The Love of a Latino (11 page)

Alejandro’s face took on a
strange expression, almost as if he was trying not to laugh. Something was not
right. “What happens if you go back and she is not there or with someone else?
After all, it has been almost five months.”

So his father was keeping
track of time. “I believe that she must have cared for me a little and that is
a start. As for your question, if she is not there I will not stop until I find
her and if she is with someone else then I will need to prove to her that she
should be with me.”

“So that’s it? You have it
all figured out? Well, I guess the only thing left to do, is give you my
blessings.” Alejandro came forward, grasping Rafe’s hand in one of his,
embracing him with the other. He could not remember his father ever being this
affectionate. He enjoyed his father’s new found attitude, but could not help
wondering what could have triggered this. Was there something his father was
aware of that he wasn’t?

He again caught the whispers
of his mother and her female companion and his mind reeled trying to figure out
what was going on.  First his mother’s suspicious behavior, then his father’s
unusual affection, and the voice of a strange woman hidden in the kitchen.
Something was not adding up. Something was
definitely
wrong.

****

Rafe and his father sat
together in Alejandro’s office both men nursing a glass of Scotch before dinner.
After five months of next to no conversation, there was a lot to talk about.  The
board was in the middle of buying over a smaller company in the Middle East.
Rafe was aware of this, but it provided a healthy topic of discussion for both
men. His father was speaking now, saying something about Richard Hathaway
handing over his share of the company to his son, William. Rafe tried his best
to keep up with the conversation, but his determined mind strayed.

He was nervous. He wasn’t up
to meeting this mysterious woman Mamá was hiding out in the kitchen. That meant
he would have to plaster a fake smile on his face and act polite to her for the
entire dinner. When this was over he would let his mother know just what he
thought about her attempts at matchmaking. But tomorrow would be different.
Tomorrow he would see Dahlia again.

A knock on the office door
jolted him out of his thoughts as his head turned in the direction of his
mother. She craned her head around the partially opened door, peering into the
room. She had that nervous look on her face again and she was trying her very
best to avoid looking directly at him.

“Dinner’s ready.” She
announced and left before either of them could comment. This was unlike his
mother. She never announced dinner personally. Usually that would be the maid’s
job. Come to think of it, he had not seen any of the servants when he arrived.

“Papá,
do you have any idea why Mom is acting so strange?
This is very unlike her. I feel as if…” He turned to look at his father and
forgot what he was going to say. The older man was staring into his glass,
swirling the liquid as if he was looking for something he lost. When he finally
raised his head the poor man looked as if he was facing the hang man’s noose.
His father was aware of what his mother was up to!

“Papá,
what is
Mamá
up to? You know, don’t you?” He
growled, and his father had the nerve to smile.

“Ah hell, Dad, I’m not up to
Mamá
trying to marry me off to one of her friend’s ‘lovely’ daughter. I swear if
she wasn’t my mother I would…” He was fuming, slamming the glass down on the
desk, some of the drink sloshing over the side.

His father pushed away from
the desk straightening to a standing position, a ridiculous grin on his face.
“I’m sorry,
Hijo,
but your mother made me swear that I would not say
anything to you. How about we go before she comes looking for us again? Maybe
then she will let you know what she is up to, no?”

“Whatever,” Rafe groaned out
loud, following his father like a lamb being led to the slaughter.

He was battling with his
desire to give his mother a piece of his mind or silently slip out the front
door when they entered the formal dining room. He had decided upon the latter
when his father stepped away from his path and he saw the other person that
would be joining them for dinner.

Rafe froze, his gaze clashing
with the brown one of the woman that stood before the large table. His lung
constricted, the lack of oxygen causing his head to spin lightly. It couldn’t
be possible. She was an apparition; something his mind had conjured up because
of his need to see her. There was no possible way that the woman standing
before him could be Dahlia,
his Dahlia.

****

He looked so good she could
just eat him. The stubble on his face, deepening his already rugged look, his
black hair cut short as she remembered it. He was casually dressed in jeans and
a shirt, a hint of his
Paco Rabanne
aftershave teased her senses. God,
he smelt so good, just like that night when he had held her in his arms and
made love to her.

He just stood there, looking
at her as if he’d seen a ghost. Why didn’t he say something, anything? Didn’t
he know how difficult breathing was for her right now?

“Dahlia?”
He croaked.

She could see the knot in his
throat dance up and down as he swallowed. A brief image of her kissing that
spot flashed across her mind, causing her to inhale sharply. Not able to speak
just yet, she nodded. Her mind silently screamed,
yes, Raphael, it’s me.
Please, tell me I didn’t make a mistake coming here. Please.

He swallowed again. “I don’t
understand. What are you doing here?
Mamá,
what is going on?” He turned
to his mother, confusion flashing in his eyes.

“Nothing’s going on.  Can’t I
invite a friend over for dinner?” His mother was saying and remarkably enough,
her voice was very calm. “Rafe, I would like you to meet Dahlia. I met her
while I was on vacation. Dahlia, this is my son…Raphael.”

His head swirled to look at
her. “But you were in Milan…” Have

“No, I never said I was going
to Milan, you just assumed. Now, if you are through with all the questions, can
we please eat?
Tengo mucha hambre.”
Oh, she was good. Anyone who didn’t
know better would swear she really didn’t know of the connection between the
two.

What was his mother trying
to do to him?

“Mom?”

“Rafe, please can’t you wait
until after dinner to ask your questions? I’m sure Dahlia is hungry.” She asked
feigning concern.

Rafe didn’t know what to
think. He would never have anticipated this in a million years. He wanted to
run to her, take her in his arms; to kiss those lips that had lingered in his
memory, but he didn’t. He didn’t know what circumstances had brought her here,
in his mother’s dining room, but he undoubtedly would not be ungrateful for it.
Pulling himself together, he stepped forward offering her a hand and when hers
came up to clutch it, his blood heated at her touch. This was going to be
harder than he even predicted.

“Hello, Dahlia, it is a
pleasure to meet you.” His voice was strained, every nerve fighting not to do anything
to give away with this ridiculous formality and just kiss her.

 His grip was so strong, his
touch causing her heart to accelerate. He was so close to her now, she could
see the stretched veins on his neck. They stood there holding each other’s
hand, afraid that letting go meant losing that fire that was coursing through
their veins. 

Raphael was captivated,
unable to take his eyes away from her. When his father cleared his throat the
first time, neither of them heard. The second time was a little louder. Releasing
her hand, he stepped past her to pull back her chair, and waited until she was
seated before he went around to where his mother had set a dish for him.

He would murder his mother
for torturing him like this. Couldn’t she have seated him closer to Dahlia? If
he was close to her he could continue to savor the scent of that vanilla body
mist she wore. Her outfit was a simple black, knee length dress but she looked
amazing.  She wore her hair down tonight, just the way he loved it. She seemed
to have put on a little weight but it was good. He didn’t know what game his
mother was playing but he would play along if it meant being anywhere near
Dahlia.

“So Rafe, aren’t you going to
ask me how I met Dahlia?”

His mind formed an answer but
apparently couldn’t relay it to his mouth.

“Fine, I’ll tell you. I was
so tired of all the bickering between you and your father I decided I needed a
vacation. I remembered someone once mentioned this beautiful, little Caribbean
island, so I tried it,” she paused to take a sip from her glass, amusement dancing
in her powder blue eyes. She loved toying with him, no doubt payback for his
loutish attitude toward her the past couple of months.

After a moment of torturous
silence she continued. “Well, when I got there I didn’t have an idea what I was
going to do. So the hotel manager…” The shrilling of her mobile phone cut into
her conversation. “Excuse me,” she mumbled putting the phone to her ear.

His father had been silent
through the complete travesty and Rafe stole a glance at him. He was enjoying
this. Alejandro was busy plowing away at his meal, his head buried in his plate
but Rafe could tell from the way his shoulder shook, he was laughing at him. Had
his parents gone totally mad? Did either of them have any idea what it was
doing to him? Being so close to Dahlia and not being able to touch her was just
pure anguish.

Snapping her phone shut
Lauralyn rose from her seat. “I’m sorry, but I need to leave…”

“Why, what happened?” Rafe
asked getting to his feet.

“Oh… nothing to be concerned
with my son, just charity stuff. Something just, um…came up.”

How convenient!
Dahlia thought stuffing her mouth with a forkful of
noodles. She wasn’t hungry but if she didn’t find something to do with her
mouth, she would positively loose her cool at the confused look on Raphael’s
face.

“Alejandro…Honey, will you
drive me?”

Raking back his chair his
father obliged. “Of course my dear, let me just get a jacket.”

Rafe knew he was being
played. His father never drove his mother anywhere. They had a chauffeur for
that. This whole situation was getting stranger by the moment.

“Dahlia…Darling, I am so
sorry about this, but I am quite sure you will be in good company. Rafe will
stay with you.” She offered a quick explanation.

“It’s okay, Lauralyn. I will
see you when you get back.”

“See you then. Oh…I don’t
know how long we’ll be long. This may take
all
night.” She suggested,
winking at her son.

He finally understood what
was going. They were both conspiring together, an opportunity to leave him and
Dahlia alone. His parents had planned this. Walking them to the door, Rafe
pressed a quick kiss to his mother’s cheek—whispering in her ear,
“Gracias,
Mamá.”

She pulled away from him and
presented him with a watery smile. “You deserve to be happy my son.
Quiero
lo mejor para ti.”
And then they were gone, leaving Rafe and Dahlia alone
for the first time in almost five months.

****

He found her in the sitting
room, tensely seated in his father’s large wingback chair. She looked up when
he entered the room, her pupils dilated, her delectable lips slightly parted.
Standing at the entrance of the sitting room, he hid his trembling hands in his
trouser pockets, terrified that they would betray how badly being in her
company affected him. There was so much he wanted to say, to ask but didn’t
know where to start. What if he became too eager about her being here and
scared her away?

Choosing his words carefully
he asked. “How have you been, Dahlia?”

He was taken aback when she
didn’t answer his question directly. Instead she asked point-blank “So, how’s
your fiancé or is it your wife now?” She was looking him straight in the eye, a
defiant tilt to her chin.

“I’m not married, nor am I
engaged anymore.”

“I take it your fiancé didn’t
like the idea that you were unfaithful. You must have been crushed when she
broke it off.”

“Sarafina didn’t call off the
wedding, I did.”

“And you expect me to believe
that?”

Stepping forward he closed
the distance between them. “It is the truth, I promise. I do not know why you
are here and I do not care,
Querida,
but I wish to tell you the truth.
All I ask is that you listen.
¿Por favor?”
He knelt before her, taking
her hand in his, desperation straining his voice.

When she didn’t pull away or
say anything, he released a breath. “I was going to marry Sarafina, but I did
not love her. Please do not misunderstand me, I am fond of her but I was not
in
love
with her. My mother keeps telling me how much she wants a grandchild
and I need a successor. I made her a promise. If I turned thirty-one and did
not meet a woman that I could love, I would marry Sarafina and give
Mamá
a
grandchild.” He paused, swallowing. Catching a quick breath he continued. “I
turned thirty-one eight months ago and I did not meet that woman, so I kept my
promise. I asked Sarafina to marry me.”