23. He’s Kind And He’s Generous And He’s Gentle…
23
HE’S KIND AND HE’S GENEROUS AND HE’S GENTLE…
Alejandro
The Past
Barcelona, Spain
“ A nd you’re sure?”
“Positive,” Ferrer says on the other line. “I overheard Regina and Sandro discussing it when they thought they were alone. The shipment coming in from Galicia is an important one; twenty-five million euros worth of product.”
The pen in my hand stills. “Did you hear anything else?”
“Enough to know he’s struggling. His men are abandoning him left and right, including the lower ranking associates. Without anyone willing to sell for him he’s losing money, not to mention clients. From my understanding, Don Ruben Caceres is his biggest competition.”
Footsteps in the hall catch my attention and I angle my head to see who’s entering the kitchen. Dahlia drops her phone into her purse and beelines straight for the fridge, barely casting a glance in my direction.
“Hold on.” I practically trip over my own feet as I rush to stand. “Are you going out?”
She grabs a water bottle and closes the fridge. “Yes.”
“I can drive?—”
“No.”
“Take Beni?—”
She spins on her heels and exits without so much as a glance in my direction. Diego crosses paths with her on the way in and whistles.
“I just felt a chill.” He smirks at me.
I cut him a look before returning to my call. “Where are you now?”
“About to dump this phone down a well.”
“Fine. Call if anything changes.”
The call ends and I leave my phone on the counter. There’s so much to do today but I’m torn between heading upstairs to my office and running after Dahlia. She’s been giving me the silent treatment since Saturday and the ride home from the villa yesterday evening was painful to say the least.
“Trouble in paradise?” Diego asks.
I almost go. She couldn’t have left yet; she wasn’t wearing any shoes and probably left them by the apartment door upstairs. There’s time to find her and follow her, even if she’s angry, even if she doesn’t want to speak to me.
But I can’t. No matter how much I want to. With the news Ferrer just gave me I have less than an hour to come up with a plan and set it in motion. This shipment from Galicia is too important. An opportunity like this may not come around again.
“She’ll get over it…eventually,” I tell my brother. “When all of this is over with Sandro, I’ll make it up to her.”
“I hope you do.” He grabs two water bottles from the fridge and says, “Because if she ever decides to leave your sorry ass, I won’t hesitate in driving her to the airport myself.”
I glare in his direction. “Thank you for the support.”
“You’re welcome.” He leaves one of the water bottles on the counter in front of me and takes a sip from his own. “Was that Ferrer on the phone? What’s going on?”
“Sandro’s getting a shipment from Galicia; twenty-five million euros worth of product.”
Diego lifts a brow. “I imagine this is an eleventh-hour attempt on his part to stay afloat.”
“It is.”
“What are you going to do? Tip off the SVA?”
“Better. He has plenty of adversaries in the north.”
My brother nods. “What are we waiting for then? Let’s bury the son of a bitch.”
Dahlia
“ W hat I’m about to tell you is a secret.”
“Uw.” She glances at her menu. “I love secrets.”
When the waiter arrives to pour us each a drink, I gently touch her wrist. “Leave the bottle.”
This catches Lyss’s attention and she lowers her menu. I pour us each a glass of cava up to the rim—not like it’ll do much in terms of taking the edge off but Lyss is a notorious lightweight who can’t handle more than a few glasses of wine at a time.
The afternoon is too beautiful to be spent inside so I chose one of my favorite Mediterranean restaurants for lunch. Seated in the arcade space of Pla?a Reial, we’re surrounded by city natives and tourists alike, all enjoying the pleasant weather. A pair of children put little boats in the water fountain while a group of teens toss light up toys into the air—the kind shaped like frisbees with colorful fringes.
Lyss and I clank glasses before drinking and her eyes glisten with concern.
“Are you okay?”
“I don’t know,” I confess. “I don’t know where to start.”
“What does it have to do with?”
I hesitate before answering. “Alejandro.”
“Your boyfriend?” she asks.
“I’m thinking of leaving him.”
“Oh.” She gives me a sympathetic look. “That sucks. I’m really sorry.”
“Yeah…”
“Did something happen? Is he cheating?”
I almost roll my eyes. “Part of me wishes he was. At least then I’d know where to direct my anger.”
“Who the Hell does he think he is? Just because you moved over here to be with him doesn’t mean he can walk all over you or make you feel unwanted. Know your worth!” She affirms. “If you want to move out of that house, say the word. I have a few guy friends on campus who can help you move your stuff. And if you end up going back home, you’re more than welcome to stay at my place till I get back. My room is empty and my parents would love the company.”
“Lyss, you don’t change, you know that?” I manage a smile. “You’re the same girl from kindergarten who’d share her lunch with kids who didn’t have any.”
A soft blush creeps across her freckled cheeks, accentuating her auburn hair. “Well…I’m certainly the same height as a kindergartner.”
I don’t know why I came out here today or why I texted Lyss over the weekend. Maybe the loneliness was finally getting to me and maybe, the further away Alejandro drifts, the more desperate I become to fill his place. But I’ve been feeling alone for a while and it doesn’t help that all my friends in Barcelona are biologically related to my boyfriend. Doesn’t make for an objective circle around me and what I really need is the neutral opinion of an uninvolved third party.
“I guess, I should start somewhere. See, Alex is very rich.”
Lyss juts her chin. “Hence the guy watching us from across the plaza?”
“Oh, Beni? Yeah, he’s harmless.” I wave it off. “But he’s not regular people rich…God, how do I explain this?”
The waitress returns and I rearrange the cups and utensils on our table to make room for the plates she leaves behind. Lyss reaches for the patatas bravas first and digs in, enjoying each savory bite with a sigh of contentment.
“Like mid-six figure rich?”
“Higher.”
“Millionaire?”
“Higher.”
She stops mid-bite. “Multi-millionaire.”
I press my lips together.
Lyss puts down the plate. “Let me see a picture of him.”
I reach into my purse for my phone and scroll through my albums to find pictures of us. I extend the phone to her mid-drink and she snorts, a clear stream of cava shooting out through both nostrils.
“Alyssa!”
She snatches the phone from me as she coughs up a lung. “Jesus Christ?—”
I grab a bunch of napkins to clean up the mess. “Are you okay?”
“Oh my God, I’m gonna kill myself,” she says in between coughs. “Bitch, whatever it is, suck it up. Are you crazy ?”
“ Alyssa .”
“Ohhhh my Goddd,” she groans as she scrolls through photos. Then turns the phone around and points to a photo of us taken at his uncle’s birthday party back in April. “Does he actually look like that in person?”
“Yes?”
“Why are you complaining. Are you on crack? Is that what it is?” she asks, eyes narrowed. “Have you gotten caught up in the Barcelona party scene and all the cava and cocaine is frying your brain? Have you lost your mind?”
I manage a sigh. “Yes I know, he’s very pretty.”
“Does he have a brother?”
I chuckle. “Actually, he does. But Diego isn’t really your type. He’s too emotionally available.”
“Well, shit,” Lyss says. “Guess I’m out of luck then.”
“Look, I know what I’m about to tell you is crazy so I need you to brace yourself. Okay?”
“Does this have to do with your boyfriend being really rich and really hot and for some reason, you still want to leave him?” She quirks a brow. “Because if I had a millionaire boyfriend who made sure I had a bodyguard to protect me, I’d be the happiest, most insufferable woman on planet earth.”
“He’s not a millionaire,” I tell her. “And when you find out what he’s worth you’re going to shit your pants. So drink your cava and pay attention. I’ll have to start from the beginning.”
L yss stares blankly into the plaza while the waiter takes away three empty bottles and replaces them with a new one. I pour each of us a glass but Lyss doesn’t move. By now we’ve been here most of the afternoon and she hasn’t uttered a word in the last half hour. If this is how she’s reacting after receiving a very sanitized version of the last year and a half, I can only imagine what would’ve happened if I’d told her the whole truth. Most likely we’d be at the American Embassy while Lyss demands to see the FBI and a psychiatrist, one to lock up my boyfriend and the other to treat me for Stockholm Syndrome.
After a few moments of silence, she opens her mouth. Closes it. Opens it again. Then downs her glass in a single gulp before taking mine.
“Oh my God…” she whispers.
“Don’t freak out!” I say. “You promised not to freak out.”
“I’m not freaking out, are you freaking out? Who said I was freaking out?” She keeps pouring until the cava spills over the rim of her glass. “This is me not freaking out.”
“Lyss.” I catch the cava bottle in time before she drowns her cup and the rest of the table. “Oh my God…you’re totally freaking out.”
“ Of course I’m freaking out !” She exclaims suddenly, drawing the attention of nearby patrons. I sink back in my seat and try to act calm—no one pays attention to a bunch of drunk American tourists, right?—and Lyss finishes half her glass in several gulps. “You are out of your fucking mind, Rosario.”
“You need to calm down!” I whisper frantically. “People are looking.”
“Calm down? You want me to calm down ?” Her eyes dart in both directions as if searching for something. “You just told me your super rich boyfriend has a family business and I have to calm down ?”
“It’s just a family business, Lyss! Like how the Carusos owned a whole bunch of car dealerships and that’s why their daughter Enza had a Louis Vuitton bag at fourteen!”
“The Carusos also got arrested for tax evasion and had their mansion in Howard Beach repossessed by the bank,” Lyss retorts. “Which is why Enza had to go to public school halfway through junior year because her tuition checks weren’t clearing!”
“Okay, how else can I explain this to you! He’s rich and the money comes from a big family company!”
“Tell the truth, is he in the mob? Do they even have a mob in Spain?” Lyss wanders aloud, as if forgetting I’m sitting across from her. “You said it’s a shipping company…” She gasps. “Oh my God, do they smuggle blood diamonds from Africa ?—”
I practically leap over the table and cover her mouth with my hand. “ Alyssa Marie , shut up .”
She pushes my hand away. “Let me have my freak out, Dahlia! I’m allowed to freak out. I just found out my best friend has been shacking up with some billion-dollar criminal!”
“I know this may seem like something really absurd to say but…he’s actually very nice.”
Lyss studies me for a long moment. Then snatches her pocketbook off the table and whacks me across the head with it.
“ Ow !”
“Does he fuck you hard enough to rearrange not only your insides but the few braincells you have left too? What the Hell is the matter with you!” She scoffs under her breath. “ Nice …che cazzo dici? Hai perso completamente il senno.”
When Lyss gets mad, she starts cursing in Italian and I never know what she’s saying. She gets it from her mom.
I rub my temples. “Lyss, please…”
“What do you expect me to do with this information? If not for the fact that I’m in a foreign country where your crazy criminal boyfriend might track me down, I’d call the police and have them drag your ass onto the next flight back home.” Her eyes narrow suspiciously. “You know what, I should’ve known. You always had a weird obsession with The Godfather movies, every time Nonno would put them on during Thanksgiving?—”
“All right, enough! Okay? Enough. Jesus,” I take a sip from my drink and try to steady my nerves. “If I told you it’s because I need the opinion of an objective third party.”
“Leave him. That’s my opinion as an objective third party.”
My entire body deflates. “I can’t.”
“Why?”
“Because I love him.”
Lyss les out a deep breath as she shakes her head. “Oh Dee…”
“This is a mess of my own making. He told me what life was going to be like and I was na?ve enough to not believe him. I was blinded by the fantasy of being together and didn’t fully understand the reality of it. He didn’t bring me to Barcelona against my will. In fact, he sent me home to get away from all of this. I chose to come back.” Tears spring to my eyes and I fight to keep them at bay. “Look, I know it’s going to sound like I’m defending him and maybe I am. But try to understand. He didn’t wake up one day and choose this, he was born into it. Alejandro tried to find a way out but it got too dangerous and he had to stop.
“He’s a good man. It may not seem like it but he is. Despite his circumstances in life, he tries. He’s…he’s kind and he’s generous and he’s gentle. So gentle. With me and his siblings and the rest of his family. I know he isn’t perfect but I know he loves me. He’d do anything for me.”
She tilts her head at me, eyes turning yellow in the sunlight. “Then why do you want to leave him?”
“Because it isn’t enough. And I feel…so guilty . For wanting to leave knowing what he’s given me.” I press the heels of my palms into my eyes, hoping the pressure will alleviate the burn. “There’s something going on and he won’t tell me what it is. I can’t tell if this is a rough patch we’ll get through eventually or if what we had before was a honeymoon phase and this is my new reality. I’m terrified . The last thing I want to do is find myself trapped like?—”
“Your mother.” I drop my hands and Lyss’s features soften with sympathy. “Why don’t you try talking to him about it?”
“I’ve tried! But it’s so hard sometimes. He’s cold and aloof and he shuts everyone out. And it hurts. I hate feeling like I’m being rejected; it reminds me…”
Lyss finishes my train of thought. “It reminds you of your dad. And how it felt to be rejected by him when he left. I understand.”
I reach for a napkin and drag it against my damp cheeks. “There’s no need to bring up my parents.”
“Why not? When they’re at the root of all your problems?” She parries back. “You never properly processed your mother’s death and you never confronted your feelings about your father’s abandonment. Instead, you buried them so deep inside you that their seeds sprouted and blossomed into shadows who darken every aspect of your life.”
Feeling defensive I say, “I don’t even know why I told you.”
“Because you can’t hide how you feel from me. Not really. You needed someone from your old life to put things into perspective. And no one, not even Karina, knows you as well as I do.”
“Oh really? Then what am I thinking now?”
“You’re thinking we should finish this bottle, order another one, and get so drunk we remember what happened at my Sweet Sixteen.” She manages a small smile before saying, “But I think you should go home and talk to Alejandro. Because this is one problem I don’t think I can help you with.”
T he sun has just begun to set by the time I get home.
Lettie and Do?a Ana are in the kitchen preparing dinner which means Alejandro must be upstairs, either working in his office or in our room. I don’t have to go searching for him because I hear his voice drifting from an open door down the hall. He’s in our bedroom.
“Tienes que decirle…” He paces, pauses, resumes his pacing. “Sí, sí, yo te entiendo. Bueno, si ese es el caso entonces…”
The door creeks as I push it open, announcing my arrival. Damn snitch. I’ll have to oil those hinges later.
Alejandro spins around and upon seeing me, immediately cuts his conversation short. “Tengo que irme, luego hablamos.”
He drops his phone on the bed and I enter the room, setting my purse down on the nightstand. “I didn’t mean to interrupt.”
“You weren’t interrupting,” he says quickly. “You’re never interrupting.”
“Hm.” I nod in response. “Well, I’m going to change for dinner. Lettie and I are going to a flamenco show later.”
He side steps me on the way to the bathroom. “Dahlia?—”
He places his hands on my arms and I flinch but not because he touched me. I’m still a little dizzy from too much afternoon drinking and I almost lose my balance. My hand shoots out and I grab the edge of the dresser to keep myself steady but he doesn’t notice. He pulls back so quickly it’s like watching a child recoil from the heat of a flame.
“I…” He looks down at his palms. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry . I’ll put the gloves back on.”
“What?”
“I hadn’t realized?—”
Only then do I notice his hair is wet and his shirt isn’t fully buttoned. His hands are bare and he isn’t wearing any shoes. He must’ve just gotten out of the shower. Before he can move away, I grab his wrist and spin him back around.
Almost two months have passed since the fire but so much has happened since then, especially since getting my boot taken off. Which is why it’s so easy for me to forget I wasn’t the only one injured.
I try turning his palms over but he clenches them into fists.
“Please. Don’t.”
“You think I don’t want to be touched by you? Are you crazy ?”
A muscle in his jaw moves. “I hadn’t…I never look. But today I did. They’re awful.”
“They aren’t . I lost my balance because I’m a little tipsy that’s all.”
“Hanging out with your friend again? I’m beginning to think they’re a bad influence.”
“Don’t change the subject. Let me see.”
After a bit of coaxing, he slowly unfurls his fingers to reveal the sensitive skin of his palms. Most of the surrounding skin is in the final stages of healing while the center is a lighter shade of red in some areas and pink in others. For the most part, he’s past needing to keep them wrapped all the time but I noticed he still wears his gloves, albeit the much more comfortable, fingerless ones. There wasn’t any permanent muscle or nerve damage so he retained full mobility at the cost of a few scars which is so much more than I hoped for. Due to his own maltreatment, I feared the worst.
“They’re healing very well.”
“They’re horrific.”
“So what? God already made you too pretty. Having nice hands would’ve gone straight to your head.”
Surprised laughter leaves his lips and he moves as if to touch me but hesitates so I lift his open palms to my cheeks.
“Dahlia—”
“These are the most precious hands to have ever touched me. I’ll never be touched by any others again.”
The tender sweep of his thumbs across the apples of my cheeks send a rush of warmth through me. “I’d have dug you out from under the rubble of a hundred fires.”
“I know.”
“It was more than worth it.”
I lift to the tips of my toes to kiss him but what was meant to be a chaste gesture almost immediately descends into the heat of passion. He has his arms around me as he carries me back to bed and I remove his shirt but the sound of his phone makes my body seize.
I hold my breath and wait for the moment he pulls away and the inevitable rejection makes my stomach sink. But he continues to kiss down my throat and across my collarbone. Finds the zipper at the back of my dress and pushes it down my figure with haste. When his phone rings a second time, he barely glances at the screen. He hits the off button on the side, tosses it into the bottom drawer of my nightstand, and kicks it closed.
There’s a moment of disbelief, where I can’t comprehend what I’ve just witnessed, but the shock fades as quickly as it came. He has his hands on my bare skin and his lips on mine and it’s the closeness I’ve been begging for ever since I first felt him drifting away from me. Maybe I should’ve stopped us. Maybe I should’ve forced us to have a conversation before I lost my nerve and found my way to the root of the problem.
Is it wrong that I don’t?
I let him make love to me and can’t help but wonder if there’s a way I can save us after all.