“Emilio! It’s mom and dad. We brought wine and food.”
Emilio froze, his hands on Fraya’s belly. “Fuck.” He got to his feet slowly. “This can so not be happening. I’m going to have a serious talk with my family.”
Fraya couldn’t suppress the smile, and disappointment, that flowered through her. “Seems like mornings are not a good time.”
Emilio gave her a measured look. “This is far from over.” With that he stalked from the room.
* * * *
After helping Ana, Sofia and Maria to clear the table, Fraya excused herself to get ready for her flight. Emilio’s parents, cousins and his grandmother were all still there, taking their coffee outside on the back porch. Romero smoked a cigar with his son, the two men blowing smoke circles into the air. It had been a pleasant enough lunch, but Fraya could sense Emilio’s brooding frustration since they never did have a chance to tend to that unfinished business.
One hour later, Fraya waited on the front steps for the driver to load her travel bag. Emilio exited the house, his hands in his pockets. He had changed. He was dressed in a dark suit with a crisp, white shirt that showed off his tanned skin. Fraya’s eyes were drawn to the open V and the warmth she knew the fabric sheltered, a heartbeat she had memorized. He smelled of soap and his signature cologne. Inhaling deeply, she closed her eyes for a fraction of a second. When she was two thousand miles away, she wanted to remember his smell, like she could feel the pulse of his heart in her own chest.
“You’ve changed.” Fraya regarded him curiously.
“I’ve decided to meet clients for drinks at the club.” The set of his mouth was defiant, his lips framed by the dark stubble she had felt on places of her body burning for it now. “I’m not happy about you leaving like this, Fraya,” he said darkly. “I would have preferred to take you to the condo myself.”
His insistent interference with her independence infuriated her. And he was ridiculously jealous. The coldness of her voice didn’t give away anything of the heat that surged through her body. “Why? To babysit me?”
His blue eyes flashed. “To make sure that you’re alright.”
She rolled her eyes. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
“It’s not exactly a place for a girl out there.”
“Don’t get chauvinistic on me, Emilio. I can handle myself.”
“It’s not you that I’m worried about.”
“What then?”
“It’s the other fucking seven hundred nerds who are going to lust after you.”
She looked back at the driver, wishing he would hurry with loading her luggage. “And you wanted to go and give them a scare? Show them who I belong to?”
“No. I wanted to go along to remind you whom you belong to. To mark every room, every surface with us, with our scent.”
She stared at him in disbelief. “You’re an animal.”
“You haven’t complained before.”
She narrowed her eyes. Even if she wanted to complain, not that she did, she didn’t have any grounds to stand on. She agreed to their arrangement, hadn’t she?
“So don’t give me reason to complain now,” she said, making her way to the car.
Emilio grabbed her wrist. “Don’t forget we have unfinished business. I intend to continue what my family interrupted.”
She hated the flush that she could feel on her cheeks. Fraya pulled to free her arm, but Emilio didn’t ease his grip.
“Kiss me goodbye,” he said, his demand dark and meaningful.
When he pulled her to him she was aware of the driver’s eyes, worried for a second about the man watching, but the minute Emilio’s lips fell over hers, she forgot that anyone but them existed. He nipped at her, sucking at her tongue hungrily, and in an instant her body responded. Without wanting to, she leaned into him, wrapped her arms around his neck and let him feel just how ready she was for him. His hands went to her face, his fingers to her hair. She felt him pulling at the long strands, tilting her face up while his mouth sought the tender flesh of her throat. She arched her neck, inviting the caress of his lips that stole her breath as she could feel the urgency, the need, building under his touch.
“Come back upstairs,” he said against her ear, but it was a question instead of a demand.
She moaned. If he only knew how badly she wanted to. “I’ll miss my flight.”
“Come back inside.”
The command in his voice pulled her from her lustful state. Anywhere, any time he wanted. Not now. She wanted to so much, but she couldn’t give up this very last part of her security, of her independence. This job is what she’d always wanted. She couldn’t screw it up now.
With much difficulty, she pulled away. “Emilio ... I really have to go. This is important to me.”
He checked his watch. He seemed to fight an internal battle as he looked back at her, his eyes roaming over her face and her neck. Slowly, he released her arms.
“Go safe, baby,” he said, his smile suddenly tight.
“Thank you.”
He nodded. “You owe me.”
She fled to the dark safety of the car, looking up at him as he followed and closed the door. Fraya looked through the tinted window as the driver pulled off, and felt something eat into her heart. Emilio stood, hands in his pockets, watching the car intently, and it reminded her too much of a day a year ago in Zone 11, when she had left him standing on a country road.
Chapter Twenty
The flight was only three hours, not nearly enough for Fraya to add the final touches to the work preparation she wanted to. On top of that, she was distracted. Her thoughts kept on going back to her mate when now, more than ever, she needed to stay focused. With a sigh she got up and made her way to the kitchen area in the back of the plane to get another coffee. The safety belt sign came on. They were close to landing. With a paper cup in her hand, she made her way to her seat, keeping her eyes on the floor–she didn’t want to trip over someone’s outstretched leg–so that when her body collided with someone, causing the hot coffee to spill down her blouse, she jerked her head up in surprise.
“I’m so sorry,” a tall man with blond hair and chestnut eyes said. “Are you alright?”
There was something about his angular jaw and the hard line in which his too-full lips were set that was disturbing, although Fraya couldn’t put her finger on it.
“Yes,” she mumbled, wiping her palm over her blouse. When she looked up again, her eyes were drawn to a tattoo of a snake that curled around his neck. She tried not to stare and started to make her way forward again.
“Let me get that,” he said, holding out a hand for the cup, his eyes on her neck, moving down to the birthmark visible under her off-shoulder blouse.
“No, I’m fine. Thank you.”
“I insist.” He took her coffee and turned sideways for her to pass. “After you.”
An uneasy feeling washed over her, but she decided it would be quicker to get rid of him if she simply obliged. Clutching the seat backs on either side, Fraya walked down the narrow aisle and sat down in her seat.
The man went down on his haunches next to her, unfolded the cup holder and placed her coffee inside.
“There you go,” he said with a broad smile, his eyes going back to her neck.
“Thank you.”
He straightened and studied her for another second before he nodded and disappeared toward the back.
When he was out of sight, Fraya ducked beneath her seat and fished a hand mirror from her bag. She turned her head sideways and studied herself. A flush crept up her face when she saw the bright, red mark that Emilio had left in her neck. Her man had given her a damn hickey. Digging in her handbag she found a cotton scarf and twisted it around her neck. She was suddenly reminded of another scarf, another time, in Emilio’s big hands, and the way he had folded it, one end carefully over the other, around her ankles, just before he had given her the most powerful orgasm of her life. Her knees clenched involuntarily at the memory, and s
he put her hands on her burning cheeks. It wasn’t so easy to put a hand over the other burning parts of her, not here. And then her agony only increased with the memory of how her mate had taught her to please herself. The plane shook, the wheels screeching as it touched down at the Cerro Moreno International zone station, sixteen miles from Antofagasta. Fraya wished she could come down from her desire for Emilio like that plane, but deep down she knew it was a lost cause.
A short, thickset man in faded jeans, a white T-shirt with an SWO logo and a wide-rimmed leather hat waited for her at the zone station. As soon as he saw her, he stepped forward, lifted his hat and extended a hand.
“Errol Cramer. Nice to meet you.”
His South African accent was unmistakable. His grey hair was chopped in a brush cut and his cool, navy eyes regarded her with a measure of curiosity and mistrust.
She accepted his hand. Cramer was the chief engineer in charge of the Paranal site. Fraya had studied and memorized not only the organizational chart, but also the blueprint of the building. Before even putting a foot on site, she already knew it like the back of her hand.
He took her bag. “This way.”
Cramer wasn’t a man of many words. They drove the thirty-four miles from the zone station to the observatory in silence in an air-conditioned off-road beetle, designed for two passengers.
The stretch of desert surrounding them was red, marked with white patches of saltpeter as they neared the salt mines. A volcano dominated the horizon, and then they turned west towards a valley and started climbing the plateau up to thirteen thousand feet. The domed roof of her new office came into sight as a pinhead reflecting the sun. Fraya felt her heart beating faster. She watched with growing excitement as they neared the building, but instead of following a gravel road lined by low lampposts up the mountain, they turned east and rounded a small hill.
Fraya shot Cramer a questioning look, but before she could formulate her thoughts in words, a square, glass house came into sight. The building was unfinished, and the scaffolding encasing it was empty of workmen. There were no builders scurrying around. With the construction framework hugging the house, the glass cubicle appeared like a birdcage. Bars of shade elongated over the hot desert sand.
“This is you,” Cramer said, shooting her a stiff smile that lifted only the corner of his mouth.
“Excuse me?” Fraya turned to face him.
“This is your quarters,” he repeated, looking slightly irritated.
He brought the vehicle to a stop. So this was the condo. It was constructed a distance away from the observatory, removed from the hostel where everyone else was staying.
Cramer jumped from the beetle and removed her bag from the grid behind his seat. Fraya watched him walk with long strides to the front door, pushing it open. Quickly, she got from the vehicle and followed.
Cramer dumped her bag on the floor in the entrance. His voice echoed in the almost empty space of the double volume entrance and open plan lounge. “Air con works. Boss told the men to stop the work when you’re here. They’ll continue on the days you’re back in Santiago.” He fished in his pocket and took out a set of keys that he dangled in the air. “Keys to the door, and to your car.”
“Car?” She looked at him with what she assumed to be a stupid expression, judging by his disapproving frown.
“You’ll need a car to get to the ob,” he said dryly, his eyes moving in the direction of the mountain.
Following his gaze, she saw the magnificent view she had of the observatory through the glass walls of the lounge.
“Pool is out back,” Cramer said with a jerk of his head. “Expect the boys to be envious. There are plenty of us sharing a pool.”
She looked around, not sure what to say.
“Food in the fridge,” he continued. “The boss said you could take the day off, get acclimatized. He’ll see you tomorrow first thing.”
Without a word of greeting, Cramer headed for the door, and then turned as if a thought had struck him. “Telephone numbers are on the fridge. Office, boss, emergency and your PA.”
“Thank you,” she said, but he was already out of the door.
Her footsteps echoed in the hollow space as she explored her new domain. The floors were grey slate, a nice contrast to the light that infiltrated from the glass walls. It would be cool and silky under bare feet. On closer inspection she saw that each wall was fitted with an electronic sunscreen that could be lowered for either privacy or shade. It would be a pity to block out such a marvelous view, though. Fraya stopped in front of the wall in the lounge to admire the sight. In front of her lay the vast expanse of the desert–no plants, no trees, no artificial garden, nothing but the raw beauty of the copper sand framed by the undiluted blue of the sky. The distant mountain was the focal point, with the silver observatory like a crown on a queen’s head, the picture a giant portrait much prettier than the most precious of paintings.
The furniture was sparse. A white leather sofa faced the window, and a red reclining day bed stood next to a bookshelf and a sound system. The other corner housed a round glass and chrome table with four matching chairs. Between the dining area and the entrance stood a desk and a comfortable white leather office chair. White mohair carpets covered parts of the floor.
The entrance led to a small, but functional kitchen on the left. A chrome island workstation stood in the center, allowing views of the valley that stretched to the west. A bar counter with two high stools were fitted against the wall. Fraya could imagine taking her breakfast there, feasting on the sight of the endless expanse from her glass cage.
A movement caught her eye. She turned her head, and then she froze. In the corner of the kitchen stood a huge, silver cage, large enough to enclose a small thorn tree, and on one of its branches sat a bird. A very big bird. He regarded Fraya with his head cocked to one side, his watchful eyes seeming intelligent and measuring. For a few seconds, Fraya stopped breathing. Pet animals were scarce and expensive. Only the most privileged could afford a license to keep even a cat. But a...? Slowly, she approached the cage. A falcon? He shook his grey tail and ruffled his speckled brown feathers. Suddenly, she understood. The feather in the golden box ... this was Emilio’s mating gift. Her hands went to her mouth in awe. It was too much. She had only ever seen a live falcon in the zoo in Toronto, where her parents used to take her. She put her face close to the bars, inspecting the unbelievable creature. His head tilted the other way and she could swear he was returning the favor, studying her cautiously. An envelope was taped to the door of the cage. She pulled it off and removed a white card with an embossed gold frame.
Fraya,
I hope you like your mating gift. His name is Al Shain, and he is hand-trained. He’s not meant to live in the cage, but keep him there until the falconer shows you how to handle him. He will keep you company. I couldn’t think of a more appropriate companion. Good luck with your first job. You’ll be wonderful. Spread your wings.
Emilio
She turned the card over. On the back was scribbled the name and the number of the handler, Harold Jackson. Al Shain. She grasped the significance immediately. It was beautiful and deep in meaning. Emilio had named the raptor after the falcon star, Al Shain, in Aquila, the eagle star constellation.
“Hello, Al Shain,” she whispered, overtaken with emotion.
Al was quiet. Setting the card aside, she opened a cupboard. It was stocked with white crockery, six of everything. Fraya inspected the double door fridge next. A note from Tracy Saunders, the receptionist, was stuck to the door with an SWO magnet.
Dr. Riber,
Welcome. Mr. Larraín asked me to stock up with some things for you. If you need anything else, just call.
Tracy Saunders
PS: Al has been fed. Give him four cubes of raw meat from the Tupperware dish in the fridge tomorrow morning. I’ve scheduled an appointment with the handler for 6 pm Tuesday afternoon.
Fraya opened the fridge. There were fruit and wine and ...
cheese! Real cheese, not the synthetic type. Emilio had to have forked out a substantial amount of points for all this. Next to the fridge stood a temperature controlled wine bar. Her eyes fell on a beautiful bottle of Armand de Brignac Rose champagne with a pink ribbon and another note. She opened the door to read the message.
Here’s to your new home, baby. Be a good girl. E.
All of a sudden, she was consumed with guilt. Had she been wrong in not allowing Emilio to escort her here? Is this why he wanted to come, to share the excitement with her? The condo, the falcon, the furniture, the decoration, the touches to detail, it was too much. She would never know how to thank him. But she wanted her first moment here to be alone. She needed to prove to herself that she could make it on her own. Just her. She looked at the bird of prey.
“Just you and me, Al,” she said.
She wondered what Emilio meant by not being able to find a more suitable companion.
“I’ll be right back, Mr. Al Shain,” she said, continuing her tour of the new house.
Going back through the door that connected the kitchen and the lounge, she took the open staircase with metal cord rail to an upstairs loft. A bedroom and bathroom took up the total surface of the open space. There were no walls to separate the bathroom from the room. As her eyes fell on the bath, her hand went to her mouth. An elegant, white spa bath stood against the glass wall, allowing a superb view over the mountain, while the outdoor shower was installed on the end of the balcony, a sheer patterned glass wall providing protection from possible prying eyes, although those eyes would have to have access to the powerful telescopes of the observatory on the hill. The condo was too far from the observatory to fall prey to accidental peeping toms. Sliding doors gave access to the balcony and shower. The minute she opened them, a hum of heat enveloped her, a sharp contrast after the coolness of the air-conditioned house. She shut the doors again, looking at the incredible view where she knew the sun would be setting. She would be able to see it right from her bed. The simple, Japanese style futon was covered with white Egyptian cotton and linen in shades of brown, a single plush black carpet stretching from underneath the bed to a white sofa facing the balcony.
The Astronomer Page 19
