Chapter 6
CHAPTER SIX
Rafael paced outside the main entrance to the Alhambra, though he wasn’t sure why he was nervous.
Maybe it was because everything was happening so quickly.
Christian had already made an offer to purchase the cave dwelling in Sacromonte, and by all accounts, the paperwork to turn it into an exhibit was simpler than expected.
It wasn’t lost on Rafael that things went faster and smoother when you had millions of dollars to throw at every potential problem.
Christian was eager to reserve moving vans and hire art handlers to transport some of the paintings to the cave, but Rafael was still at a loss.
How to hang the paintings, how to organize them and light them, how to make sure the air had the correct humidity and temperature, how to get the art to look impressive and imposing in the little rooms of a cave.
He couldn’t envision it, and that had never happened to him before.
He continued to trace an erratic path on the ground until his eyes spotted a familiar figure in the distance.
His breath caught as Grace approached him, which was odd.
She was beautiful, certainly, but so were a lot of the women he knew.
Her skin seemed to glow from within, and there was something so enticing about the soft pink color of her cheeks and the rosy tinge on the tip of her nose…
She didn’t smile when she noticed him but instead seemed to take a breath and steel herself, as if she needed to find the strength for whatever was to come.
Rafael didn’t know why that bothered him, why he would have expected her to greet him warmly or feel at ease around him, but he realized he felt somewhat sore about it.
“You made it,” he said, inadvertently closing the final bit of distance between them with a long stride.
She nodded and squinted up at him. It was a sunny, perfect day, and Rafael knew the bright light would be gleaming off the colorful tiles of the palace behind him.
The Alhambra was going to look its best, and that’s what he wanted to show Grace, that there was a certain kind of magic in this city.
If nothing else, he hoped to put her in a good mood, soften her up a bit so, just maybe, he could convince her to use her expertise to get him out of his mess.
She raised her hands in front of her, palms up, as if presenting herself.
Rafael was surprised to find that he wanted to reach out and touch her.
He couldn’t make sense of it. It was the same as it had been ten years ago when he’d wanted to be around her for no discernable reason.
Then, she’d been so full of life, and now she was so somber, but the feeling still held, something strong and inexplicable.
She stared up into his eyes, unblinking. Waiting. He cleared his throat. “What do you think?”
“Just wondering why I’m here.”
Rafael frowned and tilted his head. “I meant what do you think of the Alhambra? You don’t want to enjoy this spectacular Nasrid creation from the thirteenth century?”
She glanced at the giant structure looming over them. “It’s obviously impressive, and I want to see every inch of it, but—”
“But you’d rather not see it with me?”
“It’s not that.”
“You’re concerned about what I could possibly want from you? I told you, it’s nothing major or dangerous. There’s no reason to be so skeptical.”
She shrugged. “You didn’t give me much to go on, Raf.”
Rafael’s mouth hung slightly ajar. She’d given him a nickname.
It was something Alma called him sometimes as kind of a joke since people had often shortened his name that way in America.
He’d never cared for it much, but the way Grace said it—with some level of familiarity and intimacy, like she’d been calling him that for ages—was something he found himself liking very much.
He didn’t want to lay out his plan and the entirety of his request for her right away, though.
After all, they’d both already resisted the idea of working together when Alma brought it up.
He wanted to give her some time to mull it over.
If she was walking the halls of one of the most extraordinary buildings in the region, then perhaps it would only whet her appetite for more.
More of the culture—the caves, the paintings, the views of Granada.
One taste of the Alhambra, and she would be hooked.
“Let’s go inside,” he said, placing a hand on the small of her back and then quickly drawing it away again. “I have all afternoon. Plenty of time to discuss the details.”
She sighed. “I kind of feel like I’m being kidnapped and held hostage in a gorgeous castle.”
“I’ll remind you that you came here freely.”
“I’ll remind you that I still don’t know what you want from me.”
Rafael huffed. He hadn’t expected her to be quite so difficult. It was rather uncommon for a woman to not want to spend time with him. He needed to turn up the charm a bit.
“It was good of you to take the time out of your day to meet with me,” he said, lowering his voice ever so slightly. “I’m sure an intelligent art professor such as yourself is very busy, but it’s nice to have you here.”
Grace frowned and turned away from him, but Rafael thought he caught her rolling her eyes. She started marching toward the Alhambra as if to say “let’s get this over with.”
Rafael followed, trying to work out his next move. Maybe this was going to be much harder than he’d anticipated.
Luckily, even if Grace wasn’t entirely impressed with him, she was awestruck by the palace.
After they’d gotten inside, she spun around while staring up at the ceiling, mouth agape, fingertips gliding against the cool mosaic tiles.
It was a busy day but not horribly crowded, and they had plenty of room to wander down the long hallways and gaze out at the view of the whole city.
She tried to be aloof, but Grace was enamored with all of it, just as he knew she would be. By the time they reached the giant reflecting pool and the gardens, Rafael thought she may have forgotten that he’d had to coerce her into this.
“You know,” Rafael said, hoping that offering even more knowledge about the place would only improve his position, “many of the walls have inscriptions. Quotes and poems from the Qur’an. They praise and glorify God but offer blessings as well.”
“It’s lovely.” She’d been taking pictures of everything while they walked through the palace, but eventually she leaned against one of the columns and turned her phone camera toward him.
He pretended not to notice, pushing his sunglasses onto his face and sliding his hands in his pockets, trying to be nonchalant.
He leaned against the column next to hers.
Finally, he looked over and shook his head, lifting a hand to try to guard himself like he was a celebrity caught by the paparazzi.
“Come on. Don’t waste your camera space on me.”
“But I can’t leave out the coolest guy at the Alhambra. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you look so relaxed.”
“Then you better not show anyone the photo. For the sake of my reputation.”
She paused. “You like to be unapproachable then?”
“Unapproachable? That’s what you think?” A little uptight, sure, but he never thought he was downright unapproachable. There was the charm, after all. He was sure he made people feel like they could talk to him.
Grace stared at him, as if considering.
“Have you ever had any problem approaching me?” he asked, and he leaned toward her, just a little, without thinking about it.
Grace opened her mouth and then shut it before she finally said, “I can’t even get you to tell me what I’m doing here, Raf.”
“Right. Worth the trip though?”
“I’m inclined to think so, granted you won’t be trying to harvest my organs or anything like that.”
Rafael smirked. “All kidneys will remain intact.”
Grace didn’t smile, but there was a hint of something in her eyes. Call it a sparkle, perhaps. Rafael would take that as a win. But then she looked at him again with that way she had, full on eye contact, and he forgot how to be charming.
He started fidgeting and cracking his knuckles, a habit that had always driven his father mad. Confident, sophisticated people didn’t fidget, apparently, according to the lord of the manor.
“So…” Grace said, prompting him again to explain why he’d dragged her out to this historic monument in the middle of the week.
“Well,” Rafael started. He could do this.
This was his livelihood. When he’d worked in finance and even with his new company, he’d always had a vision and a plan, and he was able to sell that plan to other people to make them see it too.
Only now his only vision involved one thing: get Grace to come up with a plan.
He didn’t know why he was so sure that she would be able to figure it out, to make something of the little art gallery he couldn’t even imagine.
Alma’s first suggestion that Grace could help him out had been totally casual, but for some reason, Rafael could feel it.
Grace was the person to make this happen, the person to be his partner.
He didn’t believe in fate or destiny. He would never in a million years say that Grace had moved to Spain because she was meant to curate an art exhibit for him, obviously, but now she was here, and she might just be the perfect person for the job.
“Remember that client I told you about? The one with all the Picassos?”
Obviously, she remembered. They’d had like two conversations, and one of them had been about art.
Grace nodded, a loose strand of hair hanging in her face. “That wasn’t very long ago, Raf.”
She wasn’t looking at him, and he had no way of reading her expression. He didn’t want to just launch right into talking about the favor, so he tried another tactic. “Did you really write articles about Picasso?’
That got her to turn toward him. “Not about him exactly. Some of his contemporaries and influences,” she said. “It was a chapter of my dissertation.”