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‘I can’t help but think you’re deluded when you say that,’ Rachel murmured.
Mateo allowed himself a small smile. ‘I assure you, I am not.’
‘I know, I really do believe you. I just...don’t believe this situation.’
The driver hopped out to open the passenger door of the luxury sedan. Mateo gestured for Rachel to get in first, and she slid inside, running one hand over the sumptuous leather seats.
‘Wow,’ she murmured, and then turned to face the window.
Mateo slid in beside her, his thigh brushing hers. She moved away. He thought about pressing closer, just to see, but decided now was not the time. The physical side of their potential arrangement was something that would have to be negotiated carefully, and there were certainly other considerations to deal with first.
They didn’t speak as the driver navigated Cambridge’s traffic through the dark and rain, and finally pulled up in front of the elegant Georgian façade of the Gonville Hotel. A single snap of his fingers at the concierge had the man running towards him, and practically tripping over himself to accommodate such an illustrious personage as the Crown Prince, soon to be King.
Rachel stayed silent as they were ushered into a sumptuous private room, with wood-panelled walls and a mahogany table laid for two with the finest porcelain and silver.
‘I’ve never seen you like this before,’ she said once the concierge had closed the door behind them, after Mateo had dismissed him, not wanting to endure his fawning attentions any longer. She shrugged off her coat and slowly unwound her scarf.
‘Seen me like what?’ Mateo pulled out her chair and she sat down with murmured thanks.
‘Acting like...like a king, I suppose. Like you own the place. I mean, you were always a little arrogant,’ she conceded as she rested her chin in her hand, ‘but I thought it was just about your brain.’
Mateo huffed a laugh. ‘I’m wondering if I should be offended by that.’
‘No, you shouldn’t be. I’m basically telling you you’re smart.’
‘Well, then.’
‘Except,’ Rachel continued, ‘I don’t think you’re making a very smart decision here.’
Mateo’s gaze narrowed as he flicked an uninterested glance at the menu. ‘Oh?’
‘No, I don’t. Really, Mateo, I’d make a terrible queen.’
* * *
Rachel eyed him mischievously, her chin still in her hand. It was actually a bit amusing, to see this self-assured man, who was kind of scaring her in his fancy suit, look so discomfited. It helped her take her mind off the fact that he’d asked her to marry him, and she still had absolutely no idea how to feel about that. Flattered? Furious? Afraid? Appalled? All four, and more.
‘I disagree with that assessment,’ Mateo said calmly.
‘I can’t imagine why.’
He frowned, and even when he was looking so ferocious, Rachel couldn’t help but acknowledge how devastatingly handsome he was. The crisp white shirt and cobalt-blue tie were the perfect foil for his olive skin and bright blue-green eyes. He’d looked amazing in rumpled shirts and old cords; he looked unbelievably, mouth-dryingly gorgeous now. And it was yet another reminder that they couldn’t possibly marry each other.
‘I don’t understand why you are putting yourself down,’ he said, and Rachel squirmed a bit at that. It made her feel pathetic, and she wasn’t. A long time ago she’d accepted who she was...and who she wasn’t. And she’d been okay with that. She’d made herself be okay, despite the hurt, the lack of self-confidence, the deliberate decision to take potential romance out of the equation of her life.
On the plus side, she had a good brain, a job she loved—or at least she’d had—and she had a few good friends, who admittedly had moved on in life in a way she hadn’t, but still. She’d taken stock of herself and her life and had decided it was all good.
‘I’m not putting myself down. I’m just being realistic.’
‘Realistic?’ Mateo’s dark eyebrows rose, his eyes narrowed in aquamarine assessment. ‘About not being a good queen? How would you even know?’
‘I’m terrible at public speaking.’ It was the first thing she could think of, even though it had so little to do with her argument it was laughable.
Mateo’s eyebrows rose further. ‘You are not. I have heard you deliver research papers to a full auditorium on many occasions.’
‘Yes, but that was research. Chemistry.’
‘So?’
