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I set my champagne glass down on the buffet table and glanced around the room. It was the evening before the Breeders' Cup Classic and my father was hosting one his usual get-togethers where everyone including the owners of the competition were invited. I could spot my father easily. He was chatting amicably to an elderly man I didn't recognize.

It was all very boring and unnecessary. But what made it worse was when the first question most people seemed to ask me involved Lavinia. I should've just rented some random girl to avoid the pitying looks and curious stares.

A man brushed past me with a woman at his side, aiming for the caviar and salmon rolls.
I stepped aside and wasn't about to pay the strangers any more attention until he said,
"These Townsends and their money make me want to laugh. It's obvious that their second-grade colt won't beat Mumbo tomorrow."

The accent was distinctly Australian and I suddenly realized who he was. Jack Wood. He was the acclaimed trainer of Mumbo Jumbo, the colt from Australia that had been a last minute entry into the Classic. The stir this created amongst racing fans was considerable. They had been a general outrage over some overrated colt stealing the thunder of American entrants.

"Oh, of course he will! The only reason Wonder's Pride has done so well lately is because none of these American horses are much of a threat," the woman laughed. Clearly, she had discovered the champagne and her words slurred slightly.

I tried not to look like I was listening, but Wood suddenly turned to me.

"Hey, who's your pick for tomorrow's race?" He asked.

I smiled and said, "It would be nice if my father's colt wins it. You were just talking about him, I believe."

Wood's face fell. "Oh… alright then," he muttered and left with his companion.

Shaking my head, I couldn't help but feel amused. Normally, everyone in the room would know that I was Clay Townsend's son. I'll admit that I was lying low because of the Lavinia Incident.

I grabbed a crab-coated thing and chewed it absently, not noticing Ashleigh Griffen until she almost knocked me over.

Her hands grabbed at my arms to steady herself while I chocked on my food.

"You really should watch where you're going. I could've died from having crab wedged in my lung," I spluttered once the lump of food had found its way down my throat.

Ashleigh let go of me. "I was distracted," she said, looking it.

I didn't even know that she was there. Usually, Ashleigh avoided any Townsend function like the plague. But, in her figure-hugging black dress and with her hair up in an elaborate style, she fitted in perfectly. It wasn't surprising that I hadn't spotted her before then.

"Where's Reese?" I asked her.

"Talking to some breeders." She pushed past me and shoved a tartlet into her mouth. From the irritation in her voice, I wondered if there was trouble in paradise.

I watched with sordid fascination as she proceeded to eat her way through most of the finger foods that my father's catering company had created. Eventually, I grabbed at her wrist before she could take another fruit kebab.

"What?" Ashleigh glared at me.

"You have to make weight tomorrow, remember?" I said, dropping her wrist.

That all too familiar look of irritation crossed her face. "Why don't you piss off?" she suggested.

"I would, but this is my house." I gave her a smirk. "You got something on your mind, Griffen? Or did somebody bribe you to put on ten pounds so that Pride will loose tomorrow?"

Ashleigh sighed dismissively and spun on her heel, ready to leave.

"Not so fast. Have you seen this Mumbo Jumbo?" I reached past her, effectively stopping her and getting a tartlet at the same time.

"I didn't know you thought of the people here like that, Brad," Ashleigh looked meaningfully at a middle aged woman who was dressed like she had Ashleigh's figure instead of a lumpy pear-shaped body.

In spite of myself, I smiled. "No, no. I was talking about the horse."

"Ah. Yes, I saw him breeze yesterday morning. Why? Are you worried about him?"

"No. I mean… I just heard some talk about him."

"People are saying he'll beat Pride." Ashleigh picked at the hem of her dress.

I nodded. "Then you've met his trainer."

"Yes. He's walking around here telling anyone who'll listen that Mumbo's the next star."

"Wanker." I shook my head.

She nodded. "He's fast though. His time was better than Pride's."

"That's irrelevant."

"I know."

I looked at her, amazed that we were actually talking instead of fighting. There was a first time for everything, I suppose. Including seeing Ashleigh looking like she was dressed to kill.

"I need to find Mike," she said and her emotions vanished from her face

Watching her walk away, I wondered if I'd had too much champagne. I seemed to be the only one who noticed that we'd actually spoken to each other without harsh words and hurtful intentions.