by Clara Frost
“I’m well.” Bernardo took a step back, surveying Rafa’s arms and legs. “Mano, if I hadn’t heard from Lorena that you were in an accident, I wouldn’t even be able to tell.”
“It wasn’t an accident, but thank you.” Rafa held up his right arm, displaying the empty cuff. “Besides, you never were very observant.”
Bernardo laughed. “Well, you look good, Rafa. I mean, all things considered.”
“Thanks, Jefe. Can I get you something to drink? I’m not sure what Yaya keeps around these days, but I can probably find something.”
“Whatever you have as long as it’s brandy.” Bernardo laughed again.
It took a few minutes to check through the liquor cabinet in the kitchen, but Rafa came up with three snifters and half a bottle of Gran Duque d’Alba. Bernardo was sprawled on an overstuffed easy chair when Rafa returned.
“Gran Duque alright?” Rafa asked.
“Perfect.”
Rafa set one glass aside on the end table for Emily and poured a healthy three fingers into the other glasses. He lifted a glass in toast. “To friends.”
“To family,” Bernardo said, clinking his glass. He downed half the brandy in a single swallow, then grinned. “I heard you’ve found a new woman.”
“You could say that. She should be downstairs in a little bit.”
“Well, if you’re up for a little fun, you should come down to the club. I can give you the VIP treatment.”
“You finish that engineering degree?” The last time Rafa had talked to him, Bernardo had been at university studying civil engineering. Rafa wasn’t sure what he meant by club and VIP treatment.
“Not so much. My father, he invested in a night club, so now I work as the manager more often than not. It is not so bad, though. Plenty of drunk girls that can’t quite pay their tabs. I help them as best I can.” His smile took on a wolfish gleam.
“That sounds exciting.”
“It is nothing. Just a job.”
Rafa didn’t believe it for a second, but what were a few boasts between friends. Perhaps working at a night club was a better fit. Bernardo was never the brightest chemlight in the box.
Footsteps pattered down the stairs. Rafa turned, looking over the back of the couch, and found Emily gliding past the sitting room. She wore a simple green dress, but it showed off every curve of that magnificent body.
“In here,” Rafa said.
She angled toward him, smiling.
Rafa glanced over at Bernardo and caught him staring at Emily. The way he looked at her stirred something in Rafa. Jealousy. Distrust. What had Bernardo said a few minutes before about girls at the club? A look like that made Rafa’s protective instincts trigger at five-alarm levels. Rafa rose and met Emily before she reached them.
He caught her in his arms, and gave her a firm kiss on the lips. Emily hesitated a moment, surprised, then kissed him back. Rafa made a production of it, holding it for longer than normal.
“Em, this is an old friend, Bernardo,” Rafa said when he finally pulled away. He pointed toward the armchair. “Jefe, this is the light of my life, Emily.”
Emily’s eyes were full of questions, but she turned to Bernardo and smiled. “A pleasure to meet you.”
“The pleasure is mine.”
“Why do you call him ‘Jefe?’” Emily asked as she sat with Rafa on the sofa.
“It means ‘boss.’” Rafa rested his hand on her thigh. “He was captain of the football team I played on every summer when I was a child.”
“I see.”
Rafa chatted with Emily and Bernardo, making small talk for half an hour until they were interrupted by the chime of the doorbell.
“I’ll be right back,” Rafa said. He rose slowly, hoping his mother or Yaya would beat him to the door. There was no hurry to see Antonella. Or Lorena.
His mother strode past the entrance to the sitting room before Rafa made it to the end of the sofa. He paused, leaning against the arm.
“Who is it?” Bernardo asked.
“I don’t know yet.” Greetings echoed from the foyer. His mother informed someone, probably Lorena, that the ‘children’ were in the sitting room.
And there she was.
She was as tall as Rafa remembered, almost his height. Her dark hair hung straight, not a strand out of place. She used just enough make-up to hide any sign of aging, but perfect cheekbones and wide, dark eyes still gave her the look that had landed her on the front pages of Madrid’s fashion magazines when she was seventeen.
Lorena swept forward, eyes locked on Rafa. “Rafael Carpenter, it has been too long.” Her voice was strong, but feminine. Rafa felt as if he should ask Bernardo to stuff his ears with wax and tie him to the mast.
“Lorena.” Rafa tipped his head forward, the barest hint of a bow. “You know Bernardo already, but this is my girlfriend, Emily.”
Lorena didn’t break stride, didn’t hesitate. Her eyes raked over Emily for an instant, then went back to Rafa. “A pleasure, of course.”
Rafa wasn’t sure if the words were for him or Emily.
Lorena stopped just short of him. Her look was smoldering. Rafa felt himself getting aroused, old memories of that look and where it led flitting through his mind unbidden. He swallowed, willing his limbs to work. Lorena was more intimidating than even the Taliban.
She stepped forward, almost pressing her body to his. Rafa’s breath caught in his throat as she pecked him on the cheek, then stepped around him to sit on the couch. His heart was pounding like he’d just run ten kilometers with an eighty pound pack.
“Can I get you a brandy?” As soon as he spoke, he realized that he didn’t have a glass for her.
“That would be wonderful.”
Emily rose. “I’ll help.”
Emily waited until they were in the kitchen before she spoke again, her voice quiet. “So that’s her?”
The question was so loaded that Rafa thought it might explode. Guilt coursed through him. Emily was so wonderful. So kind and so understanding. Why had he let himself get tongue tied with Lorena? And thank sweet baby Jesus that she had only kissed him on the cheek.
“Yes.” Rafa plucked another snifter from the cabinet where he’d found the first three.
“She’s gorgeous. And she’s got a chip on her shoulder.”
Rafa shrugged. He couldn’t argue with either statement, and he didn’t trust himself to respond. There was too much history between them, that was for damn sure. He wished he’d listened to Emily’s dad and stayed in Colorado for Christmas. Nothing good could come of having Lorena back in his life.
And to think that he’d been worried about Bernardo.
Emily gave him a peck on the cheek. “Well, she can’t possibly hate me as much as your mother, so that’s a plus.” She smiled, but there was little mirth to it.
As they walked back to the sitting room, Rafa felt like he was walking into a lion’s den with two hungry lionesses.
Chapter 23
EMILY sat with Rafa at one end of a long, dark dining room table. Silver and gold inlay circled the edge. A portrait of a Spanish man wearing goggles and a scarf, leaning against an airplane and gazing into the distance, dominated the wall. Counting him, there were nine people in the dining room, only eight arranged around a table that could have held twice as many. The room smelled of roasted meat and cooked vegetables, steam still rising from the diner’s bowls of stew.
“Pass the salt, please,” Emily said.
Rafa reached for it, pausing as he realized that he couldn’t pick it up with his right hand. His face flushed. “Lorena, would you mind?”
Lorena. Rafa hadn’t said a lot about her, and she’d looked utterly different than what Emily expected. She’d assumed that Rafa’s ex would be pretty. He was gorgeous enough to catch the attention of any woman, that was for sure. But Emily hadn’t expected Lorena to look like a swimsuit model. In America she would have been hanging off the arm of an investment banker or a professional baseball player.
“Sure.” Lorena flashed a set of perfect white teeth and passed the shaker.
Rafa took it with his left hand and sent it on to Emily. “Thank you,” Emily said.
Rafa smiled. Lorena didn’t respond.
“I would like the salt,” said the girl to Emily’s left. Salome. She had the still-pudgy face of a fifteen year old.
Emily salted her stew and passed the shaker over. “Your English is very good.”
Salome blushed. “Thank you. I have tried for four years to learn.” Her speech was halting and heavily accented, but understandable.
“Are you a cousin or a friend of the family?” Emily asked. The younger girl thought about it, and Emily could see that she wasn’t sure what the question meant. “Is your mother or father related to Maria or Yaya?”
Salome smiled. “Yaya is my family.”
Rafa leaned in, stage whispering, “She is a second cousin. Yaya’s sister is her grandmother.”
“Ah, I see. Well, it’s a pleasure to share a meal with you.”
Salome nodded.
“Is this your first time in Spain?” Antonella asked.
Emily looked up, unsure whether the question was for her. Everyone else seemed to be looking at her, so she assumed it was. “Yes. I went to Paris in high school, but I never made it south of the Pyrenees.”
Antonella pursed her lips. “You will find that we in Spain are better hosts, I think. More polite.”
“No complaints so far.” Emily hoped her lie wasn’t completely transparent.
“We also have better nightlife,” Bernardo said. “Come to the club some time. We know how to dance far better than the French.”
“And you’re better at football, is my understanding,” Emily said.
Bernardo laughed. “Absolutely. Tiki taka has taken over the world.”
“Tell that to the Germans.” Rafa kept a straight face when he said it.
Bernardo’s expression only darkened for a moment. “When the Germans win consecutive Euros and a World Cup in between, they can talk.”
“Are there any games between now and New Year’s?” Rafa asked.
“Of course. If you want to see a match, let me know. I can get tickets.”
Rafa looked at Emily. She shrugged. Going to a football game hadn’t been on her list of things to do in Madrid, but if Rafa wanted to take her, she was willing to try.
“Perhaps,” Rafa said. “I will get back to you on that.”
“It will be busy with the wedding,” Yaya said. “Be careful trying to sneak off when we need you, Rafael.”
He bowed his head. “Yes, Yaya.”
“He’s a good boy.” Yaya directed her words at Emily. “He just needs to be kept in line now and then.”
Emily set her fork aside. “Rafa showed me your library, Yaya. It is very impressive.”
Yaya beamed. “It is my life’s work. I am very proud of it.”
“Do you still read very much?”
“Every day. Maria bought me an e-reader.”
Huh. An eighty year old woman with an e-reader. Yet another surprise.
Yaya kept going, “I can make the text as big as I like. It’s so much easier to read.”
“That’s not something I would have ever considered,” Emily said.
Further down the table, Antonella and Maria were chatting quietly in Spanish. A peal of laughter rose from Antonella. She kept chatting, not even acknowledging that anyone else was having a conversation.
Emily picked her fork up again and continued eating. Long-dead ancestors looked down at her from the walls. Rafa and Bernardo and Lorena chatted quietly in Spanish. Yaya and Salome ate quietly, both lost in their own thoughts. Or at least not trying to sneak a word in edgewise to the other conversations. Emily felt terribly lonely in a room full of people.
Fatigue from the long day of flying crashed home in one massive wave. Emily’s eyelids felt heavy, and it took effort to lift her wine glass. Everyone else at the table appeared to be in high spirits, though she could see the bags under Rafa’s eyes. He somehow powered through the tiredness. It was admirable, even though she couldn’t understand how he kept going. A skill learned in war zones, perhaps? Or maybe from dealing with his mother.
Rafa turned toward her, nodding at something Bernardo had said. “Em, do you have any interest in going out after dinner? Bernardo wants to show us his nightclub.”
“I don’t know if I can. I feel like a zombie right now.” It took an effort of will not to yawn and punctuate her statement.
Rafa looked at her more closely, the fire in his eyes dimming. Emily felt terrible for being a wet blanket, but she really would pass out if they tried to stay out late. Twenty-four hours awake was not something she was used to handling, and the cat naps on the airplane hadn’t been nearly enough.
“Alright.” Rafa turned back to his friends, presumably to explain the situation.
Emily settled in, expecting to sit through another uncomfortable half hour until dinner ended.
“Have you ever been to a Madrid party?” Salome asked.
“I’ve never been to Madrid, unless you count the ride from the airport to here.”
“A Madrid party is best in the world.”
Great, Emily thought. Even the fifteen year old is going to hound me into going out on the town.
“You should rest,” Salome said. “At the wedding party, what do you call it? After the wedding?”
“The reception?”
“Yes.” Salome smiled. “The reception. There, I will teach you to dance.”
Emily smiled at the younger girl. It was an impossibly sweet offer, and while she wouldn’t have had the slightest problem refusing Bernardo--or Lorena--Salome was a different a matter. “Alright,” Emily said.
When she looked up, Bernardo had his eyes on her. When he caught her watching, he gave her a wolfish smile. Emily shuddered.
Bernardo and Lorena should get together, she thought. Two predators in different packages. It was disturbing to see the kinds of friends that Rafa had kept as a child. She considered that a moment, before realizing that he’d had their respect. So that made him what? The apex predator? The Army must have loved having someone like him. The Taliban didn’t stand a chance.
She waited as long as she could, then patted Rafa on the arm. “I’m sorry, but I need to go up to bed before I fall over.”
She didn’t want to abandon him, and certainly not with the likes of Bernardo and Lorena, but maybe Yaya and Salome could balance them out. It was small comfort, but if she didn’t get to bed, she was going to collapse.
“Of course, of course,” Rafa said. “Do you need any help?” He started to stand up.
“Stay with your friends.” Emily smiled to the rest of the table, but directed her words to Yaya and Salome. “Thank you for the wonderful dinner, everyone. I’m going to retire early.”
Yaya and Salome wished her goodnight. Maria and Antonella gave her stony looks. With a heart heavier than the oversized table, Emily trudged upstairs toward her little garret room.
#
Lorena’s laughter filled the study, overwhelming even the crackling flames in the fireplace. She had an armchair to herself while Rafa and Bernardo shared a sofa that was a little too snug for the two of them.
“And the clients are very gracious,” Lorena continued. “At least as long as I wear a slim fitting dress.” She shifted, crossing one olive leg over the other.
Rafa jerked his eyes away. Those legs had gotten him into too much trouble as a young man. “So medical school didn’t work out?”
“No, of course not. We both knew it was a foolish dream. I went into fashion. Madrid is not Milan, but these days, neither is Milan.” She did not so much sit as perch. The king’s falcons were no more regal. Or haughty.
“So tell us about the hand, Rafa.” Bernardo splashed more brandy into his glass and offered Rafa the bottle. “I didn’t want to ask in front of your grandmother.”
Rafa laid his left hand over h
is empty right sleeve. “It is gone. What more is there to know?”
“Well, how did it happen? I thought you were a modern Rambo.”
“I was in a convoy and there was a bomb. It happens every day.” He really didn’t want to talk about it, not with them. They were a reminder of an earlier, more innocent phase in his life, one that he didn’t want to spoil by mixing with the hardships and horrors of the last few years.
“Your mother said your leg, too?” Lorena asked. “That was the only way anyone could have ever slowed you.”
“Yes. It is not an easy subject for me. Perhaps we could discuss something else?”
Bernardo clearly wanted to keep asking questions, and Rafa had a feeling it wasn’t just the brandy driving him onward. Whatever Rafa told him, he’d be spreading to the rest of the city before the clock chimed midnight.
Lorena cut in, stopping Bernardo just as he opened his mouth. “Can you still dance?”
“I haven’t really tried.”
“Then you should find out. Bernardo is modest, but he is managing the finest disco in Madrid. We could go.”
“It’s getting a bit late for me. I’ve been up since yesterday morning. And I couldn’t go without Emily.”
Lorena’s face fell for a moment, and it was obvious that the part about Emily had gotten to her, but she nodded.
“So Bernardo,” Rafa said, “How many hearts have you broken this year?”
“A dozen, at least.” Bernardo grinned. “The girls cannot resist me, you know? And I tell them that I am a busy man, but they never listen. It is my burden.”
Lorena’s eyes glittered, but she said nothing to contradict him. Rafa considered asking her how many hearts she’d broken, but he was afraid to hear the answer. A dozen would surely be too low.
The last of the brandy found its way to Bernardo’s glass, and a few minutes later he set the empty glass aside. “Rafael, it has been a pleasure to see you, and I hope to see you again tomorrow night, yes?”
“Sure.”
“Then I wish you well. I must check in at the club and ensure that my DJs have not let the place be burned to the ground. Adios.”
