‘It was a long time ago and…’ He trails off, clearing his throat before reaching for his drink again. ‘Anyway, she was dedicated to my career. Thanks to Rossi, I became a pro when I was nineteen. I joined the Maycourt team, then.’
‘Whoa. You were soyoung!’
‘A lot of players start young, especially the ones who grow up in a polo family like Basilio. He turned pro even earlier.’
‘So you’ve been at Maycourt a long time. No wonder you and Lady M are close.’
‘Actually, we weren’t that close then. I was scared of her,’ he admits. ‘But Eliza was the one who believed in me right from the start. I played for Maycourt for two seasons, then I joined an American team for a while.’ His smile fades at the memory. ‘It did not work out.’
‘Was it Ambrose’s team?’
He shakes his head. ‘No, but Basilio was on it, too. We clashed. I played very badly and was substituted, then rightly dropped during the Argentine Open. It was… humiliating.’
‘Oh.’ I shift in my seat. ‘Shit. Sorry.’
‘I think it was a good thing in the end. It made me work harder, fight harder. I became a better player. A pro’s career is filled with ups and downs; you’re always on the hunt for the next season, never allowed to get complacent. Your handicap changes after a bad patch and then that’s it, you can find yourself without a team.’
‘Ruthless.’
‘That’s part of the rush. When things are going well, you’re in a world of luxury and high-adrenaline,’ he pauses as a huge cheer comes up from inside the house, perfectly timed, ‘but it can all suddenly slip away. I don’t want to lose it quite yet.’
‘You’re talking like you’re at the end of your career, but you’re, what, mid-twenties? I know you became a pro a while ago, but that’s still so young. This is just the start. I don’t think Lady M would ever want to lose you. You’re the bestplayer on her team and you work harder than anyone else. You’re the first pro at the stables and the last to leave.’
He studies me for a moment, as though he didn’t know any of that. ‘I don’t want to let anyone down. This is all I’ve ever wanted.’
A player stumbles out onto the patio, chugging from a champagne bottle with a woman draped round him and pressing him up against the wall. She’s frantically kissing his neck and opening his shirt to nip at his collarbones.
‘I can see why,’ I mutter, before the player sees us and holds his hand up apologetically, leading his companion back indoors, both of them giggling.
Mateo grins down at his lap. ‘There is a lot of fun attached to the job. But none of it is important. All that matters is the ponies and the sport. Everything else is just…’ He trails off, searching for the right word.
‘Distraction?’ I offer.
‘Yes, distraction.’ He brings his eyes up to meet mine. ‘Although some things are more distracting than others.’
My heartbeat quickens, thudding hard against my chest.
We’re interrupted by Malcolm, who bursts outside and throws his hands up in the air.
‘There you bloody well are!’ he cries at Mateo. ‘You’d better come in.’
‘Why?’ Mateo asks, finally tearing his eyes from mine so I can gather my thoughts.
‘Ambrose and Lady M got into a bit of a spat. All jokey at first but then he said something below the belt, the tosser. Now both teams have got involved and you know what Fitzy is like after a couple of drinks. Things are getting heated.’
His chair legs scrape across the stone as he rises to his feet. ‘Where are they?’
‘The drawing room. The music was too loud in the ballroom, but now I’m thinking it would have been better to stay in a room where they couldn’t actually hear what the other was saying. Let the beat drown out the banter.’ Malcolm guffaws. ‘Anyway, I’ve been looking for you everywhere so you can come help me hold Fitzy back before he does something he regrets. He’s a liability, that idiot.’
‘I’ll come with you,’ I tell Mateo, standing up.
‘I would save yourself and enjoy the party,’ Mateo advises.
‘If DQ and Basilio are involved then you might need someone to holdyouback.’
His mouth tilts. ‘You think you could hold me back?’
‘I can try.’
