by Eva Charles
“Is he your boyfriend?”
She nods.
I smile softly. “Is it a secret?”
She shrugs. “My mother knows about him, but not my father.”
Ahh, of course. “Fathers are always the last to know. Right before husbands,” I tease. But she doesn’t laugh. Or smile, even.
“Paula, I’m not going to tell your father about him—or anyone else. You understand that, don’t you?”
She nods, but it’s not convincing.
“Then why is your face green, like you’re about to vomit?”
Her shoulders shake gently as she begins to cry. I get up for a box of tissues and sit on the small sofa beside her.
Her father might be traditional, and strict about her boyfriends, but this is more than that.
“Please tell me what’s wrong. Maybe I can help.”
She balls a tissue between her hands. “I’m not allowed to date. When I worked in the tasting room, Raul and I saw each other all the time—but then I came here.” Her shoulders roll forward as they slump. “Raul sometimes comes to have lunch with me.”
“You don’t need to be so nervous. That’s what amorzinhos do. They do everything they can to be together.” Not that I have much experience with the kind of love that makes sweethearts take risks. My relationship with Josh wasn’t like that.
“Please don’t tell—Senhor Huntsman. I beg of you.”
“I won’t say a word. But why would Senhor Huntsman care about you and Raul? I can’t imagine he’d tell your father.” Although Antonio certainly supports the misogyny of the old ways.
Her brow wrinkles. “It’s not about my father.” She pauses for a few seconds. Her hands tremble as she reaches for a fresh tissue. “Raul works in the vineyards. He’s not supposed to be here. If Senhor Huntsman knows, he’ll be fired—maybe worse.” She starts to cry again, and I squeeze her hand. “He takes care of his mother and his brothers and sisters. Working at the vineyard pays well.”
I can’t believe I’ve pushed her to tears. If it weren’t for Valentina and Isabel, I’d stop now, but I can’t.
“I’ll keep your secret. I promise. Please don’t worry.”
She sits quietly.
“Tell me about the area outside where everyone has lunch,” I ask, hating myself as the words form on my tongue. “They seemed so happy and carefree. I’m jealous.”
“What do you want to know?”
I shrug. “Are there people out there every day?”
“If it’s not too cold or raining.” She shakes her head. “Just at lunch. More in the summer.”
“Who do the trucks belong to?”
“John and Carlos.”
“Do they park them there all the time?”
She hesitates, glancing at me before she answers. “Usually. So that there’s a place for everyone to sit. It’s permitted. And they like to show off their big trucks. They treat them like children, covering the truck beds so they don’t get dirty.”
Covered truck beds? I smile.
“Do John and Carlos live on the property?”
“Carlos lives with his wife nearby. John lives in the city, but he only goes home on Fridays. Gas is expensive to come and go every day.”
Fridays.
“I’d like to start taking walks, and I’d love if you came with me so that I don’t get lost. Do you have time tomorrow?”
“Of course,” she replies. “The property is so beautiful, especially now. The camellias are starting to bloom.”
“I don’t want to keep you from your work, but you have my promise that I’ll take your secret with me to the grave.”
She nods. “Thank you.”
When the door clicks shut, I flop back on the sofa. Friday. I need to figure out how to hide in that truck on Friday without being seen. Tomorrow, when we go outside, I’ll see if I can investigate a bit. Getting into John’s truck will get me to Porto, which would be ideal, but even if it has to be Carlos’s truck, at least I’ll be out of this place.
But even if I can stow away, what then? I have no documents. I’ll never be able to board a plane.
I can take a freighter from the docks. Melissa, at my old job, said she was saving money to do this. When Tori questioned her, she assured us it was a thing—in the US.
Do they do it here too?
There’s another knock at the door. Paula must have forgotten something. Either that or she needs more reassurances.
“Come in,” I call, standing and smoothing my skirt.
The door opens, and a young man is in the doorway. He’s quite handsome, although he hasn’t fully grown into his body.
“Hello,” he says with a smile. “I’m Rafael Huntsman, and you don’t look like a little girl anymore.”
35
Daniela
He has a disarming way about him, and I laugh. “Rafael. It’s so nice to see you. I almost didn’t recognize you without that FC Porto cap you always wore.”
He chuckles. “It was signed by members of the championship team. Of course I always wore it.” His grin spans from ear to ear. “You remember my hat?”
I nod. “I never saw you without it, except at Mass.”
It’s a little awkward, because although we know each other, it doesn’t seem right to greet each other with a hug, or a kiss on each cheek, in the traditional way.
“Please come in. Have a seat.”
“I won’t stay long. I just came to say hello.”
I don’t know if it’s because he’s so much younger than Tomas and Antonio, or if it’s because I remember him as a little boy, but Rafael doesn’t scare me in the way his brother does. Maybe because he doesn’t look much like him.
Rafael resembles Tomas, but only marginally. He favors his mother’s side of the family more than the Huntsman side—like Antonio. Maybe that’s why there was so much gossip about him being Antonio’s son. And his brother. Unlike Antonio and the other Huntsmans, who have dark-brown eyes, Rafael’s are crystal blue, like a pristine lake, and they sparkle with fun.
Antonio’s eyes once sparkled with fun too.
Rafael makes himself comfortable in a chair near the windows. “I’m still having trouble imagining Antonio married—especially to you.”
I open my mouth, pretending to be aghast. “Are you insulting me?”
“No,” he replies with great exuberance. “Not at all.”
“To be honest, I’m having trouble imagining it myself.” More than you’ll ever know.
He gazes at me, grinning again.
“Are you going to share what you’re thinking?” I tease. “I can always use more reasons to smile.”
“I was thinking about the last time I saw you. You were with your little girlfriends, looking for Antonio.” He shakes his head. “Always looking for Antonio, like I was chopped liver.”
Yes. I remember. It touches something inside me. “Those certainly were simpler times. But had I known that you would eventually take off that silly cap, and that all your teeth would grow in, I might have chased you instead.”
He laughs. “I bet you never thought you’d end up here. Or maybe you did.”
I dreamed about it, but in my dreams, I was a cherished bride, not a prisoner. Oh God. I hope he doesn’t share the story with Antonio. That’s all I need.
“Rafael, this is our little secret. Antonio doesn’t need to know I was an infamous stalker in my youth.”
His eyes twinkle, but he makes no promises.
“Where did you go?” he asks. “There was a lot of speculation when you left Porto.”
“Across the Atlantic, to take care of family. My father had an aunt in Canada. She was old, and very sick.” It’s mostly true. Although the family I was taking care of wasn’t a Canadian aunt.
He eyes me carefully, but doesn’t press for more details.
“How long are you staying?”
“I leave tomorrow,” he replies. “My exams start next week.”
“As happy as I am to see you, I
’m sorry you had to come home under these circumstances.”
Rafael lifts a brow. “My father?”
I nod.
“Nothing to be sorry about. I’m not close to my father. We haven’t spoken more than a few words in years.” His chest expands as he draws a ragged breath. He might blow it off, but I don’t believe the estrangement is as easy as he pretends. Especially now, with his father dying.
“Living with Antonio is the best thing that’s ever happened to me,” Rafael murmurs. “He’s going to make a good father one day.” Narrowing his eyes, he points a finger at me. “Don’t you dare tell him I said it.”
Good fathers are selfless, and loving. Rafael must have a low bar for what it means to be a good father.
“I need to get a workout in.” He sighs, slapping his hands on his thighs.
As he stands, I notice his phone sticking out of his gym shorts. He’s an adult—a man—I’m sure Antonio doesn’t monitor his phone.
I stand on tiptoe and place a kiss on each cheek. “Thank you for stopping by.”
“We’ll talk more at dinner,” he says softly.
Ask him, Daniela. Now!
“I know this is unusual, but would it be possible for me to borrow your phone?”
He tilts his head to the side, looking a bit surprised.
“I don’t have a computer yet, and my phone service is unreliable. I’d like to check my email.”
“Sure. You can use it, but I can lend you my computer, if you prefer.”
“The phone is fine. I promise I won’t snoop.”
“Not too worried.” He hands it to me. “I’ll stop by on my way back from the gym to get it. The password is V-E-R-A.”
I almost gasp. Vera. His mother. My heart clenches.
Sadness creeps into Rafael’s face the moment he realizes I made the connection. All I see is the little boy with his soccer cap and missing front teeth, crying for his mother—like it was yesterday. I reach over and touch his arm.
Vera Huntsman disappeared about a year and a half before my mother was murdered. Her husband claimed she ran off with a man, but I heard my parents talking one night when I was supposed to be in bed. My mother believed that Abel sent her away, or had her killed. An almost paralyzing fear gripped me, and I ran straight to my room and hid under the covers, as though I was next.
“Thank you,” I murmur, clinging to the phone.
“Have fun,” he says, his easy smile back.
“I promise to leave a little money in your bank account.”
“If Antonio trusts you enough to bring you into his house, I can trust you too.”
When he leaves, I collapse with my back against the door.
Get to work, Daniela.
36
Antonio
“Victor said you wanted to see me,” Daniela says, sashaying into my office. “I hope this is about my call to Isabel. I more than upheld my end of the bargain during dinner with Rafael last night.”
Much to my surprise, she did. Dinner couldn’t have gone better. Anyone watching would have pegged us for a loving family or caring friends sharing a meal.
“Good morning. Even when the door’s open, people normally knock before they barge in.”
Her hair is in a high ponytail, and she’s wearing black lounge pants that drape over her hips in a way that makes my cock take notice.
“You can borrow this computer.” I hand her a brand new laptop that will eventually be hers. “It’s all set up to video-chat with Isabel. Cristiano thought the larger screen would make the chat more enjoyable.”
“Thank you,” she says earnestly.
“You can sit at the conference table. I won’t bother you.”
Daniela stands in the center of the room with her body rigid and her mouth open. “You’re going to be here, listening, while I talk to them?”
“I am. And the conversation will be on a slight delay. You won’t notice it, but if you say anything about your situation, the call will end without any goodbyes, and you’ll lose the privilege to have another.”
She clutches the computer to her chest and starts toward the table. “You can listen all you want. You can’t steal my joy.”
“I’m not trying to steal your joy,” I say quietly.
She mutters something under her breath, but I don’t call her on it.
“I realize this isn’t easy on you, Daniela, but it’s a complicated situation. I’m juggling a lot of balls, and keeping them in the air the only way I know. I’m sorry you have to bear the brunt of it.”
She stops in the center of the room with her back to me, as if waiting for more. Some part of me wants to tell her more. But I’m not sure how. Other than Cristiano and Lucas, and one or two others, I don’t confide in anyone about business matters. There’s too much at stake—that’s precisely why you need to read her in. Maybe.
“As I’ve told you, no one knows that Quinta Rosa do Vale is mine. The moment word gets out that you’re here, it will begin to dawn on my competitors that they need to act quickly if they want a chance at the vineyards. The stakes, and the risks, become enormous then—not just for you and me, but for the entire valley. I need to control the flow of information for as long as possible. I expect you to cooperate.”
Daniela turns to face me, still embracing the computer.
“All that surveillance you had on me for so many years—it was all a huge waste of money. Because you didn’t learn a thing about me. Not anything of importance, anyway. I would never breathe a word about my situation to Valentina—or Isabel. They would be sick with worry. Do you think I want that? Everything I do is for them. They’re my family.”
For a few long moments, we lock eyes. Daniela keeps her head up, and the courage she exudes as she probes under my skin is something to behold.
She pivots without another word and walks to the far end of the table, where she goes to some trouble to set up the computer so that she doesn’t have to look at me, and so that I can’t see the screen. It makes me smile.
She earned this call, and she can have it any way she wants, for as long as she likes. That was the agreement.
Last night went smoother than I ever thought possible. Rafael likes her, and she seemed to genuinely like him too. He went to meet friends at a club after we finished dinner, and invited Daniela to tag along. No such invitation was extended to me. I’ve played the parent for too long to be invited to the party.
“Come with me,” he said to her before he left. “My friends will love you.” He was talking to Daniela but side-eyeing me for a reaction.
I cleared my throat, but I couldn’t hide the amusement. Nothing would make me happier than for the two of them to be close. Rafael could use a soft touch to temper my firm one. I was confident that she wouldn’t go. I’m not exactly sure why, but I knew she’d say no.
“You’re not married to the old man yet,” he goaded. “There’s time for one more fling.”
She laughed. “I’m not much of a party girl. I’d just spoil your fun.”
The entire exchange was good-natured, and tongue in cheek. But it reminded me that she was young, actually closer in age to Rafael than she was to me. Although she’s so much more mature than him.
It also reminded me that although I had let her go to the US to spread her wings and enjoy herself, she hadn’t had any fun. At least not the kind that I had imagined for her.
The joyful cries from across the room pull me from my morose thoughts.
“Lala!” a young girl shrieks through the computer.
“Valentina, my love. I’ve missed your sweet face. I can’t wait to hug you to pieces.”
Daniela’s voice is filled, filled, with emotion. I don’t know what I expected, but the unrestrained passion slays me.
I don’t catch what Isabel says because I’m staggered by the pure joy and happiness I hear in Daniela. It’s almost crippling.
What the fuck am I doing keeping her here? She’ll never belong to me the way she belongs to them. An
d she’ll resent me for every second of her life.
Grow some balls. This is the way it has to be.
What I still don’t fully understand is the extent of her loyalty—and her love for them. The bonds between them. I don’t get it.
Are Daniela and Isabel lovers? It’s crossed my mind, but I’ve dismissed the thought each time.
They’re discussing whether Valentina should be allowed to tweeze her eyebrows. The answer is a resounding no.
If I were a decent man, I’d give her some privacy. But I’m a selfish, greedy bastard, and the longer I listen, the greedier I get. The animated conversation gives me a glimpse of her that I’ve never seen, and I learn some things too.
Apparently, Daniela’s a whiz at long division and knows how to conjugate French verbs. Blueberry crepes are her favorite breakfast, and she only eats the brown M&M’s.
When Valentina tells her that some girls were mean to her and Jamie at lunch, Daniela tells her to ignore them. “You’re so much smarter and prettier than those girls. They’re jealous, and they want to make you small and ugly like they are. But they can’t, unless you let them. Don’t let them steal your goodness.”
Listen all you want. You won’t steal my joy. I guess that’s how she deals with me too—the ultimate bully.
Isabel and Daniela talk around the edges about paying bills and buying groceries. Isabel is anxious, but Daniela redirects the conversation whenever the hand-wringing starts. She might have helped raise Daniela, but it’s clear that Daniela is the person in charge now.
Before they hang up, Valentina reminds her that they need to go shopping for a confirmation dress.
“Don’t worry,” Daniela assures her. “You’ll have a gorgeous dress and a pair of new shoes to match. I haven’t forgotten.
“I need to say goodbye now,” she continues, the sorrow in her voice palpable. “I don’t want to take advantage of my host.”
