The Saints of the Cross

by Michelle Figley

  “Wow. She’s a handful.” William sounds exasperated, but the corners of his mouth are tipped up in a slight smile. Camilla is never more charming—or beautiful—than when she’s in full-on, pissed-off mode.

  “You have absolutely no idea.” I know my friend is just worried about me and Alexander, but her tactics are a touch over the top.

  “Here we are, Miss Sweeney,” William says as we step off the elevator to the Mandarin’s opulent Presidential Suite. “Follow me please.”

  I follow William through a foyer and living room, stopping in front of a large door. He knocks twice.

  “Pasen.” I recognize Javier’s voice on the other side. William opens the door and closes it behind me, the lock clicking softly. I enter what I realize is the master bedroom of the suite; a king-sized, four-poster, lacquered bed dominates the middle of the room. Javier, dressed in jeans and a white t-shirt, sits perched on the foot of the bed, his smile bigger than ever.

  “Guapísima, siéntense aquí.” Javier pats the bed next to him.

  “Javier, I don’t have a lot of time to chit-chat. Camilla is waiting down in the lobby. We’re going shopping to buy our dresses for the Inaugural Youth Ball.” I have no idea why I feel so uncomfortable, but I do. I know by looking at his face that the longer I’m in this room with him, the more I’m going to regret it. So I say, “Just get to the point.”

  Javier throws his head back in laughter, and my cheeks go hot with anger.

  “What’s so damned funny?”

  “Oh, mí Corazón, you haven’t changed one bit. You’re still as stubborn as ever.” He saunters over to me, grabs me around the waist, and pulls me closer to him. “My God, how I’ve missed you.”

  “Javier, I can’t.” I turn my head away from his attempted kiss and push him away at the chest. I manage to break away from his grip and take a seat on a nearby chair.

  “Why? Is there something you want to tell me?” Javier looks at me suspiciously.

  I can’t bring myself to say it. But I don’t need to. He already knows.

  I say, “Why are you looking at me like that?”

  “Like what?” he sighs in frustration.

  “Like I’m guilty of something,” I say and cross my arms over my chest.

  “Aren’t you, though? You spent the night with him. Isn’t that right?”

  “How do you know?” I’m a little shocked to hear him say that, but only a little.

  “I have my sources.”

  “Did you have me followed, Javier?”

  There is silence as Javier walks over to the window, pulls back the heavy brocade curtain, and stares out to the blue sky beyond. He says without turning to me, “I followed you last night. All night. From the Kennedy Center to Alexander’s house. You had no idea that I was sitting two rows behind you at the theater.”

  “Jesus Christ, Javier!” I rush toward the bedroom door. I’ve got to get out of here. I can’t listen to this. Now he’s turned into a stalker? “This is not healthy behavior!”

  “Wait,” he says.“Listen to me. Please.” Javier’s voice is wounded, and I can’t help but stop and turn to him. His face is full of hurt, and suddenly I don’t care about the indiscretion he’s committed against me, because memories of my sweet Javier are flooding my mind, obscuring any common sense I possessed when I walked through the door.

  “What are you not telling me, Javier?”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Eva.”

  “Start with why you have no accent when you’re upset. That would be a good start.” I feel more than ever that Javier has hidden many things from me, the least of which is his accent.

  “I was raised in New York City. I learned Spanish from my father. I didn’t even live in Spain until I turned thirteen, when my father inherited his birthright and we moved to the family home in Córdoba. My mother and Alexander’s mother are first cousins, born and raised in Manhattan.”

  I should feel shocked, but this admission is anticlimactic, considering everything I’ve learned about this man in the last forty-eight hours. “Then why the charade?”

  “Undoing lies is a very tricky endeavor, my love.”

  “I’m starting to get that now,” I say. Tears flood my eyes, but I’ll be damned if I’m going to spill them for him. “You know what else I’m starting to understand?”

  He stares at me with eyes that want to fix everything, but he can’t. He and I both know that.

  “I understand now that I can’t believe anything that comes out of your mouth.”

  “Evie—”

  “Just stop. You can’t fix this with some sweet talk or all the promises in the world.” He moves closer, and I take a step back toward the door. “You’ve made sure of that.”

  “I didn’t expect that I would fall in love with you the first time I met you in that café in Cádiz, you know,” he whispers and inches closer to me in smooth, controlled motions, like a jaguar stalking its prey.

  “So you thought I would just be some easy fling you could have for the summer? You know, love ’em and leave ’em?”

  “Come on, that’s not fair.”

  “That’s what it sounds like to me.”

  “I’m sorry. That’s all I can say. I have no excuses for what I did. I wanted to protect you. I wanted you to know me.”

  “I don’t know you. That’s the irony. I know absolutely nothing about you.”

  “That’s not true. You know the best parts of me. My familial lineage and my social standing are not who I am inside.”

  “Lineage and social standing seem like pretty important facts to me; but then again, what do I know? I am just a stupid little naïve girl who fell for a conman.”

  “You were not conned. I have loved you from the first time I saw you in that flamenco dress, and you tripped over your own two feet. You were so innocent, so fragile, and you had this sadness about you. You were so solitary; I had to break through that tough exterior because I had to know you. You needed someone to take care of you, to protect you, and I wanted to be that person. I had never met anyone as pure of heart as you. That’s when I knew you were the one for me; that I wanted you to be in my life forever. You gave me the purpose in life that I had been searching for.”

  With his words, I feel my resolve begin to weaken.

  “Could you please just tell me why you wanted me to come here?” I whisper.

  How could he be saying those sorts of things to me, now, after all this time? Why hadn’t he just told me the truth from the beginning? Suddenly, I realize my entire body is trembling, and I hate myself for it.

  “As you know, I will be leaving soon for active duty in Pakistan.” He crosses the room and grabs something off the dresser. He returns to me, holding it behind his back.

  “Yes, you’ve recently made me aware of that fact.”

  “I want you to do something for me before I go.” He presents me with small box, the color of robin’s eggs, tied with a white bow. A few seconds pass before I realize that I’m standing with my mouth wide open. Javier unties the box and removes a smaller black box, tossing the blue one to the bed. He bends down on one knee, opening the black box in one smooth movement.

  “Evangeline Grayce Sweeney, will you marry me?” His voice is hopeful, yet unsure. I stare at the emerald-cut diamond, which is easily four carats. My mouth is dry from gaping so long, that I can barely move my tongue to speak.

  Once I’m able to clear my head, my wits come back.

  “You have got to be insane if you think that by asking me to marry you, and giving me a diamond ring the size of your head, that I would simply fall into your arms and forgive you.” I feel lightheaded and hot, but I stand my ground. “You really have a lot of nerve, showing up here when I’ve moved on. You’re trying to turn my life upside-down.”

  “That was not my intent at all, Eva.” Javier closes the box, stands, and saunters back to sit on the bed. “I see now how much I have hurt you, and I’m sorry. I know that no amount of apolo
gizing or excuses can make up for it. But please know that I never, ever meant to hurt you.”

  “Just tell me something. Were you ever planning to tell me the truth, or were you planning to marry me and keep me in the dark about everything?” With the realization that it is truly over between us, I allow my emotions to surface. Next thing I know, I’m racked with sobs. I bury my face in my hands; I do not want him to see me like this. “Oh my God, I have been such an idiot.”

  “Come here.” He pulls me into his arms, smashing my face into his crisp, white, cotton shirt. He whispers into my ear, “Do you know why you are so upset?”

  “Because you lied to me?” I murmur.“Isn’t that kind of obvious?”

  “Well, that and the fact that you love me. You don’t want to leave me, and you know it.”

  “You’re pretty cocky for someone who really has no reason to be, Javier.” I manage to squirm out of his arms, even though he has what feels like a death grip on me.“You know what? I’m finished talking with you today,” I say, heading toward the door.

  “I will call you tomorrow night,” he says tentatively.

  “Don’t bother. I’m going with Alexander to the Inaugural Youth Ball on Monday night, and I don’t want to talk to you until after that.”

  “I’m going to be there,” Javier whispers.

  “With who? Annalisa?”

  “Not fair. I already explained that situation to you.”

  “Right, and I believed it, don’t worry.” I sigh when I realize that he doesn’t recognize the intended sarcasm in my voice. “Just please keep your distance from us—from Xander and me, and my friends.”

  “I can’t promise that.”

  “Whatever,” I retort, and Javier starts toward me with the ring box in the palm of his hand, extended out to me.

  “Yeah right.” I smirk and run out of the bedroom, slamming the door behind me. William, who’s sitting on the couch engrossed in CNN, turns to watch me run out of the suite.

  “Goodbye, William. It’s very nice to see you again,” I say, momentarily remembering my manners as I race past him.

  “Didn’t go as planned, Sarge?” I know Javier has followed me out of the bedroom when I hear William’s inquiry. I pick up the pace, hoping to beat Javier to the elevator and avoid him altogether.

  “I’m not finished yet, William,” Javier replies in an annoyed tone.

  I can tell he’s closing in on me, because the heavy thud of his feet on the carpeted floor is getting closer. I bang furiously at the down-arrow button on the elevator. Come on! Suddenly, Javier grabs my arm and spins me around to face him. I yelp in protest, but to no avail. He pulls me to him, leans down into me, his hot heavy breath smelling of red wine, and his mouth seizes mine. I try to pull out of his tight grip, but his strength is overwhelming. When did he become so strong? He presses his body even closer to mine, although I don’t think it’s possible for two people to be any closer in proximity. His tongue urgently, almost angrily, probes my mouth, and the resulting tingling sensation that shoots through me is unlike anything I’ve ever felt before. I stop fighting him and instead move my lips in sync with his, engrossed in the familiar sensation that is the electricity we share. I reach up, pull his neck down toward me and kiss him back with an intensity that feels almost frantic. What is going on here? Why can’t I stop myself? I want to stop, really, I do. But my body won’t let me. My heart won’t let me.

  Javier pulls away first, taking my right hand and placing the ring box in my palm.

  “Take this. You don’t have to wear it. You may keep it, regardless of your decision. It is a gift for you. I want to give you time to get over the shock—time to think about it. Okay?”

  I look up into his piercing, black eyes and nod silently. The elevator bell announces its arrival. Javier takes my free hand and kisses it softly. I step into the elevator just as the door closes behind me. I look down at the small box in my right hand. Did I just agree to marry him? Oh Jesus! I close my eyes trying to replay what just transpired, but the image of Xander in that framed photo on my night stand, his half smile and adoring face, is all I can see. Could this get any more complicated? Camilla! She can’t see this, or she’ll go freaking nuts on me! I quickly stow away the box in my purse as the elevator doors open to the lobby.

  I walk into the lobby, wiping tears from my face. Luckily, Camilla is sitting on the sofa with her back to me. Two twenty-something Ivy-leaguers in expensive suits flank either side of her, both giving her their undivided attention as she rambles on, probably about some perceived injustice—likely how she had to miss the Saks annual sale to attend her grandmother’s funeral in Columbia.

  “Camilla, let’s go!” I shout from the entry doors. Camilla turns, and her right eyebrow arches when she sees me. She says something inaudible to the two men, and then she heads toward me.

  “What’s wrong?” Camilla asks with a smug, I told you so expression on her face. “Your face is all blotched, and your eyes are red, so I know you’ve been crying.”

  “Please, if you’re my friend, you will just drop it.” I give her a severe look. “I need time to get over this. Can’t you understand that?”

  Camilla’s face softens—her expression actually turns to one of concern. She wraps her arms around me and hugs me close, resting her chin on my right shoulder.

  “Let’s go pick out some awesomely hot dresses,” she whispers after a few minutes. “Looking good is the best revenge, after all.”

  We laugh through silent tears and turn for the door.

  CHAPTER 25

  I’m standing outside of the Kennedy Center in a strapless, black ball gown and a red-satin shawl, freezing my tail off. I’m obsessing over the fact that when I walk into the Inaugural Youth Ball for President Capshaw, something is going to change. It’s the not knowing what that something is that’s killing me right now. Part of me just wants to turn around, climb back into the limo, and instruct the driver to take me home. But I know that’s not going to happen. I watch Xander—devastatingly handsome in a black Armani tux—Camilla, Christian, Laurel, Jude, Olivia, and Marcus pile out of the limo.

  Xander seems to know something is going to happen, too. As a matter of fact, I’m pretty sure everyone knows something is going to happen. And I’m pretty sure everyone knows that something involves Javier. I scan the parking lot, and there’s the limo with the Spanish flag whipping in the freezing January wind. He’s already here. When I turn my attention back to the group, Xander’s staring in the direction of the Spanish delegation’s limo. He looks down at me and, with a smile, offers me his arm.

  “Shall we?” he says. I smile back at him and hook my arm through his.

  We walk into the venue together as a group, and the first thing I notice is that every young adult from the East Coast is here tonight. There is a veritable sea of people, and the first thought that comes to my mind is: thank God! With this many people here tonight, there’s a good chance that I’ll not run into Javier at all—that we’ll miss each other completely in the crowd. That’s what I’m going to pray for, anyway.

  Xander is greeting people he knows and introducing them to me, but I have to admit, I can’t concentrate on what he’s saying. I’m too nervous. I smile at each person and say hello, but I’m quiet, for the most part. The rest of our group has drifted away from us as they mingle with the crowd. Xander leads me into the ballroom, where a full orchestra is playing classical versions of top-forty pop music. He takes my hand and gracefully spins me around to face him.

  “How about a dance, Miss Sweeney?”

  I look up at him and smile. My God, this guy is handsome. His hair is slicked back, which makes his golden eyes stand out. His smile is dimpled, sweet, and intoxicating. He wraps his free arm around my waist and pulls me flush to his body. I rest my head on his shoulder and snuggle my face to his chest. Right now, I am only aware of three things: the rise and fall of his chest with each breath, the way our bodies fit together so perfectly, and the sweet smell of
his neck. There’s nothing else. Just he and I standing here absorbed in one another; and I am safe, and I am happy, and I am his.

  “I love you,” I whisper and kiss his neck. He lowers his head and turns his face until our mouths meet. His lips are soft, warm, and wet. With my eyes closed, I latch on to him and my entire body goes flush. My arms are wrapped around his neck, and my hands are in his hair, when I feel him being torn away from me.

  “Take your hands off her, Xander,” a familiar voice growls—its Javier’s. My eyes fly open.

  “Stop it!” I shout when I see that Javier has a grip on Xander’s arm. The look on Xander’s face is a mix between disbelief and expectancy—like he expected this to happen, but he still can’t believe it actually is.

  “Be quiet, Corazón,” Javier says to me. He releases Xander with a shove. “This is between Xander and me. Xander, I want you to turn around and leave. Now.”

  “Why don’t you ask her what she wants, Javier?” Xander says with nothing more menacing than exhaustion in his voice, and I’m utterly impressed with his calmness, but I’m not at all surprised that he’s the one acting like the adult in this situation. I can tell that Javier’s pulse rate is rising by the expression on his face. He looks both determined and insane—like when he almost attacked Lane Bradley in Las Flores Café. It’s the memory of that Javier, and the way he looks right now, that’s setting off the sirens in my head. Xander and I need to get the hell out of here before someone gets hurt, or carted off by the spooks.

  “Let’s just go,” I say to Xander and turn away from Javier, but he grabs my arm and jerks me back toward him. I put my free hand up to stop Xander when I see that he’s taking a step toward Javier. I say to him, “It’s okay, I’ll take care of this.” I turn toward Javier and say, “Let go of me now, or I’m going to scream.”

  “What are you doing?” he asks me and releases my arm. The look on his face is all confusion. “Did Saturday in my hotel room not mean anything to you? Because it meant everything to me.”