by Kendra Riley
“Please, that’s old news,” he said, miffed.
“I still think we look great together. Well, just look great.”
“Ha,” Dante said. “So you called to rub it in my face?”
“I called because I wanted to have a good laugh with you. I am guessing you threw the newspaper-“
“It didn’t fit in the trash bin,” he said wryly. “Damn, you know me so well.”
“You just wasted ink and paper, you could have absorbed that knowledge in.”
“Gossip isn’t knowledge.”
“Still serious as ever, huh?”
“Ran into some problems over the last few days,” he told her. “You graced me with a call at the most opportune moment.”
“Oh come on, another one bites the dust, huh? What did she do this time?”
“You make it seem like I’m always finding the faults of everyone I date.”
“Isn’t that a part of you, already?” she told him bluntly. “Seriously, what did she do? Or what did she not do?”
He laughed. “She was rude to waiters and the like. That just won’t do.”
She sighed. “Typical of you.”
“Not typical of me, come on. She was just unlikeable in certain aspects, but we had fun.”
“Right, that trip you two had in Mexico last month.”
“She was way rude there,” Dante remembered. “I wanted to break up with her, I knew then.”
“Who’s next on your radar?” she asked him with laugh.
“A few gentlemen at the club are trying to set me up with the daughter of some import guy.”
“The daughter of Veracruz?” she laughed aloud.
“What’s wrong with her?”
“It must be female empowerment or something, but she refuses to shave her underarms, and she refuses anything with perfume on it, be it deodorant or lotion.”
“Please don’t tell me she smells. They said she was pretty,” he groaned.
“You’re a serial dater, at least you get to try a lot of personalities, and scents,” she added after a pause. Then Pilar laughed again. “Look, you’re a serial dater, I get it. I almost think that I caused this, but then again, you only started dating a year after we broke up. Plenty of time to mull over things and not blame me in the end.”
“I’m thanking you, actually,” he told her mildly. “I have to get back to work. Catch up on you again.”
“Yes, and where’s that wine and cheese night we talked about weeks ago, huh?”
“Coming soon,” he told her with a short laugh. He ended the call. Pilar was a wonderful person to talk to, with just the right amount of crazy, and honest. Well, she was too honest, and she found herself criticizing the girls she didn’t like for him. She had never met a girl she liked for him, and he thought it it wasn’t fair. Pilar had been dating a barrister, from a good family, and Dante even approved of the guy.
She was so picky with his dates, and he barely introduced them to her, since she called after seeing random tabloids with him featured in them and then asking about these ladies. He sighed and leaned his head against the headrest of his custom made leather chair, staring at the ceiling. This building was a relic in Madrid, one of the first buildings that had gone beyond thirty stories back in its time, and it had been beautifully restored to its former glory. He had chosen to take up office here, when he could have had another building made, a more modern one. Stick to your roots, he thought. His father wasn’t in the city, he knew, working up a deal, or probably exercising.
His father looked pretty buff for someone beyond fifty, it was a longshot, but Dante aspired to be as great as his father, or, even greater. It was achievable, but it would take a lot of practice, long hours, and a few drops of blood, he knew. No one got into real estate and got out unscathed, especially with the scale of their conglomerate.
This was their family’s pride and joy. It was a sweeping statement to say that they owned almost every business district in Spain, including residential ones. Essentially, one magazine had put it, they were real estate royalty. His sister had been slowly integrated into their family business, even though she was in her sophomore year of college.
His mother took pleasure in their company’s corporate social responsibilities, which Dante saw as an excuse for his mother to dress up nearly every month to sponsor or host charity balls, and all those other beautiful events that somewhat masked reality. His mother also took her chance at finding the faults of everyone he had dated, of everyone he had introduced to his family. He got so tired of it, that he sometimes just let gossip take care of things.
Marissa del Prado Santoro was a control-freak in many aspects, including his and his sister’s lives. He knew he had always had that rebellious streak in him, and he grew up defying everything his mother had asked or demanded of him. His sister was too sweet, too much of a sensitive soul for this kind of pressure, and whatever spare time he had, he would visit her at their family manor, to check on her. Sometimes they went out on dates, even.
Catalina Santoro was a pretty twenty year old student, insecure due to the emotional and mental toil that their mother had put them through. He knew it was part of his duty as an older brother to see her survive this stage of her life, as he had done it alone in the past. He had left as soon as he turned eighteen, putting himself to work at the family corporation, starting out as a junior member of the board, knowledge gleaned from self-study and years of tagging along with their workaholic father.
They all judged him of course, but he proved them wrong, and he proved to them that he was worthy of the Santoro name. Santoro Estates had been constantly reinventing themselves, and Dante was proud to say he was part of this movement. There was basically no room for error, and no room for a serious relationship, unless he decided to commit to the woman completely. Marriage was a strange thing, he knew, and it would be too much pressure on him if he decided to marry. He was young, in need of no one but himself, his family, and his business. At least, that was what he told himself constantly.
Chapter3
Aniya had been making the rounds in the gallery. There was an opening due that night, some rather unique and young artist worked with charcoal and silver dust to produce artwork that was otherworldly. The artist was on his way to becoming a darling of the media world with his long hair in a constant ponytail, and his all black outfits.
She was particular about the catering today, as one of the owners of the gallery was stopping by later on. It was, in essence, an important show, one of the most important to date. Champagne was going to flow freely, she knew, and the restrooms were prepared in the event of drunk guests.
It was three o’clock, and she had a decent amount of time to prepare until six in the evening. She couldn’t wait to get home to her child, having asked a co-worker to babysit for a few hours. It was what she hated about these far more important shows, it took time away from Isabella, and she had to scramble for a babysitter, which didn’t come cheap, and not everyone was willing to take in a toddler. Aniya would reassure them that her daughter was a sweet little girl, who obeyed and preferred to play alone , instead of throwing tantrums.
She missed her daughter already, she knew, but she held her chin high, and continued to work on the preparations for the exhibit. The lighting had to be perfect as well, just so the young artist’s paintings could shine even brighter, and those subtle tones of silver would be evident but not overpowering.
Charcoal and sterling silver on large canvasses were a sight to behold, she thought to herself. She had immersed herself in the life of art, and criticizing it had become second nature. She had become a critic in silence, and she reveled in it, since she had never been quite immersed until three and a half years ago.
Aniya was busy checking on the cocktail arrangements, when someone came in. “Sir, apologies, but this exhibit area is off-limits to--”
“To guests?” the man asked, raising his brow.
“Yes sir, to guests. Apologies, but I must a
sk you to leave, we won’t be open until eight in the evening. Should you have received your invitation”-“
“I don’t need an invitation,” the guy dressed in a blue suit said, offhandedly. “I’m just here to check on things.”
“Oh?” her brow cocked. “From which department?” She was staring at him, maybe she had met him before? But she should have remembered. He was pretty handsome to begin with, and it was clear he liked working out. His suit fit him in all the right places. His nose was thin, aquiline was the word that came into her head, and it suited his face well. His hair was neatly brushed, hair product was used sparingly.
What popped out most was his eyes. There were blue, not a chilling blue, but rather, they were warm. It was a stark contrast from his square jaw, and those lips that seemed to sneer at times. Maybe it was just her imagination, but his smile looked like it was meant to mock people…
Aniya took a deep breath, and stopped staring at his face. She knew the company was big, and that this art gallery was part of Thysenn-del Prado Ltd., and yet, she had never met this guy in her life, since she had started working here. She didn’t quite like his abrasive manner but she tried to downplay it. She forced a smile after asking him which department he was from.
“Do you need to know?”
“Yes, I need to know,” she insisted. “Can I have some identification, please?” She knew security had been lax once more. They weren’t supposed to just let strangers in, she thought, slightly annoyed.
He smiled at her. “Alright,” he said, taking out something from his breast pocket. He handed over a card to her.
“Sir, this is a driver’s license. I need company identification.”
“It’s still an ID,” he said. “Look, I’m doing this as a favor. I guess my visit wasn’t arranged, huh?”
“It wasn’t. No one is supposed to be here, unless you’re staff.”
“Well, I am staff,” he said with a frown.
She looked down and read his name. Dante P. Santoro did not ring a bell at all. Who in the hell was he? Was he some other gallery owner looking for an artist to steal? They guarded their artists with a certain passion and ferocity. She wasn’t going to let this guy get away with his mysterious and malicious intent- that was for sure.
“If you can’t show any other form of identification, I’m afraid I can’t let you in,” she said firmly, resisting the urge to steer the much taller man away from the room. He was already a few steps in.
“Well, I won’t take long. I have to be somewhere. What’s your name?” he asked her.
She shook her head. “You don’t have to know.”
“You nameplate says Aniya. Sounds like a pretty unique name, easy to remember,” he said nonchalantly.
She looked down, and she almost sighed aloud. Damn it, she had forgotten she had a nameplate on her crisp, almost runway worthy uniform. Who in the hell was this guy? She wanted to call security now.
“Excuse me sir,” she said, walking past him, determined to end this annoying man’s presence in the gallery once and for all. She would have him banned, she would have him-
“Ah, Dante, you’re here.”
He waved slightly in the air. “Auntie. How are you?”
Aniya turned back to look at him, then she looked back at the gallery’s director, her boss, Anna del Prado, who was smiling at Dante Santoro. Who in the hell-? Auntie? Wait, what? She looked back at him again. Oh god. One of those nephews Anna was sure to have. They were a big family, Aniya recalled.
“I see you’ve met my nephew, Aniya.”
“Aniya here’s been nice enough to ask me for identification,” he said, looking at her with his eyes narrowing.
Was he mad? Technically, he wasn’t her boss, right? He was just a nephew, here to wreak havoc on the show’s set-up, wreak havoc or change a few things…
“Which means she’s doing her job,” Anna told him with a smile, and it was a warm smile she hadn’t seen much. Aniya looked back at Dante Santoro, and she found herself giving off a weak grin, and it was the best she could manage.
***
He hadn’t wanted to go in that part of the gallery, but when he saw that woman’s figure, her back turned against him, he became curious. He was only here to ask his aunt to sign some rather important documents, something he could have asked his secretaries to do, but he thought he was heading for another meeting in the same direction and he had been too early. It was a great way to kill time, looking at art.
He was looking at some woman’s derriere, instead. It amused him. Women weren’t objects, of course, but she cut a fine form with her well- tailored uniform, and her hair, which was a bit loud, poufy actually, but it added to her whole personality- from behind.
The moment she faced him was a different story altogether. Here she was, with a smattering of freckles, her eyes were a dark brown, her dark brown hair had a bit of an afro vibe going on, and she had a lovely straight nose. Her skin had copper undertones, and her white teeth flashed in front of his eyes.
“Sir, apologies, but this exhibit area is off-limits to--”
“To guests?” Dante interrupted her. He knew he had to see his Aunt in a few seconds, but this could be mildly entertaining.
“Yes sir, to guests. Apologies, but I must ask you to leave, we won’t be open until eight in the evening. Should you have received your invitation—” she began once more.
“I don’t need an invitation,” Dante told her, quickly dismissing her. “I’m just here to check on things.” He was testing her patience, he knew, and he wondered if she had a quick temper. He had seen her nameplate. Aniya was a unique name, was it not? She wasn’t bad looking at all- and to think he had dated various models and socialites. He was just being honest, he knew. She was easy on the eyes and that was it.
She didn’t react angrily or anything. She carried on. It was commendable, and here he was, doing his best to annoy her. I could waste my time somewhere else, he thought, as she asked for some ID from him.
Sir, this is a driver’s license. I need company identification,” she said, holding onto his driver’s license.
“It’s still an ID,” he told her. “Look, I’m doing this as a favor. I guess my visit wasn’t arranged, huh?” this was getting far more interesting.
“It wasn’t. No one is supposed to be here, unless you’re staff.”
“Well, I am staff,” he said with a frown, not wanting to give himself away. At least that wasn’t a lie. He was a part of the board for Thysenn-del Prado, anyway.
Too bad his aunt came in moments later, he was having fun already. He could see that panicked look on her face, the moment she realized he and his Aunt Anna were related. She cleared her throat, and then she excused herself to check on something.
“Your new gallery manager?” he calmly asked his aunt.
Anna shook her head. “Nonsense. She started out as my secretary, so yes, she’s been here for a while.”
“Where’d Divina go?”
“Resigned. Aniya’s been a decent replacement.”
“You’re still skimping on your praises, I see,” Dante said to her.
Anna pursed her lips. “You could have asked your secretary to send these papers over, you know.”
“It was along the way. It’d be a waste of time and manpower if I sent someone else.”
Anna shook her head. “Always the practical one.”
“It’s how we’ve gotten ahead of the game,” Dante told her with a know-it-all smile. He didn’t skimp on smiles, unlike his aunt, but he didn’t want his contemporaries and his staff know that he was easy on it. One had to maintain an aura of untouchability.
His aunt bent down to sign a few papers, and then she stood up to hand these to him.
“Will you be here tonight?” she asked him.
He shrugged. “We’ll see.”
“This is your cousin, you know,” Anna reminded him.
“Do third cousins still count as cousins?” he sighed, “people can marry
third cousins.”
“Dante,” his aunt admonished.
“Fine, I’ll go,” he said with a sigh. “Just so you know, mama will be here tonight.”
“Of course I know, she was the one who discovered your cousin’s amazing talent.”
“My third cousin,” he repeated again. “I don’t understand what the fuss over him is.”
“He’s good looking, in a weird way.”
“Oh you mean he looks depressed with a bedhead?” he said, almost rolling his eyes.
“You’re acting like a petulant child.”
“Child-like, not childish,” he corrected his aunt. He skimmed over the papers, checking if everything was in order. “So, I’m guessing this will be a full staffed affair tonight?”
Anna nodded. “I’ll be here.”
“Art is art,” he muttered. “All proceeds go to where?”
“A children’s foundation, I think it was the Madrid Children’s Council.”
At least Angelo isn’t hungry for money, he thought. He nodded and bid his aunt goodbye. He didn’t see Aniya again as he exited the building, and for a moment, he wondered where she had gone. He hadn’t been on his best behavior, but why pretend, when he could be the semi-harsh man he already was?
***
Aniya had breathed a sigh of relief when she saw Dante Santoro exit their building. Good god, she had just confronted the son of one of the board members of the corporation. She had thought about it, as she exited, and remembered that his mother, had been Marissa Guerrero del Prado in her youth. Her side held the del-Prado family name, the Thysenns were a later addition to the corporation.
She closed her eyes. It had been an almost blunder, almost because she would have created a scene, had she called security… she shook her head, and forced herself to concentrate, quickly walking back to the exclusive room at the gallery, where Anna was talking to one of her secretaries about some additional paperwork needing to be drawn up.
There had been media buzz about Angelo P., as he preferred to sign his artworks, on social media, and in the dailies. It was all about marketing, and Aniya had been instrumental in this media buzz, receiving that rare nod from Anna in the process.
