by Kate Hewitt
Rachel Lewis looked up from the microscope she’d been bending over to smile a greeting at her closest colleague. Mateo Karras’ dazzlingly good looks had stopped stealing her breath years ago, thank goodness, but the academic part of her brain still couldn’t help but admire the perfect symmetry of his features every time she saw him—the close-cropped blue-black hair, the aquamarine eyes the exact colour of the Aegean when she’d gone on holiday there a few years ago, the straight nose and square jaw, and of course the lithe and tall powerful figure encased now in battered cords and a creased button-down shirt, his usual work attire.
‘Come up?’ She wrinkled her nose, noting his rather terse tone, so unlike his usual cheerful briskness as he came into the lab, eager to get started. ‘What do you mean?’
‘I...’ He shook his head, let out a weary breath. ‘I’m going to be away for...a while. I’ll have to take a leave of absence.’
‘A leave of absence?’ Rachel stared at him in shock. She and Mateo had been pioneering research on chemical emissions and climate change for the better part of a decade, since they’d both received their PhDs here at Cambridge. They were close, so close, to discovering and publishing the crucial evidence that would reduce toxic chemicals’ effect on the climate. How could he be walking away from it all? It was too incredible to take in. ‘I don’t understand.’
‘I know. I can’t explain it all now. I’m afraid I have a family emergency that has to be dealt with. I... I don’t know when I’ll be back.’
‘But...’ Shock was giving way to dismay, and something even deeper that Rachel didn’t want to consider too closely. She didn’t feel anything for Mateo, not like that. It was just that she couldn’t imagine working without him. They’d been colleagues and partners in research for so long, they practically knew each other’s thoughts without needing to speak. When discussing their research, they’d completed each other’s sentences on many occasions, with wry smiles and a rueful laugh.
They had a symmetry, a synchronicity, that had been formed over years of dedicated research, endless hours in the lab, as well as many drinks in pub gardens by the river Cam where they discussed everything from radioactive isotopes to organic compounds, and raced each other as to who could recite the periodic table the fastest. Unfortunately, Mateo always won. He couldn’t be leaving.
‘What’s going on, Mateo? What’s come up?’ After nearly ten years together Rachel thought she surely deserved to know, even as she acknowledged that she and Mateo had shared next to nothing about their personal lives.
She didn’t really have one, and Mateo had always been very private about his. She’d seen a few women on his arm over the years, but they hadn’t stayed there very long—a date or two, nothing more. He’d never spoken about them, and she’d never dared ask.
She’d also never dared consider herself a candidate for that vaunted position—they were poles apart in terms of their appeal, and she was pragmatic enough to understand that, no matter how well they got along. Mateo would never, ever think of her that way. And, Rachel had reminded herself more than once with only a small pang of loss, it wasn’t likely that any man would. She certainly hadn’t found one yet, and she’d accepted her single state a long time ago, not that she’d ever admitted as much to Mateo.
Over countless conversations, they’d stuck to chemistry, to research, maybe a bit of university gossip, but nothing more. Nothing personal. Certainly nothing intimate. And that had been fine, because their work banter was fun, their research was important, and being with Mateo made her happy.
Yet now Rachel knew she needed to know why he was leaving. Surely he couldn’t walk away from it all without giving her a real reason.
‘It’s difficult to explain,’ he said, rubbing a hand wearily over his face. Gone was his easy charm, his wry banter, the glint in his aquamarine eyes that Rachel loved. He looked remote, stony, almost like someone she didn’t even know. ‘All I can say is, it’s a family emergency...’
Rachel realised she didn’t know anything about his family. In nearly ten years, he’d never mentioned them once. ‘I hope everyone is okay,’ she said, feeling as if she were fumbling in the dark. She didn’t even know if there was an everyone.
‘Yes, yes, it will be fine. But...’ He paused, and a look of such naked desolation passed over his face that Rachel had the insane urge to go over and give him a hug. Insane, because in nearly ten years she had never touched him, save for a brush of the shoulder as they leaned over a microscope together, or the occasional high five when they had a breakthrough in their research. But they’d never hugged. Not even close. It hadn’t bothered or even occurred to her, until now.
‘Let me know if there’s something I can do to help,’ she said. ‘Anything at all. Are you leaving Cambridge...? Do you need your house looked after?’ Although she’d never been to his house, she knew it was a sprawling cottage in the nearby village of Grantchester, a far cry from the terraced garden flat by the railway station that she’d scraped and saved to afford and make a cosy, comfortable home.
‘I’m leaving the country.’ Mateo spoke flatly. ‘And I don’t know when I’ll be back.’
Rachel gaped at him. ‘This sounds really serious, then.’
‘It is.’
It also sounded so final. ‘But you will come back?’ Rachel asked. She couldn’t imagine him not returning ever. ‘When it’s all sorted?’ Whatever it was. ‘I can’t do this without you, Mateo.’ She gestured to the microscope she’d been looking through, encompassing all the research they’d embarked on together, and a look of sadness and regret flashed across Mateo’s face like a lightning strike of emotion, before his features ironed out and he offered her a nod.
‘I know. I feel the same. I’m sorry.’
‘Are you sure there isn’t something I can do? Help in some way?’ She didn’t know what to do, how to help, and she hated that. She wanted to be useful, had spent her entire life trying to be necessary to people, if not actually loved. But Mateo was already shaking his head.
‘No, no. You...you’ve been amazing, Rachel. A great colleague. The best I could ask for.’
She grimaced, struggling to make a joke of it even as horror stole over her at the thought of him leaving in such a final way. ‘Don’t, you make it sound as if you’re dying.’
‘It feels a little bit that way.’
‘Mateo—’
‘No, no, I’m being melodramatic.’ He forced a smile to that mobile mouth that had once fascinated Rachel far more than it should have. Thankfully she’d got over that years ago. She’d made herself, because she’d known there was no point. ‘Sorry, it’s all just been a shock. I’ll try to explain when I can. In the meantime...take care of yourself.’
He stepped forward then, and did something Rachel had never, ever expected him to do, although she’d dreamed it more times than she cared to admit. He leant forward and brushed her cheek with his lips. Rachel drew in a shocked breath as the sheer physicality of him assaulted her senses—the clean, citrusy smell of his aftershave, the softness of his lips, the sharp brush of his stubbled cheek against hers. One hand reached out, flailing towards him, looking for purchase, but thankfully her mind hadn’t short-circuited quite that much, and she let it fall to her side before she actually touched him.
With a sad, wry smile, Mateo met her gaze and then stepped back. He nodded once more while Rachel stared dumbly, her mind spinning, her cheek buzzing, and then he turned around and left the lab. A second later Rachel heard the door to the block of laboratories close, and she knew he was gone.
CHAPTER TWO
MATEO STARED OUT at the idyllic view of his island home—sparkling sea, pure white beach, and the lovely, landscaped gardens of the royal palace stretching down to the sand, the flowers as bright as jewels amidst all the verdant green. A paradise, which he now knew was rotting at its core.
Everything was worse, far worse,
than he’d thought. As soon as he’d arrived in Kallyria, he’d had briefings from all of his cabinet ministers, only to discover that Leo had been running the country—his country—into the ground. The economy, the foreign policy, even the domestic affairs that should have ticked over fairly smoothly had suffered under his brother’s wildly unstable hand, with decisions being made recklessly, others carelessly reversed, world leaders insulted...the list went on and on, as his brother pursued pleasure and took an interest in affairs only when it suited him.
Mateo didn’t know whether to be furious or insulted that no one had informed him what was happening, and had been going on for years. As it was, all he felt was guilt. He should have known. He should have been here.
But then, no one had expected him to be. Certainly no one had ever asked. He turned from the window to glance down at the desk in the palace’s study, a room that still reminded him of his father, with its wood-panelled walls and faint, lingering smell of cigar smoke—unless he was imagining that? His father had been gone for six years. Yet the room bore far more of an imprint of him than of Leo, who had, Mateo had discovered, spent more time on his yacht or in Monte Carlo than here, managing the affairs of his country.
Mateo’s narrowed gazed scanned the list his mother had written out in her copperplate handwriting—the list of prospective brides. His mouth twisted in distaste at the mercenary nature of the venture; it seemed incredible to him that in this day and age, in a country that professed to be both progressive and enlightened, he was meant to marry a woman he didn’t even know.
‘Of course, you will get to know her, in time,’ Agathe had assured him that morning, a tentative smile curving her mouth, lines of tension bracketing her eyes.
‘And then impregnate her as quickly as possible?’ Mateo queried sardonically. ‘That’s not a recipe for disaster.’
‘Arranged marriages can be successful,’ his mother stated with quiet dignity. She should know; her own marriage had been arranged, and she’d striven tirelessly to make it work. Mateo knew his father had been a proud and sometimes difficult man; he’d had a great capacity for love and generosity, but also for anger and scorn. Mateo loved his mother; he’d admired his father. But he didn’t want to emulate their marriage.
‘I know they can, Mitera,’ he said with a conciliatory smile, as he raked his hand through his hair. He’d arrived on Kallyria at ten o’clock last night, and only snatched an hour or two of sleep as he’d gone through all the paperwork his brother had left behind, and attended one debriefing meeting after another.
‘Is it love you’re looking for?’ Agathe asked tentatively. ‘Because love can grow, Mateo...’
‘I don’t want love.’ He spoke the word with a sneer, because he had to. How else was he meant to think of it? ‘I’ve already been in love, and I have no desire to be so again.’
‘You mean Cressida.’ Mateo didn’t bother to reply. Of course he meant Cressida. ‘That was a long time ago, Mateo.’
‘I know.’ He tried not to speak sharply, but he never talked about Cress. Ever. He tried not even to think about her, about the grief and guilt he still felt, like bullets embedded under his skin, a knife sticking out of his back that he couldn’t twist around enough to pull out. If he didn’t think about it, he didn’t feel it, and that was his preferred way of managing the pain.
Agathe was silent for a moment, her hands folded in her lap, her head tilted to one side as she pinned Mateo in place with her perceptive gaze. ‘Considering your aversion to that happy state, then, I would think an arranged marriage would suit you.’
Mateo knew she was right, and yet he still resisted the unpalatable notion. ‘I want an agreement, not an arrangement,’ he said after a moment. ‘If I’m going to have my wife rule alongside me, bear and raise my children, be my partner in every way possible... I don’t want to trust that role to a stranger who looks good on paper. That seems like the epitome of foolishness.’
‘The women on this list have been vetted by several cabinet ministers,’ Agathe countered. ‘Everything about them is suitable. There is no reason to think they wouldn’t be trustworthy, dutiful, admirable in every way.’
‘And willing?’ Mateo said with a curl of his lip. Agathe shook her head slowly.
‘Why is that wrong?’
Mateo didn’t answer, because he wasn’t sure he could explain it even to himself. All he knew was, after a lifetime of being told he would never be king, he didn’t want a woman to marry him only because he finally was. But that felt too complicated and emotional to explain to his mother, and so he straightened his shoulders and reached for the piece of paper with its damned list.
‘I’ll look it over.’
Several hours later he was no closer to coming to a decision regarding any of the oh-so suitable candidates. He’d searched for information about them online, scanned their social media profiles, and found them all as duly admirable as his mother had insisted. One of his advisors had cautiously told him that initial overtures had been made, and at least four of the women had expressed their interest, despite knowing nothing about him. Having never spoken to him. Knowing only about his wealth and title, his power and prestige. Why did that bother him so much? Why did he care?
The whole point was, he didn’t want to care. He wouldn’t care. Yet he still hated the thought of it all.
His mobile buzzed and Mateo slid it out of his pocket. In the eighteen hours since he’d arrived on Kallyria he hadn’t spoken to anyone from his former life, but now he saw with a ripple of undeniable pleasure that the call was from Rachel.
He swiped to take it. ‘Yes?’
‘Mateo?’ She sounded uncertain.
‘Yes, it’s me.’
‘You sounded so different there, for a second,’ Rachel told him with an uncertain laugh. ‘Like some... I don’t know, some really important person.’
Mateo’s lips twisted wryly. That was just what he’d become. Of course, he’d been important in his own way before returning to Kallyria; he held a fellow’s chair at one of the world’s most prestigious universities, and he’d started his own tech company as a side interest, and made millions in the process. Last year he’d been named one of Britain’s most eligible bachelors by some ridiculous tabloid. But he hadn’t been king.
‘How are you?’ Rachel asked. ‘I’ve been worried about you.’
‘Worried?’ Mateo repeated shortly. ‘Why?’
‘Because you left so suddenly, for a family emergency,’ Rachel said, sounding both defensive and a bit exasperated. ‘Of course I’d be worried.’
‘You needn’t be concerned.’ Too late Mateo realised how he sounded—brusque to the point of rudeness, and so unlike the usual way he related to his colleague. His former colleague. The truth was, he was feeling both raw and uncertain about everything, and he didn’t want to admit that to anyone, not even Rachel.
Rachel. She’d been a good friend to him over the years, his closest friend in many ways although she knew little about his life, and he knew less about hers. They’d functioned on an academic plane, both enjoying the thrill of research, of making discoveries, of joking in the lab and discussing theories in the pub. Mateo didn’t think he’d ever asked her about her personal life, or she about his. The thought had never occurred to him.
‘I’m sorry,’ he apologised, for his tone. ‘But it’s all under control.’
‘Is it?’ Rachel sounded hopeful. ‘So you’ll be back in Cambridge soon?’
Realisation thudded through Mateo at the assumption she’d so blithely made. The leave of absence he’d been granted was going to have to become a termination of employment, effective immediately, and yet he resisted the thought. Still, he steeled himself for what he knew had to be both said and done.
‘No, I’m afraid I won’t. I’m resigning from my position, Rachel.’ He heard her soft gasp of surprised distress, and it touched him more th
an he expected it to. They might have been close colleagues, even friends, but Rachel would be fine without him. She’d find another research partner, maybe even move up in the department. It wasn’t as if they’d actually cared about each other.
‘But why?’ she asked softly. ‘What’s going on, Mateo? Can’t you tell me?’
He hesitated, then said, ‘I need to take care of the family business. My brother was in charge but he’s stepped down rather suddenly.’
‘The family business...’
‘Yes.’ He wasn’t ready to tell her the truth, that he was now king of a country. It sounded ridiculous, like something out of some soppy movie, and it made a lie of his life. Besides, she would find out soon enough. It would be in the newspapers, and rumours would ripple through the small, stifling university community. They always did.
‘I can’t believe it,’ Rachel said slowly. ‘You’re really not coming back at all?’
‘No.’
‘And there’s nothing I can do? No way I can help?’
‘No. I’m sorry.’ The words sounded so final, and Mateo knew there was no more to say. ‘Goodbye, Rachel,’ he said, and then he disconnected the call.
Rachel stared at her phone in disbelief. Had Mateo just hung up on her? Why was he acting as if he’d died?
And yet it felt as if he’d died. In truth, Rachel felt a far greater grief than she’d ever expected to, to have Mateo walk out of her life like that. She knew they hadn’t actually been close in the way that most friends were, no matter how much they’d shared together. She suspected they wouldn’t keep in touch. Mateo probably wouldn’t even think of it. Typical scientist, existing on a mental plane rather than a physical one.
And yet Mateo Karras was a very physical man. Rachel had noticed it the moment she’d been introduced to him, when they’d both been obtaining their PhDs. Mateo had been in his third year while she’d been in her first, and the rumours had already been swirling around him, with the few female students in the department pretending to swoon whenever his name was mentioned.