Greek Gods Box Set: Books 1 - 4 Holly

Rayner
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GREEK GODS BOX SET
Books 1-4
HOLLY RAYNER
 CON TE N TS

The Greek's Green Card Bride

1. Dimitris
2. Eva
3. Dimitris
4. Eva
5. Dimitris
6. Eva
7. Eva
8. Eva
9. Eva
10. Eva
11. Eva
12. Dimitris
13. Eva
14. Dimitris
15. Eva
16. Eva
17. Eva
18. Eva
19. Dimitris
20. Eva
Epilogue

The Greek’s Fated Twins

1. Cassie
2. Cassie
3. Cassie
4. Angelos
5. Cassie
6. Cassie
7. Cassie
8. Angelos
9. Cassie
10. Cassie
11. Angelos
12. Cassie
13. Cassie
14. Cassie
 15. Angelos
16. Cassie
17. Cassie
18. Cassie
19. Angelos
20. Cassie
21. Angelos
22. Cassie
23. Cassie
24. Cassie
25. Angelos
26. Cassie
27. Angelos
Epilogue

Saved by the Greek Doctor

1. Trish
2. Nikos
3. Nikos
4. Trish
5. Trish
6. Trish
7. Nikos
8. Trish
9. Trish
10. Nikos
11. Trish
12. Trish
13. Trish
14. Nikos
15. Trish
16. Trish
17. Nikos
18. Trish
19. Trish
20. Trish
21. Nikos
22. Trish
23. Trish
24. Nikos
25. Trish
26. Trish
27. Nikos
28. Trish
Epilogue
The Greek’s Hired Triplets
1. Portia
2. Aristos
3. Portia
4. Aristos
5. Portia
6. Portia
7. Portia
8. Aristos
9. Portia
10. Portia
11. Portia
12. Aristos
13. Portia
14. Aristos
15. Portia
16. Aristos
17. Portia
18. Portia
19. Portia
20. Aristos
21. Portia
22. Aristos
23. Portia
24. Aristos
25. Portia
26. Portia
27. Aristos
28. Portia
29. Portia
Epilogue

Also by Holly Rayner

THE GREEK'S GREEN CARD BRIDE
 Copyright 2022 by Holly Rayner

All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole
or in part by any means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and
recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the explicit written
permission of the author.

All characters depicted in this fictional work are consenting adults, of at least eighteen years of age.
Any resemblance to persons living or deceased, particular businesses, events, or exact locations are
entirely coincidental.
CHAPTER 1
 DIMITRIS

D imitris Atheos strode through the lobby of the US State Department,

pushed through the revolving glass doors, and took out his phone.
He blinked against the blinding early afternoon light and wished for his
sunglasses, which he’d left in his hotel room. After hitting the “call” button
on his phone’s screen, he waited for his lawyer to pick up.
He could hear wind and waves on the other end of the line when the call
connected.
“Dimitris!” Stavros said happily. “How did the meeting go?”
Dimitris smiled at the sound of his lawyer’s voice. At sixty-six, Stavros was
thirty years older than him, and though Dimitris tried to keep the
relationship professional, he couldn’t deny that Stavros had become sort of
a father figure over the years.
Before Dimitris could answer, Stavros went on. “I’ve been thinking about
you! I said to myself, ‘the meeting started mid-morning, so the boy should
be out by now.’ I was worried about what was holding you up. Did they—”
Wind whipped over the phone speaker on Stavros’s end, cutting him off
mid-sentence.
Dimitris waited for the wind to die down, and then said, “It was grueling,
Stavros. Five hours in a stuffy room.” He loosened his tie and began the
trek down the wide marble staircase that cascaded from the Department of
State’s massive front facade. “But I’m interrupting. Are you out with
Katerina?”
“Yes, and the kids and granddaughter. Took the boat out to the bay. Wind’s
picked up since we came out, but it’s a beautiful night… You’re not
interrupting, Dimitris. The meeting has been on my mind all afternoon. Five
hours, hm?”
Dimitris could picture his white-haired, tanned friend out on his yacht,
surrounded by his family. Katerina, his wife, was a few years younger than
Stavros, and just as fit and vibrant as her husband. They had several
children and a handful of grandkids. Dimitris had been out on their yacht
more than a few times, and he could imagine the feel of the sea breeze on
his face and the fading warmth of the evening sun as it set. Though Dimitris
loved to travel, it was hard to find a place that compared in beauty and
natural wonder to his home, Athens, Greece.
“Five hours. Nonstop negotiations,” Dimitris said.
He reached the sidewalk and slowed to a stop. Though it was September,
and he’d expected some hints of autumn in the air in Washington, DC, it felt
like the middle of summer. Hot, muggy air pooled over the concrete and
pavement. He put up a hand to block the sun and peered down the block. As
he did this, a black limo pulled away from the curb a few cars down and
moved in his direction.
“Well?” Stavros asked, eager for more details.
Dimitris smiled again. He felt the excitement he’d been holding back during
the long, tense meeting begin to return. “They liked my product. They said
it’s leagues better than others they’ve tested. They’re ready to buy!”
He felt flooded with energy as he said this. A contract with the US
government was big news, and he’d been dreaming of the possibility for
years.
He felt confident that the deal would push his company, which
manufactured parts used in rockets, to the very top of the global market.
Atheos Propulsions Systems was already successful, but that didn’t stop
Dimitris from wanting to grow even more. Now it looked as though his
dream was going to come true.
“Dimitris, that’s fantastic!” Stavros said happily. “Well done!” There was a
muffled, scratchy sound on the other end of the line as Stavros held the
phone against his chest. His voice became distant as he called out,
“Katerina, it’s Dimitris! Yes, yes, he’s still abroad. He just signed a contract
with the US government!”
When Stavros came back on the line, Dimitris spoke up.
“They didn’t sign anything yet,” he said. “There’s some paperwork to sort
through first.”
A whole freaking stack of it, he thought, recalling how tall the pile of
paperwork had been on the polished mahogany table in the meeting room.
He walked up to the limo, which was now waiting at the curb right in front
of him. The driver hopped out to open the back door. Dimitris’s assistant,
Anna, a serious and efficient woman in her fifties, was already seated in the
back with her laptop out in front of her, her phone to one ear.
Rather than slide into the seat facing her, Dimitris turned and looked up into
the cloudless blue sky. The sun beat down on the city. Around him, men and
women in business attire bustled back and forth on the busy sidewalk. A
few people ate lunch on benches under the canopy of large trees that had
been planted to provide shade and ambiance.
“No problem,” Stavros said. “Send it along and I’ll take a look. Probably
just formalities. You know governments—so much red tape. I’ll be in the
office tomorrow, and I’ll take a look first thing.”
“Thanks, Stavros,” Dimitris said. “I’ll have Anna send over the
documents.”
After a few more moments of chatting, Dimitris got off the phone and
turned to face the limo once again.
The interior of the vehicle was air-conditioned, of course, but it looked just
as stuffy and sterile as the room he’d just come from.
He stepped forward, and Anna peered over her reading glasses in his
direction. He’d texted her the good news about how the meeting went just
as it had come to a close.
“I got your text,” she said in her usual clipped tone. “I just scheduled a
conference call with the marketing department, due to begin in twenty
minutes. They’re going to draw up a few press releases which we can put
out as soon as the contract goes through. I thought we could—”
She stopped short as Dimitris shook his head.
“No?” she said, acknowledging his gesture. “You don’t want to talk with
them?”
“Not right now,” he said. “I need to stretch my legs… to walk. I need fresh
air.” If there was one thing Dimitris had learned as the CEO of a multi-
billion-dollar company, it was that he had to take care of himself. When he
felt burnt out, nothing seemed to flow.
“Cancel all of my calls for the afternoon,” he instructed Anna. “I’ll fit them
in tomorrow.” He opened up his messenger bag and removed a thick folder.
“Could you send copies of these documents to Stavros at some point this
afternoon?”
She nodded and accepted the paperwork. “Of course, sir. I’ll scan them
right away.”
Dimitris thanked her then informed the driver that he wouldn’t be needing a
lift.
The driver gave a nod of understanding. “Beautiful day out,” he said
politely. “I can see why you prefer a walk. Where are you heading?”
“Not sure yet,” Dimitris said honestly.
He waited while the limo pulled away, and then he turned on his heel and
walked down the sidewalk. He had to weave through oncoming pedestrians
as he walked. Once in a while, a faint breeze brushed past, but it wasn’t
nearly enough to provide relief from the heat.
It felt good to move after so many hours of sitting. He didn’t have a
particular destination in mind, and it felt good to relax and simply wander
for a while. He could hear the distant sound of music, like a band playing in
an open-air venue, and he let his feet carry him in that direction.
The music grew louder as he neared the marina, and Dimitris felt himself
relax even more. An afternoon of listening to music by the water was just
what he needed. But not in this stuffy shirt, he thought, as he pulled at his
collar again and then loosened the top two buttons. And I have to get out of
these shoes, too.
A clothing store across the street caught his eye.
Ten minutes later he emerged with a newly acquired black T-shirt and a pair
of sandals. He continued his walk toward the water, and the music grew
louder.
The guitar playing was very good. Dimitris had never learned to play an
instrument, having dedicated all of his focus and energy to growing his
business. Though he didn’t play, he appreciated musicians who could really
let it rip. He loved watching talented people express their gifts, in whatever
form that might take. To Dimitris, there was something almost spiritual
about it.
He was eager to watch the performance. A left turn took him onto a new
street and gave him a view of sparkling green water in the distance. He
could see colorful tents set up along one stretch of the waterfront, and
amidst the tents, there was a covered bandstand. Dimitris eyed his
surroundings, looking for a place to change into his new shoes and shirt.
An alleyway to his right drew his attention. He stepped into it and was
happy to find it empty. It was a relief to get his shoes off and put on the new
sandals instead. He started unfastening the buttons on his top, eager to shed
the cloying layer.
Time to relax, he thought, and take in the sights of the city. I’m here for
work, but this afternoon I’m just going to enjoy myself and see what DC has
to offer.
CHAPTER 2
 E VA

E va couldn’t believe the heat. “Isn’t it supposed to be cooler than this in

September?” she asked her best friend, Nikki, as the two walked side
by side. “It feels like freaking August.”
She waved a hand in front of her face, hoping that it might provide some
relief. She was happy that she’d thought to pack a tank top with her when
she went to work that morning, for her shift as a hostess at The Red Door
Grille. There was no way she’d have ventured out in the afternoon heat in
the thick polyester polo shirt that she had to wear as a uniform each day.
Nikki ignored Eva’s question. “Oh! I can hear him playing!” Guitar music
floated through the air, getting louder with each step that they took.
Nikki went on. “I swear, he’s been practicing for like two or three hours
every day. Isn’t he getting good?”
“Really good,” Eva said.
Nikki’s husband, Clint, was a guitarist in a modestly successful local band.
Eva always enjoyed their music, and she was excited about the performance
ahead.
“This is the new song he wrote!” Nikki said, grabbing Eva’s arm. “We’re
missing it!”
Eva pointed to an alley across the street. “Let’s duck through there,” she
suggested. “It’ll save us some time.”
She waited for a few cars to pass and then stepped lightly across the road.
Her sandals made slapping sounds against the pavement. As soon as she
stepped into the alleyway, she felt the air temperature drop a few degrees,
thanks to the shade provided by buildings on either side.
A figure at the far end of the alley caught her eye—and stopped her in her
tracks.
He was shirtless, and his abs rippled with definition. He had dark, curly
hair, and his body was out of this world. For an instant, she thought that she
was hallucinating due to the heat. There was no way a man that good-
looking really existed.
“Hottie, twelve o’clock,” Nikki said in a hoarse whisper.
Eva blinked a few times. If Nikki saw him, too, that meant he was real.
She felt her breath catch in her throat. It was a few seconds before she
managed to inhale and exhale again, and another few before she could
respond to Nikki.
“What is he doing?” she whispered.
They both watched as the man reached for something in a paper shopping
bag at his feet. It was a black T-shirt. He pulled it over his head, hiding his
drop-dead-gorgeous bare torso from view.
Then he turned, stepped out of the alley and into the sunlight beyond. When
he was bathed in sunlight, Eva saw that his skin was a deep bronze. She
caught sight of dark stubble on his chiseled jawline. He reached a hand up
and ran it through his dark hair, and sunlight glinted off of a gold bracelet
that he wore around one of his tanned wrists.
Eva couldn’t take her eyes off of him.
She watched, speechless, as he adjusted the messenger bag on his shoulder,
and then headed in the direction of the waterfront.
Nikki spoke first. She turned to Eva and raised her brows. “Wow. I sure am
glad we took this shortcut. You saw that, right?”
“How could I miss it?” Eva said. Now that the handsome stranger was out
of sight, she was beginning to gather herself. “He was gorgeous!”
Nikki laughed. “Well, you’ve been saying how much you wish you had a
guy. Here we are, taking a random shortcut, and we see a Greek god right in
front of us, with his shirt off. Girlfriend, if that’s not a sign, I don’t know
what is.”
Eva started walking again. She didn’t want Nikki to miss all of the song
being performed, and it wouldn’t last much longer. “You’re right, that was
pretty magical,” she said.
“Dang, I wish I took a picture,” Nikki lamented. “That was a once-in-a-
lifetime sighting—like a rare bird or something.”
Eva chuckled. “And what do you think Clint would do if he found a picture
of a smokin’ hot stranger on your phone? Think he’d be thrilled about
that?”
“Probably not,” Nikki admitted. “Hey, you’re the single one. You should
have taken a picture of him. Better yet, you should go find him. It looked
like he was heading to the wharf, right? When life gives you lemons,
you’ve got to make lemonade.”
Eva laughed again. “So in your analogy, that guy was the lemons?”
“Exactly,” Nikki said. They emerged out into the street. The music grew
louder. Smells from the various food vendors wafted through the air around
them.
“Oh, who am I kidding,” Nikki said. “You’re not going to go hit on Mr.
Hottie. I know you better than that. You haven’t been out on a date in ages.
I swear, if I was single, I’d track him down and give him my number in a
flash.”
Eva knew her friend wasn’t kidding. She’d known Nikki for six years, and
for four of them, Nikki had been single. Eva wasn’t crazy about going out
to bars and clubs, but when she’d first moved to DC, Nikki had managed to
drag her out almost every weekend. Eva had been new to the city, and Nikki
was a sweet, outgoing waitress at The Red Door Grille where Eva had
found work. Eva was grateful for their budding friendship, so she’d
reluctantly agreed to accompany Nikki on many weekend-night adventures.
She’d seen Nikki flirt with many guys, and eventually get serious with
Clint.
Then came the wedding bells. Eva was sure that soon the two would buy a
house in the suburbs, and news of a baby wouldn’t be too far behind that.
Thinking about this made Eva feel uncomfortable. She’d relied on Nikki so
heavily since moving to DC all on her own. The whole fiasco in Long
Island, with her family, had left her feeling raw and vulnerable. It had been
scary to venture off on her own, and Nikki had helped her with that
transition. What would life be like once Nikki moved on to a new chapter of
her life?
She didn’t want to think about it.
Not on that afternoon, which was filled with music, sunshine, and sparkling
water. She followed Nikki to the area in front of the bandstand, and Nikki
immediately started bouncing up and down and waving, trying to get Clint’s
attention.
A few rows of seats were crowded into the area, but for the most part,
people were standing and dancing to the tunes that emanated from large
rectangular black speakers. Clint gave Nikki and Eva a wave, and Eva
waved back.
A sign advertising fresh-squeezed lemonade in the periphery of the area
caught her eye, and she realized how thirsty she was. During her morning
shift she’d sipped ice water covertly each time she returned to the hostess
stand between seating customers, but seeing as the shift had been so busy,
she hadn’t drunk nearly enough.
“I’m going to go get a lemonade—you want one?” she asked Nikki.
Nikki nodded happily, and then started singing along to the song that the
band was playing.
Eva headed for the lemonade stand. On her way, she pulled her phone from
her purse. She joined the line for lemonade, and then turned back to the
bandstand to snap a few photos. Clint was big on using social media, and
Eva knew he’d appreciate the shots for his band’s various pages and
accounts.
For a moment or two, she focused on getting good photographs that she
could share with Clint. By the time she put her phone back into her purse,
she saw that the line had moved ahead quite a bit while her attention had
been diverted.
She hurried forward. “Sorry about that,” she said absentmindedly to the
person in line behind her. “I wasn’t paying attention.”
“I thought I was going to have to cut in front of you,” a deep, accented
voice said. The accent sounded Mediterranean, and the voice was attractive
and warm, and flavored with a flirtatious tone.
She glanced behind her to see who was speaking, and immediately her
heartbeat sped up. It was the handsome guy she and Nikki had spotted in
the alley, just moments before. He was even more attractive up close.
His black, wavy hair was pushed back from his forehead as if he had a habit
of running a hand through it. Angular brows capped his dark eyes, which
sparkled with lively awareness. Stubble covered his chin and jawline,
framing his full lips. His skin, everywhere that it was visible, was bronzed
as though he spent hours on the beach. The black T-shirt he wore hugged
his muscular pecs, biceps, and abs. He wore a gold bracelet on one wrist,
slate gray dress pants, and sandals.
She felt herself blush as she recalled the sight of him bare-chested
“Oh—you can go ahead if you’re in a hurry,” she said, stepping aside.
“I’m just teasing,” he said, the corner of his lips rising up in a playful smile.
“I’ve got all day. Did you get good photos? The light is pretty good right
now for it.”
She smiled and nodded. “I think so. It’s incredible what phones can do these
days. My friend is in the band, and I figure he could use the shots for a
social media post or something.”
“That’s nice of you,” the guy said. His eyes lingered on her features, as if he
was appraising her. She felt slightly self-conscious, but also flattered by his
lingering look.
“I’m Dimitris,” he said, after a moment.
“Eva,” she said.
“So you’ve seen these guys play before?” he asked, motioning to the
bandstand.
“A few times, actually,” Eva said. “My friend’s husband is the guitarist.”
“He’s good,” Dimitris said with a nod of approval. “I liked the last song.”
The line shifted forward.
“They just wrote that one,” Eva said as she took a few steps ahead. “I like
it, too. But my favorite is one that they’ve been playing for years, called
‘Tumbleweeds.’ I hope they haven’t played it yet.”
“So you’re going to stick around and listen for a while?” he asked.
“Oh yeah, definitely,” Eva told him. “My friend Nikki is here too, and she
always stays until the end of her husband’s shows… How about you?”
He grinned, as though he was happy that she was asking. “Well, yeah, I
guess I am.”
Eva felt a rush of excitement course through her as he said this. His words
were laden with double meaning, as if he was deciding right then and there
to listen to the show because he wanted to be in her presence. She really
liked that. She felt as though the air between them was charged with
intense, electric energy. He was so gorgeous, dark, and intriguing, and she
was incredibly flattered by the way he was looking at her—as if he was
appreciating her beauty.
Eva didn’t think of herself as beautiful, though she knew that some people
perceived her that way. She was used to hearing flattering statements from
guys, but she rarely reacted. But there was something about the way
Dimitris was complimenting her without words, simply by letting his gaze
linger on her features and frame, that deeply affected her.
For the first time in ages, she felt pretty.
They reached the front of the line. “Two lemonades,” Eva said, holding up
two fingers.
“Make that three,” Dimitris said, as he laid a fifty-dollar bill up on the
countertop. He turned to Eva. “I’m buying,” he said.
His voice carried so much authority that she didn’t even think twice about
accepting his offer. “Thank you,” she said, sliding the wallet that she’d
removed from her purse back into its compartment. “That’s sweet of you.”
“My pleasure,” he said.
The vendor placed three drinks on the counter, and then moved to get
change for Dimitris. “Keep it,” Dimitris said.
Wow, Eva thought. Handsome, and generous, too. Either that, or he doesn’t
understand US currency very well. She could tell from Dimitris’s accent
that he was from another country, possibly Greece.
With drinks in hand, they headed over toward the gathering in front of the
stage.
Eva motioned to where Nikki was standing, bobbing her head to the music.
“That’s my friend Nikki,” she said. “You’re welcome to come watch the
show with us, if you like.”
“I’d love that,” he said warmly.
Eva was struck by how self-confident he was. He carried himself with an
air of self-assuredness that she rarely saw in other men. It was as though he
was completely comfortable with himself.
When they joined Nikki, Eva introduced Dimitris.
Nikki’s eyes grew wide, and Eva worried that her friend would make some
embarrassing remark about how they’d seen Dimitris in the alleyway on
their way to the show. Thankfully, Nikki kept her lips zipped on that topic,
and instead asked Dimitris a few polite questions about his travel plans.
The band picked up steam and broke into a string of songs that were louder
and more upbeat than the ones they’d opened the show with. For the next
hour or so, the three of them enjoyed the music, Eva and Nikki chatting
with Dimitris between songs.
As the show wrapped up, Nikki excused herself so that she could go help
Clint pack up his gear. She gave Eva a meaningful look as she departed, and
Eva knew just what it transmitted—do not let this guy out of your sight.
Eva didn’t have to be told twice. She was enjoying her time with Dimitris,
and she didn’t want the afternoon to end.
“Are you hungry?” Dimitris asked once they were alone.
“Famished,” Eva admitted.
“Want to grab a bite together?” he asked. “I was in meetings all day, and I
skipped lunch. I feel like I could eat a horse. Isn’t that the expression, in
English?”
Eva laughed and made a mock grimace by scrunching up her nose. “It is—
and it’s one of my least favorite sayings. Who would really eat a horse?
Yuck! I don’t like that one or ‘I’ll keep my eyes peeled.’”
“I promise not to say either of those again,” Dimitris said with a grin.
She nodded. “Then I’d be happy to get dinner with you.”
Dimitris pointed to a building across the way. The wharf was lined with
seafood restaurants. “How about Cindy’s Boathouse?” he asked, as he read
the golden script above the front door.
“I love Cindy’s,” Eva said. “The fried shrimp basket is killer, and she has
the best house IPA on tap.”
“Killer?” Dimitris repeated. He headed in the direction of the restaurant,
and Eva was surprised at how natural it felt to fall into step with him.
“Yeah, killer,” she said. “Oh, right. English is your second language. It’s
just a saying that means really good.”
“Ah,” he said. “And you’re okay with that saying? It’s not as bad as
keeping your eyes peeled?”
Eva laughed. “Hey! You promised not to say that!”
Dimitris’s deep laughter bubbled like a brook. “My mistake,” he said.
There was a small crowd near the entrance to Cindy’s, and Eva watched a
couple approach the podium that was positioned near the door. The hostess,
a girl who looked like she’d just graduated high school, made a note in the
binder in front of her. The couple turned away, and Eva caught a fragment
of their conversation as they passed.
“An hour and a half wait… that’s just ridiculous!” the woman said with
disgust.
“Must be because the concert just finished,” the man grumbled.
Eva turned to Dimitris. “We should probably go somewhere else,” she said
to him. “I just heard that couple say there’s an hour and a half wait to be
seated.”
“And forgo a killer basket of fried shrimp?” Dimitris teased. “No way. Let
me go see what I can do.”
Eva waited at the edge of the crowd and watched Dimitris weave through
bodies on his way to the hostess’ stand. She was sure he’d be turned away,
so she started running through alternative restaurants in her head.
As she mentally considered their options, she watched Dimitris exchange
words with the hostess. He pulled a bill from his wallet, handed it to her,
and then spoke a few more words and flashed a polite and charming smile.
Eva could see the young woman practically melting in his presence. In fact,
every woman they’d passed had done a double-take in Dimitris’s direction.
His good looks were arresting, and more than a little unique.
As he made his way back through the crowd, Eva saw that he looked
satisfied.
He beckoned her forward. “They’re going to seat us up on the rooftop,” he
said. “I hope that’s okay with you.”
“The rooftop is prime seating!” Eva said. “Those tables are always the first
to go. How did you manage that?”
“I have my ways,” Dimitris said.
The hostess showed them to their table. She had to gather up the remains
from the last diners, which included a few pint glasses and two paper-lined
red baskets, and then she wiped the table down.
“Your server will be right with you, Mr. Atheos,” she said. “And I’ll bring
two IPAs as you requested.”
“Wow—Mr. Atheos,” Eva said, as the hostess disappeared back down the
stairs. “You really made an impression on her.”
“I guess I did,” Dimitris said casually. He leaned back in his chair and took
in his surroundings.
Eva watched his eyes rove the rooftop, and then return to her. She liked the
feel of being the focus of his attention.
“You’re used to being called ‘Mister,’ aren’t you?” she guessed.
“I’m in business,” he said. “I have employees. Some of them call me by my
first name, but not all. Over the years, I’ve gotten used to it. I am almost
forty, after all. Well, thirty-six. How about you?”
For a moment, Eva thought he was asking her how old she was. She had no
problem with telling him she was thirty, but it seemed uncharacteristic of
him to ask such a direct question. He seemed so socially adept and aware of
how his actions and remarks affected those around him.
Before she could answer, he clarified his questions. “I mean, are you a
‘Miss’ or do you go by Eva?”
Eva was bemused at the thought of her colleagues at The Red Door Grille
calling her Miss Sharpe. She still hadn’t gotten used to the last name she’d
adopted six years prior, when she’d moved from Long Island to Washington
DC. She’d left so much behind in Long Island, including her old identity.
The thought made her stomach tighten with familiar anxiety. She pushed it
away and focused again on the bizarre scenario of the staff at the restaurant
addressing her with such formality.
“Where I work, we mostly just get each other’s attention by saying ‘hey!’ or
‘yo!’’’
“I take it you’re not in business, then,” Dimitris said with a chuckle.
“Nope. I’m in the restaurant industry. I’m a hostess at a grill up in Penn
Quarter.”
“Ah! Really? Funnily enough, I’m going to be in that area tomorrow
evening. My assistant scheduled a trip to the Cutler Gallery for me, for an
art opening. She also made reservations for me at a restaurant just down the
block from the gallery at six, which should be really good. Or should I say
—killer.” He grinned.
Eva giggled. “There you go,” she said. “I think you should try using that
phrase in your next business meeting. So, you like art?”
“Love it,” he said. “If I wasn’t so obsessed with my work, I like to think I’d
do something creative with my time. How about you?”
Before Eva could answer, the server appeared, carrying a small tray with
two glasses of beer on it. He lowered the tray, placed the beers on the table,
and then went about introducing himself. Dimitris handled the order by
requesting two baskets of fried shrimp. He looked to Eva to see if she had
anything to add, but she declined.
As Dimitris chatted with their server for a moment about the view, Eva
mused over the fact that Dimitris had a creative side. She’d guessed that,
because of the way his hair was just slightly longer and wilder than most
businessmen she met. The wraparound gold bracelet was a tip-off, too.
He said he was obsessed with work, but he was nothing like the suit-
wearing men that filled the city to the brim. So many of those men seemed
to move on autopilot, as though they were sleepwalking through life.
Dimitris, on the other hand, struck her as a person who was intent on
enjoying life to the fullest.
Her thoughts turned to the way he had ordered for her. He was acting as
though they were on a date. Were they?
As Eva turned the details of the evening over in her mind, she realized that
they were. Dimitris was so good at making her feel comfortable and relaxed
that she didn’t at all have that nervous, first-date feeling.
There was a sensation of giddiness, she realized, in the pit of her stomach. It
was pleasant and made her feel more alert than usual to her surroundings.
The rooftop deck was surrounded by a wall that was painted bright
turquoise and lined with twinkling white lights. The aroma of food, the
sound of happy conversations, and even the faint humming sound of traffic
on the city streets beyond all came together to create a bouquet of
sensations.
“Cheers,” Dimitris said as the waiter departed. “To a beautiful night, spent
in good company.”
Eva tapped her glass against his.
The IPA tasted even better than she remembered. Their conversation flitted
from one topic to another, and Eva found herself enjoying Dimitris’s
company more and more as the sun sank low over the river, and then
disappeared entirely.
She liked hearing about his home country, Greece, and the travel adventures
he’d had all over the world. She, in turn, told him about her love for
painting, and what it was like to live and work in DC.
After two beers, shrimp, and a shared dessert of chocolate cheesecake, Eva
let Dimitris guide her back down to the street. It was late, and she knew that
she should be getting home to bed if she wanted to have a hope of
functioning well at work the next morning. And yet, she didn’t want to
leave Dimitris’s side.
It was a strange feeling, knowing that he was only in town for a short while.
Though it was sad to know that their evening together couldn’t lead to any
sort of relationship, given the fact that Dimitris lived in Greece, it was also
liberating. She didn’t have to overanalyze her every move, as she often
found herself doing on first dates with other men.
She wasn’t worried about the implications of a kiss, so when Dimitris
leaned in, just before the cab she’d called arrived, she met his lips with hers
without hesitation.
The kiss was warm, passionate, and tasted like chocolate.
Eva wished it could have lasted forever. It was, without a doubt, the best
kiss she’d ever experienced, and she thought about it for the entire ride
home to her apartment. It lingered in her mind while she showered and got
ready for bed, and then stayed with her as she laid her head on her pillow
and waited for sleep to come.
CHAPTER 3
 DIMITRIS

D imitris felt his dreams slipping away as his waking consciousness

took hold.
He opened his eyes sleepily and blinked a few times as he tried to figure out
where he was. He traveled so often that he sometimes had trouble orienting
himself immediately upon waking.
As he laid in bed, taking in the dark hotel room that surrounded him,
memories surfaced.
That’s right, he thought. I’m in DC. Last night, I went out to dinner with a
beautiful woman. Eva.
He stretched an arm up and placed it behind his head. The pillow was soft,
the sheets high quality, the bed perfectly firm. The covers rustled as he
moved.
He closed his eyes and brought up an image of Eva in his mind. She was a
beauty, there was no doubt about that. She’d been dressed simply, in a white
tank top, plain blue skirt, and thong sandals. Her hair was chestnut brown,
straight, and she’d worn it pulled back in a loose ponytail. Though there
was nothing flashy about her style, she glowed as if lit up from within.
When she smiled, her whole face transformed with beauty and warmth. Her
eyes were bright and filled with wonder and excitement.
Her figure was curvy, in all the right ways.
He felt a jolt of attraction as he lay there thinking about her. The energy
he’d felt when next to her was intense. Magnetic. And that kiss, he thought.
It was the best kiss of my life.
A beeping sound from his phone interrupted the memory. It was a tone that
alerted him to a voicemail, and he reached for his phone. As a business
owner, he was used to reaching for his phone first thing in the morning to
see if there were any urgent, business-related “fires” that needed to be
addressed before he went about his morning routine.
Seeing that he had a message from Stavros, he sat up on the edge of the bed
as he listened to it. In the message, Stavros said he had an urgent matter to
discuss, so Dimitris called him back right away.
“I heard your message,” Dimitris said when Stavros picked up. His voice
was gravelly and rough, seeing as he hadn’t used it yet that day. He reached
for a water bottle on his nightstand. “What’s going on? I’m just waking up
here.” He unscrewed the cap to the bottle and took a sip.
“Dimitris, I’ve been going through this paperwork you sent,” Stavros said.
Dimitris didn’t like the seriousness of his lawyer’s tone. Something was
wrong.
Stavros went on. “We have a problem,” he said, confirming Dimitris’s
suspicions. “A big one, at that.”
“What is it?” Dimitris said. He couldn’t imagine what had Stavros sounding
so upset.
Stavros cleared his throat. “The US State Department is going to put you
through a rigorous background check before agreeing to buy from Atheos
Propulsion Systems.”
“As they should,” Dimitris said coolly. “They’re about to sign a multi-
million-dollar contract. They don’t want to do business with a criminal. So
what’s the problem?”
“You’re going to fail the background check,” Stavros said bluntly.
“Dimitris, they want to see a perfectly clean record. Yours has a blemish on
it.”
Dimitris searched his mind, trying to figure out what blemish Stavros was
referring to.
“What, you mean how I was kicked out of the military?” he asked after a
brief pause.
“Exactly,” Stavros said. “I’m sorry, Dimitris.”
Dimitris stood up. “I was just a kid—nineteen—when I got kicked out of
the service,” he said. “That was seventeen years ago, and I didn’t even do
anything that bad. They can’t seriously hold that against me!”
“They can, and they will,” Stavros said.
Dimitris rubbed a hand over his brow, and then down over his eyes. After
all he’d done to secure the deal with the US government, he couldn’t
believe that a blemish on his record was going to cause the whole thing to
fall through.
His mind turned to his brief stint in the Greek military. Even at that young
age, he’d had a problem with being told what to do. It was a quality that
served him well as the CEO of his company, but as a teenager it had gotten
him into trouble. At age nineteen, during his mandatory stint of military
service, he’d talked back to a few higher-ups. That had earned him time on
probation, which he’d violated by getting into a scuffle with a bully in the
cafeteria.
He rubbed his forehead again, thinking about how minor his infractions
were. “This is ridiculous,” he said into the phone. “I can’t believe this is
happening.”
He lowered his hand and began pacing across the room. A set of thick navy
blue curtains were drawn across the windows. He pulled them open, and
bright daylight streamed into the hotel room.
A glance at the clock informed him that it was already mid-morning. He’d
slept in, thanks to his late night out with Eva. He had a big day ahead, but
all of the tasks were related to the deal that he’d assumed was going to go
through.
No, he thought. I can’t give up just because of some ridiculous infringement
in my past.
“There has to be a work-around,” he said to Stavros. “Some kind of
solution. I can’t accept this.”
“You have to,” Stavros said. “I’m sorry, Dimitris. I know how much this
contract means to you. I’ve been making calls all morning, trying to come
up with a course of action, but everyone’s telling me the same thing. You’re
out of luck. Apparently, the US is very strict about its international business
arrangements. Nothing short of becoming an American citizen will do. It’s
time to move on.”
Dimitris turned away from the window. He felt frustrated and upset. Was it
really time to give up on the deal?
“Thanks, Stavros,” he said quietly. “I know you’ve been working hard on
this today. I appreciate your efforts.”
When he hung up the phone, he sat down on the edge of the bed again and
placed his head in his hands.
If Stavros says it’s over, he thought glumly, then it’s probably over.
Stavros Pappas was the smartest man Dimitris knew. Dimitris had started
his business at the age of twenty-six, and he’d leaned on Stavros for legal
advice at every twist and turn along the tumultuous journey. Never once had
Stavros steered him wrong. If Stavros thought that Dimitris’s past with the
military was going to cause him to fail the security clearance, then Dimitris
was sure that was right.
He just didn’t like it.
What am I going to do? he wondered as he raked his hands through his hair.
CHAPTER 4
 E VA

“A nd then, just as the cab pulled up, he leaned down and kissed
me,” Eva said.
Nikki gasped.
Eva smiled dreamily. She’d just told Nikki the entire story of her night with
Dimitris, in detail, as the two rolled silverware in an empty booth. It was
only six a.m., and the restaurant wouldn’t open for another hour.
“It was the best kiss of my life,” Eva said with a sigh as she reached for a
silver knife from the bin in front of them. She placed it on a red napkin,
along with a spoon and fork, and started to roll the whole bundle up.
“Of course it was,” Nikki said. “That guy was probably the best-looking
guy I’ve ever laid eyes on. Don’t tell Clint I said that.” She laughed.
“Seriously, though, good for you for not running away like you usually do. I
know you have trouble trusting men, thanks to your dad.”
Eva felt her lips tighten into a thin line. She loved Nikki, but sometimes
begrudged the relationship advice that her friend tended to throw around.
As Eva’s best friend, Nikki was the only person in DC—and in the new life
she’d built for herself—who knew about her past in its entirety. It seemed to
Eva that sometimes Nikki was a little bit too comfortable tossing around
pop psychology with regards to how Eva’s past had affected her.
Nikki seemed to pick up on Eva’s distaste for the turn the conversation had
taken. She lightened her tone and said breezily, “Anyway, I’m so excited
that you kissed. I mean, I saw the sparks flying between you two during the
show, obviously. I just love that you went out with a tourist guy that you
just barely met!” Silverware clanked around inside the napkin she was
rolling. She put the bundle onto a stack, and then reached for a red napkin
from another stack. “A super-hot, drop-dead-gorgeous tourist, granted, but
still—a tourist.”
“I actually think he’s here in DC on business,” Eva said. “I got the
impression that he’s the owner of a pretty successful company. And he was
throwing around cash like there was no tomorrow. He paid for dinner,
drinks, and my cab. He left a mega tip, too.”
“Gotta love those big tippers!” Nikki said. “What does his company do?”
“He mentioned it a few times…” Eva said. “Something to do with rockets, I
think. I don’t know.” She shrugged. “The name of the company had his last
name in it—Atheos.”
Nikki whipped out her phone. “Dimitris Atheos,” she said aloud as she
typed. “You think that’s ‘e-o-s’ or ‘i-o-s’? Never mind, here it is—popped
right up, with his picture—it’s ‘e-o-s,’ in case you’re wondering.” She
started scrolling through information on her phone, and she went silent for a
moment.
Eva stacked up silverware in a neat pile on the napkin in front of her: knife,
fork, spoon. Then she rolled the whole bundle up tightly and placed it on
the stack with the rest. She reached for another napkin, but Nikki stopped
her by grabbing her forearm.
“Holy smokes, Eva, you’ve got to see this! Do you know who you went out
on a date with last night?”
“Um… I just told you. Dimitris Atheos,” Eva said, wondering what her
friend was getting at.
Nikki released Eva’s hand and put the phone down on the table. Her eyes
were wide. “You went out with one of the wealthiest, most eligible
bachelors in Europe! The guy’s a freaking billionaire!”
Eva’s jaw dropped. She’d suspected that Dimitris was wealthy, but a
billionaire?
She leaned over the table and peered into Nikki’s phone screen. Sure
enough, there was a headshot of Dimitris along with an estimate of his net
worth. There were so many zeros in the number, it made her head spin.
“Wow…” Eva said. “I had no idea he was that rich. No wonder he had no
problem paying for my cab home.”
Nikki’s eyes were wide. “You have got to see him again!”
Eva shook her head. “No, I don’t think so. Last night was a one-time thing.”
“But you said that it was the best kiss of your life! And he’s a billionaire!
Plus, you two had chemistry with a capital ‘C.’”
Eva felt her pulse quicken. She had to admit, she did want to see Dimitris
again. At the same time, though, she knew that was a foolish desire. What
good would it do her to fall for a man who lived in Greece? Dimitris was
going to leave DC soon, and then she’d never see him again. A second date
would only make that parting worse.
She reached for the mug of coffee that she’d poured herself from the server
station, right when she arrived. One of the few perks of working for the Red
Door Grille was free coffee during morning shifts.
She sipped her drink thoughtfully, and then shook her head again as she set
it down. “It doesn’t make sense to see him again,” she said. “He’s just
visiting. Last night was just a date. Two people, enjoying each other’s
company. It wasn’t meant to go anywhere.”
“Okay, then, how about this,” Nikki said, leaning forward and bracing her
elbows on the booth table. Her eyes were burning with excitement, as if she
was about to share the best idea ever. “You know how you’re always talking
about how you want to start up your own art gallery, but you need investors
to back you?”
“Yeah,” Eva said.
“Well… You could talk to Dimitris about investing in you. You know, give
him a rundown of your plans, and tell him why it would be a good
investment. The guy is loaded, so spending a few thousand bucks is
probably no big deal.”
Eva couldn’t help but glance down at Nikki’s phone on the booth table. It
still showed Dimitris’s photograph, and she found herself looking at his
dark, smoldering eyes. She bit her lip as she tried to imagine approaching
him for money.
“I don’t know,” she said. “We had a really fun night. I wouldn’t want to ruin
it by awkwardly asking him for money.”
“Who said anything about awkward?” Nikki said. “You’ve got to drop that
attitude if you’re going to get anywhere with your gallery idea. Stop being
so cautious and just go for it.” She paused, waiting for Eva to agree.
Eva stayed quiet, so Nikki egged her on some more. “Come on. You think
you’re going to make enough money to open your gallery by working
here?”
Eva looked around the restaurant. The dark, wood-panel walls sucked up all
of the daylight that managed to sneak in from outside. Bright red booths
and mustard-colored tables crowded into the space, and a wall of televisions
that played silently behind the bar area often caught her eye and made her
cringe. She wasn’t wild about watching sports to begin with, and watching
seven games simultaneously on mute annoyed her each time she came to
work.
Her manager was a young kid in his twenties, who’d come into the job
thanks to a family connection. He was famous for failing to put out the
weekly schedule until the day before the week started, which made it almost
impossible to make any plans or have a social life.
“I barely make enough here to pay for rent and food,” Eva said, without
meeting Nikki’s eye. “I’ve run the numbers, you know.” She glanced up at
her friend.
Nikki nodded with encouragement. “And?”
“I need sixty grand to get out of the debt I built up after I left New York,
and I need another sixty thousand to open a new gallery.”
“Great!” Nikki said. “That’s a start. You know what you need.”
Eva felt herself starting to get excited. Sometimes, Nikki’s enthusiasm was
contagious.
Just then, the young manager walked by. He was lean and boyish, with a
blond crew cut. He knocked twice on the table as he passed.
“Good morning, girls,” he said. “We’re opening in fifteen minutes. Nikki,
don’t forget to fill the ketchup bottles. It’s Friday, you know.” He eyed the
mugs of coffee. “Oh—I’ve been meaning to tell you. I changed our drinks
policy. Each employee is allowed one drink per shift. No more unlimited
coffee! Thanks for your cooperation.” He knocked on the table twice more,
and then bustled away.
There goes the one perk of working here, Eva thought dully.
Nikki rolled her eyes as she took a dramatic slurp of her drink. Once she
swallowed, she said. “The nerve of him, calling us ‘girls.’ I’m probably ten
years older than he is.”
“You know what?” Eva said. “Maybe I will practice my pitch on Dimitris.
If I’m really going to go after my dream of opening a gallery, I’m going to
need investors. And the only way I’m going to get them to invest is if I ask.
I have to start somewhere.”
“Yay!” said Nikki, immediately cheering up again. “I knew you’d come
around. Okay—so did he give you his number?”
Eva shook her head. “Nope, and I didn’t give him mine. I think we both
assumed that our evening together was just a one-time thing. But he did
mention that he was going to an opening at the Cutler Gallery tonight.”
“The Cutler Gallery,” Nikki repeated. “Why does that sound familiar?”
“My friend Tahj Cutler owns it,” Eva said. “We’ve been there before—I had
a few paintings on display there a couple springs ago.”
“Ah yes, the bird paintings and the one with the fox,” Nikki said with a nod.
“The openings there are pretty exclusive, right? Oh, what am I saying…
Tahj loves you. He’d let you in in a heartbeat.”
Eva was sure that was true, but she had another thought in mind.
“That would be too obvious,” she said. “When Dimitris mentioned the
gallery opening, I didn’t say that I had plans to go. It would be too weird if I
just showed up there out of the blue. But he did say that he had dinner
reservations beforehand…” She trailed off, trying to formulate a plan.
Nikki slurped her coffee as she waited for Eva to continue.
After a moment, Eva said, “I think he said his reservations were for six, but
did he mention the restaurant name? No, I don’t think so.”
“That won’t be too hard to figure out,” Nikki said. “If he said it’s on the
same block as the Cutler Gallery, there are a limited number of places he
could go.”
The manager breezed by again. As he walked, he said, “How are those
ketchup bottles coming along? I hate to interrupt your gabfest, but it looks
like you’re done with the silverware.”
Nikki gave him a thumbs-up. “Yep! Onto ketchup bottles!” she said, her
voice high with false cheerfulness.
The two slid out of the booth. Nikki picked up the tray of rolled silverware
in one hand, and her coffee in the other. “Since this is my only drink of the
day, I’m going to savor it,” she said sarcastically.
Eva picked up the now-empty silverware bin, as well as her drink. “I’m
going to make some calls and figure out where Dimitris has reservations
tonight.”
“Yay! Exciting,” Nikki said happily. “Keep me updated, okay?”
Eva made her way to the hostess podium, feeling grateful for her friend. If
it wasn’t for Nikki’s friendship, there was no way she would have lasted for
six years at The Red Door Grille.

Once the restaurant’s doors opened, a steady stream of tourists, government

workers, and college students filtered in. Between seating them, Eva called
around to a few contacts she had. The staff turnover rate at The Red Door
Grille was high, and over the years she’d gotten to know at least a dozen
people who’d gone on to other positions in the restaurant industry.
After making about ten calls, she finally hit on some valuable information.
Her friend Cal, who had been a waiter at The Red Door Grille back when
Eva first started, was now holding down a position at a fancy French
restaurant on the far end of Penn Quarter.
Chez Bazin was one of those establishments that barely registered on Eva’s
radar because it was way too upscale for her. She knew she’d barely be able
to afford a side salad at the place, let alone a meal and a glass of wine. She
could picture it vaguely—violin music floating through a few outdoor
speakers, a dark green awning, and gold-trimmed doors.
And, Cal informed her, one Dimitris Atheos had a reservation there that
evening.

Eva had butterflies in her stomach as she walked home, and they didn’t let
up for the next few hours, as she worked on preparing herself for seeing
Dimitris again. She suspected that she wasn’t only excited about finally
taking a concrete step toward realizing her dream of opening a new art
gallery; the bubbly feeling of excitement and anticipation was also related
to the fact that she wanted to look into Dimitris’s dark, espresso-brown eyes
again.
Will we kiss again? she wondered as she pulled several dresses from her
closet.
The question stayed in her mind as she donned a simple black cocktail
number, ballet flats, and a heart-shaped gold locket. Though it had been a
while since she’d worn makeup, she swiped some shimmery beige
eyeshadow over her lids, and then applied lip gloss. After trying a few
hairstyles, she finally decided to leave her locks down.
For the duration of the subway ride to Penn Quarter, she used her phone to
read up on Dimitris. She wanted to do her due diligence so that she could
approach him in the right way for funding. However, as she read about his
college education, and brushed up on his resume, all she could think about
was the feel of his lips on hers.
She’d planned to arrive at the restaurant at seven, figuring that would give
her more than enough time before Dimitris emerged from the gold-trimmed
doors. As she walked up to the fancy establishment, going through her plan
over and over in her mind, she looked around for an appropriate place to
position herself—she wanted to bump into Dimitris as if by accident.
The evening was warm, and the people she saw entering and exiting Chez
Bazin were in summer-appropriate formal wear. Others on the sidewalk
looked more casual, sporting shorts and T-shirts, and barely looked at the
restaurant as they hurried to their next destination. Newly planted oak trees
lined the sidewalk, as well as a few potted plants. A newsstand, off to the
left side of the restaurant, was manned by a vendor who had tipped his hat
over his eyes so that he could nap in his chair.
He’ll turn left when he exits, Eva thought, because he’ll be heading to the
Cutler Gallery. She moved in that direction, and then pretended to busy
herself by the newsstand as if she was browsing the selection. Out of the
corner of her eye, she watched the restaurant’s doors.
At twenty after seven, she saw him push open the restaurant doors.
As had happened the day before, the sight of him took her breath away. He
was moving in a confident, relaxed manner, with one hand in his pocket and
his gaze up slightly at the skyline, which was dusted with golden light from
the sinking sun.
She licked her lips, suddenly wishing for the chance to apply another coat
of gloss. There wasn’t enough time.
She put down the paper she’d been holding and turned in his direction. She
feigned looking through her handbag as she walked toward him, and then
pulled out her phone, pretending to be about to make a call.
Just as their arms brushed in passing, she heard him say her name.
“Eva? Is that you?”
His deep, accented voice was like music to her ears. She looked up and
acted surprised. “Dimitris? Oh my goodness! What are you doing here?”
“Just finished dinner,” he said with a warm smile. “Wow, it’s great to see
you. You look beautiful!”
She felt herself smile, too. “Thanks,” she said.
“Are you heading somewhere?” Dimitris asked.
“Home, actually,” she said. “I just left dinner with a few friends.”
“Oh, don’t go home yet,” he said. “You look too beautiful for a night in the
house. Come out with me—join me at the gallery opening.”
She hesitated, as though she was thinking over the offer, then looked at the
time on her phone, as if considering whether it was too late for another
activity that night. After a pause she said, “Well, it is early still. I guess I
don’t have to go home yet.” She pushed her phone back into her purse and
smiled up at Dimitris. “Sure, I’d love to come. Thanks for the offer.”
“It’s my pleasure,” he said, his eyes dancing over her.
Just like the day before, she enjoyed being the focus of his attention.
CHAPTER 5
 DIMITRIS

D imitris couldn’t help but glance over at Eva as they made their way to
the Cutler Gallery. She looked stunning—even more beautiful than he
remembered.
He noticed she was more dressed up than she’d been the night before.
Probably because she and her friends were out at a nice restaurant, he
thought. Then, somewhat wistfully, They’re lucky to have her friendship.
“What are the chances?” he said with a shake of his head. “Of all the
women I could see tonight, I just happened to see you.” He still couldn’t
believe it. He’d been anticipating a quiet night to himself, but he was far
from upset to be sharing the night with Eva.
She smelled so good—like lavender and honeysuckle. Her hair wasn’t tied
back as it had been the evening before. Instead, it framed her angelic face.
Her black dress fit her figure just right.
She seemed slightly uncomfortable about his statement, and she deflected it
quickly. “Oh, DC isn’t really that big.” Her cheeks tinted with a blush.
“How was your day?” she asked.
He considered the question. “It got off to a rough start, thanks to some news
from my lawyer, but it’s better now.” He smiled in her direction, hoping that
she picked up on the meaning behind his words.
She saw her blush intensify and knew that his compliment had landed. She
tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Me too,” she said. “I mean, about
the day getting better.”
“You worked this morning, yes?” he asked.
“Yeah.” She nodded and then laughed nervously. “Busy shift. At least that
makes it go by fast. Look, there’s the gallery. Have you been before?”
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poetas, de mazurcas y de chismes políticos. El gobierno ha principiado
a mirar con malos ojos mis reuniones, a pesar de que mi absolutismo
pasa por artículo de fe. Ya sabe usted lo que es Calomarde y toda esa
gente: van de exageración en exageración... Están ciegos. El pode
absoluto es como el vino, una cosa muy buena y un vicio, según el uso
que de él se haga. No lo dude usted, esa gente está borracha, y
mientras más bebe y más se turba, más quiere beber. El año comienza
mal, y según dicen, las conspiraciones arrecian, y el gobierno no se
para en pelillos para ahorcar.
—No faltará tampoco quien amanse y dulcifique —dijo Cordero
apoyando sus codos en el mostrador para atender mejor a un tema tan
de su gusto—. La reina...
—¡Oh, sí, la reina!... —exclamó la dama con ironía—. Sus
dulcificaciones, de que tanto se ha hablado, son pura música. Ya lo ve
usted, ha fundado un Conservatorio por aquello de que el arte a las
fieras domestica. Me hace reír esto de querer arreglar a España con
músicas. Al menos el rey es consecuente, y al fundar su escuela de
tauromaquia, cerrando antes con cien llaves las universidades, ha
querido probar que aquí no hay más doctor que Pedro Romero. Eso
es, dedíquese la juventud a las dos únicas carreras posibles hoy, que
son las de músico y torero, y el rey barbarizando y la reina
dulcificando, nos darán una nación bonita... ¡Ah!, me olvidaba de otra
de las principales dulcificaciones de Cristina. Por intercesión de ella
¡oh alma generosa!, se va a suprimir la horca para sustituirla
¡enternézcase usted, amigo Cordero!..., para sustituirla con e
garrote... No sé si en el Conservatorio se creará también una cátedra
de dar garrote... con acompañamiento de arpa.
Don Benigno se rio de estas despiadadas burlas; mas lo hizo po
pura galantería, pues siendo entusiasta admirador de la joven y
generosa reina, no admitía las interpretaciones malignas de su
parroquiana.
—Ello es, querido don Benigno —añadió esta—, que yo he
determinado quitarme de en medio. Presiento no sé qué desgracias y
persecuciones. Deseo una vida retirada y oscura. No más tertulias, no
más versos dedicados a bodas reales, embarazos de reinas y
nacimientos de princesas, no más murmuración ni secreteo sobre lo
que no me importa. Si su casa de usted me gusta, a ella me vengo y
en ella me encierro... Decidido, señor de Cordero.
—Como buena y cómoda no hay otra en Madrid.
—Yo quisiera verla.
—Lo haré presente al señor de Muñoz y de seguro me dará permiso
para que usted la vea.
—No, no se moleste usted —dijo la dama observando con atención
el rostro de Cordero, por ver si se turbaba—. ¿No son iguales todos
los pisos?
—Todos enteramente iguales.
—Pues enséñeme usted el entresuelo, donde usted vive... Pero
ahora mismo. Tengo prisa. Quiero decidir de una vez.
Levantose resueltamente, dirigiéndose a alzar la tabla del mostrado
para pasar a la trastienda. De aquel modo brusco y ejecutivo hacía ella
todas sus cosas.
—No hay inconveniente, señora —dijo Cordero, manifestando más
bien agrado que contrariedad—. Pero la señora me permitirá que no la
acompañe, porque tendría que dejar la tienda sola. El chico no está.
—No faltaba más sino que también conmigo gastara usted
cumplidos. Quédese usted..., subiré sola, ya sé el camino..., por esta
escalerilla...
—¡Sola!... ¡Cruz!... —gritó don Benigno desde el primer peldaño.
La dama subió con ágil pie por la escalera, la cual era tan estrecha
que en la angostura de las paredes se le chafaron a la señora las
huecas mangas de jamón, y el chal de cachemira se le resbaló de los
hombros.
 En aquel mismo momento, Crucita estaba limpiando jaulas y
soplando la paja del alpiste, sin parar un momento en su conversación
con todos los pájaros, la cual era un lenguaje compuesto de
suavísimas interjecciones cariñosas, de voces incomprensibles cuyas
variadas inflexiones no expresaban ideas, sino un vago sentimiento de
arrullo o los apetitos y anhelos del instinto. Era aquella charla como los
rudimentos o albores de la palabra humana cuando el hombre, pegado
aún a la naturaleza por el cordón umbilical de la barbarie, desconocía
las relaciones sociales. ¡Oh, qué dato para aquel filósofo que tenía en
don Benigno el más entusiasta de sus admiradores! Oyendo hablar a
doña Crucita con los habitantes enjaulados de su selva de balcón
Rousseau habría comprendido mejor el estado feliz y perfecto de
hombre, y su amigo Voltaire se habría puesto de cuatro pies para
practicar, no de burlas, sino de puras veras, las teorías del autor de
Contrato.
Doña Cruz era una mujercita seca y bastante vieja, muy limpia
fuerte y dispuesta como una muchacha, lista de pies y manos, con la
cabeza medio escondida dentro de una escofieta que parecía alzarse
y bajarse con el mover de la cabeza, como las moñas o tocas de
ciertas aves. Para mirar daba a la cara un brusco movimiento lateral, lo
mismo que los pájaros cuando están azorados o en acecho. Fuera po
la asociación de ideas o por verdadera semejanza, ello es que al verla
daban ganas de echarle alpiste.
Interrumpida en lo mejor de su faena, doña Cruz se escandalizó, se
asustó, aleteó un tanto con los bracitos flacos, miró de lado, graznó un
poquillo. Al mismo tiempo, dos, tres o quizás cuatro perrillos se
abalanzaron a la dama ladrando y chillando, rodeándola de tal modo
que, si fueran mastines en vez de falderos, la dejarían malparada. La
cotorra y el loro ponían en aquel desacorde tumulto algunos
comentarios roncos que aumentaban la confusión. La dama expresó e
objeto de su subida al entresuelo; mas como Crucita no podía oírla
fuele preciso alzar la voz, y con esto alzaron la suya los perros
mayaron los gatos, se enfadaron cotorra y loro, y los pájaros
prorrumpieron en una carcajada estrepitosa de cantos y píos. Mientras
más gritaba la turba zoológica, más se desgañitaba doña Cruz
diciendo: «¿Qué se le ofrece a usted? ¿Por quién pregunta usted?». Y
a cada subida del diapasón de la vieja, más elevaba el suyo la señora
mientras don Benigno desde la escalera gritaba sin que le escucharan
«¡Cruz! ¡Sola!», armándose tal laberinto que sin duda hubiera parado
en algo desagradable si no se presentara afortunadamente la Hormiga
a desvanecer aquella confusión, inponiendo silencio y enterándose de
lo que la dama quería.
Sorprendida y algo cortada estaba Sola ante aquel brusco modo de
ver casas, y pasado el asombro primero, dio en sospechar que otra
intención distinta de la manifestada tenía la dama. Aunque esta le
inspiraba miedo, por figurársele que su presencia le anunciaba alguna
trapisonda, quiso disimular su temor. Tan bien lo consiguió que la
señora empezó a sorprenderse a su vez de hallar en la protegida de
Cordero un semblante tan festivo, un ánimo tan sereno, y ta
disposición a la complacencia, que dijo para sí con despecho y
tristeza: «O esta disimula mejor que yo, o no hay aquí hombre
escondido ni cosa que lo valga».
 X

Vieron la casa toda, que la señora encontró más pequeña de lo que

creía y bastante oscura en lo interior. Después Sola, que no había
tenido tiempo de echarse un mantón por los hombros, ni aun de
quitarse el delantal, que era su librea de gala por las mañanas
acompañó a la señora a la sala para que descansase, y le pidió
indulgencia por el mal pergenio con que la recibía. Considerándose
ella como una especie de ama de gobierno más bien que como dueña
de la casa, su posición frente a la otra era, en verdad, un poco
desairada. Pero no le importaba nada ser allí un poco más o menos
señora, y sentándose a cierta distancia de la visitante, esperó a que
Crucita o el mismo don Benigno vinieran a relevarla de su señorío
provisional. Crucita se había encerrado en el gabinete para colgar las
jaulas y echar agua a los tiestos, y no se cuidaba de que hubiese o no
en el estrado una persona extraña. Cordero estaba vendiendo, y
tampoco podía subir.
En cambio, Juanito Jacobo se adelantaba lentamente pegado a la
pared y rozándose con las sillas, como babosa que marcha pegada a
las piedras de una tapia. Con el ceño fruncido, un dedo en la boca y
ambas manos teñidas con la pintura de un caballejo de palo, a quien
acababa de dar un baño en la cocina, miraba a Sola y a la otra señora
esperando que cualquiera de ellas le llamase.
—¿Es este el niño más pequeño de don Benigno? —preguntó la
dama.
—Sí, señora..., ¡y es tan malo!... Ven acá, chico, ven; saluda a esta
señora.
El muchacho no se hizo de rogar y se acercó, con ademán de
recelo y desconfianza, metiéndose, no ya el dedo, sino toda la mano
dentro de la boca. La abundante pintura negra y roja que en los dedos
tenía, se le pasó a los labios y carrillos.
—Estás bonito por cierto... Pareces un salvaje —le dijo Sola—. ¿No
te da vergüenza de que te vean así, grandísimo tunante?
—No le riña usted.
—¡Eh!..., no te acerques a la señora con esas manazas puercas..
Tira ese caballo, que está chorreando pintura. Le ha dado ahora po
lavar todo lo que encuentra, y el otro día metió en la tinaja las gafas de
su padre.
—Es un fenómeno de robustez esta criatura —afirmó la señora
acariciándole.
—Eso sí: está más sano que una manzana, y come más que un
sabañón —dijo Sola, apretándole una nalga y dándole un palmetazo
en el cogote, para que por el chasquido de las carnazas del chiquillo
juzgase la señora de su robustez.
Parecía una madre en plena manifestación de su orgullo de tal.
Juan Jacobo miró a la señora con expresión de desvergüenza, la
cual se aumentaba con los manchurrones de su cara.
—¿Quieres mucho a esta señorita? —le preguntó la dama, dándole
un golpe con su abanico.
El muchacho, que apoyaba sus codos en las rodillas de Sola, alzó
la pierna para montarse arriba.
—No, no; fuera, fuera... —dijo Sola quitándose de encima la
preciosa carga—. No faltaba más... A fe que es chiquito el elefante
para llevarlo en brazos... Quita allá, mostrenco.
—¿Un hombre como tú no tiene vergüenza de que le coja en
brazos una mujer? —le dijo la señora riendo.
—¡Le tenemos tan mimoso...! —dijo Sola con naturalidad—. Como
es el más pequeño... Su padre está medio bobo con él, y yo...
No pudo seguir porque el muchacho, que era tan ágil como fuerte
saltó de un brinco sobre las rodillas de Sola, y echándola los brazos a
cuello, la apretó fuertemente.
—Ya ve usted... —dijo ella—, me tiene crucificada este sayón... S
le dejara, así estaría todo el día... Vaya, vaya; basta de fiestas... Sí, sí
ya sé que me quieres mucho. Haz el favor de no quererme tanto..
Abajo, abajo... ¡Qué pensará de ti esta señora! Dirá que eres un
malcriado, un niño feo...
 —No extraño que los hijos de Cordero la quieran a usted tanto... —
manifestó la dama—. ¡Es usted tan buena, y les ha criado con tanto
esmero!... Así está don Benigno tan orgulloso de usted, y así no
concluye cuando empieza a elogiarla. ¡Cómo la pone en las nubes!..
Y verdaderamente, el amigo Cordero ha encontrado una joya de
inestimable precio para su casa. Yo creo que en el caso presente e
agradecimiento le corresponde a él más bien que a usted.
Sola protestó de esta idea con exclamaciones, y también con
movimientos negativos de cabeza.
—¿Pues qué ha hecho usted sino sacrificarse? —añadió la dama
—. Bien podría vivir hoy, si lo hubiera querido, en otra posición, en otro
estado, que de seguro sería más independiente... pero dudo que fuera
más tranquilo y feliz.
—No creo que para mí pudieran existir posición ni estado mejores
que los que ahora tengo —repuso la Hormiga con sequedad.
—Verdaderamente así es, porque si no recuerdo mal, usted se
encontró después de la muerte de su señor padre, sola y abandonada
en el mundo. Me parece haber oído que alguien la protegió a usted en
aquellos días; pero como andando el tiempo, ese alguien, o se murió
o desapareció, o no quiso acordarse más de usted, el resultado es
hija mía, que su orfandad no ha tenido verdadero amparo hasta que
este angelical don Benigno la trajo a su casa. En él tiene usted un
padre cariñoso... ¡Oh!, páguele usted con un cariño de hija, y no
busque fuera de esta casa otros afectos ni otro estado de mejo
apariencia. Cuidado con casarse; no cambie usted el arrimo de este
santo varón por el de cualquier hombrecillo que no sepa comprende
su mérito.
Siguió apurando el tema la señora, y vino a parar en una filípica
contra los hombres, sin especificar si la merecían en el concepto de
maridos, o en el de novios o cortejos; pero deteniéndose de repente
se echó a reír.
—Mas usted dirá que le doy consejos sin que me los pida, y que
hablo de lo que no me importa.
—No, señora; todo lo que usted dice me parece muy puesto en
razón, y es natural que dé el consejo quien tiene la experiencia..
Estate quieto por amor de Dios, chiquillo....
 —Bien, bien —dijo la dama riendo otra vez—. En fin, señora, yo
estoy molestando a usted y quitándole el tiempo...
—De ningún modo.
Levantáronse ambas.
—Tiene una hermosa sala el amigo Cordero —indicó la señora
alargando la mano a Sola, y observando al mismo tiempo las cortinas
blancas, las rinconeras, los candeleros de plata y las plumas de pavo
real—. La parte de la casa que da a la calle me parece muy bonita..
En fin, en mí tiene usted una servidora... Adiós, hermoso, dame un
beso... ¡Ah!, ¿no sabe usted lo que me ocurre en este momento?
La señora, que ya iba en camino de la puerta, se detuvo, retrocedió
algunos pasos, y mirando a Sola fijamente, le dijo así:
—Me olvidaba de hacer a usted una pregunta.
Sola esperó, palideciendo un poco, por sentir corazonada de que la
tal pregunta iba a ser de cosa triste. Su instinto zahorí lo adivinaba
parecía leer en los ojos de la hermosa dama la pregunta misma con
todas sus palabras antes de que la primera de estas fuese
pronunciada.
—Dígame usted —preguntó la señora, afectando poco interés—
aquel caballero, aquel joven, aquel, en fin, a quien usted llamaba su
hermano, ¿dónde está?
—No lo sé, señora —replicó Sola pasando bruscamente de la
palidez al rubor—. Hace tiempo que no sé nada.
—¿Vive, o que es de él?
—No sé una palabra. Hace dos años que no me escribe... ¿Usted
sabe algo?
El rubor desapareció en ella, dejándola en su natural color y
aspecto tranquilo.
—Dos años justos hace que tampoco sé nada... Es muy particular...
Para la astuta dama no pasó inadvertida la circunstancia de que s
la joven se turbó al recibir la primera impresión de la pregunta, supo
contestar con serenidad a ella. Ya fuese por disimulo, ya porque
realmente se interesaba poco por el personaje recordado tan
bruscamente, no se afectó como la otra creía.
«O está aquí —pensó la dama— y la muy pícara lo oculta con
admirable disimulo, o si no está, no se cuida ya de él para maldita
cosa».
 —Quiero ser franca con usted —dijo después de ligera pausa, en
que la miró a los ojos como se miraría en un espejo—. Me dijeron
hace días que estuvo en Madrid y que don Benigno le había ocultado
en su casa.
—¡Aquí!... ¡Señora! —exclamó Sola echando la sorpresa por sus
ojos con tanta naturalidad que la dama no pudo menos de
sorprenderse también—. La han engañado a usted... Apuesto a que
Pipaón... ¡Ah!, ese buen don Juan miente más que habla... Todos los
días viene contando unas patrañas que nos hacen reír... En cuanto a
ese desgraciado, yo creo que no puede ocultarse aquí ni en ninguna
parte...
—¿Por qué?
—Yo tengo mis razones para creer... Sí, bien lo puedo asegurar cas
sin temor de equivocarme: mi hermano ha muerto.
Parecía que iba a llorar un poco; pero no lloró ni poco ni mucho. La
dama vaciló un momento entre la emoción y la incredulidad. Llevose e
pañuelo a la boca, como si quisiera poner a raya los suspiros que
contra todas las leyes del disimulo querían echarse fuera, y dijo esto:
—¡Válganos Dios, y cómo mata usted a la gente!... Con permiso de
usted, no creo...
¡Horrible y nunca oída algazara! Quiso el demonio, o por mejo
hablar, doña Crucita, que en el momento de decir la señora no creo, se
abriese la puerta del gabinete y diera salida a dos falderillos, un
doguito y un pachón, que, soltando a un tiempo el ladrido, atronaron la
sala, y como por la misma puerta venía el chillar de los pájaros, y
como de añadidura subían por la angosta escalera los tres chicos de
Cordero, procedentes de la escuela, se armó un barullo tal, que no lo
armara mayor la diosa misma de la jaqueca, caso de que pueda habe
tal diosa. Los perros se tiraban a acariciar a los Corderillos, los
Corderillos a los perros, y en medio del tumulto se oyó la pacífica voz
de don Benigno, que también por la escalera subía diciendo: «orden
silencio, compostura, que hay visita en casa».
Detrás de don Benigno apareció la figura de Zurbarán, a quien
llamaban padre Alelí, y con el furor que los chicos ponían en besar la
mano del padre y la correa del amigo, se aumentó el estruendo
porque los perros también querían dar pruebas de su veneración con
ladridos. Al fin, para que nada faltara, apareció doña Crucita echando
toda la culpa de la bulla a los muchachos, y les llamó perros, y a los
perros nenes, y a su hermano Borrego de Cristo, y a Sola doña Aqu
me estoy, y al buen fraile el Zancarrón de Mahoma.
—Cállate, Cruz del Mal Ladrón —dijo Alelí riendo—, y guarda
adentro toda esta jauría de Satanás... ¡Oh! Cuánto bueno por aquí. Sí
ya me ha dicho Benigno que había subido usted a ver la casa. ¿Y qué
tal? Tiene magníficas vistas nocturnas el patio, y en jardines colgantes
no le ganaría Babilonia, así como en diversidad de alimañas no le
ganaría el África entera.
La dama habló un momento de las condiciones de la casa; después
se despidió para marcharse, porque era la una, hora sacramental de la
comida.
—Un momento, señora —dijo don Benigno, ahuyentando a sus
hijos y a los perros—. Aquí tiene usted al buen Alelí con más miedo
que un masón delante de las comisiones militares. Usted, que tiene
valimiento, puede sacarle de este apuro. Figúrese usted...
—Nada, nada, señora —dijo Alelí nerviosamente, con extraordinaria
recrudescencia en el temblor de su cabeza sobre el cuello, que
parecía de alambre—. No es más sino que hace un rato se ha metido
por la puerta de mi celda un emigrado, un terrible democracio que ha
venido a España sin pedir permiso a Dios ni al diablo, y con palabras
angustiosas me ha rogado que le ampare y le esconda allí...
—¿Y qué es un democracio? —preguntó la dama riendo.
—Un perdis, un masón, un liberalote, un conspirador, un
democracio: así les llamamos.
—¿Y cuál es su nombre?
—Eso, señora —dijo Alelí con gravedad—, no lo revelaré, pues
aunque estoy decidido a no tenerle oculto más que el tiempo
necesario para que reciba contestación escrita de los que puedan o
quieran protegerle mejor, no cantaré quién es aunque me ahorquen
Confío en la discreción de todos los presentes. Bien saben que no
amparo conspiradores contra mi rey y la religión que profeso, y si a
este he amparado, hícelo porque me juró que no venía acá para arma
camorra, sino para corregirse y vivir pacíficamente, confiado en e
perdón que espera alcanzar de Su Majestad.
—¡Sabe Dios a qué vendrá mi hombre! —dijo Cordero, gozándose
en aumentar el susto de su amigo—. Me parece que de la Trinidad
Calzada van a salir sapos y culebras si Calomarde no da una vuelta
por allí.
—Yo me lavo las manos... y callandito, que estamos hablando más
de la cuenta. Benigno, a comer se ha dicho. Esta señora nos va a
acompañar a hacer penitencia.
Rehusando los obsequios e invitaciones de aquella buena gente
retirose la dama con harto dolor suyo, por no poder alcanzar el fin de
la interesante noticia que el fraile traía del convento. Por la calle iba
pensando en el desconocido que se acogía al amparo de la celda de
Alelí. Al llegar a su casa encontró a Pipaón, que la aguardaba.
—¡Necio! —exclamó, sentándose muy fatigada—. En casa de
Cordero no hay nada... Como siga usted rastreando de este modo
pronto le dedicará Calomarde a coger moscas... Pero una feliz
casualidad...
—¿Ha descubierto usted...?
—Sí, hombre; ¿qué cosa habrá que yo no descubra? Vea usted po
dónde... Déjeme usted que descanse.
—En Gracia y Justicia se sabe que continúa funcionando en
Francia, más envalentonado que nunca, el famoso Directorio
provisional del levantamiento de España contra la tiranía.
—¡Noticia fresca!
—Se sabe —añadió Pipaón dándose mucha importancia— que
constituyen el tal Directorio los patriotas, o dígase perdularios, Valdés
Sancho, Calatrava, Istúriz y Vadillo.
—Que Mendizábal es el depositario de los fondos.
—Que Lafayette les protege ocultamente y les busca dinero, y
finalmente, que han enviado a Madrid a cierto individuo con nombre
supuesto...
—El cual, o yo soy incapaz de sacramento, o está en la Trinidad
Calzada.
Pipaón abrió su boca todo lo que su boca podía abrirse, y después
de permanecer buen rato haciendo competencia a las carátulas de
mármol que de antiguo existen en los buzones del correo, repitió con
asombro:
—¡En la Trinidad Calzada!
 XI

El padre Alelí amenizó la comida con su charla, que habría sido la

más sabrosa del mundo, si por efecto de los muchos años no tuviera la
cabeza tan desvanecida y descuadernada que todo era desorden y
divagaciones en sus discursos. Sucedía que el buen señor empezaba
a contar una cosa, y sin saber cómo se escurría fuera del tema
principal, y pasando de un incidente a otro, hallábase a lo mejor a cien
leguas del punto a donde quería ir. Era hombre que antes de llegar a la
decrepitud, tuvo una memoria fresquísima y una chispa especial para
contar cosas pasadas y presentes; pero estaba ya tan débil de cascos
que de aquel recordar prodigioso y de aquel arte admirable para la
narración ya no quedaba más que una facundia deshilvanada, un
chorrear de ideas y palabras, y un grandísimo enfado si alguien le
interrumpía o intentaba llamarle al orden.
—Puesto que queréis conocer el caso del democracio que se ha
metido por las puertas de mi celda —dijo al principiar la comida—, os
lo voy a contar como se deben contar las cosas, con todos sus pelos y
señales. Empecemos por donde debe empezarse. Pues, señor..., iba
yo por la calle de Carretas arriba, y al llegar a la esquina de
Majaderitos veo que viene hacia mí un elefante con los brazos
abiertos. Era para causar espanto a cualquiera la acometida de aque
monstruo con sotana y manteo; pero yo, que conozco a mis fieras, me
dejé abrazar y le abracé también con mucho gozo. «¿Cómo va? Bien
¿y tú, gigantón?...». En fin, para no cansar, era Juan Nicasio Gallego
Ya sabéis que fue discípulo mío en Salamanca, donde leí sagrados
cánones por los años de 792 a 794. Era entonces Nicasio el jayán más
guapote que había salido de la tierra del garbanzo; sus disposiciones
eran grandes, tan grandes como su pereza, y hubiéramos tenido en é
un acabado canonista si no cayera en la tentación de enamorarse de
Horacio y Virgilio, fomentadores de la holgazanería. El bribón de
Meléndez le tomó mucho cariño, y lo mismo el calzonazos de Iglesias
que fabricó su reputación con chascarrillos... Yo digo que si Iglesias no
se llega a morir a los treinta y ocho años, hubiera puesto el Breviario
en epigramas... Pero sigo contando con orden. Quedamos en que una
tarde paseábamos por el Zurguén el maestro Peláez, Meléndez
Gallego y yo. Por aquellos días había venido la noticia de la
degollación de Luis XVI, y estábamos consternados, muy
consternados, atrozmente consternados. A mí no me digan, ¿hay en la
historia antigua ni moderna un crimen tan atroz?...
—Por vida de Sancho Panza —dijo don Benigno riendo—, que eso
se parece al cuento del hidalgo y el labrador... ¿A dónde va usted a
parar con sus divagaciones, ni qué tiene que ver Luis XVI con el poeta
zamorano?...
—Allá voy, hombre, allá voy —replicó Alelí muy amostazado—. Yo
sé lo que cuento y no necesito de apuntadores.
—Sepamos ante todo lo que le dijo Gallego en la esquina de
Majaderitos, si es que esto tiene algo que ver con el cuento de
democracio.
—Seguramente tiene que ver. Gallego es también un grande y
descomedido democracio, y a eso iba... Pues me contó Juan Nicasio
cómo le está engañando Calomarde, fingiéndole protección, y cómo e
rey le ha prometido no sé cuántas prebendas sin darle ninguna
Además, el hombre está temblando porque le han delatado po
francmasón, y bien sabemos todos que el año 8 fue empleado de los
liberales en Cádiz, y el año 10 diputado en las pestíferas Cortes.
—Eso de pestíferas no pasa —exclamó Cordero, dando un golpe
en la mesa con el mango del tenedor—. Repórtese el fraile o se sabrá
quién es Calleja.
—Vete con dos mil demonios.
—Siga el cuento.
—Sigo, y no interrumpirme.
—Pero cuidado con echar por los cerros de Úbeda.
—Que diga Sola si voy mal.
—Va admirablemente —replicó ella sonriendo—. Eso se llama
contar bien, y no falta sino saber lo que dijo ese señor gallego o
asturiano.
 —Pues dijo que está empleado en la biblioteca del duque de Frías
y que hace poco le fueron a prender por revoltoso, y equivocándose
los de policía, en vez de cogerle a él, cogieron al archivero y le
plantaron en la cárcel. Cuando el rey lo supo se rio mucho, y dijo a
Calomarde: Tan malos sois como tontos. Después, Gallego fue a ver a
rey, y como este tiene debilidad por los poetas... Ya sabéis cuánto se
entusiasma con Moratín. ¡Ah!, hace dos años que murió ese buen
hombre, y yo me acuerdo, como si fuera de ayer, de haberle visto
trabajando en la platería de su tío el joyero del rey. Creo haberos
contado que Moratín tuvo una novia, una tal doña Paquita, hija de la
dueña de la casa donde vivía Mustafá. Ya sabéis que así llamábamos
al pobre Juan Antonio Conde, por ser escritor de cosas de moros.
—Nos lo ha contado unas doscientas veces —dijo Cordero al oído
de Sola.
—No sabíamos eso —añadió esta en voz alta, para no desanimar a
bondadoso fraile—. ¿Conque Moratín...?
—Sí, hija mía: estuvo enamorado de esa doña Paquita, habitante
en la calle de Valverde con su madre, la señora doña María Ortiz, que
fue el pintiparado modelo de la saladísima doña Irene de El sí de las
niñas. Moratín ya no era mozo, y doña Paquita apenas tendría los
dieciocho años, es decir, que con veinte de por medio entre los dos
¡qué había de suceder...! Leandro, enamorado como suelen estarlo los
machuchos que se reverdecen, la niña afectando acceder por timidez
por hipocresía o por agradecimiento, hasta que vino el desengaño, un
desengaño cruel, horrible...
—¡Barástolis...! Señor don Plomo —exclamó Cordero con repentino
enfado—, que estamos hartos de oírle contar lo de Moratín y doña
Paquita. ¿Qué tiene eso que ver ni con el amigo que encontró en
Majaderitos, ni menos con el democracio que está escondido en la
Trinidad?
—A ello voy, a ello voy, señor don Azogue —replicó Alel
enojándose también—. Pues qué, ¿no se han de contar los
antecedentes de los sucesos? Precisamente iba a decir que en e
momento de despedirme de Gallego acertó a pasar ese muchacho
americano, Veguita, un enredadorzuelo que dio que hablar cuando
aquella barrabasada de los Numantinos, y fue castigado con dos
meses de encierro en nuestra casa para que le enseñáramos la
doctrina. El tal es de buena pasta. Pronto le tomamos afición. Cantaba
con nosotros en el coro y rezaba las horas. Yo le daba golosinas y le
hacía leer y traducir autores latinos, y él me leía sus versos o me
representaba trozos de comedias. Esto lo hace tan perfectamente, que
si mucho tiene de poeta, más tiene de cómico. Yo le animaba para que
abandonase el mundo y entrase en la Orden... ¡Oh, amigos míos!..
¡Cuando uno considera que en nuestra Orden vivió y murió el primero
de los predicadores del mundo, fray Hortensio Paravicino, cuya celda
ocupo en la actualidad...!
—Que te descarrías, que te pierdes —dijo riendo don Benigno—
Por Dios, querido padre mío, ya está usted otra vez a setecientas
leguas de su cuento.
—Iba diciendo que Ventura me besó las manos, y después se las
besó al padre de la Constitución, que así llama a Gallego la gente
apostólica, y de esta manera le calificó en su infame delación e
religioso agonizante fray José María Díaz y Jiménez, a quien nuestro
soberano llama el número uno de los podencos, por lo bien que huele
rastrea, señala y acusa toda conspiración de esos tontainas de
liberales. No sé si os he dicho que, según confesión del buen elefante
zamorano, Calomarde le odia más que a un tabardillo pintado, y si no
fuera porque don Miguel Grijalva, amigo mío y de Nicasio, vio a Su
Majestad y le llevó aquel famoso soneto que hizo Gallego cuando la
reina estaba de parto...
—Al grano, al grano, que eso, más que referir sucedidos, es marea
a Cristo.
—Un poquitín de paciencia, señores. Yo decía que se llegó a
nosotros Veguita, a quien, después del encarcelamiento en nuestra
casa, yo no había visto más que dos veces, una en casa de
Norzagaray cuando él y sus amigos ensayaban la comedia de Zabala
Faustina y Gerwal, y otra en la Puerta del Sol cuando le llevaban preso
por tener la audacia de dejarse las melenas largas, al uso masónico
Por cierto que ese atrevidillo se ha dejado crecer un bigote que no hay
más que ver, y con aquellos precoces pelos insulta públicamente a la
gente que manda, y hace descarado alarde de liberalismo... En una
palabra, queridos: Venturilla y Gallego empezaron a hablar del censo
de teatros, reverendo padre Carrillo, y excuso deciros que le pusieron
como siete caños porque no deja resollar a los autores. Después..., y
aquí entra lo principal de mi cuento...
—Gracias a Dios... Aleluya.
 —Pues Veguita dijo una cosa al oído de Gallego..., y después
acercose a mí poniéndose de puntillas, porque él es muy pequeño y yo
más que regularmente alto, y me dijo también cuatro palabras al oído.
—¿Qué? —preguntó con mucha curiosidad Cordero.
—¡Pues no faltaba más sino que os fuera a revelar lo que se me
confió como un secreto!
 XII

—¡Barástolis!, que estamos enterados —dijo Cordero comiéndose

las últimas almendras del postre.
Pero el famoso Alelí no paró mientes en estas palabras, y empezó a
rezar en acción de gracias por la comida. Poco después se habían
levantado los manteles, y los muchachos, bien fregoteadas las manos
y la boca, tornaron a la escuela. Don Benigno, que acostumbraba
dormir muy breve siesta, la suprimió aquel día y bajó sin demora a la
tienda, porque la comida había sido más larga que de ordinario. Doña
Crucita, que no podía pasarse sin su regalado sueño de dos o tres
horas, se fue a su cuarto, llevando en un plato las golosinas con que
solía obsequiar en tal hora a sus queridas alimañas, y tras ella se fue
Juan Jacobo, con el sombrero del padre Alelí encajado en la cabeza
hasta tocar los hombros, y en la mano un látigo que él mismo había
hecho con una orilla de paño amarrada al mango roto de un molinillo
de chocolate. Alelí buscó el blando acomodo de un sillón que en e
testero del comedor estaba, y que parecía decir dormid en mí con la
suave hondura de su asiento, la inclinación de su viejo respaldo
gordinflón y la curva de sus cariñosos brazos. Allí dormía antaño la
siesta doña Robustiana, y allí solía hacer sus digestiones el buen Alelí
las cuales no eran difíciles, por ser él la sobriedad misma.
Para mayor comodidad, Sola le ponía delante una silla para que
estirase las piernas, y tras de la cabeza una mofletuda almohada de su
propia cama, con lo que el padre estaba tan bien que ni en la misma
gloria. Aquella tarde, cuando Sola trajo silla y almohada, el fraile le
tomó una mano, y mirándola con sus ojos soñolientos, le dijo:
—Cordera...
Sonriendo como la misma bondad sonreiría, Sola acomodó en la
almohada la venerable cabeza, que parecía la de un santo, y dijo así:
 —¿Qué me quiere su reverencia?
—Cordera —murmuró el fraile sonriendo también como un
bienaventurado—, vete al cuarto de Benigno, y en el chaquetón
bolsillo de la izquierda... ¿entiendes?
—Sí, un cigarrito.
—Se me olvidó pedírselo antes que bajara...
Ni medio minuto tardó la joven en traer el cigarrito, y con él la
lumbre para encenderlo.
—Es que quiero echar una fumada para despabilarme, porque
desearía no dormir siesta... ¿entiendes, paloma?
Como el fraile estaba con la cabeza echada atrás, en la más blanda
y cómoda postura que pueden apetecer humanos huesos, Sola no
quiso que se incorporase, y ella misma le encendió el cigarro en e
braserillo, no siendo aquella la primera vez que tal cosa hacía. Chupó
un poco con la inhabilidad que en tal caso es propia de mujeres (como
no sean hombrunas), y cuando logró hacer ascua de tabaco, no sin
perder mucha saliva, presentó el cigarro a su amigo, cerrando los ojos
por el picor que el humo le causaba en ellos.
—Gracias, gracias, serafín de esta casa. Comprendo muy bien que
ese santo varón... Pues, hija de mi alma, quiero despabilarme con este
cigarrito, porque necesito hablarte de una cosa grave, delicada, digo
mal, archidelicadísima.
A Sola le pasó una nube por la frente, quiero decir que se puso
seria y pensativa.
—Tiempo hay de hablar todo lo que se quiera —dijo, inclinada
sobre uno de los brazos del sillón en que el religioso estaba—
Duerma su reverencia.
—Bueno, hijita; con tal que me llames a las tres y media...
—Eso es poco. A las cinco.
—No, no. Si me duermo, no podré hablarte del susodicho negocio, y
lo he prometido, cordera, he prometido que esta tarde misma...
Esto decía, cuando llegó un corpulento y bellísimo gato, que solía
echar sus dormidas en el mismo sillón donde estaba Alelí; y viendo
ocupado aquel lugar delicioso, dio algunas vueltas por delante con
rostro lastimero. Al fin, discurriendo que había sitio para todos, subió a
regazo del fraile, y como encontrara agasajo, se enroscó y se echó a
dormir como un bendito.
 A poco de esto oyose un ruido estrepitoso, y fue que Juanito
Jacobo había cogido una bandeja de latón vieja, que olvidada estaba
en la despensa, y venía batiendo generala sobre ella con el palo de
molinillo, tan fuertemente que habría puesto en pie, con el estrépito
que hacía, a los siete durmientes. Acudió Sola y le trajo prisionero po
un brazo.
—¡Condenado chico! ¿No sabes que está tu tía durmiendo la
siesta?... Ven acá: suelta eso... Ya, ya es tiempo de que tu padre te
mande a la amiga... Ríñale, padre Alelí. No se le puede aguantar
Cuando el señorito está de vena, parece que hay un ejército en la
casa.
Diciendo esto, Sola le iba quitando sombrero, bandeja y palo, y
después de sentarse le acercó a sí y le acarició, pasando suavemente
su mano por los hermosos cabellos del niño.
—Si mete bulla —dijo Alelí acariciando también con su mano los
rizos—, no le traeré a mi señor don Juan Jacobo las hostias que le
prometí, ni las velitas de cera, ni el San Miguel de alcorza... Pues te
decía, hija, que ahora vamos a hablar los dos de un asunto
superlativamente delicado... Mira, vuelve al chaquetón de Benigno y
traeme otro cigarrito, o mejor dos.
Sola hizo lo que le mandaba el reverendo, y se volvió a sentar
aguardando el delicado asunto que manifestarle quería. Durante un
rato no pequeño, los dos estuvieron callados, y Alelí fijaba sus ojos en
el reloj, que era de los antiguos con las pesas colgando al descubierto
La péndula se paseaba lenta y solemnemente en el breve espacio que
las leyes de la gravedad y las de la mecánica le señalan, y as
marcaba con el tono más severo el compás de la vida. Sola, por mira
algo, y el mirar es acto preciso a las meditaciones, contemplaba La
Creación, gran lámina que con otra representando el monumento de la
catedral de Toledo, decoraba artísticamente el comedor. En la primera
estaban nuestros primeros padres en el traje que es de suponer, en
medio de un fértil país poblado de todas suertes de animales
recibiendo la bendición del Padre Eterno, que, muy barbado y envuelto
en una especie de capote, se asomaba por un balcón de nubes.
—¡Qué buenos cigarros tiene Benigno! —dijo Alelí, que al fin había
encontrado la fórmula del exordio—. Pero mejor que sus cigarros es é
mismo. Te digo con toda verdad que yo he visto muchos hombres
buenos; pero ninguno como nuestro Benigno. Es el corazón más puro
y la voluntad más cristiana que he conocido en mi larga vida; es
incapaz de hacer nada malo, y capaz de las bondades más
extraordinarias. Su razón es firme, sus sentimientos generosos, su
vida la carrera del bien. No aborrece a nadie, y cuando quiere, quiere
con toda su alma. Tiene un carácter entero para hacer frente a las
adversidades, y en las bienandanzas no puede vivir contento si no
distribuye su ventura entre los que le rodean, quedándose él con la
absolutamente precisa para no ser desventurado. Si tú nos oyes
diciéndonos majaderías, es por lo mucho que nos queremos. Él me
llama Tío Engarza-Credos, y yo le llamo Don Leño o Chirivitas, y as
nos reímos. Eso sí, en ideas políticas somos, como quien dice, el toma
y el daca, lo más opuesto que puede existir; pero estos arrumacos de
la política no han de tocar, no, a las cosas del alma ni a la amistad..
Porque yo digo, ¿qué me importa que Benigno tenga la manía de lee
a ese perdido hereje de Rousseau, si por eso no deja de ser buen
cristiano y de obedecer a la Iglesia en todo?... Viva Benigno, y viva con
su pepita, es decir, con su Emilio y su Contrato social, que así me
cuido yo de estas cosas como de los que ahora se están afeitando en
la luna... No creas tú, los padres del convento me critican por esta
tolerancia mía, y yo les contesto: «vale más un amigo en la mano que
cien teorías volando». Mi carácter es así; en burlas disputo y machaco
como todos los españoles; pero antes que tronos y repúblicas, antes
que congresos y horcas, está el corazón... ¡Cómo me reí una tarde
hablando de esto! Paseaba yo a eso de las cinco por Atocha con dos
hombres de ideas contrarias, don José Somoza, liberal, poeta, hombre
ameno, dulce y cabal si los hay, y don Juan Bautista Erro, absolutista
siempre, ahora apostólico vergonzante. Pues, señor...
—Paréceme —dijo Sola, cortando la digresión— que se resbala
usted, como dice don Benigno. Ya está sabe Dios a cuántas leguas de
lo que me estaba contando...
—¡Ah! Sí, perdona, hija..., me distraje. Te decía que ese bendito
juan-jacobesco es el mejor tragador de pan y garbanzos que he
conocido, y que ahora ha dado en la flor de querer casarse...
—¡Casarse! —exclamó Sola poniéndose encarnada.
—¿Te asombras, hija?... Más me asombré yo... No, no; no me
asombré: al contrario, me pareció muy natural. Le conviene por mi
razones; y ahora te pregunto yo: cuando Benigno tome estado, ¿no
será para ti un gran motivo de amargura el salir de esta casa, donde