Page 87 of Polo Fever
‘There’s a lot to do, Mateo.’
‘You can take a moment,’ he presses.
With a reluctant sigh, I stand up to face him. His eyes search mine, his brow furrowed in concentration. I can tell he’s puzzled by the way I’m acting and that bothers me.
‘Talk to me,’ he says gently.
‘I’ve told you,’ I say, avoiding his eye contact by glancing around at the goings-on of the other grooms, ‘I’d rather not talk about it now. It happened, I’ve dealt with it, I’m moving on. No point in dwelling on it. And now definitely isn’t the time.’
‘I want to make sure you’re okay,’ he says, concern deepening the creases on his forehead. ‘You have no idea how worried I was yesterday. You wouldn’t let me see you, you turned off your phone—’
‘I was being inundated by messages from reporters asking me for comment, as well as friends and family who hadread nasty things about me in the press. Of course I turned off my phone,’ I say bluntly.
‘You shouldn’t have been alone. You should have let me come over.’
Trying to keep my temper, I press my lips together and inhale deeply. ‘Stop saying it like that,’ I mutter.
‘What?’
I bring my eyes up to meet his, speaking in a low, sharp voice. ‘You keep saying that I wouldn’t let you come over. As thoughIwas the one making the choices yesterday.’
He stares at me, baffled. ‘Ash, I said I’d come and you told me not to.’
‘You had a choice to leave the party and you chose not to.’
‘What? What do you mean?’
‘I think I’m being clear, Mateo,’ I say sternly, my thoughts clear and concise having dwelled on them for the whole of yesterday and this morning. ‘You found out what had happened. You knew what the consequences would be. And instead of coming to me, you chose to stay at the party.’
‘I said I would come!’
‘Afterthe party.’
‘I was already at the event; I couldn’t walk out straight away.’
‘Why not?’ I ask, lifting my chin.
He puts his hands on his hips. ‘I’m sorry?’
‘Why not? Why couldn’t you walk out straight away? As soon as you heard, why weren’t you running off that yacht and coming to my hotel? Were there barriers stopping you? Guards?’
‘Guards?’ he splutters, bewildered. ‘Don’t be… Of coursenot! But it would have been… rude to the hosts. And the team. We were there together, you know it was an important event for everyone.’
‘It was important for your career, you mean.’
He looks me straight in the eye, swallowing. ‘Yes. It was important for my career. You know that. But that doesn’t mean—’
‘I know what it means, Mateo,’ I say wearily, walking away, wanting out of this conversation. Suddenly, I feel completely drained.
‘Ash, wait,’ he says, falling into step with me, keeping his voice low as we pass by others on the way to the stables. ‘If I’d known you’d feel upset by this, I would have left. I was so worried about you. I wanted to see you, but from your messages, you made it clear you didn’t want to see me or anyone else. I called you so many times. I wanted to come to the hotel to be with you.’
‘Once you’d done enough schmoozing to secure a place on a team for Argentina.’
‘That’s not what I—’
‘You know what I find funny, Mateo?’ I say without looking at him, still marching onwards, the frustration and anger that’s been building recently starting to spill out of my mouth before I can decide whether or not it’s a good idea. ‘I find it funny that spending time with me is distracting for your work, but yachts and parties aren’t.’
‘What are youtalkingabout?’ he asks earnestly, looking completely thrown by my comment, which is equally confusing to me.
