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"Excuse me, Donna—"
Katherine closed the set of thick papers in her hands, her most prized possession of late, her annulment documents, signed, sealed, delivered and finally official. She never tired looking at them or her letter granting permission for her sabbatical.
"Yes?" She tucked the ultimate representation of a new beginning back into the zippered flap at the bottom of her book bag. She looked up to see a very short man, basically a Spanish Buddha, waiting in her open doorway.
"The Don has requested your attendance for dinner."
Her eyebrows shot up. "Now?" She looked at the wooden clock statue on the night table. Nine o'clock.
The man gave her a slight smile. "Bai. He awaits on the patio."
"Um." Katherine looked down at her cotton pajama set. Her next stop was supposed to be bed, not dinner. She'd already tucked Tariq in, though she had her doubts the little boy actually stayed in his bed these days. She’d heard tell that he dashed off with his cousins to explore in the dark.
"You have time to change," the Buddha suggested.
"Guess I'll have to." She shouldn't be surprised. It wasn't the first time someone offered her dinner at this late hour. Everyone around here ate dinner late, after eight o'clock seemingly the norm. She looked at the side table clock again.
"I see you appreciate the clock."
She turned back. "Yes. Very much. It's beautiful."
"My father is a clockmaker, an old profession that is now more of a hobby. That one he made for the Don's mother, Donna Miren, years ago, as a wedding present for her and the Senor."
Katherine smiled. She'd learned early that everyone loved Santiago's parents dearly and had some small story or anecdote to share with her about their life together in the villa. The couple was legendary and folkloric with each new story piece that someone shared with her, helping to build a complete picture in Katherine's mind. She hoped she would be able to meet them before she had to leave the country. "It's so delicate—the time your father must have put into it."
"Senor Danel said when he was with Donna Miren, time stood still. Donna Miren asked my father for a clock that would mark her time with the Senor forever."
"Oh, how romantic," Katherine gushed and looked back at the clock’s face more closely.
"That is why there are no numbers."
"I wondered about that." Now, she knew. Time was infinite without them.
"I will leave you to change. The Don awaits."
Katherine turned back but the man was gone. She stared at the empty doorway, then at her one piece of luggage. The Don awaits. She heaved out a nervous breath. The last time she had seen The Don was yesterday, across the villa courtyard. He was in one of the open kitchens, stirring the inside of a cast-iron pot while talking to the Donna and one of his aunts. Katherine had stopped to marvel at the sight until the trio stopped talking and Santiago looked up at her. She smiled weakly in return then disappeared into the library for the rest of the day.
She had never pictured Santiago as a bookworm type, surrounded by guns and knives and security details, yes, but his library attested to another side of him altogether. Once you walked through the double French doors, the massive book collection, meticulously maintained, gave pause before it took you into another world.
"It is the Don’s favourite place," The Donna told her. "It is where his mama taught him to read as a young boy."
Katherine tried to picture Santiago as a little tyke, cuddled up to his mother as she read him a story.
The library shelves were a lesson in discovery with every type of book and reading material on the polished shelves, from classic European fairytales, bound in thick leather covers, to the latest IT publications and indie authors. One shelf was dedicated to a row of tablets, each one labelled for the content of the e-book libraries and lists inside. Katherine completely lost track of time when in there, reading and writing and making lists in her bullet journal for hours, only looking up when suddenly hungry, finding herself in the middle of the tall shelves, surrounded by piles of books as if in a forest of paper trees.
She and Santiago had hardly spoken over the past year, yet within the last few days, she had unraveled more threads about him than she had over the last twelve months.
Was she actually ready to see him again? He'd given her such a wide berth so far, she'd gotten used to the unimpeded space.
She opened her luggage and dug deep, past her usual clothes, to ... her fingers collided with a soft, silk bag. Damn. She thought she’d buried this thing. With a sigh, she tugged the stuffed pouch free and stared at it. Heat rolled over her cheeks. God, she hoped it hadn’t been Santiago who’d packed up her things and decided to include these.
She looked back at the door then tugged open the bag's silk ribbons and eyed the multiple sets of racy lingerie she had bought for what turned out to be her nonexistent honeymoon. She pulled out a slinky white satin bra and matching thong. These things had cost her a small fortune, her wedding night boudoir, the utmost intimate things for her first time with the man she had dreamed of being with since her undergraduate year.
She had worked her ass off in hot yoga for months to fit into these fancy strips of cloth. Jon liked petite women, and she desperately wanted to please him. She ran her fingers through a lace bra created, according to the saleslady, to make her look and feel like a goddess.
Katherine looked at herself in the ornate mirror above the dresser, rounder and firmer since that day, but truer to her authentic self.
Damnit. I am a goddess!
She tugged off her pajamas and pulled on the creamy strips of material before she changed her mind. She wiggled and twisted inside the luxurious material before she pulled on a simple skirt and blouse over top.
"Sorry, I’m late."
Santiago immediately stood from the wood plank table when she walked through the patio's arched doorway. Her heart skipped at the sight of his eyes on her, steady and direct, his thick black hair restrained by a bun. His chest and shoulders were faultlessly outlined inside the soft material of his short-sleeved shirt. His eyes swept over her once before he smiled and gestured to the set table. "Please. Sit."
She glanced at the decadent place settings. It was hard to believe that this was the same place where she and Tariq, just this morning had sat to play checkers. It was now covered in square white dishes, tall clear glasses, and shiny silver utensils. Everything was cast in shadows from the thick pillar candles that glowed inside of the numerous glass lanterns set upon the table and around the patio, the air delicately fragrant with floral and fresh greens, and of course there was the sea to provide the perfect backdrop to the entire scene.
Santiago moved around the table and pulled out one of the wide cushioned chairs for her. "I imagine you were not expecting to eat so late, but it is our way." His voice was as quiet and seductive as always with its deep rough timbre.
Katherine tucked herself into the chair and looked around and upwards. Everything was still, even the stars, highlighted and bright in the sky. "Will Luken be joining us?"
Santiago stopped in the motion of pushing in her chair. "Do you wish him to?"
"No, not necessarily." She adjusted herself in the seat. "I just wondered. I haven't seen him since the other day." She peeked at the intriguing view of Santiago’s rear as he walked back around the table. The man had a very fine ass, no question about that. She tugged her gaze away, but not before he turned and sat down, catching her eyes roaming around his groin area before he did.
He lifted an eyebrow. "My cousin is with his latest woman. He has been neglecting her of late. You will have to settle for me this evening."
She looked away from the dark challenge in his eyes and decided to take the high road in her response. "I hardly call this settling. This is all very fancy." She studied the ornate trays of fruit and cheese on the table, each piece of fruit artistically set atop a piece of cubed cheese, both of which graced a star-shaped toast point. Each item was a work of art, delicately finished with a silver-winged toothpick in the center. She didn't even want to touch them, they looked so carefully made.
Santiago smirked but indulged her pointed change of subject. "You must try them." He nodded at the trays of tapas then to something over his shoulder. For the first time, she noticed that three other people stood, waiting at the arched entrances. The man, Gulzar, if she remembered correctly, worked in the gardens. She had spoken to him in the courtyard while he sprayed the vegetation and talked to the deep green potted plants in a language she did not recognize. Curious, she had asked him about it and found out that his family was originally from the Middle East, Persia, to be exact, when they had passed through this area a thousand years ago. His grandmother had spoken to him in ancient Dari, and he maintained it by speaking it to his grandchildren—and the plants.
Gulzar winked at her as he came forward with a wine bottle. He poured a splash into Santiago's glass before setting the bottle down directly behind it. The two women with him, Katherine guessed were his daughters or granddaughters, quickly placed multiple plates of tapas on the table before they disappeared through the arched doorway, then reappeared with more plates.
Katherine watched, astonished at how many times the women came and went with more food.
"I hope you are somewhat hungry." Santiago followed her gaze.
"Is the rest of the villa joining us... or maybe a small army?" Katherine marveled at the collection of unique dishes being set out as Gulzar brought three more bottles of wine, each time splashing a taste into one of the glasses before Santiago, the bottle being left directly behind the tasting glass.
Katherine shook her head. "Do you eat like this every night?"
Santiago swirled the wine in one of the glasses then sniffed. "Depends." He frowned and tasted the wine.
"On?" She prompted.
He shrugged and set down the glass before taking up the next one. "My schedule. Harvest. Whether or not I have been away..." he picked up the next glass, swirled and tasted it before he moved onto the next and then the next. Finally, he smiled. "...or if we have guests." He glanced at her.
She watched him swallow the wine and not wanting to disturb his process, looked back at the spread on the table. There was no way everyone in the villa could eat all of this food, let alone the two of them. She let her eyes travel down the length of the candle-lit patio. She'd discovered that it ran the entire side of the villa before curving around a corner and going down some stairs. Tariq told her it led into another courtyard garden that was surrounded by a cluster of private rooms where his twin cousins lived with their parents, their mother one of Santiago's aunts.
"Your home is really quite something," Katherine murmured turning back to the table. "It's exactly how I imagined a medieval castle would be, full of people and families and craftsmen who kept the place running. But it's also like an everyday modern home with an extended family to keep the place full of love and laughter." Inexplicably, she thought of her father and his big Irish family back in Ireland. She really should go back and see them one day.
Santiago leaned back in his chair and looked at her. "You like it then."
"Heavens, what's not to like?" She had discovered there were more or less two dozen families living and working here, most of whom were part of the Ibarra extended relations and friends who if not related by blood then by history as old as the soil they grew food in. Time and loyalty were the life's blood when it came to defining any and everything around here.
Santiago moved one of the wine bottles to the right of his plate. "Life is simple here. It is why I like to come home."
"I can see why." She looked out at the dark sea, the reflection of the stars glistening and moving with the water. She could only imagine what it was like to consider all of this home, and he shrugged it off like Camelot was just his place of residence.
Katherine glanced at the way Santiago had relaxed back in his chair, no longer the hard-edged security team leader who watched her every move with hard scrutiny in his eyes and a rough snarl to his voice. "You are so different here," she observed.
He turned his head toward the sea. "I am. As are you."
She supposed he was right. She had certainly relaxed over the last few days and allowed herself to be taken away by all of this simple grandeur. It was so easy to do. Too easy. "I feel like I'm in a completely different world here."
"You are. You are in Basque country. We have been here for thousands of years, but time does not move us quickly. We proceed slowly, if at all. Preservation of our culture is primary and it takes time to nurture it properly."
"So I’ve seen." The sea rolled and crashed against the shore, the consistent ebb and splash hypnotic to her mind. She sat forward. "Will you tell me? I mean if you have time—I know you are busy but—" She drew in a breath. "I've seen so much here, and in such a short time, I’m ... curious to learn more."
Santiago's eyes met and stayed on hers for a long moment. "I will tell you anything you want to know, teach you whatever you want to learn. My home, our culture, is completely open."
Her heart faltered beneath the intensity that streaked through his eyes before he shrugged. "And curiosity is not such a bad thing. It is good. It sparks learning."
A burst of surprise popped into her body. How many times had she said exactly those words to her students back home? She skittered her butt to the edge of her chair. "You know I have that same philosophy about working with children. Their play environment should create all kinds of questions for them so their natural curiosity draws them to find answers. My master's thesis was all about natural curiosity and play—how teachers can create a play-based environment to build children's brain development through questions and natural discovery."
Santiago smiled. "I know."
She tilted her head. "Sorry. I tend to go on. I know you’re just messin’ with me." Of course, he didn't know anything about children's play environments.
"I'm not. I see you with Tariq, and everything about your way with him reminds me of my old teachers from a school I attended in Italy as a little boy."
Katherine froze. Italy? She stared at him without blinking.
He leaned forward. "Are you okay? Have I said something to upset you?"
Her lips parted but no sound came out. "You—" She tried again. "Went to school in Italy?"
"A long time ago. While my father was there to set up a new branch of Ibarra trade. My mother did not believe in private or international schools, so she put me in a local program and—"
Katherine forced her throat to work. "Was it a Reggio school?"
"Yes. That was it."
She sat back in her chair, her hand going to her forehead. "Wow." She blinked at him. "Do you know that people try and copy the Reggio way all over the world now? I’ve written three papers on their programs and want to go there after my sabbatical."
"If I promise to show you all of my old photos, will you release the death grip you have on my table?" Santiago’s eyes danced as he looked pointedly at the way her fingers held onto the table's edge.
Katherine looked down then grimaced. "Sorry."
He chuckled. "Do not be. I shouldn't tease you about your passion. It's a delight to see the fire in your eyes—not directed in distaste toward me for once."
Heat spread across her cheeks. Was she that bad?
"We've had an unusual start, you and me. Do not be embarrassed."
Unusual? She reached for the water glass and swallowed down the entire contents of cool liquid before looking toward the ocean again. What kind of woman sat in the middle of all this but got hot and bothered over her work?
Santiago held her eyes when she looked back. "You enjoy your career. I respect that."
She opened her mouth to speak, but Gulzar reappeared. Santiago nodded toward the bottle he'd put to the side of his plate. Gulzar picked it up and leaned toward Katherine's wine glass and poured. After, he filled Santiago's glass before taking the other bottles away.
"This one is from our private stock. Most of them were, in fact. I wanted you to try this one, even though I have not known you to drink red wine." He gestured toward her glass. "God only knows the swill my cousin and uncle plied you with the other day."
She chuckled. "Swill? I think they would both be scandalized to hear you describe their wine choices like that."
"The Ibarras have always made the better red. Everybody knows this. The old man just wanted to tempt you before you learned better."
She laughed as Gulzar set down another identical open bottle of wine beside Santiago's glass. "If there is nothing else, Maestro, Nikole and Osane will bring the soup before they leave." He arranged the food plates between them.
Santiago nodded. "We are fine."
Gulzar smiled and quietly left as Santiago lifted his glass and waited until Katherine did the same. "Agurra."
"Agurra," she repeated.
"It means best wishes in Euskera."
"I actually knew that." She nodded her head, impressed with herself. "But, you're gonna regret giving me the green light to ask you questions about your culture and customs because I have a lot of them."
He looked at her over his wine glass. "I will enjoy teaching you." He set down his glass and nodded toward the spread of food on the table. "First. Food and drink. Gastronomy is of the utmost importance. Almost as much as language." He moved the wine bottle and reached for one of the bowls of food. "It is such a shame that you have not had this knowledge passed down to you from your mother or grandmother."
She immediately leaned forward. "See. That right there is the first thing I want to know. How did you know with such certainty there was Basque in my family? Nobody has ever seen that in me before. I hardly see it in myself."
He shrugged. "I knew it from the first."
"But how?"
He ran his eyes over her face. "You have the classic features. A broad forehead and wide cheekbones. The thin-tip to your nose especially."
"Thin-tipped?" She crossed her eyes to look at her nose.
Santiago chuckled. "Also, when I spoke Basque to the men in Malik's house, your expression changed."
She frowned. "It did?"
"Immediately. We spoke Arabic, Spanish, and even French around you, and all the time your nose stayed in your books. But when I switched to Basque, your expression changed even though you refused to lift your eyes from the pages."
Busted. She reached for her wine glass.
"Don't worry, you were subtle, but I noticed."
Of course, he did. She remembered picking up on the familiar language although she couldn't place it at first. It plagued her until one night, as she lay in bed rethinking every moment of the latest visit, it hit her. Her grandmother used to speak that language, but it was so long ago and such a distant memory, at first she had dismissed it as some strange Spanish dialect.
Santiago laughed. "I told you we knew very much about each other even though we did not speak." He spooned food from the bowl in his hand onto a plate and passed it to her.
"Thank you." She pursed her lips and glanced around the quiet patio again. This man had her at such a disadvantage, knowing so much about her while she knew zilch about him. "And what about this villa? How long has it been in your family?"
He spooned food onto his own plate. "Many, many years. Over two hundred. Every generation has restored, added or rebuilt something. It belongs to the Ibarras but is maintained by the community." He looked up as Gulzar’s daughters set down a massive bowl of soup, one immediately ladling the steaming liquid into Santiago's bowl before Katherine's, while the other sprinkled fresh herbs across the top of the fragrant surface.
Katherine inhaled and smiled as a medley of spiced vegetables and fresh meat played through her nose. The women waited while Santiago spooned himself a taste, his eyes on Katherine until she did the same.
"Mmm." She closed her eyes and savored the wonderful burst of flavors in her mouth.
Santiago nodded to the women. "I think we are safe to say that she enjoys it."
They all looked at Katherine.
"Yes," she spoke around the spoon. "It's heavenly,"
"Will that be all, Don?" the women asked together.
"Bai. Remember to take plates for your men."
Katherine watched the women leave, her lips still around her next mouthful of the delicious soup. "Seriously, this stuff is amazing. Is there anyone around here that can't cook?" She stirred the soup then lifted another mouthful inside her waiting mouth.
Santiago smiled. "As I said, food is a very serious thing here. We are known around the world for our gastronomy." He picked up a plate of rice and shrimp and forked some onto her plate. "Paella is the most common dish here." He then lifted some fresh bread from a separate bowl onto hers. "I know you are not in favor of seafood, but try at least some."
She set down her soup spoon and eyed the plate of paella, rice, and shrimp, and an array of fragrant bread he set up around her plate. "How do you know I don’t like seafood?"
He looked at her as if to say didn't we just establish this? "Tariq always asks Malik’s kitchen staff for fish and chips. When they bring it and offer you a plate, you always refuse."
"Maybe I don’t like fried food."
He raised an eyebrow at her. "You eat the chips. Never the fish."
She pursed her lips and moved the rice around her plate before forking up a piece of shrimp. She eyed it and then sniffed, probably rude, but she really did not like seafood, particularly the smell.
"It is not going to bite you." Santiago lifted an eyebrow.
She lifted her chin and held her breath as she nibbled a piece.
"Be brave," he urged.
She nibbled again, having to let go of the breath she held and inhaled. The aroma that escaped toward her was wonderful. Santiago applauded as she took a full bite into her mouth and chewed.
"Oh wow!" She moved the delicate bundle of flavors through her mouth. "This is sooo good."
He lifted his glass. "To trying new things."
She lifted her glass also. "Yes, to new things." She sipped and another burst of flavor sprang to life over her tongue, bringing new meaning to the idea of a perfect pairing between wine and food.
"You like the wine?" Santiago added food from one of the main dishes to his own plate.
"Yes, very much." She licked at droplets of the rich dark liquid on her bottom lip. "I don't know a lot about wine, but this is like swallowing silk."
Pride moved across Santiago’s eyes. "It is one of my favorites. Now one of yours too."
She sipped again, the savory liquid coaxing her to relax further, the smooth taste flowing down her throat and unfurling her muscles. She could get used to this. Fine wine. Great food. A warm lush setting with Santiago laid back and actually enjoyable to be around. She closed her eyes and inhaled. Maybe this wasn't so bad after all. Things could possibly turn out okay.
"So the fish is to your liking. Now try these."
She opened her eyes as he set down another plate before her. She was immediately taken away by the rich aroma of spices, dark medallions of meat aligned on pieces of crusty bread. "Mmm." She picked one up and marveled at the artful design of meat, olives and... egg? "Is this fried egg on top?"
"Yes. It is our blood sausage mix."
She paused. "Blood sausage?"
"Yes," he nodded. "Try it. Trust me, it is good."
She took a bite and enjoyed at the barrage of savory flavours that came to life in her mouth. "This is amazing."
"Now sip some wine."
She rolled a swirl of wine that brought a new tang of flavours over her tongue. "It just... melts in your mouth. You have to compliment your chef for all of this." She finished the bite with more wine.
"Thank you." Santiago watched her eat before he picked up a blood sausage tapa for himself.
"You made this?" Katherine swallowed.
"With some of the women and Dona Dora ... all as much as Chef would allow us in the kitchen." He shrugged. "I will tell him you are pleased though. His family has prepared food for ours for over three generations."
Katherine decided to try one of everything on the table. Forget composure and modesty, she delved in with shameless abandon, enjoying both the food and more wine. And why not? It was her time to try something new after all.
"I like this." Santiago sat back and watched her as he drank his wine, answering all of her questions about the food and origins. He was like a living food culture history book.
Katherine sat back in her chair, totally relaxed and unwound as she chewed and savored her last bites. "I cannot eat another thing." She finished her wine and enjoyed the way it now made her feel like she floated. "Your chef could make a killing if he ever opened a restaurant."
Santiago shook his head. "Not possible. It is his family's tradition to work this land, and they tend to prepare only food that they have grown. The women serve meals from their farmhouse kitchen but would never consider a restaurant."
"Interesting. How do they make their income?"
"The men historically are chefs in some of the best restaurants in the region."
"But won't open their own restaurant?"
"No. I can't imagine it. It's not their way—goes against their history."
She sighed. "I have come to realize that I am hopelessly out of touch with traditions."
"Hmm," Santiago considered her then picked up a bottle of wine. "Not so much. You have your name."
"Katherine?" She watched him half stand and reach for her empty glass. "It's terribly common as far as names go."
He filled her glass and sat back down. "A name is a family’s history. We name our children after the parents. Alesandra, for example, is your mother’s name, the reason why it is your first surname and is spelled the Basque way. Casey is your father. His name comes at the end and is of Irish origin. Your name was another way I knew someone in your family was Basque. Not hard to guess that it was your mother." Santiago spread his fingers across his heart. "I do my homework."
"My parents died when I was very young."
"I know."
She raised an eyebrow. Of course, he knew. She already knew he knew but... wanted to explain her ignorance she supposed. "I do know that my grandmother brought my mother to Ireland to start a new life. That's where my mother met my father. They lived there for years before emigrating to Canada."
Santiago looked over the ocean. "A new life? Away from here?"
"Hard for you to imagine, I guess." She was understanding him more and more. "I always got the impression that things were hard for them over there. I think my dad did some crazy—maybe even illegal things—in order for them to survive. My grandmother got angry whenever I asked, so I stopped asking."
Santiago looked back at her. "Most men will do whatever they have to in order to protect their family."
"I get that. I wouldn't have a problem knowing about anything my dad did for us."
Santiago lifted one of his eyebrows. "Then why you do harbor such anger at Malik's determination about his family?"
She set down her wine. "Oh, I get Malik, quite well, actually. I just don’t agree with his heavy-handed, over-the-top tactics when it comes to Molly and Tariq."
Santiago frowned. "Over-the-top? What does this mean?"
"It means he's extreme. Doesn't accept the word no and fully expects everyone around him to fall into line or do his bidding. And it doesn't seem to matter who it is. Molly, me, the court system, anyone who doesn't do what he wants. It's crazy. Over-the-top."
Santiago sat forward and moved his empty plate out of the way. "He gets that from our father. The extreme. The over-the-top. The Basque either love or hate and usually to the death."
She shook her head. "I keep forgetting you two are brothers."
"And Malik listens. He always listens to family in the end."
She snorted. "Right. But not until the end."
"It can take time." Santiago watched her then frowned. "And you do not feel that Molly's neighbors were extreme or over-the-top when they involved the police in a private family matter?"
Her eyebrows shot up. "No. When a man shows up at a woman's house, freaking out, yelling and pounding on the door, somebody needs to intervene."
"She should have called me. Not the police."
"You were away, and if you were there, the neighbors don't know you. Not to mention, it was after midnight. If I had looked out my window and saw three men at my neighbor’s door, one of them pounding and screaming at her like Malik was, I would have called the police. Molly's a single mother with a preschooler in the house. Your brother should have cooled down before he went there. Tariq didn't need to see his father so out of control like that."
"I understand he slept through the whole thing."
"Luckily."
"My brother had just asked Molly to marry him. She said no and left with his son. Her meaning was clear. That Malik should return to Jordan without his family. What choice did he have other than to—?"
"Force them?" Katherine frowned darkly and sat forward.
Santiago leaned forward also. "She is his woman. She has his son. She must know that he will not leave them behind. She cannot take away his family."
"One o'clock in the morning. Three men at your door. One of them the father of your sleeping son, pounding and demanding to be let in. Not only does Malik have power, money, and resources, he's also pretty friggin’ big, not to mention already pissed off. Personally, I would have grabbed my kid and taken off out the back door. Screw the police."
Silence descended on the table as Santiago stared at her. Finally, he sat back in his chair. "Well, at least you would have kept the police out of your family's business." Then he chuckled. "Perhaps, in this case, Malik should have left his security detail in the car."
Katherine scowled. "Ya think? They looked like a gang of well-dress thugs and bullies. And I hate bullies." Her mind flashed to Jon before she redirected it back to the here and now.
"On that point, you have always been clear."
She pursed her lips. "And what choice did the judge have after Malik was hauled off in handcuffs?"
Santiago lifted his glass and pointed. "She humiliated him."
"Please. He can deal with it."
"And she has had him so tied into knots, he is a man walking on eggshells with her now. It is painful to watch. He is a man being treated like a criminal instead of a father. I wonder sometimes how he even functions."
Katherine scowled even darker. "I don't feel the least bit sorry for him. He made his bed and now he has to lie in it. Molly has been scared to death, terrified, she'll lose her son."
"So she has kept him all to herself?"
Katherine leaned farther forward. "That is not what happened." She jammed her finger into the table.
"No?"
"No." She pursed her lips. "After everything calmed down, there wasn't much Molly could do. The judge had already ruled for supervised visits, and if you ask me, he was very liberal in allowing Malik full access and shared custody after what he pulled. If not, he wouldn't have been able to just up and leave the country with Tariq the way he's done now. There would have been an outstanding warrant for his arrest. He should be in jail right now if you ask me."
Santiago put his hands up, palms forward. "I can see trying to change your mind about this is fruitless."
Katherine paused. "Is that what this is about? Drop me into some beautiful villa in the middle of nowhere, surround me with good people, delicious food and wine, so I'll be distracted enough to forget Malik's villainy?"
Santiago actually smiled. "You think my home is beautiful?"
She blinked. "What?"
"I love that you view my home in such a way." He folded his hands across his stomach. "And I will agree. Things got beyond Molly's control."
Katherine relaxed her fingers where they gripped the table. Clearly, she needed to calm down. "She never had control where Malik is concerned."
Santiago shrugged. "Emotions run high when love and family are the issues."
Katherine sat back, still holding onto the corner of the table.
"Like I said," Santiago finished his wine and nodded to where she still clutched the corner of the table, "emotions run high when it comes to family."
Katherine released the table again, willing her muscles to return to their previously wine-induced relaxed state.
Santiago half stood again and refilled her glass. "Drink." He left the bottle beside her plate. "And tell me. Is this what happened with your husband?"
She almost choked. "What kind of question is that? I don't have a husband. You know that."
"You were married."
"It was annulled."
He tilted his head. "Marriage. Annulled. Two words that have no place together."
She put her elbow on the table and rested her forehead against her fingertips. "I don't think I like where this topic of conversation is headed either."
"Perhaps it is just my way, but if a man takes a woman and they have made vows to each other—no judge or court can make that go away. What is between them remains between them."
Katherine tapped her finger against her temple. No, she definitely didn't like this conversation any better than the one about Malik and Molly. "Have you ever been married, Santiago?"
He straightened. "No, Katrin, I have not. If I had given my heart to a woman, said vows to her and made her my wife, she would always be my wife, and I, her husband. To the end."
"I meant you could have been married and now divorced."
"There will be no divorce once I marry."
"What if your wife has an affair?" She baited.
He held her eyes through a black scowl. "Then there would be a funeral, not a divorce."
Katherine twisted her mouth in amusement. "No, that's not going over the top at all."
"Once my wife gives herself to me in our marriage bed, there will be no divorce or annulment."
Katherine sighed. "There would be if the marriage was never consummated."
"Ahhh." Santiago sat forward slowly. "He never consummated your marriage."
She held up her hand. "Okay. You know what? New topic."
"What kind of man does not consummate his marriage?" Santiago wondered out loud.
Katherine stood up, so fast she was surprised her chair didn't tumble over. "We're done here." She turned, fully intent on striding confidently from the table, but instead promptly stumbled over her chair.
*****
