Mateo stared at her unsmilingly, his hands still in fists by his sides. ‘Where did you hear that name?’ he asked tonelessly, but with a seething undercurrent of anger that Rachel sensed all the way from the stairs.
‘Does it matter?’
‘Where?’
She stiffened at his tone. She’d never seen Mateo like this, and it frightened her. It made her wonder if she knew him at all.
Who was Cressida?
Did she really want to know?
‘Karolina told me,’ she said. ‘And then Lukas Diakis, the minister.’
‘What did they say?’
She stared at him, willing the fierce mask to crack. Why was he looking so terribly ferocious? She shrugged, deciding to play it straight, as she played everything. She was never one for machinations, manipulations, a sly tone, a leading question, no matter what Mateo had just accused her of.
‘Karolina said she thought I was better for you than Cressida, and Lukas said he was glad you didn’t marry her.’ Mateo’s face darkened, his brows drawing together in a black slash. Rachel took a step backwards on the stairs and nearly stumbled on her gown.
‘They should not have spoken of her.’
His icy tone should have kept her from saying anything, but Rachel sensed that if they didn’t talk about Cressida now, they never would.
‘Who is she, Mateo? Why have you never mentioned her before?’
‘Why should I have?’
‘She’s obviously someone important to you.’ Rachel struggled to keep her tone reasonable even though she had an almost uncontrollable urge to burst into tears.
It was past two in the morning, she’d had the longest and most stressful night of her life, wonderful as it had been, and she knew she was feeling far too fragile to handle a big discussion right now...just as she knew they needed to have it. ‘You dated her,’ she said, making it not quite a question.
‘Yes.’ Mateo’s mouth thinned to a hard, unforgiving line. ‘It was a long time ago. It’s not important.’
Not important? Was he serious?
‘She seemed like someone important to you, judging from your reaction now.’
‘My reaction,’ Mateo informed her in as chilly a tone as she’d ever heard from him, ‘was because my relatives and civil servants were gossiping about me like a bunch of fishwives.’
‘It wasn’t like that—’
‘It was exactly like that.’ Mateo strode past her, up the stairs. Rachel watched him go with a sense of incredulity. This was so unlike Mateo, it was almost funny. He wasn’t this cold, autocratic, ridiculous dictator of a man. He just wasn’t.
And yet right now he was.
‘Why won’t you tell me about her, Mateo?’ she called up the stairs. ‘We’re abou
t to be married—’
He did not break his stride as he answered. ‘It is not to be discussed.’
Rachel watched him disappear up the stairs, dazed by how quickly things had spiralled out of control. Alone in the soaring entrance hall, she strained her ears to hear the distant sound of Mateo’s bedroom door closing.
She glanced around the empty hall and swallowed hard. She felt numb inside, too numb to cry. Had they just had their first argument?
Or their last?
Slowly she walked up the stairs. She was still in her gown and jewels, but the clock had definitely struck midnight. The party was over.