy from the barrio finds himself here.’ She said this expansively, as if they lived in a palace, rather than on a ranch as she gestured around ecstatically with another of her beaming smiles.
His face softened too. How could it not? Every day he relished this life, for Maria’s sake as much as his own. It couldn’t have happened if Eduardo hadn’t treated him like a son, believing in him, however hard Chico had made things for Eduardo. And Chico had made things hard, though he had idolised his mentor. He still couldn’t believe how lucky he was, to have been chosen to work for such a famous polo player. Having taken him out of the barrio, Eduardo had shown him that there was so much more to life than drugs and guns and war, and when he’d died Eduardo had left Chico everything, knowing his devoted charge would pick up Eduardo’s causes and infuse them with new life.
He had used the money Eduardo left him to