Page 76 of His to Bedevil

When we roll into what Alejo referred to as Havana Vieja, which is Old Havana, I see several guards already lining the streets. Once the onlookers see our car, they begin waving and practically cheering as if Alejo is some sort of celebrity or savior. I look at Alejo, and his face is very solemn. His mask in place. “Is all this for you?” I ask quietly.

He stops the car and puts it in park. I’m too stunned to move when he gets out then rounds the car to my side and opens the door for me. I unclick my seat belt and take his offered hand to get out. A bunch of people are staring and still calling out to him and to… me. “Señor Martinez! Señora Martinez! Hermosa esposa! Felicidades!”

None of them approach us though, I guess because of the guards in place and the guards surrounding us. “To answer your question,mi amor,” Alejo says closely to my ear as he leads me down the street with his hand on my lower back. “Yes. This is all for us.”

“Do you always have so many men with you? And why are they all shouting at us like we’re celebrities?”

“No, but since I have you with me, I need more men with us to ease my mind. And I am sort of a celebrity here in Cuba. Mainly Havana. My family is very well-known. Most surrounding cities would not thrive without us. We’ve provided jobs for many families, and we keep the streets safe.”

I look up at him and study his face. He’s such an enigma. Every time I think I’ve figured him out, he surprises me. I expected everyone to cower in fear, but not only do they worship him, they also respect him. He isn’t the scary mobster to the people of this city, he’s venerable.

We reach a busier part of the town where I hear music coming from every direction, more classic cars parked diagonally in a line, and people moving in and out of bars and restaurants with smiles on their faces. You can tell a lot of them are tourists, not only by their skin color, but also because they don’t seem to know who we are, but they stare at us, trying to figure out why we’re getting all this attention.

I’m enjoying this day more than I did our wedding. Hearing authentic salsa music and eating authentic Cuban cuisine. Sipping on mojitos and Cuban rum rather than champagne. Alejo isn’t worried about talking to anyone other than me. Everyone who I guess is local says some kind of greeting to Alejo, and they never look disappointed or offended when he doesn’t even acknowledge them. And I’m glad because most of his time today would be spent talking to hundreds of people, and it’s nice to have all of his attention. Only when we are tucked away inside a shop or restaurant does he soften his features for me.

The entire day is like something out of a dream. We do everything I imagined doing when I visited here, only I’m not doing it alone.

We’re sitting outside of a little café near the Plaza Vieja, where the colorful buildings reside. The restored buildings and their eclectic colors. More classic cars and more tourists. It’s everything I envisioned and more. “It’s not so bad experiencing something new with someone else,” I muse as we sit there sipping iced coffee.

“Oh, yeah? Are you saying you’re enjoying my company?” He sips his drink. It’s funny how predictable he can be sometimes. I’ve learned to correlate what he drinks to what kind of mood he’s in. He’s not much of a drinker, but when he’s super stressed, he enjoys some good whiskey, with dinner usually wine, when he’s irritated, back to fancy whiskey, when he’s being playful or relaxed, it’s rum, but I haven’t once seen him drink a beer since that one time he ordered one from me on his yacht.

Gazing at his beautifully tanned face and handsome smile, I feel my cheeks heat. I should definitely lay off the alcohol myself today. Especially after last night. I’m a bit of a lovey-dovey kind of drunk. “I’m saying it’s not so bad,” I tease with a grin.

“Well, you’ll never have to be alone again,mi amor.” He lowers his voice, and I have to look away. I can’t let him see that hearing him say I’ll never have to be alone again rattles my heart around in its cage. I’ve always been okay with being alone because I was used to it and had long since accepted it. I forgot how nice it is to have someone, and I never knew how nice it would be to share your life with someone else. Someone to eat meals with, have pillow talk with, have inside jokes with, have a routine with.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Ask me anything, my love.”

“Why’d you order a beer on the yacht?” His lips twitch. “Since then, that’s been the one and only beer I’ve ever seen you drink.”

He leans forward and places his elbows casually on top of the table, and I find myself doing the same. “I can’t be giving away all my secrets, now can I?” He smiles and tucks some of my hair behind my ear.

“Oh, come on. Tell me.” He leans back in his chair, trying not to grin, and takes a sip of his drink, shaking his head. “Did it have anything to do with me?”

“It had everything to do with you,mi amor,” he says quietly, and I reluctantly let it go. I can’t help but think it was because I made him nervous or threw him off somehow. That I affected him the way he has affected me ever since.

The sun has long set, and we’re exiting a restaurant when I see a bunch of people dancing to salsa, and it automatically reminds me of Mama. “Do you salsa, Alejo?”

He gives me a small smile. Almost a sad one. “Not in public,mi esposa.”

I arch an eyebrow. “Is it because you’re that bad, or are you afraid it will ruin your image?” I taunt him.

He bites back a grin and leans into my ear. “Don’t tell me my moves back in Little Havana are that forgettable,” he rumbles.

I bite down on my bottom lip, holding back a grin of my own. I definitely remember the way our hips moved together and how his hands were all over me. “So, it’s about your image, then.” I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t disappointed. I’ve always imagined myself dancing in the streets of Havana pressed up against a beautiful Cuban man, twirling around and around to authentic salsa music.

“What would they think of the ruthless mob boss dancing around in the streets?”

My smile fades, and I sigh. “I guess you wouldn’t seem so scary after all,” I answer, feeling a bit deflated.

I can feel his eyes weighing heavy on me as we make our way down the street, especially as we pass by all the dancing. I chance a glance up at him, and I find him watching them too, with a sense of longing faintly on his features. Does he wish he could for one moment just do something he wants to do without worrying about what anyone might think? From the looks of it, yes. In a way, he, too, is a prisoner. A prisoner to the life he was born into and expected to continue.

Alejo tears his eyes away and looks forward. His hand goes from my lower back to lacing his fingers with mine. Bringing our joined hands up to his mouth, he kisses the back of my hand. “Did you enjoy yourself today,mi amor?”

I smile and nod my head. “I did. Thank you so much, Alejo.”

Alejandro

---