Vistaria Has Fallen (The Vistaria Affair/Vistaria Has Fallen #1)(13)

The Red Leopard. Nicolás Escobedo.

Calli’s analytical mind had always driven Robert mad, while delighting professors with its clarity and precision. She daily grappled with slippery economic equations. Now she analyzed the facts with dispassionate ease--his significant name; that he stood in a receiving line with the top military personnel of the country. Nicolás Escobedo had to be a member of the presidential family. That would make him untouchable.

Her delight cooled and dispersed, swept away by the chill of reality. She remembered the miniscule shake of his head, his rejection. He had known then what she realized only now.

Duardo presented her. He was looking at her now. He gave not a single hint they had met previously. He took her hand and gave the same bow over it as the general. His warm fingers smoothed their way over the back of her hand, sliding across the flesh there. Despite the cold lead weight in her stomach, pleasure rippled from that tiny, unconscious caress. She took a deep breath and looked him in the eye.

“Se?or Escobedo.”

“Miss Munro. When I studied in your country, people called me Nick. It would please me if you would also call me Nick. Vistarians do not say it the way Americans do.”

“What did you study?” Minnie asked.

“Philosophy and politics,” he supplied. He glanced at Calli. She thought she saw a flicker of humor in his eyes. “I minored in Economics,” he added.

Then they had to move along.

“Enjoy yourselves,” he said, in parting.

*

Duardo escorted them to a large, round table where six fellow officers and three women sat. He introduced Calli and Minnie to them. Calli saw no sign of hesitation or discomfort in their welcome. Everyone at the table ensured both she and Minnie had glasses of champagne within minutes of being seated.

The women spoke no English, except for the one called Elvira, whose English was disjointed, hesitant, and her accent thick. The soldiers had varying degrees of broken English. Their smiles were friendly.

Soon a band began to play. It wasn’t the visceral, compelling music the small band had been playing last night, for this was a big ensemble. The noise level spiraled upwards. Couples danced as soon as the music started. There was no modest three or four tunes before someone shyly stepped onto the dance floor. Everyone scrambled to the floor as the first bars of music sounded.

It was a long time before Calli got the opportunity she waited for—Duardo on his own at the table, with only Minnie as witness.

“Duardo, you know Nicolás Escobedo?” Calli asked.

He shrugged. “Everyone does.”

“I don’t. He is related to the President?”

“He is el Presidente’s half-brother.”

“Half-brother?” Calli repeated. She thought it through. “That explains the red hair, those eyes.”

Duardo’s expression was wary. He knew where she took the conversation, then.

“He has no formal role in the government?” she asked.

“No.”

“I see.” She glanced across the room where the general and his party sat at the long head table. Nicolás Escobedo was there. He bent his head, listening to the general with deep concentration. As far as Calli could tell, he had not glanced her way at all.

She looked at Duardo, who still watched her. “I know who he is.”

He shook his head. “Do not speak it.”

“Speak what?” Minnie asked.

Duardo’s preoccupation with the subject let him pick up Minnie’s hand and kiss it, like a man soothing a fretful child. “It is nothing.”

“You keep telling me that,” Minnie complained.

He stirred and shook off his mood. He glanced at Minnie. “We dance, yes?”

“Mmm, yes,” she agreed with a smile.

He glanced at her. “Excuse me, Miss Calli.” He stood to lead Minnie to the dance floor.

Calli sighed as they left her alone at the table and stole one more glance at Nicolás Escobedo. He was also standing, talking to an officer behind the general’s chair, one hand in his pocket.

She reached for the champagne and sipped, trying to quell the schoolgirl leap of joy because she knew his secret. He had warned her at the police station that the country was three steps away from violent revolution and Americans were unwelcome. Good reasons existed for secrecy, for quiet manipulations behind the scenes, for maintaining appearances. None of them quenched the rush of pleasure she experienced when he looked at her.

To even hope he might share those feelings was a fantasy more foolhardy than Minnie’s infatuation with an honorable soldier in the Vistarian army. Had Uncle Josh really thought Calli capable of watching out for his daughter?





Chapter Four


Supper was a long, multi-course meal served on silver platters by dozens of waiters. It ended with a standing toast for the general’s birthday. Then the hotel staff wheeled out a massive six-foot-high cake and parked it in the middle of the dance floor.

Big enough for a pretty girl to jump out of the middle, Calli thought.

With a fanfare of trumpets, the top of the cake popped open. Who emerged was not a scantily clad girl. Instead, a mature woman appeared. She held a Spanish hat in her hand and a rose between her teeth, dressed in a traditional Flamenco costume that encased her bountiful figure in red satin. She paused at the top, a hand in the air, for effect.