‘I can’t—’
‘Trust me.’ The two words, simply spoken and heartfelt, were enough to allay her fears, or almost. Whatever he had planned, she knew she would follow along.
The crowds parted to reveal an empty expanse of gleaming parquet, a string orchestra poised at the other end. As Mateo escorted her to the centre of the floor, they struck up a familiar waltz tune: ‘Gold and Silver’.
Rachel stared at him in blind panic.
‘Put your feet on top of mine,’ Mateo murmured, so low she almost didn’t hear the words.
‘On top? I’ll kill your feet—’
‘Do it.’
She did, and Mateo didn’t even wince as she practically crushed his toes.
‘Hold on,’ he said, slipping one hand around her waist, and the next thing Rachel knew she was flying around the dance floor, her skirt swinging out in an elegant bell as Mateo moved them both around in a perfectly elegant waltz.
‘Are you in agony?’ she whispered as he arced around, carrying her easily without even seeming to do it.
‘Smile.’
She did. Two more minutes of soaring music and graceful moves when she felt as if she were flying, and then finally, thankfully, the waltz was over. The crowd erupted into applause and Mateo looked at Rachel and winked.
* * *
His feet were killing him, it was true, but the sight of Rachel looking at him in wonder and admiration and maybe even something more made it worth it. More than worth it. The look she gave him could have powered a city. Or perhaps the feeling inside him could have.
Whatever it was, Mateo felt like a king—of the whole world.
‘Your Highness.’ A local dignitary, someone whose name Mateo had forgotten, approached him with a bow. ‘That was exceptional. Please let me introduce you to my wife...’
The next hour passed in a blur of introductions and small talk. Just as he’d known she would, Rac
hel shone. She wasn’t one to give tinkling laughs or arch looks; she was far too genuine for that. But she talked to everyone as if she wanted to, and she listened as if she was really interested in what they had to say. Mateo was proud to have her on his arm and, more importantly, she seemed happy to be there. The evening, he knew, would be deemed a great success.
He didn’t think anything of it when Rachel was escorted into dinner by Lukas Diakis, a senior minister from his father’s cabinet. Nor when she listened politely to his Aunt Karolina, her gaze darting occasionally to him. He smiled back every time, but her own smiles became smaller and smaller until they were barely a stretching of his lips, and then they weren’t there at all, because she’d stopped looking at him.
Mateo told himself not to be concerned. What on earth could a doddering retired minister or an elderly spinster aunt possibly say to Rachel to make her seem so thoughtful and pale?
Still Mateo couldn’t shake his unease through the six-course meal. Even though they were at opposite ends of the table, he felt her disquiet. Or was he just being fanciful? It wasn’t as if they had some sort of mental or, heaven forbid, emotional connection. He didn’t even want that.
At the end of the meal Rachel left first, arm in arm with Diakis. Mateo watched them go, but by the time he’d made it back to the ballroom she was lost in the crowd and annoyance bit at him. She was his wife. He’d already told her they would spend much of the evening apart, mingling and chatting, but now he wanted her by his side.
He needed her there, which would have alarmed him except right now he didn’t care. He just wanted to find her.
Another hour of mingling passed, endless and interminable. Occasionally Mateo glimpsed Rachel across the room, but it would have been impolite, if not downright impossible, to storm through the crowds and approach her. Besides, as the minutes ran into hours, Mateo managed to convince himself that nothing was amiss...and he certainly didn’t need anything or anyone. He breathed a sigh of relief at the thought.
Finally the evening came to an end. It was two in the morning, the sky full of stars, as the guests departed in a laughing stream, while Mateo, Rachel, and his mother all stood by the door, saying their official farewells. Rachel looked ready to wilt.
‘Such a success!’ Agathe kissed Rachel on both cheeks. ‘You were marvellous, my dear. Absolutely marvellous.’ She turned to Mateo. ‘Wasn’t it a success, Mateo? An absolute triumph!’
‘It was.’ He glanced searchingly at Rachel, but her gaze flitted away. What was going on?
‘I must say goodnight,’ Agathe said on a sigh. ‘I am absolutely exhausted, as you both must be.’ She kissed Mateo’s cheek. ‘You’ve done so well.’
‘Thank you, Mitera.’
His mother headed upstairs, and the staff melted away to clean up after the ball. They were alone in the great entrance hall, the space stretching into shadows under the dimmed lights of the chandelier high above. From outside someone laughed, and a car door slammed before an engine purred away.