Broken Together

by K. S. Ruff

  “And this one?” The photograph contained mosaic circles overlapping one another in alternating shades of black and white.

  Rafael shrugged. “I can’t recall which plaza that pavement surrounds.”

  “The sidewalks were stunning along the Avenida da Liberdade,” I recalled. I followed him back to the breakfast bar. “Did you take those pictures?”

  He poured two cups of coffee. “Yes.”

  I thought about the photograph he’d taken of me on the park bench. “You’re very talented.” My eyes swept over the apartment again. “I like this place. Your design choices are surprisingly contemporary for this historic building, bold but elegant in a minimalist sort of way.”

  “You don’t think it’s too dark?” He cut into a small yellow custard with his fork and held it up for me.

  “I find the absence of color very soothing.” I tried the custard. “What did you just feed me?”

  “Pastel de nata, a traditional Portuguese pastry.” He took a bite. “Do you like it?”

  “The pastry shell melts in your mouth.” I ate another piece. “The filling is creamy and very sweet.”

  “Try this.” He offered me something that resembled a chocolate burrito.

  My eyes widened. “Wow.” I grabbed my own fork and took another bite. Chocolate and a salted caramel sauce had been rolled inside the chocolate cake-like pastry.

  “I thought the austriacos would be more to your liking, given your affinity for chocolate.” Rafael pulled a few more pastries out of the bag and set them on our plates. “Lamb and veal croquettes. They’re a bit more savory.”

  I grinned. “Did you just serve dessert first?”

  He heated the croquettes in the microwave. “Honestly, would you have it any other way?”

  I shook my head. Still smiling, we dug into the warm croquettes. “Do you mind if we just relax here today? I’m still pretty tired.”

  Rafael set our cups and plates inside the sink. “Sure. I’m not in a hurry to go anywhere, but I would like to take you out to dinner.”

  “That sounds perfect.” I twined my fingers with his.

  He led me down the hallway. I noted a bathroom and two guestrooms before we entered the last door on the left.

  Rafael’s bedroom was decorated in the same three hues as the rest of the house. The wall behind the bed was covered in large black and white suede tiles, similar to a chessboard. Three large chess pieces stood in the far corner of the room… a white king, his queen, and an elegantly carved knight. The other wall held a large stainless steel sculpture that appeared to be folding in on itself. All of the furniture was black. The bedding was black except for the white throw pillows piled against the headboard. The most striking feature by far was a long gas fireplace that hung on the wall opposite the bed. There were three highly polished swords hanging above the fireplace. They weren’t jeweled or embellished in any way. They looked old, which I found odd given Rafael’s proclivity for contemporary things.

  He tapped a button on a remote near the bed. The embers along the bottom of the fireplace glowed before the flames sprang to life. “What do you think?”

  “That’s even more impressive than the fireplace on the airplane.” I felt the comforter, the pillows, and sheets.

  “Clearly we share an affinity for fireplaces.” He pulled his shirt off and tossed it on the chair.

  My eyes snagged on a book sitting on top of the nightstand. “A little light reading?” The book was entitled Predators: Pedophiles, Rapists, and Other Sex Offenders.

  “I was working on a case involving an international pedophile ring before I went to work for Michael.” He shoved the book inside the drawer. “That was not an easy case to walk away from.”

  I gently caressed his cheek. “Did you catch who you were looking for?”

  He captured my hand. “It’s a long, complicated, and repulsive story… not something I want you thinking about before you go to sleep.” He pressed his lips against the palm of my hand.

  My eyes remained on his lips.

  “You know that statement you made about bica?” His fingers dipped beneath my waistband. He quietly unbuttoned my jeans.

  “Vaguely.” I stepped out of the jeans.

  He removed my sweater. “I’m giving you a bye on that… for now. I vowed to prove that statement wrong, and I will prove it wrong once you’ve rested.”

  “We’ll see,” I mused matter-of-factly.

  He collapsed onto the bed. “You’re killing me.”

  “Those black satin sheets… that fireplace… this room… your entire apartment screams sex and you want to offer me a bye?” I rolled my eyes. Snatching my jeans and sweater off the floor, I turned toward the door. “I’m going to the bakery to get another bica.”

  “The hell you are.” Barreling into me, he swept me off my feet and threw me onto the bed. His eyes flared when he climbed on top of me. He opened the front clasp on my bra before pinning my wrists against the bed. “Challenge accepted.”

  * * * * *

  My fingers raked through the curls in my hair while I pondered the closet. Rafael wore black, white, and gray. His color preferences had bled into the wardrobe he selected for me. Black cocktail dresses, black pants, black jeans… black heels, shoes, and boots… black, white, and gray sweaters and shirts. There were only two exceptions, a long-sleeved cocktail dress and a pair of heels, both in lipstick red.

  I dropped my towel and pulled the red cocktail dress over my head. The dress had a wide scoop neck that pushed the sleeves just below the shoulder, so a bra wasn’t possible unless Rafael thought to buy a strapless one. Between the formfitting cut and the high quality fabric, I figured no one would be the wiser. “Naughty and convenient,” I whispered.

  “Did you say something?” Rafael called.

  I stepped out of the closet. “I can’t believe restaurants in Portugal don’t open until eight o’clock.”

  His jaw dropped. “That dress...”

  I kissed him on the cheek. “Yes. Thank you.”

  “Eva,” he growled.

  “What?” My shoulders tensed.

  He tore his eyes from the dress. “I asked Eva, Benjamim’s wife, to pick out some clothes for you. Benjamim pulled some money from my account so she could shop for us. I left detailed instructions about the clothes.”

  A smile tugged at my lips. “Let me guess. Your list didn’t include a bright red dress.”

  “No, but I really like this dress.” His hands slid over my hips, abdomen, and breasts. “You’re not wearing a bra.” He backed me toward the bed.

  “Later,” I laughed. “I’m starving.”

  “We’re not lingering in Bairro Alto when dinner’s over. We’re coming straight home.” He stalked down the hallway, across the dining room, and into the foyer.

  I trailed behind him while admiring the sassy red heels. Eva was on the fast track to becoming my new best friend. “When do I get to meet Benjamim and Eva?”

  He helped me into a black trench coat before tugging a black leather jacket over his shoulders. “We’re eating dinner at Benjamim and Eva’s house tomorrow night.” He grabbed his keys from the counter and ushered me out the door.

  Our fingers twined. “Tell me about them.”

  With a soft “ding,” the elevator doors slid open. Rafael pressed the button for the garage. “They’re good friends. Benjamim’s an attorney and an accountant. He manages some of my finances and my property in Lisbon.”

  “Is this the Senhor Brantuas that Matias was referring to? The friend who manages your apartment so he can drive around in the Porsche?”

  His hand slid to the small of my back. “Yes. Benjamim and I go way back. We’ve known each other since high school.” The elevator doors slid open. Rafael strode toward the car.

  I brushed a quick kiss against his cheek before sinking into the passenger seat. “And Eva?”

  He folded himself into the driver’s seat, backed out of the parking space, and eased toward the entrance
to the garage. “Eva’s from Madrid. They met when Benjamim was still in law school. They married within weeks of meeting one another. She moved to Lisbon, and they’ve been together ever since.” He waited for a handful of cars to pass, then tore out of the garage. He stopped abruptly at a light before turning onto the Avenida da Liberdade.

  I gripped the sides of my seat as he picked up speed. The Porsche moved with unfathomable precision while Rafael dodged pedestrians and darted in and out of traffic at warp speed. He didn’t slow until we crested a small hill.

  Rafael turned sharply in the center of the block so he could park in front of a white building. “Restaurante 100 Maneiras is one of my favorite restaurants.”

  I was still gripping my seat when he stepped out of the car. Rafael opened the passenger door. One by one he peeled my fingers from the seat. “Are you ready to eat?”

  My legs wobbled when I stepped out of the car. I wasn’t sure if it was the harrowing speed or those tiny little tiles throwing my heels off. “I think my stomach is still sitting in the garage.”

  “You don’t like the Porsche?” He eyed the car uncertainly.

  I started laughing. “Oh, I like the Porsche. It’s the driver I’m not so sure about.”

  He cracked a smile as we stepped inside. “So I’m eager to get through dinner. Don’t blame me. Blame the dress.”

  The restaurant glowed between the gleaming white floors, a white planked ceiling, white planked walls, and white tablecloths. Dark wood chairs and a dark granite bar stood in stark contrast against the white canvas. Wine bottles lined a shelf that circled the room above the windows and the artwork. Wine glasses hung suspended over the bar. The bar was lit and candles flickered from the center of each table.

  The hostess escorted us to a table in the far corner of the restaurant. She set two menus on the table, said something in Portuguese, and returned to the front of the restaurant.

  Rafael helped me out of my coat before pulling a chair out for me. I eyed the other patrons and their entrees nervously. “Will you order for me?”

  He kissed me on the cheek before dropping into his seat. “Why don’t we let the chef decide? They have a nine course tasting menu with a wine pairing, like Komi.”

  I breathed a small sigh of relief. “That sounds perfect.”

  A waiter stopped by to fill our water glasses. Rafael visibly relaxed while he and the waiter engaged in friendly banter. The waiter retrieved two glasses of red wine from the bar and brought them to our table. Rafael raised his glass. “Saude.”

  “Saude.” I hummed appreciatively. “What kind of wine is this?” I took another sip, savoring the rich cocoa, black cherry, and smoky notes in the full bodied wine.

  “Dao,” Rafael replied. He reached for my hand after setting his glass aside.

  The restaurant ceased to exist. “What do you want to do while we’re in Portugal?”

  He pulled my hand to his lips. “I’d like to spend a couple of days in Lisbon before taking you to Sintra. I thought we’d tour the Pena Palace, Monserrate Palace, Quinta da Regaleira, and the National Palace of Sintra while we’re here.”

  “Monserrate Palace. Isn’t that where your father proposed to your mother?” If I remembered correctly, this was also the place where Rafael dreamed of being married.

  He brushed a feather soft kiss against my fingertips. “You remembered.”

  “Of course. How could I forget?” That wasn’t the sort of revelation a woman would forget, although that evening had been a little crazy. Maxim had just negotiated Kadyn and Roger’s release from the sicarios. Rafael was paying the ransom. I was terrified the exchange scheduled the next day would cost all our lives. I’d been desperate to forget the horrors we’d been through and those we were still facing, so I convinced Rafael to make love to me despite the fact that I hadn’t been on birth control since crossing into Mexico. Rafael asked me to remain off birth control. More than anything, he wanted to see me pregnant.

  The waiter delivered the first appetizer. I was too hungry to balk at the raw meat so I quickly snarfed it up.

  Rafael ate the thinly sliced beef just as quickly as I did. “I can’t wait to show you the gardens at Monserrate Palace. I also want to take you to Cascais and the Knights Templar City of Tomar but not until after Christmas.”

  “The Templar?” I sifted through what little I knew about the group. “The Christian knights who fought in the Crusades?”

  “The Knights Templar fought to free Western Europe and the Holy Land from Islamic domination,” Rafael explained. “They were an elite military organization that protected Christians and Jews. They also formed a charity, serving the sick and the poor.”

  The waiter removed our plates before delivering an artfully presented appetizer with two new glasses of wine. I drank the sweet pink rosé while studying the appetizer.

  Rafael inhaled the lamb carpaccio. “The knights originated in France. They were richly rewarded for protecting pilgrims to the Holy Land. When they began inducting men from other countries, those men gifted all of their cash and property to the Order. That’s how they financed their charity work. The knights themselves were sworn to poverty. They gained a great deal of support throughout Europe. The organization grew to be quite large. The King of France, Philippe le Bel, became envious of the Templar’s power and their wealth. He persuaded the pope to execute the knights by fabricating charges of heresy and sexual misconduct. He was trying to gain control over their assets, their land, and wealth. Thousands of knights were arrested. They were tortured into making false confessions. Many were imprisoned; hundreds were burned at the stake.”

  “That’s how they were rewarded for helping people?” I thought about the violence and abuse perpetrated by the SVR. The SVR tortured Shae and me in an effort to secure false confessions so they could further their military objectives in Ukraine. They forced President Yanukovych and Prime Minister Azarov to extend the lease allowing the Russian naval fleet to remain in Sevastopol in exchange for our release.

  Rafael’s eyes softened. He knew what I was thinking. “Some things never change.” He swirled his wine. “The King of Scotland and the King of Portugal refused to persecute them. King Dinis offered the Knights Templar refuge at their stronghold in Portugal. They formed a new order, the Order of Christ. Their headquarters in Portugal was relocated from Tomar to the Castle of Castro Marim during this time. Eventually, their original stronghold in Tomar was restored. They kept a magnificent castle and a convent in Tomar. We can visit both sites if you’d like.”

  I pushed my thoughts about the SVR and my plate aside. “I heard the Knights Templar protected religious artifacts like the Holy Grail. Is that true?”

  “‘Protected,’ as in past tense?” A secretive smile tugged at his face. “The Knights Templar still exist. They protect people, free the oppressed, and safeguard sacred artifacts and holy sites to this very day.”

  I stared at him for a couple of heartbeats. I couldn’t tell if he was toying with me. “I thought the knights took a vow of celibacy.”

  Rafael’s eyes sparked with amusement. “Knighthood isn’t bestowed on descendants. Men are inducted.”

  The waiter removed our plates before delivering two new glasses of wine and the next course. Each of our plates contained a tic-tac-toe grid that appeared to be made from a thick paste or pâté. Sea scallops were perched across from one another, diagonally. Three separate squares in the grid had been filled with a green, orange, and red sauce. Another corner held a square shaped food that looked like it belonged in a box of chocolates. Green sprigs of some unidentifiable herb were scattered over the top.

  The dish was so creatively presented, I couldn’t bear to mess it up. I tried the wine instead. Rafael certainly seemed knowledgeable enough. Could it be? With the Knights Templar seeking refuge in Scotland and Portugal, odds were high the remaining members were Scottish or Portuguese. Rafael was a Christian and a member of an elite force, but he didn’t adhere to a vow of poverty or celibacy
.

  “Aren’t you going to try it?” Rafael had cut his scallop into four pieces and was dipping it into the sauce.

  “Please tell me you’re not a Templar.” I cut into my scallop while diverting my eyes. The scallop was grilled to perfection, crisp on the outside and tender on the inside. The orange sauce exploded against my tongue. My grid was obliterated as I sought to experience every sauce and flavor combination the dish had to offer.

  “Okay.” He deliberately stretched the word out. “I’m not a Templar?”

  My head shot up. “Why did your voice lift at the end?”

  He shrugged.

  My thoughts skipped back to the time we played twenty questions along the Potomac River, when Rafael revealed he’d been too busy avenging his parents’ death and training for special ops to fall in love. My heart sank. “Please tell me I didn’t sully a celibate knight.”

  I waited with baited breath while the waiter cleared our plates. He deposited two new glasses of wine and two wide rimmed bowls cradling poached quail eggs and black truffles on a bed of corn sand.

  Rafael grinned. “You didn’t sully a celibate knight.”

  “Quit responding like you’re telling me what I want to hear,” I half gritted, half whispered.

  A single eyebrow rose along his forehead. “I’m pretty sure I’ve been sullying you.”

  I stared at him. Rafael was skirting the issue. There was something about the way he answered those questions...”

  He leaned across the table. “They’ll be serving chocolate mousse and bica tonight.”

  Wow. Talk about a diversion. My cheeks heated when my nipples pebbled through the dress.

  Rafael laughed. “Perhaps we should head home.”

  I tried not to smile. “I suppose I deserve that.” I endured the quail egg, the delicate slices of cod hung with clothespins on a miniature clothesline, fried lamb with a pistachio crust, some fruit dish called a pre-dessert, a red wine cake pop, the bica, and the chocolate mousse before Rafael agreed to take me home.

  He drove like an old man.

  I growled at him the entire way.

  Rafael didn’t show a bit of interest in me until we stepped inside the elevator. When the doors slid closed, he grasped my wrists and pressed me against the polished metal wall. He planted a well-muscled thigh between my legs. “How was the bica?” He layered open-mouthed kisses all along my neck.