Her hand rested under her chin and her eyes were loaded with love. All she needed was a cartoonist to draw the heart shapes in the air coming from her eyes while she watched his smooth stroll out of the house.
Isabella, who had been sitting close, tapped her on the leg. “Does this mean you’re going to sleep nakey in his bed again?”
Diadra leaned down, “Isabella, you’re a girl like me and Zeta and your Mommy. We girls don’t share those kinds of secrets in front of the boys like your brothers and the big boys like your Papa.”
“Why not?”
“Because your Papa and brothers will think I’m a bad girl,” Diadra explained.
“Yuñior must think you’re bad too since he keeps taking your panties,” Isabella offered, nodding her head.
“You might be right, but when you grow up and fall in love, you find yourself doing all kinds of dumb things,” Diadra said, smiling at the little girl.
Angel, who had been quiet the whole time spoke up. “Being in love isn’t dumb. When you’re not here, Yuñior is sad. When you’re here, he’s not, so if he needs to take your panties to keep from being sad, then you should leave him a few pair when you go.”
Eduardo spit out his coffee. “These damned children,” he said, getting up from the table. “Enjoy your day ladies.”
“Señor?” Diadra called after him.
“Sí?”
“Thank you for this. On behalf of both of us, thank you very much. We are humbled and grateful for this gift of time,” she said, lowering her eyes to not stare at him. The new haircut made the man look even hotter and she was not about to get a beat down from his wife for giving Eduardo the eye.
Eduardo winked and walked away. He liked the young woman too and could see her as his daughter-in-law, but she didn’t know their ways. She could learn. Ryanne learned.
So could she.
THE THREE HOURS SPED by as Diadra showed Zeta how to manage electronic calendars. With a few clicks and the activation of her very first phone, Zeta had access to everything Yuñior Delgado had on his schedule for the next few months.
“Señorita Diadra, while I am in this calendar, may I impose and get information from you?” Zeta asked.
“What kind of information?”
“The normal stuff, birthday, shoe size, clothing, lingerie sizes, favorite colors, preference on flowers, wines, those details,” she said.
“No,” Diadra replied. “I don’t ever want to receive a gift and have to wonder if it were purchased and selected by Ed or if he tells you to send me some flowers or chocolates. That is his job. You can, however, enter that information for his fiancé, Irena.”
Zeta’s lip curled. Diadra knew the feeling, but in this game, she hoped the nice guys would win in the end. In the interim, life was squeezing lemon juice in their eyes claiming to be making lemon eye wash.
“Listen Zeta, I know how you feel, but this is the long game, not the short one. If she ends up being his wife, the last thing you want is to be on her bad side,” Diadra cautioned. “She is butt ugly crazy okay? Stay out of her path and be exceptional at your job so she doesn’t consider you a threat.”
“How would I be a threat to her?”
“Ed is a nice guy, for the most part. His brother, on the other hand, would write you a paycheck and poke you on the same day on the same desk. I don’t think that is Ed’s intention, but he is a man. Any woman who takes his attention away from the fairy world where Irena lives is a threat, so be careful,” Diadra warned.
“I like you. He should marry you,” Zeta said.
“If it is meant for us to be together, life will find a way. In the meantime, what else can I show you while I’m here?” she asked.
“He has to do a lot of presentations. Can you teach me how to set up one?”
“Of course,” Diadra said, turning her computer around and opening an application. “I think, if we’re able, we should get some live footage of the fields of coffee and coca. You know, with the old school workers in the background showing how green the farm actually is.”
“You know how to do all of that?” Zeta asked, shocked.
“Sure, and by the end of day tomorrow, so will you,” Diadra said, thinking of ways to ease her man’s burdens and free his time for loving. It was the least she could do while she was given this time with him as he healed.
TIM WORRIED THAT THE bruising to his balls would never heal. He also didn’t like riding a horse. As a matter of fact, he hated it, throwing the reins at Andres and sliding out of the saddle.
“I can’t do this; it is too scary. That horse is way too big,” Tim moaned, backing away and bumping into a solid. “Please tell me that big ass man ain’t behind me again.”
“Yep, he’s back there,” Andres said, trying not to laugh.
Tim turned to find his face smack dab in the middle of Tonda’s chest. Just as his legs began to give way, Tonda lifted Tim and sat him on the horse.
“Use your thighs. The reins are to turn his head,” Tonda said. “Think of it as being a good date that you like, set a canter, ride up and down.”
“What do you know about that?” Tim asked, his eyebrows raised high.
“Yeah, what do you know about that?” Andres asked, wondering if He Man ever had a day off to go out and get lucky. And with what, a lady Shrek?
“I’m a big man. Me getting on top of a woman is not a nice thing to happen to a petite girl, so the woman has to get on top of me or sit in my lap,” Tonda explained. “Same principle, up and down, up and down, moving as one with the animal.”
“That entire image just ruined my breakfast. I’m going to hurl.” Andres asked, frowning at the visual of some tiny woman having sexual relations with a big brown hulk. “Tonda, why are you even here?”. “
“I’m here because your father thinks you’re an idiot and will kill the pink man, which will make Yuñior want to kill you, and nobody will be happy. Plus, I don’t want him hurt,” Tonda growled.
“Aww, you’re so sweet,” Tim mewled, reaching for Tonda, who growled and snapped his teeth at Tim.
Tim screamed, leaned back, and nearly fell off the horse, only to be caught by Tonda and pushed upright.
“Cut out the drama and let’s ride,” Tonda barked, taking off, followed by Andres and then Tim.
AT FIFTEEN PAST NOON, Yuñior entered through the back door, coming into the kitchen where his father waited for his arrival.
“Yuñior.”
“Papa,” he said, removing his gloves and sweaty hat. He smelled like the lather from his horse Thunder and a dash of frustration, combined with masculine angst, and he desperately needed to shower before Diadra sniffed the fields on his clothing.
“I like her. I see why you love her,” he told his son. “There are three ways we can alter the course to make her your wife.”
“Papa, I know all three ways, but I’m working on a fourth,” he said in a lowered tone, asking, “You will accept her as my wife?”
“The love between you is beautiful, but will your way of life be normal enough for her to raise a family? She has to see your whole world mijo before you make the decision,” Eduardo warned.
“Ah sí, Argentina.”
“Argentina, and Micah’s birthday is coming up next month; he shall be 14. I intend to let you oversee the selection process. Maybe she needs to be there as well,” Eduardo suggested.
“Abuelita will need to extend the invitation for a visit to Perona de la Mar. I cannot.”
“Make your grandmother believe it’s her choice to invite your ‘friend’, and she can use it as an opportunity to get to know the young woman,” Eduardo offered.
Yuñior looked out the window, checking again for color changes in his world. Over the years, through scrapes, cuts and wounds, he’d discovered various medications didn’t work well with his system and numerous times he experienced unusual side effects. He wasn’t definite if this was happening in real life, since he had in fact nearly walked into a white cloud o
f cocaine in the barn on Unit 8. He had worn a protective mask, showered down his clothing, and changed to prevent the narcotic from seeping into his skin and possibly killing him, taking the extra precaution, but one could never be certain about those things.
“Papa, just to make sure, I am awake and not dreaming this. You sent for Diadra to spend the rest of the week here at Las Tierras. May I ask why?”
“Because I love you,” Eduardo answered and walked away.
Chapter Eleven- Poke
Yuñior stripped down, throwing the soiled clothing down the laundry chute. Later in the day, the same items would return folded, resting on the end of his bed or tucked neatly into his dresser drawer. The hot water soothed his aching muscles as it pelted down on his head washing away the salt from his sweat under the cotton cap as he rode. The balance in his body was still off a bit, and he tired easily, but each day he felt stronger.
The shower went quickly as Yuñior got the essentials done and toweled briskly to dry himself. From the closet he selected the crème colored linen pants, blue leather belt, blue shirt, and navy tasseled shoes. The blue watch went on his left arm and cream and blue bracelets went on the right. He was never one to wear neck pieces and didn’t opt to today. A few spritzes of his “come get some’ cologne went on his chest and the groin of his pants, hoping he didn’t spray too much so the scent left a wet spot.
Towel drying his hair, a bit of product went in to keep it stable and a couple minutes of blowing on hot from the hair dryer ensured it would stay. His foot had barely reached the top step when he smelled the smoke from the grill.
“Papa and his sausages,” he mused, heading down the front stairwell and coming through the kitchen and to the back door where the kids played in the pool and the remainder of the family listened to music or chowed on greasy sausages.
Yuñior opened the back door, letting his eyes search the faces. Tim sat in the corner leaned back on a chaise, a cool drink in his hand while he enjoyed the lunch break. Ryanne wore a swimsuit as she watched Isabella and Angel play in the water. Diadra sat in the shade holding Catrina and feeding the child a mid-day bottle. He leaned against the door jamb, watching the interaction imagining, wishing, longing for the day and time when...but his time was coming.
Diadra, her head down focused on the soft face of Catrina suckling away at the bottle, wiped away a small lock of hair on the cherub face. As if they sensed Yuñior standing there, both Zeta and Diadra looked over at him. A small smile eked at the corners of his mouth watching Diadra feed his little sister. Zeta moved first, placing a roll in a napkin, adding a sausage in a bun with a squirt of mustard, and passing it to her boss.
“Oh, thank you, Zeta,” he said, absently, accepting the food and biting into the sandwich, yet his eyes rested on the woman. His woman. Silently, he commanded her to come to him.
Diadra rose, cradling Catrina to her and walking slowly to the man she had no business loving the way she did, coming to a halt in front of him. Catrina’s body sandwiched between them, Diadra’s hand came up, wiping away the small amount of mustard on the side of his mouth with her thumb. Yuñior lowered his head, his mouth claiming hers, his tongue tentatively playing in her mouth as the taste of sausage filled his own. The kiss ended as he whispered into her ear.
Catrina was carried to her mother. Before handing the child back, Diadra couldn’t help herself and kissed the small head. Diadra joined him at the door, slipping her hand into Yunior’s, as he led her into their familial home. He walked past the staircase and the dining room to a large door.
“You know, I looked at this door three times today, thinking that door is too large to be a closet,” Diadra commented. “Is this a secret passageway that leads to the cocaine fields?”
“No, it is not,” he said, glancing over at her. A light flickered and came on as the door opened to reveal a wide set of stairs. The sausage in one hand, he bit again, leading her up the stairwell to a landing. “This walkway leads to my wing of the estate; that wing to the right belongs to my brother. Technically, it should go to my father’s brother Carlos, but it is doubtful he will make Las Tierras his permanent home.”
“Okay, you have your own wing of the house. Why don’t you sleep over here instead of over there with the family?”
“This wing will open soon as it will require furnishing for my guests for the wedding,” he offered. “Once I have taken a wife, this will be where my family shall reside. Come, I shall show you.”
He walked along the wide hallway, opening heavy wooden doors to reveal bare rooms. She could tell the windows had recently been cleaned, and the floors shone with sparkle from elbow grease. There were four bedrooms, plus a common area and a shared bathroom for the three bedrooms.
“The master suite is here,” he said, opening a door to reveal a large room the size of her apartment in New York. A king-sized mattress and box spring wrapped in plastic rested in the middle of the floor. “The suite has a his and her wardrobe with dressing areas on both sides of the room, along with separate water closets and showers. A bath room is in the corner here.”
Diadra walked behind him as he opened the door to reveal a room with a sunken tub in the floor and a large picture frame window.
“It’s an actual bath room,” she said, looking at the tub.
Yuñior pointed to the wall. The details of the tiles were a replica of the field outside. “My father has one of these in his bedroom as well, but if you press the finger of God, here,” he said as a small door materialized, breaking the lines of the detailed art created in the pieces of broken ceramic tiles.
“This door will take you down to the courtyard outside,” he pointed out the window. “Zeta and her family live there. I also have another entrance that her mother uses which brings her into the kitchenette area upfront.”
“Would it be unusual for your family to take meals here?”
“Not really,” he offered, “since these are set up in a way in case my wife and mother did not get along or desire to share the kitchen. My wife would have the privacy of creating meals for her own family here, out of the way of my father and siblings.”
“This is nice,” she said, thinking of furniture that would accent the place. “Since it is a centuries old home, I couldn’t see putting modern pieces in the space. I would think either English Colonial, Georgian, or French Provincial would work well with the stark white walls and heavy dark wooden trims.”
“Funny, I was leaning towards maybe a Queen Anne style. Also, the space has to have a library,” he remarked. “I am an avid reader.”
“Speaking of which, I brought two new books for you,” she said, grinning.
“Diadra, I’m not reading about any more aliens mating with human women,” he warned.
“No, this is more along the literary vein, a series about assassins and hit men,” she offered, running her hand along the dark wood trimming on the door casings. “There would need to be a great deal of color in here in the textiles, bedding, and wall art to make the space feel like you lived here. Also, it should smell like citrus.”
“Lemons or oranges?”
“Tangerines,” she said, touching his stomach. “Okay, what else do you wish to kind of not tell me, but tell me.”
He wasn’t used to speaking to a woman who didn’t need to be led in the conversation. This he appreciated in Diadra more and more in each interaction. She needed to understand his world as his father suggested.
“I am the son of two worlds. My life shall be split between the two after my next birthday. Part of the year here, and part of the year in Argentina,” Yuñior said. “I wear the colors of both in my skin.”
“I saw.”
“Sure you did,” he scoffed.
Diadra’s finger poked him in the solar plexus. “The colors of the Colombia flag are in the scales of the bocaracá about here. The colors of blue and white of Argentina are etched in the scales on your belly, the white of the center of the flag is across your belly button and the lig
ht blue scales are above and below,” she said.
He arched his eyebrows. “Observant.”
“I pay attention to everything where you are concerned,” she replied.
“Any reason why?”
Her hands rested on his chest, and she stood toe to toe, looking the man in the eye. “The outer beauty is obvious, but the darkness inside that you hold onto surrounds your spirit. Counseling or not, it stays with you, as a burden of something so ugly you can’t speak of. At times, I am afraid that in the dark you may forget it’s me and reach out to slay that demon and cut my throat, so I have to stay vigilant,” Diadra confessed.
“No, you do not,” he replied. “I would never hurt you, and each time I rest my head beside you in bed, I know, beyond any doubt, that you’re there.”
“Oh really, did you bring me up here to avoid the noise we made the last time I was here?” she asked.
“I brought you here to show you where I and my wife shall reside at Las Tierras,” he said. “The antibiotics are pretty strong that I’m taking and make me, how do you say, sluggers?”
“Sluggish,” she corrected. “My man is sluggish.”
“Sí, sluggish. I’m afraid that I may have to rely on you tonight when the time comes to love one another. My stamina is being tested along with my relationship with Jesus,” he offered. “If I’m not reaching for you as a hungry man, please do not think for one minute my desire for you has waned. It has not. My body is battling the infection. Plus there is Tim and Zeta and Tonda wanting to look sexy. Your man is wiped out.”
“Don’t worry; we can go at your pace,” she patted his chest as she spoke.
“Gracias, I do pray you will not think me less than a man for this shortcoming,” he inquired as his phone beeped with three sharps burst of sound. “What is this beeping?”
“Zeta set alarms on your phone for meeting times,” she told him.
“The hell she did,” he snarled, checking his phone and cancelling the notifications. “That irritates me to no end. I have sat in meetings with Heads of States and CEO’s with their phones beeping and buzzing. I despise that, but it is good to know the truck is scheduled to arrive soon. Come.”
Becoming the Czar Page 12