Spanish security, p.11
Spanish Security, page 11
"So why is Malik scared of your dad?"
"He doesn’t want to disappoint him."
"Sounds like kidnapping might win him brownie points."
"Brownie points? What are those?"
Katrin sat up with a very thoughtful look on her face. "How do your mother and Malik ... and Malik's mother get along?"
Santiago smiled. "Ahh, the question comes."
"Well, at some point—Leyla, right?—had to have told your father about Malik. Was he married to your mother by then?"
"She did tell him, but it was on her death bed. Long after both he and she were married to other people."
"Oh."
"I did say it was complicated."
"Yes, you did. So how is it also simple?"
"My father loved my mother. He made her his wife. Forever. Nothing would change that. Simple."
"Simple," she repeated blandly.
"Yes. There was no complication in that part."
Katrin shook her head. "So, how is Malik royalty?"
"Leyla was distant Jordanian royalty, not in line for the throne but important still. When she died and everyone learned her secret, her widowed husband sent Malik away, here. He was six years old. After the shock and screaming died down, my mother couldn’t believe my father knew nothing all along. Eventually, she accepted his ignorance, as well as Malik's presence in their life." Santiago chuckled. "But before that time came, my father secretly hired three men to become my mother's hidden shadows."
"He thought she'd leave him again?"
"Yes, his worst fear."
"Interesting." Katrin tilted her head. "So, Malik is a half Basque, half Jordanian royalty, half love child?"
"That’s too many halves."
She grimmaced. "I’m feeling like I have to forgive him now—a story like that—had to have been tough for him."
Santiago pulled her back down to his body. "We all have a story."
"Wonder if Molly knows all this."
"Of course she does, though she still does not want to live in Jordan. My father says she is just how my mother once was. He believes that once she is there, her love for Malik will allow her to stay."
Katrin narrowed her eyes. "More like the army of guards he and Malik will hire will detain her."
Santiago raised an eyebrow. "You are learning."
"That isn’t funny. Let's get something straight here. Once Molly arrives, she has to be free to leave with Tariq to go wherever she wants. That’s non-negotiable. I won’t be a party to another kidnapping."
"You are certainly partial to that ugly word." Santiago shook his head. "However, whatever happens will be between Molly and Malik. Neither of us can interfere." He kissed the top of her head.
"Ah, no it won’t. It will be between—"
He turned her head and quieted her oncoming tirade with another heated kiss. "Them." He lifted his mouth after she softened. "As whatever happens between us, will be between us. Nobody else will interfere."
"Uh-huh." Katrin rested her hand on his chest and laid her head into his shoulder. He frowned at the placid expression on her face. That was too easy, his mind whispered in warning.
An hour later, Santiago pushed aside the unsigned contracts and acquisition documents he’d been reading as the car glided to a stop in front of his Donostia flagship office. His great-great-grandfather, Gorka Ibarra, had once used this cornerstone office as a tool shed for his longboat construction. His great-great-grandmother, Espe, built up the surrounding space into a commercial office hub after she took over the business side of her husband's boat-building business. Gorka was a superior craftsman and had learned to make ships from their seafaring descendants, but he was no salesman. He only dealt in traditional barter, much to his wife’s impatience. Having twelve mouths to feed at home, their oldest boys learning the trade from their father, Espe couldn't afford the time with her husband's old-fashioned benevolence toward commerce and had no qualms about making money from her husband and son's ship making skills.
When Santiago’s father groomed him to take over Ibarra Holdings, Santiago marveled at how Espe had used rudimentary accounting, collective community skills, and creative genius to move the family from crafting simple longboats for the early Basque whalers to building gigantic warships for the Spanish Armada.
He looked down at where Katrin slept on his arm. The ride from his villa to Donostia took several hours, but today had been far too swift. He could have travelled with her for a lifetime, talking and laughing and now with her sleeping comfortably against him. This was his idea of heaven.
He leaned down and gently kissed her forehead, her skin smooth and untouched beneath his. "We have arrived," he said against her brow. "Your Donostia adventure waits." He looked at the crush of tourists and natives that filled the uneven cobblestone sidewalks, going in and out of the old town shops, restaurants and cafes. It was late afternoon in the old capital city, time for everyone to seek out pintxos. Santiago scanned the open-air bars and patios, every table full of people seeking sun refuge beneath the brightly coloured umbrellas.
To Katrin, Donostia would seem what it was, a beautiful beachside town with meandering people crossing the main roadway to the promenade that ran along the city's famous stretch of white beach, packed with swimmers and sunbathers. To him, this was home. Very Basque with the old and the new worlds moving together with reluctant careful steps.
"Did I fall asleep?" Katrin's yawned and blinked awake.
Santiago looked from the stone and steel gothic buildings to the woman in his lap as she slowly stared around the car. "I don't believe it, are we finally here?" She looked past him to the people and stone buildings that lined the sidewalk, seeming to read each of the hanging signs over the many shops and business doors. "Is this your office?" She peered at the Ibarra Holdings open iron gated doors, people strolling in and out of the courtyard. "Not at all what I expected."
He raised an eyebrow. "What did you expect?"
"I don't know," she shrugged leaning toward the window. "Trump Tower gone gothic or something," She looked up at him then back toward the busy sidewalk. "It's beautiful. Not very business district-like at all." She looked through the back window at the stretch of one of the more famous urban beaches. "Is that the beach ... and a statue of Christ?" She almost pressed her nose against the glass. "Kind of feels like Rio de Janeiro; mind you I've never been there but I've seen photos." She smiled and put her hand on the window.
"Thank you, I think." Sebastien shook his head and leaned to the back window also, taking in the distant view of Urgull, the hill beside the bay. Once a military stronghold, the Mota Castle housed the cathedral where the twelve-foot estate towered over the city.
"Buildings here are very old, most have to be constantly restored from centuries of wear and being so close to the salt of the sea. We've had the Spanish, Romans, Moors and Christians all come through her to access the Atlantic, each of them leaving their own indelible mark on our landscape."
"There are so many people out there. The beach is packed. Standing room only!"
He couldn't help smiling at the way Katrin studied the green hillside, beach, and boardwalk and then the multiple gothic-style buildings that lined the bay. "And look at all the boats!" She pointed at the glass and turned to him with childlike excitement in her eyes. "Can we go out in one? Just once? You can take some time off, right?"
He chuckled and gathered his files and papers into his briefcase before giving a sharp knock on the partition glass. "Come for a better look." He reached for her hand when Miguel came around and opened the back door.
Katrin jumped out and stared around and up at the buildings, transfixed on the cobblestones as the noonday crowd strolled around her like she was a rock in a stream. Santiago slid his arm possessively around her waist and whispered in her ear. "Welcome to Donostia. Your family's home."
Chapter NINE
"I'm in a time warp." Katherine stared up at the mix of gothic and Queen Ann style buildings that lined the stone sidewalk of Old Town. Each structure was a piece of art, ornately carved with thinly paned windows and wrought-iron balconies on every floor. Some were coloured a forbidding brown or bright whitewashed stone; others were more of a flat gray, but each one had vibrant splashes of colours in their awnings or window boxed gardens with bright red or yellow bunches of flowers.
"How old are those buildings?" She studied the pointed roof topped structures on the far side of the Bay, feeling like she stood in the middle of a blended modern metropolis and an ancient Greek market place all at once. "Are they apartments or businesses or mosques?"
"All of the above." Santiago followed her gaze then spoke to Miguel before the other man returned to the car. She was going to have to explore the inside of all these buildings before she left. Her guiltiest pleasure back home was to go to old estate open houses and antique sales in turn of the century homes. She loved to be able to peruse the classic architecture and escape into history, imagining what her life would have been like living in another time and place. A frivolous waste of time, according to Jon, but an indulged private pleasure for her.
"I would love to go out and see that island." She turned and watched one the ferries leave the crowded dock in front of the buildings and chug out through the bay.
"We will then," Santiago assured her, placing a hand on her lower back.
She couldn't stop smiling up at him.
"Shall we go in?" He nodded at the brown brick building ahead of them. From the open gates that people strolled through, packages and plates of food in hand, it stood six stories from the cobblestones she stood on. "My businesses are run from the first three floors," he gestured up to the set of arched windows and curved iron balconies above their head. "Some of my staff maintain apartments on the fourth and fifth floors, my place is at the top for when I finish late and do not want to drive to the hotel."
"Hotel?"
"Yes. We have several Ibbara Hotels throughout the Mediterranean. The Plaza is our flagship location but it is further in town. There is an apartment on the top floor, where I entertain..." he stopped talking.
She scowled. "Women?"
He stretched out his hand. "Come. Let us go inside."
Katherine pursed her lips and returned her attention to the bustling street behind her before she looked longingly over the beach and water.
"Do not worry," Santiago chuckled. "I will see that you get to explore everything Donostia has to offer."
"Hmm," she looked back at him. "Think I'd like to see this flagship hotel actually." She mumbled, wondering exactly how many women he entertained there. She frowned at the arched doorway to his office. "1805?" She read the bold black letters carved into the archway stones. Ibarra Donostia. 1805.
"Yes. My family helped to rebuild the city after Napoleon finally went home. The carving was a thank you to mark the effort."
Katherine followed Santiago through the breezy archway into a busy courtyard.
"We call this the office square."
Katherine looked up from the low spouting water fountain grounded into a cluster of stones, a group of young children throwing coins through the streams, up to the square mezzanines that overlooked the entire arcade. "I can see why." She picked up on some of the conversations going on around her, few in English, most in Spanish or Basque. A child's peal of laughter rang out as the children switched from throwing coins to chasing each other through the water's spray. The people who sat at the tables around the fountain didn't even lift their eyes to the frolicking children and sudden shouts of joyful noise, they just drank their coffee, talked on cell phones or tapped on tablets while the children played.
"Shouldn't those kids be in school?" Katherine smiled at the way the children carelessly tossed more coins before chasing them and each other into the water.
Santiago shrugged as they walked through a market and stopped at an iron caged outdoor elevator. "I believe it is another holiday or some such thing. Children are always welcome to play."
Miguel appeared beside them, luggage in hand, and pushed the elevator's call button.
Katherine thought of Tariq. "I hope he's okay."
Santiago took her hand as the elevator door opened and they stepped inside. "I am sure my nephew is fine. We will call once upstairs if that will put your mind at ease." He punched a series of numbers into the button pad.
Katherine watched the market place drift down below her feet as they rose upwards. She realized she was no longer worried about Tariq's safety, only that he was emotionally settled with her being gone. She was in the middle of deciding what that meant when the elevator door opened to a first-class panoramic view of the Bay. "Wow." She stood blinking in the elevator doorway until Santiago nudged her into the room. They weren't that far up, just six floors, but her eyes could skim rooftops and the picturesque skyline before being drawn to the blue expanse of the sea.
"You approve of the view?"
She gaped up at Santiago. "What's not to approve of? It's spectacular."
He nodded at Miguel who left the bags in the middle of the room before returning to the elevator. "It is all an open concept. You should be able to find everything with ease. Kitchen, dining room, sitting area, washrooms" Santiago nodded and pointed out the very opulent spaces, separated by simple, dark wood furniture and thick area rugs. The rich hues of colours mixed with the polished wood made everything very masculine with a quaint urban artistic style.
She immediately loved the leather chaise beneath the windows. "Somehow, I can't see you laying on that."
"My mother's idea," he shrugged. "She updated the decorating in here a few years ago. The bedroom is around this corner, as well as the shower and sauna."
Katherine looked at the sliding glass doors at the other end of the restaurant-style kitchen. "Does that lead outside?"
"In a way." Santiago took her hand and led her to the frosted sliding doors. They stepped out into a waist-high stone veranda that overlooked the marketplace five stories below. Street noise, talking, the children's continued laughter, and the smell of fresh coffee and baked bread filled the air.
"This is really something." Katherine stepped around the patio café table and chairs to get a better look at the view. Sure enough, there was the market they had just walked through. People coming and going between the shops, the fountain and children, the café tables and chairs all occupied. "Amazing. Seriously. Who built this place?" She looked upward to the open-air roof and fluffy white clouds that drifted by.
Santiago leaned against the veranda's stone wall. "My great-great-grandmother oversaw its construction. The common area below was once used for horses, a go-through to the stalls in the back. Work carts and trolleys were loaded up there before being brought out to the street." He nodded toward the Bay. "Shipyards and the port covered most of this area back then."
Katherine looked back through the kitchen to the bay scene outside the window. "Of course." It only made sense. The area did remind her of a busy port with the movement of people and bustle of activity on the street. The waterfront shops that lined the street before giving way to the long boardwalk that stretched the length and curve of the beach made it easy to imagine the whole area as a traditional seaport with ships in the distance and men unloading cargo from ones that were docked. She could see old-world taverns in place of the existing cafes, and comfortable low-rise inns where the taller hotels now stood.
"Katrin," Santiago's voice came dark and quiet across the patio. She turned to see him watching her intently, and a flutter of excitement niggled at her tummy at the possessive look that had crept into his eyes.
"Come." He barely nodded as a summons.
She looked at his outstretched hand and hesitantly crossed the small space to where he stood. Before she could ask what was wrong, he pulled her against him, his mouth immediately on hers, drawing her into a long kiss that curled her toes, and had her breathless in seconds.
When he finally lifted his mouth, reluctantly letting her lips stray from his, she stared up at him, her palm splayed on his hard chest, his firm muscles expanding beneath her fingers, the rest of his body, especially his hips were rigid where they pressed against her stomach and soft thighs. "What was that for?" He shifted, bringing them impossibly closer together, and her womanhood heated in response.
"I like having you here." He traced a finger down her cheek then kissed her again, this time with an intense focus that made everything else around them fall away. He spread his hands around her bottom and lifted her further into his body. "I do not want you to go anywhere. I must go down to the offices for a few hours but will return before dinner. If you can be patient, I will not be long, and we can have pintxos before dinner."
His mouth was intoxicating and made her heady with want and easy agreement. "Of course," she replied, still breathless. "I know you're here for business. I won't get in the way."
"You are never in the way." He leaned down and took her mouth again in another long, heated kiss before he lifted and ran his thumb over her bottom lip. "Your arrival has been a gift. An awakening."
Excitement flared and swamped her senses from where his lips conquered hers down to her lady parts, now steeped in heightened sensation. Everything inside of her was alive, her curiosity and anticipation, her dormant sexuality and intrinsic yearning clamored to be set free. She pressed her firm nipples into Santiago's body and kissed him back in a burst of wanting. When he teased her with his tongue, she brazenly chased his into his mouth with a groan.
"Katrin," he whispered then sank down to one of the café chairs, tugging her with him so she straddled his lap, her airy skirt bunching around her waist. He held her hip down with one hand and ran his other one over the hard peaks of her breasts. She arched into his palm and rolled her hips against his, the natural pull to stroke herself against his manhood, magnetic.
