Chapter 12 #2
“I’ve been researching Sacramonte,” she said, her voice laced with something sharp.
Rafael’s brain scrambled to keep up. “Okay,” he said slowly, because he had no clue where this was going and couldn’t seem to land on an idea of the potential problem.
“You mentioned something about the history there, but I didn’t realize…”
“Yes?” he prompted when she trailed off.
“It’s been the home of a large community of Roma people for so long.” Suddenly, it spilled out of her, everything she was thinking, which was somehow all tangled up with how angry she was at him. “Since the 15th century when they felt like outcasts and made a home on the outskirts of the city.”
“Right,” Rafael said. “I don’t know much about the history—”
“But you should,” she insisted as he zoned in on her clenched fists. “Sometimes they were allowed to live in peace, and other times they were persecuted. At times, they were forbidden from wearing traditional clothing or speaking the language of their people.”
“Yes,” he said again, almost breathless. He thought he was beginning to understand. He knew he was.
“You want to create a little playground for millionaires in a place that was sustained by the gitanos? An exhibition they won’t even be allowed to visit if they aren’t of a certain class?”
Rafael shook his head. She was getting it all wrong. It was a celebration of the area and its people. “I also mentioned that Christian’s wife is a descendent of gitanos who live in that area. That was part of his interest.”
Grace scoffed. “Come on, Rafael. You really think that makes it okay? Christian’s wife has a connection, so he can do whatever he wants?”
“Yes. I mean, no. Christian’s also planning to put up a plaque to commemorate the history of the cave houses.”
“A plaque?” She stood, finally looking him right in the eyes, instead of avoiding his gaze.
“Yes, a plaque. What’s wrong with that?” Rafael took a step toward the sofa without breaking eye contact.
Grace turned away, gathering her book and her notepad, as if preparing to storm off. “No one is going to pay attention to a plaque. That’s nothing.” She took another breath. “People live in these houses, Rafael. People you’ve barely bothered to consider.”
Rafael swallowed. Perhaps he was an awful person since he hadn’t thought all that much about the history of Sacromonte.
The implications had faded into the background the second Christian made up his mind, and Rafael failed to consider that this wasn’t just some place they could move in and take over without considering its past. He hadn’t even thought of the neighbors who lived in the nearby cave houses, of whether they had any say in the development of Christian’s exhibit.
He’d been brought into Christian’s view of things—the view that you could do whatever you wanted if you paid enough, and so far it had proven true, even if that didn’t mean it was right.
“What would you have me do, Grace? You remember I didn’t want the exhibit there in the first place? I’ve been against it from the beginning.”
He moved toward her, and she clung to her book, as if using it as a shield. It was ridiculous how much he wanted to wrap his arms around her, to hold her again and make all this animosity melt away, to try whatever he could to get her anger to evaporate.
“You’ve been against it because it’s impractical, not because it’s abhorrent.
And that was never enough for you to stand up to Christian.
Maybe that’s what I would have you do. Stand up to him and tell him the truth.
You could start by allowing the people who live here to enter the premises in the first place.
Maybe by acknowledging their existence? It sounds to me like the area has always been a home to people who were overlooked.
Don’t perpetuate that, please. If you insist on commandeering a cave, then you could at least invite the community to be part of it.
You could incorporate the history of the place, rather than trying to brush it away. ”
“There is a cave museum, Graciela. A museum that already exists and showcases the history there, the people and how they lived, the gitano culture.”
Grace studied him for a moment. “That’s good,” she said. “I’m glad there is a place to represent the history of the area, but that doesn’t mean you can get away with ignoring it, Raf. It doesn’t mean you can exclude the people who live there now.”
Rafael nodded, scanning the ideas in his head, trying to think of a solution.
He could figure out a way to make this work.
He always figured out a way. There was a solution to keep everyone happy, and he would conjure it.
He snapped his fingers. “We could set up some kind of fund. Something to give back to the community.”
Grace rolled her eyes. “Sure,” she said. “I mean, yes, you should, but you’re still just throwing money at it. It’s not really a meaningful gesture.”
Rafael took another step toward her. Perhaps he was a little too eager.
“I will talk to Christian,” he insisted.
“We can discuss it. I can have you present some ideas to him as well, if there’s something you want to suggest to him.
I know he won’t move the event; he thinks the setting is perfect, but there has to be something, and I’ll make sure he listens to any ideas we have. I will stand up to him, Grace.”
Grace stared, her expression full of skepticism. “Really? You aren’t worried about pissing off your rich boss?”
“Well, it’s not like you’re saying anything unreasonable. It’s an excellent point, and it’s something Christian and I both should have given more thought. We’ve been remiss, obviously, and you’re right. We should find a solution.”
After all, he agreed with her now that the issue had been brought to his attention, and Rafael was sure they could convince Christian to take action.
Christian wasn’t a bad man, if a little self-centered and shortsighted.
Perhaps those adjectives could describe Rafael as well.
But Christian would understand, and if nothing else, he would be concerned with optics.
He didn’t want to look like an insensitive billionaire who was taking advantage of a marginalized community.
He wanted to be a kind, sensitive billionaire. A billionaire of the people.
“Well…” Grace tugged on a button on the front of her pajamas. “That’s good.”
“That’s good?” Rafael said, trying to hold himself still. If he took another step toward her, he would be close enough to touch her, and if he was close enough to touch her, he wasn’t sure he would be able to stop himself from reaching out and doing it.
Grace bit her lip, and they were quiet for a long moment. “I’m not going to let it go or forget about this, Raf. The community in Sacromonte needs to be part of this.”
“I know.” He clenched his hands into fists, as if it would imbue additional strength into his words. “I agree with you.”
“You do?” She studied him with that way she had—the way that made him feel utterly exposed—as if wary of how much she could believe him. He hoped she could see he was in earnest.
“I mean it, Graciela. This is why I needed your help in the first place. I knew I was in over my head, but you can make this work.”
“I don’t know,” she said. “I’m not the expert here. Even if I can figure out a way to handle Picasso, there are so many things to consider.”
“You know enough to berate me when I’m an idiot.”
Her smile was a small one, but Raf clung to it like a life raft.
She was warming up to him again. “Will you still come to dinner with me tonight?” he asked at last. He didn’t know why it mattered so much to him that she did, why he was so desperate for her forgiveness and approval just because he was attracted to her.
It didn’t quite add up, but he didn’t plan to consider it any further.
“Yes.” She let out a breath and finally relaxed her shoulders, loosening the grip on her book. Perhaps he hadn’t disappointed her too much.
He gave a curt nod, attempting not to show her the full force of his relief.
“I’ll have to get changed, obviously.” A spark of something shined in her eyes, mischief or joy, he didn’t know, but Rafael tried not to think about how much it thrilled him to see that spark.
“You could wear your hamster pajamas. I wouldn’t judge you.”
Grace shook her head. “I know you, and I think you would.”
Rafael grasped his chest with a dramatic flair. “What must you think of me, Graciela? I love hamster pajamas.”
“Oh really? Even for fancy dinners with travel writers?”
He grinned at her. “You’d still look beautiful.”
Grace’s smile faltered, and Rafael wanted to kick himself. Shit. Why would he say that? He was going to freak her out. She was going to run for the hills.
“I’ll be right back,” she said, and she rushed for the door to her bedroom, leaving him alone to scold himself. She was beautiful, but that didn’t mean he should say it out loud. It was too dangerous. He needed to get ahold of himself.
She wasn’t making it easy for him, though.
When she emerged from her room just a short time later, Rafael glanced up to find her in a silky blue dress that clung to her curves like plastic wrap.
Her cheeks and lips were tinted pink, and everything about her seemed so inviting, it seemed a crime that he couldn’t casually touch her—sweeping loose strands of hair from her face or curling his arm around her waist.
“Rafael?” she asked, and he realized he’d been staring, though he couldn’t be sure how much time had passed. “Ready to go?”
He shook himself and tried to offer her a casual smile. “Yes,” he coughed out. “Vamos.”
The travel writer was already seated at the table with her fiancé when Grace and Rafael arrived.
They were pressed up against each other on the same side of the table, and Rafael realized for the first time how awkward the whole situation could be.
This happy couple would be sitting there touching each other while he tried not to think about Grace’s lips, about the way she might have leaned toward him the night before, about how she’d run off as fast as she could the moment he’d said the word beautiful.
The couple stood up as he and Grace approached and greeted them warmly. “You must be Rafael.” The writer’s smile was wide and bright. “I’m Nora, and this is Julian, my fiancé.”
Rafael held out a hand. “A pleasure to meet you both. This is Grace, my—um—”
Nora waited, her eyes going back and forth between them.
“It’s complicated,” Grace jumped in. “We kind of live together, and we kind of work together, but not really. And he’s my best friend’s brother.”
Rafael narrowed his eyes. He didn’t know why Grace felt the need to offer that much information to strangers.
“Oh,” Nora said, clearly confused.
Julian was grinning beside her, as if this explanation made perfect sense to him.
They all took their seats, and Julian leaned over to Nora.
“I remember when I didn’t know how I should introduce you to people,” he mumbled, and Nora’s expression suddenly changed to one of understanding.
She looked back to Grace and Rafael with even more interest.
Great, she definitely assumed they were sleeping together.
“You’re American, Grace?” Nora asked. “Where are you from?”
A soft pink blush spread across Grace’s face, as if she was embarrassed by the attention. “I am American,” she said. “I think that’s mostly why I’m here, so that I could meet a fellow countrywoman. I’m from Chicago.”
Nora raised a hand. “New York. Upstate, though. Not the city.”
“Oh, I’ve never been there before.” Grace seemed to relax slightly, warming to the conversation. “I’m more of a city person, but I could be convinced to check it out.”
Nora grinned. “You should definitely visit the area sometime. It’s wonderful.” She nudged the man beside her. “Right, Julian?”
“Of course,” he agreed, leaning in toward his fiancée. “One of my favorite places to visit.”
“And where are you from, Julian?” Rafael asked, jumping into the conversation rather than continuing to gape at the couple’s easy affection. This felt so much like a double date, and Rafael needed a drink. Why had Christian wanted him to bring Grace along? Why had Rafael agreed to it?
“The UK,” he said with a smile. “London, specifically. I’ve lived there my whole life.”
“I’ve never been there either!” Grace chirped. “Always wanted to, though. How did you two meet, then?”
Nora and Julian glanced at each other with knowing expressions. “I was on an assignment,” Nora started. “My first real assignment, and it was kind of a shitshow. I needed a cute British man to help me out.”
Julian rolled his eyes. “Not true. I did absolutely nothing to help. And you’re leaving out the part where I already knew you. And you waltzed back into my life ready to turn everything upside down.”
They didn’t break eye contact, and Rafael didn’t know where to look.
He’d never been bothered by observing people in relationships before.
He’d never even thought about it. They could behave however they wanted, and it didn’t make a difference to him in the least. But with Grace sitting there next to him—suddenly it felt strange to witness their intimacy.
Something about the way Nora and Julian were looking at each other—their private jokes and heated glances—made him all too aware of Grace’s presence at his side, of the hair spilling over her shoulder, the scent of it drifting into his face, her warm thigh so near to his, her fingers almost brushing his leg under the table.
Finally, Nora turned back toward him. “So tell me, Rafael, do you really have events and stories interesting enough to make me forget all about whatever is happening in Sacromonte? I’ve been told I’m not allowed to ask questions about all the recent activity in that area.”
Rafael could feel Grace’s attention on him, but he tried to ignore it as he slipped into the charming, placating character he played so well for his business. “I think I do,” he said with a wave of his hand. “No need to worry about Sacromonte. I’ve got plenty that might interest you.”
“Is that so?” Nora asked, taking out her pen with a dramatic flair. Julian was still grinning beside her.
Rafael racked his brain. He’d been so distracted by Grace and their earlier argument he’d forgotten to come up with intriguing stories for this writer, but he knew he could manage something. That was his job, after all.