“Yes, that’s what makes the scandal.” He handed the tabloid back to his mother. “The only one disgraced by this story is the reporter, Mama. Tell Tomas not to bring this trash into the house.”
“Someone must call the editor,” an indignant Carmen insisted.
“We do not respond to lies,” Miguel replied.
“The Gypsy is her lover. That’s no lie.”
“Mama, that’s no business of yours.”
Carmen stared at Maggie, waiting for her to respond, but she continued eating her melon and berries. “Puta,” she mouthed and marched out.
Her grandmother had just called her a whore, but Maggie hadn’t felt welcome in her father’s home in the first place. She held her breath, but her father hadn’t caught the insult. He hadn’t asked who’d taken the photograph and sold it to the tabloid, nor had he inquired as to who had shot the video yesterday. Apparently the subject didn’t interest him. She sat back in her chair.
“Your mother’s a difficult woman.”
“Ignore her. Now, where is your Gypsy?”
“He should be along soon.”
Antonio Moreno knocked at the door and peeked in. Maggie got up to leave. She exchanged a brief greeting with the physician, and Fox caught her out in the hall.
“Did you see this?” He waved the tabloid.
Maggie nodded. “Yes. I didn’t think Ana was too pleased with Santos when we left the ranch, but I’m still surprised she sold our photo.”
He opened the paper and shook the pages into place. “There’s one of me out at the ring. I don’t know what it says.”
Maggie gripped the edge of the paper to hold it still. “You’re supposedly collecting bets from the ranch hands.” There was a photo of Rafael in a classic matador’s bowed stance. “That’s another lie like the one on the front page that claims Rafael and Santos are battling over me. I understand there’s a great deal of money to be made selling photos to tabloids, but why would Ana make up such ridiculous stories?”
“She’s jealous of you?” Fox guessed. “Or really mad at Santos, but I don’t understand how I got into it.”
Maggie didn’t appreciate being assigned a part in an incestuous love triangle either, and was grateful no one at home would see it. “Is that Tomas’s copy?”
“No, one of his helpers gave it to me, the shaggy-haired one. I think his name is Julian. Do you suppose the mob will think I’m trying to take over their gambling rackets here in Barcelona?”
“Is there a Spanish mob?” she asked.
Rafael reached the top of the stairs in time to answer her question. “Yes, there is.”
Fox handed him the tabloid. “Have you seen this?”
Rafael shook his head. “This is a good photo of us, but Ana should have requested our permission before she sold it.”
“I’m afraid we fall into the celebrity category and are fair game,” Maggie said. “You know there’s nothing going on between Santos and me.”
“When I’m the other choice, of course.” He leaned down to kiss her, and embarrassed, Fox took the paper and fled down the back stairs.
Maggie had thought it was bad enough having to worry about whether Rafael lived or died, but to be featured in tabloids was another whole mess. “Do you find yourself often in these types of papers?”
“No, I don’t look.”
She rolled her eyes. The man was smooth, she had to give him that, but she wanted more than his flippant Gypsy ways. “That wasn’t an answer.”
He rested his hands on her shoulders and kissed her again, and again. “I missed you last night.”
She breathed in his scent and couldn’t be angry with him. “I missed you too.”
“I’ll come for you on Sunday evening. Be here for me.”