Net of Lies (16 page)

He started the car, and it
purred gently as they drove away, the darkness around them matching the storm inside his soul.

Kate realized t
hey weren’t going straight to the hotel as Raoul kept driving at a steady speed, the streets around them turning narrower and becoming more unfamiliar to her. As they took off from Rosa’s house, Kate was just sitting there, resting her head against the cool window, watching the kaleidoscope of the changing landscape. She became alarmed as she noticed that instead of reaching the busy, colorful part of Madrid where her hotel was located, they were descending deeper into the underbelly of the city, where the cobblestone streets were guarded by narrow, two- and three-story homes that must have remembered the times of the Holy Inquisition.

‘
Where are we going, Raoul?’ she asked finally, her voice as weak and uncertain as she felt inside. ‘I thought I made it clear I wanted to go back to my room as soon as possible. I’m dead on my feet as it is.’ She thought she sounded defensive, and she hated herself for her weakness. It didn’t seem to bother Raoul, though, because he cast her a quick glance and smiled briefly, his dark head dipping in an acknowledging nod.

‘
So you have.’ He was slowing down, searching for something on the street. He must have found it, because he pulled to the curb in front of a dark and foreboding façade that looked exactly like the others on the medieval street.

‘
Where are we?’ A note of panic colored her voice, but she didn’t care.
Is this part of his punishment?
she wondered as she refused to get out of the car, noticing the droplets of rain hanging to his hair as he patiently waited for her outside the car. ‘I’m not getting out until you explain it to me, Raoul.’

‘
Just taking my aunt’s advice,
querida
.’ He had the gall to smile again, flashing his white teeth like a wild animal. ‘I promise to take you back to your hotel very soon. Consider this a little detour, and an enjoyable one, too. This is the best spot to see some live flamenco music and dance in all of Spain. Not too many people know about it, since the patrons and artists guard their secrets very tightly. Their audience is mostly families and friends. This isn’t another tourist attraction. Rather, it is all about feelings and raw emotions, capturing the true essence of the art of flamenco. I thought you might actually like it and forget for a moment about your worries for tomorrow.’

She was overpowered with joy by the idea
that he still recalled her passion for flamenco music. She had always loved the simplicity and authenticity of the emotional, improvised music. There was no place for rehearsal or second-guessing, and preparation and ambitious lyrics were sacrificed in the name of the intense baring of the singer’s soul.

She allowed him to take her in
through the heavy wooden door that gave way with a screeching warning to whoever was inside. Inside was dark, and the smell of smoke hit her nostrils, reminding her of her walks through the fields in late autumn back home. It was the same bittersweet, haunting fragrance of burnt wood that she remembered lingering over the stubble remaining in the fields as she’d walked her dogs through the cool swirls of fog that turned the landscape into something from a fairy tale. As her eyes adjusted to the semi-darkness, she noticed the large fireplace, filled with logs licked by orange flames, along the back wall of the room. Simple benches against the walls and tables full of bottles and plates were the only pieces of furniture. Most of them were filled with people hunched over their drinks and dishes. The hum of conversation punctuated by an occasional burst of laughter saturated the air. Raoul’s hand on her back guided her to a free space, her skin warming with the awareness of countless curious eyes watching them. She was relieved to sit down, her back against the rough exposed-brick wall.

‘
Are you sure it’s okay for us to be here?’ She couldn’t help feeling self-conscious at being visibly different from the women around her, who wore colorful dresses, lacy and feminine. Most of them carried the color over into their shoes and hair accessories. Her own simple appearance felt drab and sad compared to these birds of paradise, and she wished nothing more than to hide in the shadows that dominated the room.

‘Absolutely
.’ He smiled. Raoul obviously didn’t share any of her hang-ups.

But then
again, he does fit in,
she mused enviously. In his white shirt and dark pants, he could pass for a flamenco dancer, and with his broad shoulders and narrow hips, he was as graceful as a dangerous animal poised for an attack.

‘I know the owner personally
,’ he continued, visibly enjoying the atmosphere. He seemed relaxed and happy—the happiest she had seen him in the last four days.

‘I come here
nearly every time I’m in Madrid, so yes, it’s perfectly fine for us to sneak in. I’m pretty sure you will have the chance to hear it from Pablo himself very soon, right after he’s done with his work at the bar.’

She followed his gaze
to the bar across the room. It wasn’t very large or fancy, and she guessed it served a smaller variety of drinks than a hotel bar would. A plain slab of honey-gold oak had been polished by the countless elbows of drinkers. Behind it, the few simple shelves filled with glasses and bottles nearly hid the tiny, round man who worked the bar. But he had noticed them. He greeted them with a cheerful wave and a rapid waterfall of Spanish that she didn’t fully understand. Raoul answered him with an equally fast riposte.

F
ive minutes later, she was being surveyed by the darkest pair of eyes she had ever seen. Pablo, the bartender, seemed delighted to find out she was fluent in his native tongue, and he shared his approval with whoever happened to be in his earshot, embarrassing her completely. He offered her a tall glass of sangria on the house, along with a fragrant, still-steaming plate of shrimp and rice. She was surprised to realize she was hungry. She didn’t care if Raoul was watching her with a half-smile as she tucked in, cleaning up her plate.

He was right about the place being fun,
she thought blissfully as she sipped the ruby-red liquid, fragrant with orange slices and cloves. The last few days had been nerve-racking, and her whole body finally rebelled against the constant need to be on the lookout for potential mishaps. In the smoky, dark room full of strangers, she felt liberated and happy, stubbornly refusing to make any connection between her newfound peace and the man at her side. She told herself he didn’t really matter, as she gulped down the potent drink. Then her ears caught the first haunting tunes of a guitar being played across the room.

W
armth spread through her frozen body, each single cell of it deliciously alive as the sangria circulated through her veins. Her head was spinning a bit as she leaned forward, resting her chin in her palms as she watched the spectacle about to start. Two men were strumming guitars, and the beauty of the raw melody tugged at her heartstrings. A woman in her late forties or early fifties stepped forward to dance. She wore a single fuschia flower in her dark, curly hair. She wasn’t particularly beautiful or graceful, and her very average body and dress were just like plenty of the others around the room. Wide-eyed and mesmerized, Kate watched her. The fact that her hips were too wide and her hair was streaked with grey didn’t take away from the beauty of her dance. In a room full of women who were younger and prettier than she was, she still stood out because of her natural grace and passion.

That’
s the beauty of flamenco,
Kate thought happily, blinking to bring the picture into focus. Real people wove magic with their voices and personality, careless of the norms of beauty that would have dictated pretty much any performance anywhere else. The music was primal, and it was the only truth necessary to connect the audience and the artists.

T
he audience clapped, accompanying the woman’s voice and the guitars. Her voice was sharp and intense, rising and falling as she talked about her love, simply and passionately. Kate stared at her body as it twisted hypnotically. The rhythmic clicking of her shoes and the clapping lulled her into a state of surreal consciousness, where nothing else really existed. She understood most of the words, but their choppy rhythm was too fast at times for her catch it completely. But she got the meaning of it—a poignant love story about being seduced and left alone. The ever-rising tension of the song rising in her blood was almost unbearable. Only when it was over and she heard people around her clapping and cheering did she wake from her dreamlike state, her cheeks burning as she realized that Raoul was watching her with an odd expression.

‘
You’re the only person I know that can respond to this music in such a deep and instinctive way,’ he said quietly, his dark brows knitted together. ‘Watching you reacting to the song is even more gratifying than the music itself.’

She wanted to laugh him off
—she had to. Compliments like that were dangerous at the best of times, and the dark, perfectly private room made them ten times worse. There they were alone, two people hidden from the world and prying eyes, nothing stopping them from doing exactly what they wanted. And she wanted him to kiss her, she realized. The music and sangria made her bold, dissolving her common sense as she leaned toward him with a smile.

‘Are you sure this is the most gratifying thing you can come up with
, Raoul?’ Even her own voice sounded like a stranger’s. He took a deep breath, and she realized that she could affect him just as much as he did her. That knowledge made her feel drunker than any sangria ever could. Liberated from her constant need to avoid danger, she reveled in his obvious need.

H
is eyes were two burning coals as he moved closer. ‘Careful,
querida,
’ he rasped, the desire in his voice making it sound rough. ‘You’re playing with fire here.’

‘But
isn’t it why you brought me here in the first place?’ Saying exactly what she thought felt wonderful, so she threw caution to the wind. ‘It is the perfect place, you know.’ She slid close enough to feel the hard muscles of his thigh, and the contact was exhilarating. He tensed, and instinctively Kate knew she had to take the first step, because some unknown consideration held him back from giving in to his desire. Whatever might come later didn’t matter right then.

H
er nipples hardened almost painfully in sexual tension that she had forgotten could ever exist. ‘Kiss me,’ she whispered, her face lifting to his with wild abandon. And he didn’t disappoint her, bringing his mouth down on hers with passion that left no space for second-guessing. Hot, demanding, and masterful, his lips shaped hers. His tongue caressed the roof of her mouth with urgent strokes. He wrapped his arms around her, pressing her into him until she felt the familiar hardness of his erection against her belly. Her hot palm eagerly traced its shape through the fabric of his pants. His large body surged forward, involuntarily seeking closer contact with her exploring fingers. But before she could do anything, he moved back, tearing his mouth from her ravished lips as she gasped for air.

‘
No, wait.’ He looked down at her, the fire in his eyes sending a shiver of excitement down her spine. ‘You don’t know what you’re doing, Kate. It was my mistake to bring you here, I know… I’m sorry, believe me. I will take you to the hotel now, before I do something that we will both regret tomorrow.’

She
blinked dazedly, trying to fight back the tears of rejection forming behind her eyelids. She nodded numbly, allowing him to pull her to her feet and to the exit, his hasty steps as insulting as a slap in the face. The fire in her blood subdued, leaving her cold and spent as she followed him like a lifeless marionette.

A
s Raoul opened the door, the cool moist air that greeted them refreshed her a bit, bringing her back to her senses. And as she cooled down, the realization of what exactly had transpired dawned upon her, filling her with horror and shame. She had practically thrown herself at him, groping him in a dark room full of people like some kind of sex addict. He had responded, but it didn’t prove anything, since every hot-blooded male would have an instinctive reaction to fingers caressing him in the way she’d touched him just moments before.

Kate
had to escape before the first tears of embarrassment escaped down her cheeks and the sob rising in her throat forced its way out. The thought of sitting in his car next to him was unbearable. The sangria’s effect was wearing off as she pulled away and started walking into a narrow alley next to the club.

‘Kate, wait
.’

S
he ignored his voice as he followed her. The wet cobblestones gave her the advantage of a few seconds before he caught up with her.

‘
What are you doing?’ With his palms on her arms, he turned her back toward him. ‘What’s wrong? I’m sorry for what happened inside. I said so already.’

He
doesn’t get it,
Kate thought miserably.
Not one bit
. She felt rejected, but she doubted he understood—or cared.

‘I don’t want to see you right now
,’ she managed through clenched teeth, praying that her strength would not abandon her. ‘I’ll call a cab to the hotel. Just leave me alone!’ Her last words cut the moist night air like a knife.