When We Left Cuba(8)
“Perhaps.” Eduardo leans back in his seat, taking another sip of coffee. The instant he sets it back on the table, a server is there to refill it. He flashes her a smile, one I’ve watched him employ countless times. Women are forever falling in love with Eduardo Diaz, which I fear is a terrible mistake. He’s a selfish bastard, albeit a lovable one, and at the moment, his focus is devoted to our cause, and a pair of fine eyes or other virtues won’t sway him. Despite how much Eduardo likes women, he loves Cuba more.
A pink hue tinges the waitress’s cheeks.
Once Eduardo’s coffee mug is filled to the brim once more, the waitress leaves us.
“I heard you gained an admirer last night,” he muses.
“I imagine I gained more than one; I was trying for my best damsel in distress—the princess without a throne, in need of a valiant knight to slay the dragon for her. Men love nonsense like that.”
He grins. “Some do.”
“No dragon slaying for you?”
“Hardly. You know I hate to dirty my hands.”
“Well, presumably some of these American men don’t share your sentiment.”
They say Nicholas Preston was a war hero.
His gaze turns shrewd. “Speaking of American men, I heard you were the recipient of a ballroom proposal.”
Eduardo wasn’t at the party, but clearly, I’m not the only set of eyes and ears he has placed in Palm Beach society.
“You could just come to these events yourself, you know. Rather than relying on your little network of spies to tattle on us for you.”
“I was playing cards last night. It turned out to be a very profitable endeavor.”
“Cards? Is that what they’re calling it these days? I’m sure there were other, shall we say, distractions to your evening.”
Eduardo enjoys a position in society the rest of us haven’t achieved. Despite the temporary lack of fortune, they view him as a catch, the sort of escort bored housewives and ambitious mothers love: his appearance handsome, his manners impeccable, a perfectly tailored dinner jacket at the ready.
“I can’t help it if everyone finds me irresistible,” he teases.
“Please. It’s far too early for that sort of talk, and I went to bed far too late last night.”
“So I wasn’t the only one who had an interesting evening.”
He manages to make “interesting” sound like a very naughty thing, indeed.
“I very much doubt my evening was as interesting as yours, considering I went home with my parents and sisters, and you went home with—who was she?—a lonely widow or aspiring cabaret singer? Perhaps a misunderstood, much younger wife?”
“Oh, I think your companion for the evening was a touch more interesting than mine.”
My cheeks heat. Despite the lack of familial relation between us, Eduardo has always had a way of ruffling my feathers in a manner only older siblings can achieve.
“I’m quite certain I don’t know what you mean.”
“I think you do.” His expression sobers. “They’re a powerful American family, Beatriz. Influential in politics.”
“They may be, but he’s a distant cousin. I hardly think he’s influential in their political decisions.”
“I wasn’t talking about the marriage proposal. I heard you also caught a certain senator’s eye.”
My voice cools. “Do you have spies among the staff at these parties, or guests you’ve converted to the cause?”
“You know I can’t give away all my secrets.”
“It was just a dance.”
“Right.”
“It was,” I insist.
“The way I heard it, he spent the whole night watching you.”
It shouldn’t make me feel a sense of satisfaction, but it does.
“He spent most of the night getting engaged.”
“Engaged men still have eyes.”
“Oh, charming, exactly want I want, a philanderer.”
“Yes, better if he is a philanderer—for our purposes, at least. I’m sure his pretty fiancée can fare just fine. There may be a day when we need his vote in the Senate, Beatriz.”
It’s a struggle to keep my voice light. “From a dance to votes in the Senate, my, you are ambitious. I thought the plan was to kill Fidel, not legislate him to death.”
“We need to keep all of our options on the table. There’s a party tonight. Senator Preston will be there. All I’m suggesting is that you entice him a bit, see if he’s interested.”
My gaze narrows, my voice hardened to steel.
“You might not have a hard time finding underlings to do your bidding, but I’m not for sale. I’m here for Fidel, not to sleep with politicians to help you regain your fortune.”
“I thought you were here for Alejandro,” Eduardo counters, not a hint of shame in his expression. What is it with people throwing my brother’s name around as though I will simply bend to their will if they tug at my heartstrings? You can love someone and still not lose your reason. “And it’s not just my fortune we’re talking about here,” Eduardo adds. “Don’t you want a better life for yourself, your parents, your sisters?”
“I’m not going to sleep with Senator Preston for you, or for Alejandro’s memory. Or because my sisters and I are forced to re-wear our gowns. There are other ways to defeat Fidel. Besides, I knew my brother better than anyone, and I’m fairly certain he would have objected to me prostituting myself for the cause.”