Joaquin stopped in front of the Hilton Hotel, stepped out and passed the keys to the valet. He came around to open my door and helped me out. I wore wide black pants and a wrap top that looked like a suit jacket. All of his men came and opened the door for us to walk through. I nodded thank you. I thought we were headed to their rooms, but he pulled me into the restaurant and pointed at the older couple and the young woman sitting at a table with six tall men standing around them.
“Father, Mother, good to see you. Alessandra, don’t you look beautiful!”
Joaquin’s sister and mother jumped up in excitement and hugged him around the neck; he switched between them both for a hug. I glanced over to his father, and he stared at me with a harsh glare. Clearing my throat, I extended my hand to introduce myself.
“Hello, I’m Sofia; nice to meet you, Alessandra, Mr. and Mrs. Fuertes.” His mother gave me a hug, and his father sat without acknowledging me.
“Joaquin, get up, and hug your son,” Alba said. I smiled, standing behind as he continued talking with his sister and mother.
“Son, nice to see you again; we need to talk,” Joaquin Sr. demanded.
“We will, later,” Joaquin said.
“You’re so cute, Sofia, I’m a huge fan of yours. I can’t wait for the second album,” Alessandra said excitedly, hugging me.
“Thanks.”
Joaquin stepped off with his father, and I hung back talking with his mom and sister.
“How did you meet my son, Sofia?” Alba questioned.
“He stalked me,” I joked.
They both laughed and asked if I wanted anything to eat.
“I’m fine, thank you, but we actually bumped into each other a few months back, almost a year now, and then he appeared one day with flowers at my show, and we’ve been in each other’s lives ever since.”
“Joaquin is like his father. They’re sincere and forward with what they want. I get the hesitation, honey. I was the same way when his father asked me out over forty years ago when he saw me standing in a window in a boutique, trying on perfumes,” Alba recalled.
“Yeah, I’ve learned that about him.”
“Sofia, tell my brother I would be okay living here. He thinks I’m too young to move here. I could live with him and go to school,” Alessandra begged, grasping my hand. She looked like the girl version of Joaquin, except with long black hair. She had a small dainty nose, plush pink lips with a thin build, like a model.
“How old are you?”
“Twenty-two.”
“He can’t tell you what to do; you’re an adult.”
“Not in this family,” Alessandra groaned in frustration.
“Alessandra, stop pouting. We will discuss this later,” Alba commanded.
Joaquin and his father came back over and sat down. He kissed my cheek and held my hand under the table.
“Sofia, do you love what you do? I mean dressing up and playing characters?” Alba asked, taking a drink from her glass of white wine.
“I love it a lot. Especially the traveling.”
“Sofia, I heard you just signed to be a spokesperson for Expressive Designs,” Alessandra said as she pulled her phone out and scrolled through pictures of me wearing the designs.
“I did and hopefully if everything goes well, I can design my own line.”
“The clothes look fabulous on you,” Alessandra complimented me.
“Thank you. If you want, I can get you a set or two,” I replied and she gasped in excitement, leaned over and gave me a hug.
“My sister doesn’t need any more clothes,” Joaquin huffed in annoyance as Alessandra tried to push him away. He stretched his long arm behind my chair.
“Stop being mean to your sister.”
“Yeah. Stop being mean to me,” Alessandra stated, and I chuckled at their banter.
“Joaquin, when are you coming back to Italy for a visit?” Alba wondered.
“I’m not sure, mother. Work keeps me pretty busy,” Joaquin said as he lifted his glass of water, turned his head toward me and winked. He stayed up in my bed or I was in his bed unless either of us had to work. I’ve never had a relationship that was so passionate and sometimes over the top. We’d gone on dates that ranged from seeing the opera to flying me in a private jet across the country to Miami for dinner at his favorite restaurant.
“You should make time for your mother, son,” his mother said.
“Alba, the boy is obviously busy with this young lady,” Joaquin Sr. said, having a stare down with his son.
“Don’t start,” Joaquin stated.
“Did he tell you about his London trip, Sofia?” Sr. said before he pulled out a cigar and started to light it when his wife jerked it out of his hand.
“Stop being an ass,” Alba fussed and they got into an argument in Italian. Alessandra and Joaquin tried to get them to calm down.
“Enough!” Joaquin shouted.
The entire restaurant got quiet. I started to speak up when his phone rang and he checked the number and declined the call.
“Who was that?” I questioned.
“No one important,” Joaquin replied.
“Sofia, can you walk with me to the restroom?” Alessandra asked.
“Sure,” I answered and stood up to grab my purse. His security started to walk with us and
I gestured they didn't need to. Joaquin stood up, lifted my chin, and pressed a kiss on my lips.
“For me, sweetheart, they’ll stand outside, away from the door,” Joaquin explained and I gave in when his hands rubbed the lower part of my back in comfort. One of my favorite things about him when we were alone together in bed was when we talked about our days. Having his attention and comfort, listening to all of my problems, and even though he wanted to solve everything, he allowed me the space to fight my own battles.
“Okay. But only one of them.”
Alessandra smiled and locked her arm with me, and we headed to the bathroom chuckling at the pout that Joaquin had on his face.
“I have never seen my brother be so quiet before,” Alessandra said, pushing the door of the bathroom open and walking over to the counter. She checked her makeup in the mirror and pulled her lipstick out of her purse.
“I’ll probably have to hear about it later tonight.”
“You really are something special. My brother has never brought a woman around us,” Alessandra told me as she patted a little more foundation on her cheeks with the sponge from her bag.
“What was it like growing up with Joaquin?” I questioned while I washed my hands and checked my own makeup.
“He was just as crazy when we were younger. Gael can sometimes keep him on the straight and narrow,” Alessandra commented and clasped her tube of lipstick closed.
“Did he tell you how we first met?”
“No.”
“He came to the Broadway show and sent flowers every time and sat back in the rear corner,” I remarked, chuckling in amusement.
“I like you, Sofia. Word of advice, make sure Monica isn’t sniffing around him,” Alessandra replied.
“He told me they never dated.”
“True, but she’s been a part of our world and wants more from my brother than he’s willing to give,” Alessandra said before a knock on the door interrupted us. A group of women came inside and we grabbed our purses and stepped out to head back to the table.