Chapter 24
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Rafael knit his brow in confusion. He certainly hadn’t invited his father to the event, so what in the hell was he doing there?
Simón Ferrer-Martín wrapped Alma in a hug before glancing around at the rest of their little group, assessing each of them in turn.
“You remember Grace, right Papá?” Alma asked, using English for Grace’s benefit.
His father reached out and took Grace’s hand, kissing it. “Of course,” he said. “How nice to see you again.”
“You as well,” Grace said, but Rafael noticed she stole a glance at him. She was checking on him, making sure he was okay with this new development. He didn’t know if it made him hurt more or less that she still cared.
“And Rafael, am I to understand that you’ve had something to do with this little project?”
Rafael tried to school his face so as not to reveal his irritation.
Little project. Of course his father would belittle it in any way he could.
And maybe he was right. What was designing cultural experiences and events compared to running a multi-million dollar company?
Rafael knew his father thought he was wasting his potential, that he was just messing around until it was time to move on to a more lucrative and powerful career option.
“I did,” Rafael said, his entire body rigid.
His father arched a brow. “Hmmm.”
“And to what do we owe the pleasure of your attendance this evening?” Rafael asked. He liked sticking to English. At least he had a little edge on his father there, even if it wasn’t much.
“Christian is a friend of a friend, I suppose. How intriguing that the invitation didn’t come from you.”
Rafael raised a shoulder. “Didn’t know you’d be interested.”
He wouldn’t have been interested if the whole thing wasn’t a rich dude schmooze fest. Simón only interacted with the people he deemed worthy, and it just so happened that this event was one that included quite a number of those “worthy” people.
And even if he’d created most of it, Rafael wasn’t a guest. In his father’s eyes, he was more like the help.
It was beneath him. It didn’t matter if Rafael loved what he did, if making his vision come to life and curating the perfect setting, made him happy. It would never be enough.
“I always love to see how you’re spending your time. Interesting location though. Don’t you think it’s a bit cramped? And the cave walls? That’s quite an interesting way to display priceless works of art.”
“That’s funny,” Grace chimed in. Rafael had forgotten she was standing right there, witnessing this humiliation.
“Rafael said the same thing to Christian when they first came here. He didn’t think it would be possible.
But I guess he’s the kind of person who can accomplish anything.
He made it happen against all the odds, and now everyone’s raving about it. ”
Simón turned, studying Grace again as if perhaps he’d missed something before. Rafael couldn’t help his lips curving slightly. Whatever else was broken between them, she was proud of him. Even if she thought a secret art party for billionaires was stupid to begin with, she was proud of him.
“Ah,” Simón said at last. “So you must think that hanging paintings and throwing parties is all very worthwhile then?”
Grace’s smile faltered, but she kept her tone cool and didn’t hesitate.
“I think sharing historic artwork in a way that brings people joy is worthwhile, yes. But I am biased. I’m an art professor, and my students will get to come here as well.
It will be an amazing experience for them, thanks to Rafael. ”
“How nice for your students.” Simón’s smile didn’t reach his eyes.
Alma tried to diffuse the tension, as she always did when Rafael and his father were in the same room. She took Simón’s arm. “Papá', have you seen this painting that looks like an octopus?” she asked, leading him out of the alcove.
Normally Rafael might have been seething, or at least annoyed.
But he couldn’t find it in himself to get worked up about his father being an ass again.
So what if his father thought he was wasting his potential, never living up to the man that had reared him?
For once, he couldn’t manage to care all that much.
Rafael stared at Grace as she gave him a sheepish smile.
It took everything in him not to reach out and pull her into his arms. Clearly, she still felt something for him, but he had to respect her wishes.
She’d made her decision. She’d pushed him away again.
And as much as he wanted to press her to the wall of that alcove and put his mouth all over her, he wouldn’t let himself move a muscle.
“Thanks for that,” he said.
She shrugged. “For what?”
“For defending me when my dad was being a dick.”
Her eyes glimmered. “I was defending modern art, Raf.” Rafael grinned, well aware that it wasn’t Picasso who she’d claimed was the kind of person who could accomplish anything.
“Some people just can’t appreciate the significance of a good cultural event.
We get that kind of thing a lot in the arts and humanities. ”
I love you, Rafael thought accidentally.
His eyes went wide with alarm. He’d managed to startle himself, and he hoped Grace didn’t see the tension on his face as he held his tongue, waiting for the moment to pass.
He locked the words in a reinforced mind vault and casually put a hand in his pocket. “Such a shame, isn’t it?” he said.
The way she smiled at him made his heart stutter, but he wouldn’t show it.
He could understand that she needed to rebuild her life.
He could understand that she would choose Alma over him.
But he was still bitter that she wouldn’t believe him—wouldn’t believe his feelings for her and the fact that this could be something real, as if it was all a game to him.
She’d never even given him a chance to show her how much this meant to him.
She’d run at the first sign of trouble, and maybe he shouldn’t blame her.
The way she’d spoken to his father had given him a glimmer of hope, but she was still so calm and controlled, already inching away from him, ready to flee to another room and never look back. Ready to let it all go.
He supposed he needed to do the same thing. That was the only way to go on with his life. He had to find a way to let her go as well.
Days later, Alma popped her head in at La Finca, where Rafael was waiting at a table and writing an email to a potential client on his phone.
Rafael had been surprised to hear from her, especially since things had seemed a bit distant between them since everything had fallen apart with Grace.
And Alma asking Rafael to grab coffee on a random Tuesday was not exactly commonplace.
He didn’t know if she felt guilty about her part in wrecking his love life or if the niceness was a gesture of forgiveness for his seduction of her best friend, but either way, it was good for them to spend some time together.
He wanted to try to move past the fact that Alma was a large part of the reason Grace had called things off between them.
But, still, it was hard to get it out of his head.
Alma thought he was a fuckboy, and maybe she was right.
Maybe he’d given her no reason to believe that he could care about Grace, and maybe that was his own fault.
“Hey, are you the guy who designed that whole underground art museum in the cool cave?” she asked playfully in Spanish.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about. Must be some other handsome, talented businessman.”
She scoffed. “Could have sworn it was you,” she said, leaning back in her chair and inspecting him. Rafael noticed her watching him more closely lately, as if she was sizing him up. For what, he didn’t know. “How are you?”
“I’m well,” he said warily, unfolding a napkin and fiddling with its edges. “How are you? Things back on course with Obinna?”
Her smile stretched wide across her face. “On the best course. It’s quite exciting.”
“Well, I’m happy to hear that,” he said. “I’ve never seen you so obsessed.” He was happy for her, truly. He wanted his sister to be in a loving, healthy relationship. He was also just sad for himself.
She eyed him again curiously. “What did Christian have to say about all of your success? He seemed pleased.”
“He was pleased. He’s already got a ton of interested parties who want to hold events there.”
“And what happens to you? Do you keep running those events?”
“It seems likely. It won’t take as much of my time, and I’ll be focusing on other clients, but he wants to retain me to plan that other stuff.”
“And the event for Grace’s classes? When does that happen?”
Rafael started, surprised that Alma had just said Grace’s name so casually, though he supposed she didn’t know that just the thought of Grace sent his entire body into shock. They hadn’t spoken of Grace since the night everything had changed.
“It’s coming up,” he said. “It was one of the first things we put on the calendar.” Rafael shifted in his seat.
He wondered, occasionally, if he should try to plead his case to Alma, if that would make any difference.
But Rafael knew it was more than Alma standing in his way.
Maybe she’d been influential, but ending things had been Grace’s decision, and she had her reasons.
He didn’t want to go behind her back to try to get Alma on his side, and as loyal as Alma might be to him, he knew where her true loyalty lay.
He’d probably be a fool to try to sway her, to beg her to convince Grace to give him a chance.
He tried to change the subject. “How’s it going with that study you were working on with the—um—big and little reproductive cells?”
“You have no idea what you’re talking about.” Alma smiled and shook her head.
“But I’m close, right?”
“Close enough for me to have an inkling about what you’re referring to, I guess. But you sound like an imbecile.”
“Well, I’m not a scientist.”
“Clearly.”
“You know I’m always trying to take an interest in your career.”
Alma stifled a laugh. “I guess I can appreciate your effort, but don’t say that kind of shit in front of other people. It’s embarrassing my own brother understands so little about biology.”
“Well, tell me about it, and maybe—” Rafael’s phone started vibrating on the table, and he glanced down.
Alma followed his gaze. “Mr. Billionaire seems to be calling.”
“You mind if I take it?” Rafael asked.
Alma waved a hand, gesturing for him to answer Christian’s call. He turned in his chair and answered the phone, hoping it was something he could deal with quickly, without leaving the table.
“Just a quick question for you, Rafael,” Christian said casually, as if this was barely even a conversation.
Rafael let out a breath. “What can I do for you?”
Then Christian started talking, explaining what he wanted, and Rafael forgot about privacy.
He forgot that Alma was sitting there watching him as his brow furrowed.
He forgot she could see how quickly his lips pressed into a hard line.
He forgot she was absorbing every word as Rafael responded to Christian, as his voice heated, his tone sharper with every sentence.
All of his energy was focused on the phone call, on the fury that speared through him in an instant, on the idiocy of Christian’s request.
He couldn’t even remember everything he said to Christian. It was unusual for him to lose his temper like that, to abandon his careful professionalism. But there was one moment that stood out to him. He could hear his own words echoing in his ears.
“No,” he said, the word a dagger dealing the final blow. “That’s not happening.”
When Rafael hung up the phone, throwing it on the table, he glanced up to find Alma watching him again.
“Sorry,” he said, suddenly aware she probably thought he was nuts.
But a calm grin spread across her face and her eyes sparkled as if she’d just won a prize. Rafael wasn’t familiar with the look, but he felt like maybe he should be afraid.