“Congratulations,” she said managing a weak smile. The confidence she felt leaving Dante’s side began to diminish. Why did he have to have this kind of hold over her? She loathed weak women and around him, she was one of them.
An awkward silence fell between them while the music inside the club pounded. The fountain’s spray of water sprinkled against her calves. She shifted her weight in her heels, clasping one hand against her forearm.
“We haven’t talked in what? Twenty years or so?”
“Give or take,” the exact date rattled in her head but instead of saying something slick, she nodded her head like a bobble doll.
“Are you staying at Torres Towers?” Julio snapped his fingers together and pointed. “Wait, you guys have the beach house now. Is that where you’ve been hiding when you come here?”
Was he freaking serious? Did he forget the generous gift his parents gave hers? “Had, we had a fire today,” Harley looked around and mentally begged for an interruption.
“That was your place?” Julio’s dark eyes opened wide, “Geez, I’m sorry. I can put you guys up at the Towers. Where are your folks?”
“Retired and living in San Juan. And I’m fine, thanks. I won’t be here long.”
“Why not?” Julio added quickly before she had a chance to decline his offer. “Your old place at the Towers can be made available for you,” he reached his large hands into the pocket of his slacks for his phone.
Harley shook her head, “No, I assure you, I’m out of here in the next thirty minutes.”
“It’s almost the middle of the night,” Julio’s brows drew together in concern. “What are you doing out here?”
She anticipated his next question. Would she like to get a drink? She needed one—just not with him. Harley looked away not wanting to allude to anything personal in her life. “I’m waiting for a friend of mine.”
Subconsciously she nodded at Vuelo because Julio turned back to look at the club and then back at her with a curiously raised brow. “Oh?”
“Don’t go there, Torres,” Harley half chuckled.
Julio held his arms in the air, through his custom made suit she saw the power in his biceps. “Hey, I’m not one to judge. But if you need to get in there I can get you in. Being mayor has its perks.”
Perks or not, being anywhere with Julio Torres was never a good idea. “Yeah, I’m going to decline,” Harley said hesitantly.
“It’s been years, we need to catch up over a drink.”
One drink would not cover the amount of catching up they needed to do. Harley realized Julio’s charm no longer had an effect on her. He didn’t follow it up with a cocky smile like Dante would. Crazy, but as mad as she was with Dante, she kind of missed him right about now.
“There you are,” another voice laced with a thick accent said, “I’ve been looking all over for you.”
The two of them turned to see Christopher Alfaro, sans bodyguards, walking around toward them. Julio moved in front of Harley.
“Harley, my driver is at the other end of the plaza. He can take you whereever you need to go right now,” Julio said to her but never took his eyes off Alfaro.
“I don’t need to go anywhere,” Harley said without wavering or taking her eyes off Alfaro. A thousand questions ran through her mind. Were they friends? Was he aware of Alfaro’s intentions for the girls at Vuelo?
This evening was getting stranger and stranger by the minute. First her encounter with Alfaro’s men, Dante, running into her ghost from the past, and just when she thought all was lost with gaining a connection to Christopher Alfaro, he walks right up to her.
“Julio,” Harley finally turned with a smile. For a brief moment she took in the beautiful sight of the six-foot man, and then shook her head, “I’m glad we had a chance to talk but I need to speak with Mr. Alfaro.”
“Wait,” Julio clamped his hand on Harley’s shoulder to hold her back. “You two friends?” He asked incredulously.
“We’re old friends,” Alfaro answered, “me, her, and her husband.”
“Husband?” Julio repeated as if he hadn’t heard correctly. He cocked his head to the side and his hand slid down the length of her arm holding her left hand in the nighttime air to get a glimpse of her bejeweled ring finger.
“I almost threw it at him,” Harley wiggled her empty fingers and said with a weak smile, “We had a bit of a tiff.”
“Let me guess, you walked out on him, too,” Julio laughed in his aristocratic baritone laugh.
“Yes, well, say goodnight, Mayor Torres,” Christopher Alfaro said to her old friend.