The Controversial Princess (The Smoke & Mirrors Duology #1)(80)
“Some Argentine polo whizz. Santiago something or other.”
“Santiago Garcia?” I try to focus harder, past the bars of his guard. It’s no use. Anyone could be under that riding hat.
“That’s the one. Did you know he plays off a six-goal handicap? And he is insanely good-looking.”
“I’ve heard.” I tip my glass to my lips as Matilda gazes across the field. “Do you think he would fall into the approved category of men?” I ask, not that I am interested. While this polo player extraordinaire is apparently insanely good-looking, he isn’t Josh. But asking is what I would usually do.
“I don’t know. His father is apparently a diplomat, and his grandmother a descendant of the Spanish royals.”
“Great, so I’m related to him somewhere down the line.”
“Never stopped the royals before,” Matilda quips.
“He’s all yours.” I chink her glass in congratulations, quietly pleased with myself for appearing my usual self. Truth be told, if Josh was not in my life and consuming all my thinking space, I would probably have some fun with Mr. Polo Whizz over there.
“You heard from Mr. Hollywood?” Matilda turns into me, though her eyes are keeping a keen eye on Santiago.
“No.” I brush off her question casually, appearing unfazed and unaffected at the mention of him, despite how exhilarated I feel. “In hindsight, he was all power no precision.” I’ve never told such a barefaced lie in my entire life, and Damon’s cough from behind me confirms it. I cast a brief look over my shoulder, ready to scowl at him, but he is too busy scanning the surroundings.
Matilda giggles through her mouthful of champagne, struggling to swallow. “How disappointing.”
I hum my agreement, spotting Felix hurrying toward me. “Oh, bore. What is he doing here?” His beige suit is immaculate, his hair combed with precision to the side. “Will you be divot stomping with us in between chukkas, Felix?” I ask when he joins us.
“Your Highness.” Felix nods in greeting. “I think I’ll leave that to the lords and ladies of this fine land.” He looks at his shoes, no doubt dreading the thought of his signature loafers getting smeared with dirt.
“Suit yourself.” I give Matilda a flick of my head, indicating we should follow our sense of smell to the champagne tent without delay. “We will be on our w—” Champagne is forgotten, and my need to escape my head of communications is halted when my eyes, now wide, spot Senator Jameson across the field, all geared up and ready to swing his mallet. Oh my goodness. If he is here, then …
My silent pondering stops right there as Josh appears from behind Senator Jameson’s horse. “Oh no.” Mixed feelings swirl through me—delight, excitement … disappointment. How on God’s green earth am I going to keep my eyes off him, let alone my hands? Darn it. He knew I was coming here. He probably knew he was, too.
“You okay?” Felix asks, looking back to whatever has my attention.
“Perfectly fine, thank you,” I squeak, slipping my shades on. Even if the sun is swallowed up by clouds at any point during the afternoon, these sunglasses will be staying firmly on my face to conceal the direction of my stare. Matilda has just caught sight of Josh, too. Her tongue-in-cheek expression and sarcastic raised eyebrow tells me she has put two and two together.
“Oh, Josh Jameson,” Felix breathes, shaking his head in … what is that? Condemnation?
“What does that mean?” I can’t stop myself from asking.
“I’m surprised he dare show his face in public.”
What? I look across to Josh, where he is deep in conversation with Senator Jameson. “Why?”
“Well, this.” Felix magically produces a printed email from nowhere and pretty much shoves it under my nose. “Tomorrow’s front-page news. It’s shocking.”
My eyes can’t focus fast enough, and Matilda is quickly on my shoulder, gasping at what is looking back at us. My heart skips a few too many beats as I absorb the words.
SUITE TRASHED. JAMESON OVERDOSES ON WOMEN, DRINK, AND DRUGS IN AN ALL-NIGHT WILD PARTY.
The pictures below show various rooms in a suite, a suite I recognize … because I’ve been in it. It is completely smashed to pieces. In the main area, there are glasses on the floor, chairs broken, empty bottles of liquor scattered everywhere. In the bedroom, the sheets are tossed all over the floor, the mirror is shattered, and the dresser he screwed me on is face down. I zoom in, seeing various pairs of knickers scattered on the carpet.
What?
I step back, away from the bold letters of the proposed headlines and the damaging images of Josh’s suite. My eyes refuse to drop to the article, worried that what I’ll read might pale me further and give me away. He didn’t sound very intoxicated when he called me from the after-party, but then again, it was only eleven o’clock. The night was young. Why? How could he? My shaking hand passes the email back to Felix. “Where did you get this?” I breathe, my lungs squeezed dry of oxygen.
Felix looks kind of smug as he slips the paper back between the pages of his diary. “Ma’am, it is my job to keep myself abreast of breaking stories. Contacts, contacts, contacts.”
“He is despicable. How dare he show his face here?” I murmur, catching Matilda’s pursed lips. I ignore her grave expression and point my empty glass to the tent where more of my savior can be found. “Shall we?”