Page 89 of Polo Fever
‘We’re down one,’ Eric notes after sipping his drink, craning his neck to scan the party. ‘Where’s Mateo? I thought I saw him earlier.’
‘He’s with Mum, being introduced to what’s-his-name,’ Jules says, jerking her head to the side where a group of people are standing, their backs to us. ‘The shipping company director who’s taking a team to Argentina.’
‘Go interrupt them and drag him over here, would you, Ash?’ Malcolm says jovially.
‘I think we both know I wouldn’t succeed at that,’ I say with a light laugh.
If any of them catch my bitterness, they don’t comment on it.
The toast has done a good job of lifting spirits and we steam into the evening with more enthusiasm than expected, consuming the cocktails at a faster rate than we should. Putting aside the emotional hazards of the last couple of days, I’m able to finally enjoy the glamour of Sotogrande, talking and laughing with friends I might find myself missing.
I’ve grown quite fond of these idiots. Will I miss Fitz? Doubtful. But he is such a ridiculous character that he brings a lot of laughs, whether he means to or not. Malcolm is a bit of a lovable buffoon and Eric is soft as anything. I hope I’ll see them in the yard again, soon. That is, if I’ll even be there. I haven’t been brave enough to broach the subject with Lady M or Jules, yet. This was never meant to be long-term. Sussex was never meant to be long-term. I can’t stay with Jasper forever, no matter how much he insists I can. The season is ending and everyone is looking to the future. At some point, I need to make a decision, too.
But not tonight.
While Malcolm and Fitz pounce on the DJ, attempting to persuade him to give them the microphone so they can sing along, I slip away to the bathroom, happy to miss any efforts they make to embarrass themselves amongst this high-society crowd. Mateo has been so caught up in his conversation, he hasn’t even noticed I’ve arrived yet, and I’m determined not to be the one to seek him out. I want him to know I’m still annoyed at him.
Emerging from the bathroom, my heels clack along the decking by the water as I head for one of the bars, but I spy a familiar face on my way there. Basilio glances my way and double takes, his eyes widening. He excuses himself from the group of people he’s standing with and comes over to greet me.
‘Wow,’ he says, placing a hand over his heart as he gazes at me. ‘You are stunning.’
‘Congratulations on reaching the final.’
‘Thank you. Will you be there?’
‘I don’t think so. We’ll probably be heading home now we’re out of the tournament.’
‘You should stay. The party after the final is always a good one,’ he says, his hand brushing against my arm.
From his bloodshot eyes and the way he’s standing a little too close, I can guess that our team isn’t the only one that’s been enjoying the cocktails tonight. I take a small step back.
‘I bet. But there will be lots to do at the yard, so hopefully, I’ll be needed there,’ I say regretfully, even though I’m not regretful at all.
He quirks a brow. ‘Hopefully? You’re worried you won’t have a job there after the season? That might be a good thing. You know, Ambrose has been wanting you on the DQ yard ever since the grooms’ match.’
I shift uncomfortably. ‘Basilio—’
‘I’m serious! He was impressed with the way the ponies responded to you, and your instinct around them.’ He takes a step closer, leaning in conspiratorially. ‘The best polo yards are the ones with the best grooms.’
‘That I agree with.’
‘So, you should consider it.’ The corner of his mouth hitches up. ‘Why not?’
The way he’s looking at me prompts me to hug my waist self-consciously, suddenly feeling very exposed. I hear heavy footsteps march up behind me and Mateo appears at my side, his expression thunderous. The tension between them feels sharper than ever after their tussle on the polo field today.
‘Mateo!’ Basilio cries, like greeting an old friend, before a smirk appears on his lips. ‘I hope you’re not too sore after your loss today.’
‘You’ve got a lot of nerve,’ he snarls.
‘Oh, oh, oh, I see, so this is how it’s going to go.’ Basilio gestures at Mateo. ‘Most players are able to leave rivalry on the pitch. Only those who are weak bring it away with them. You should chill, Mateo. This is a nice party.’
‘Why is it that whenever my back is turned for a moment, I find you hovering around Ash like a hungry little mosquito?’ he says through gritted teeth, his eyes flaring with fury.
Basilio snorts at the analogy.
‘Mateo, it’s okay, we were just talking,’ I say quietly, glancing nervously around the party. ‘Let’s go.’
‘What’s wrong, Mateo?’ Basilio jabs, relishing the confrontation. ‘Worried that Ash is going to come to her senses and realise that she should be with a man who genuinely cares about her? One that can provide for her?’
