Lawmakers (9 page)

“
Señorita
Della, you are young, but you have much class. You are
not
like the rest, no matter what
Señor
Varela’s decision is.”

When Della heard no more, she looked around to find herself alone. Her sandwich sat on her plate uneaten, and the banana no longer appealed. She realized after the fact she should have asked Antonia how long the women in Santi’s life lasted, but it didn’t matter. She regretted the entire conversation, and who knew, Maria might have already gone to find Santi to report to him. Now she thought how many women would have accepted Santi’s invite from the first second he gave it. In fact, many would have begun plotting their way toward being a permanent fixture in his world from day one.

“Cariño.”

Della spun around in her seat to find Santi standing in the doorway. Dark slacks and a collared shirt, unbuttoned to show off his chest and abs made her mouth water. She hesitated, but he held out a hand, and she hurried over to him. Santi drew her to his chest and kissed her lips. She waited for him to tell her that Maria told him everything, but he nuzzled her ear, moaning.

She drew away to look at him. “Why are you dressed like that? What happened to the shorts?”

He hesitated. Her stomach muscles clenched.

“I’m afraid I have bad news,” he said.

She frowned. “You’re taking me back?”

He appeared surprised. “No, an emergency meeting. I have arranged for my guests to be transported here. We will have a late luncheon together while we conduct business. Are you willing to join us? Afterward, I promise the rest of the day to you.”

“You want me there? I can eat up on the top deck or in the room. There’s that table and chairs in there. It’s like a hotel room.”

He linked his fingers with hers, and they walked down the hallway toward the bedroom they shared. “You will eat with us,
cariño,
not tucked away. However, it will be boring for you.”

Her heart skipped a beat. “Okay, I suppose I can play hostess, but this is our last day here. Tomorrow, I have to get back.”

“Then we will make tonight count.”

As much as Santi said he wanted her with him at the dinner, she found herself apart from him and his guests. Ask her anything about law, and if they went over contracts, she could add value to the conversation. These people—two men and two women—were serious. All afternoon, they hashed out details of profit and loss, longevity, and restructuring. Santi had been right. The talk bored the socks off of her, and when the sun hung on the horizon, she excused herself with a forced smile. Santi stood up when she did, and the American men followed suit, but he seemed distracted. He kissed her cheek, and she left them to it.

Later, as she curled on cushions on a back deck, she heard the engines cut out, and another boat docked alongside the yacht. Della didn’t bother looking. She figured Santi’s guests were leaving. How normal was it for him to conduct meetings this way? She supposed it was exotic and fun in theory, but reality was another matter.

“Della.” His rich, deep voice sent chills racing over her skin, and she glanced toward the glass double doors leading to this area. In daylight the sun shone golden on their surface. This was her favorite spot on the yacht, and Santi knew it. He approached and sat down beside her. When he leaned against the cushions and opened his arms in invite, she couldn’t resist melting into his embrace. An evening breeze stirred her hair, cooling her skin while he heated it up.

“
Perdóneme.
I gave you this time, and I took it back.”

“No, it’s fine. You came to American to do business. Neither of us expected to meet and—”

He touched her lips. “Come home with me.”

She looked away. “You said that before, Santi. I don’t know how to take it.”

“Take it as I mean it. I want you with me. Say yes.”

“It’s a big decision.”

He agreed. “My business is concluding here for now. I will leave in two weeks.”

She gasped.

“You will not want for anything,
cariño.
I will make sure you’re happy and every need is met. I promise you.”

Santi drew her onto his lap, and she nuzzled her face into the warm spot at the base of his neck. She shut her eyes, her stomach knotting. Her lover didn’t seem to expect an answer at that moment, so she gave none. She let rampant emotions wash over her and her mind run uninhabited. Meanwhile, the water lapped gently at the side of the boat. The moon hung solemn in the sky, and the world went on.

Chapter Eight

Two weeks later

Della sat on the side of the tub with her hand pressed to her forehead, eyes closed, and willed the running water in the sink to calm her somehow. Her stomach roiled once again, and she bent over the toilet to dry heave. Everything had already come up. Not that there had been much from the get go.

Tearing up for the millionth time, she wondered how swollen her face was by now. She wasn’t pregnant. Oh no, that would be something to hold on to. Nope, she’d had her period just fine, and on time. This was heartbreak, pure and simple.

A banging started on the door, and she tensed.

“Della?”

She breathed deep, trying to stem the sensation to throw up.

“Della?” he shouted, and she groaned.

“Not now, Uncle Leonard.”

“You’ve been in there a while. Are you okay? And why is the water running so long?”

She rolled her eyes and shut it off. He knocked again.

“Not now, Uncle Leonard! For Pete’s sake, I need a minute!”

He mumbled something, but at least he went away. Somehow, Della made it up from bending over the toilet to brush her teeth and shower. She dressed, although all she wanted to do was climb back into bed. The clock on the nightstand said she’d missed her class by an hour and a half.

“Della?”

She started and turned slowly. “What is it, Uncle Leonard?”

“Aren’t you going to class?”

She pressed her lips together. For a second she wanted to tell him no, but what good would it do? If she laid down and didn’t move for the next month, who would she hurt other than herself?

“Yes.”

He kept after her, offering to make his “famous apple pie,” the only thing Uncle Leonard knew how to cook. She recognized that he was trying to make her feel better, but she couldn’t respond. Uncle Leonard, who had hated Santi from day one, was the last person she could talk to about him.

When she stepped outside her house, she found Brent leaning against his car, smoking a cigarette. He put it out at sight of her. “Let me take you to school.”

Della glared at him. “Is that all you do? Chase after me?”

She bit her tongue at his expression of hurt.

“I’m sorry. That was uncalled for, Brent. I’m just not feeling well.”

He seemed hesitant to inquire about her mood. “Want to talk about it?”

Deciding to take him up on his offer because she was still weak from the bathroom acrobatics, she slid into the passenger seat of his car. Brent folded himself behind the wheel and pulled out of the drive onto the street. Della flipped the AC to high and let the air from the vent blow the hair off her face while cooling her down.

“He left me.”

Brent coughed. “What?”

“Santi. He left me, without a word. I know I didn’t give him a firm answer about going with him, but to say nothing and just leave…” Tears filled her eyes and fell down her cheeks. “He didn’t even call in the two weeks when he was supposed to be here. I actually overheard Bob telling somebody else that Santi is back in Spain.”

“I’m sorry, Della.”

She wiped the tears from her eyes. “You don’t have to say that. I know you didn’t like him.”

“I didn’t hate him. He seemed like a good guy.”

“Whatever.” She sniffed, but her pointless anger at Brent faded. “I was stupid. I was caught up in a fantasy. It was fun while it lasted, and I guess I was warned about this possibility. That I got dumped before leaving America is better than finding myself over there, broke, and trying to figure out how to get home, right?”

“Yeah, right.” He stroked her cheek, but she moved away. Now wasn’t the time for tenderness, and another man wasn’t what she wanted. Brent appeared dejected, but he firmed his jaw. “Well, as revenge you can finish school and be the best damn attorney in the country.”

She chuckled. “Civil rights law.”

Brent started. “What?”

She straightened in her chair. “Civil rights. I’m going to fight for the little guy, Brent. I’ve made my decision.”

He perked up. “We could use you over at my cousin’s place.”

“Please, I need to eat. The minute I finish school and get something full time, I’m finding a small place of my own. I might consider working with you and your cousin doing pro bono work, but that won’t be my bread and butter. I’m going forward, no matter how bad it hurts.”

“Good! I’m proud of you, Della, and maybe—”

She held up a hand. “One step at a time, Brent. I’m going to tell you the truth. I loved him so much. We might not have been together long, but I did love him. Maybe that’s my naivety, but it is what it is. I’m probably going to cry some more and throw a few pity parties. I’ll come out on the other side when it’s over, one way or another.”

“I know you will, and I’ll be here, even if he’s not. That I promise you.”

“Thanks. That means a lot to me.”

Chapter Nine

Three years later

“Are you freaking kidding me?” Della railed and slammed her fist on her desk. She straightened and paced back and forth in the narrow space between the wall and her chair. Nothing calmed her down. She pushed hands through her hair, knowing it was probably a mess. After she took a breather, she turned back to her colleague, Angel. “Please tell me I didn’t hear you right. The prosecutor isn’t filing criminal charges against the cop?”

Angel shook her head. She didn’t fly off the handle like Della was prone to do in these situations, but from the heightened color and nails bitten down to the quick, Della knew her friend was just as peeved as she was. “The district attorney’s office cleared him.”

“Damn it!”

Angel went on. “We’ll just have to come at it from a different angle. That’s all.”

“What angle?” Della demanded. She reached for the report, and Angel handed it over. Della scanned the contents and frowned. “It says he went with the autopsy report. The boy was high and probably had impaired judgment.”

Angel sank into a chair. “I know we can get the wrongful death suit to go through, Della. We just need to start over from scratch.”

Della rubbed her eyes. Even as she mentally went through all she knew of the case, the details and facts, a sense of weariness came over her. She had been in this position countless times. People told her you win some, and you lose some. Frankly, she’d had it up to the gills with the old saying. They might go through the evidence again and stir up interest from the public to get the grieving mother some justice. In the end, facing these types of cases sickened her, especially when she lost.

This isn’t a loss, Della. Come on, pull it together.
They weren’t even out of the gate yet. She could do this. While she gave herself a silent pep talk, the phone on her desk rang. Angel excused herself and shut Della’s office door as she exited. Della sat down and reached for the extension. The display read Brent’s name.

“Hey, beautiful,” he said before she could say hello.

“Hi, Brent.”

“Uh-oh, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“Come on. I know when you’re down.”

Irritation pricked at her. She wanted him to drop it, but he wouldn’t. Not until she confided in him. Brent was wonderful to her and always there, but he never backed off and gave her space. That had been great when she felt like her world had come crumbling down, but now, well, she could use a break.
And yet, you’re thinking of marrying him.

“Just a case I thought was going to go forward might be dead in the water,” she explained.

“You’ve been there before, right? Shake it off.”

She rolled her eyes and shifted the phone to the other ear. “I can’t just shake it off, Brent. This is my job. I care about these people.”

“That’s where you’re missing it. You can fight for justice for your clients without getting emotionally involved. It’s the only way to survive.”

“Everyone can’t be like you!”

“Della.”

“I’m sorry.” She sighed, rubbing her temples. A headache was coming on. “Maybe I just need a vacation.”

“Come and go out with me tonight. My treat. I’ll buy you dinner, and then we can go dancing. You tell me all about your day.”

She groaned.

“Or not.”

He deserved better than this lackadaisical attitude from her. She forced a smile, hoping it would reflect in her voice. “Okay, let’s do it, but no shop talk. Just fun.”

“There’s my girl. And, Della?”

Her stomach knotted. “Yes?”

“Maybe you can answer my question.”

He hung up before she could respond. Della let the phone clatter into its base and laid her head down on the desk. She squeezed her eyes shut and tried not to let her mind go to where it always went at a time like this. Two weeks ago, Brent had gotten down on his knees in her office with everyone there, including her boss and Angel, and he had proposed. He had even brought out a ring, and hours earlier, a deliveryman had brought flowers from him. His actions pissed her off. While she knew what he felt for her, she didn’t appreciate him putting her on the spot. After all, they weren’t even out of the friend zone, not all the way. They had had a few “test dates” as she had named them. He had pushed his advantage and done so for the last three years. Maybe she should marry him and stop fighting it. Brent was faithful and good. He had never given her reason to doubt him or his intentions. Unfortunately, it all came back to one thing. Brent wasn’t the man she wanted.

“No, Della, forget him. Brent is the one.” She sat up and squared her shoulders. Tonight she needed to say yes and stop fighting the inevitable. Brent was the man who would be there in three more years, and twenty and thirty years down the line.