Under the Spanish Stars Read Online Free Page B

‘It is not necessary to be so defensive.’
    â€˜I’m not.’ She narrowed her eyes, aware her actions were most definitely defensive. Making an effort to change her tone, she said, ‘Professor Fonseca said you could help me find the Giménez clan. I’m happy to pay for your time if you wish.’
    Mateo’s body stiffened and he stared at her just long enough for her to realise she may have hit a raw nerve and this quest could be over before it got into full swing.
    Damn.
    â€˜Mateo?’ She kept her tone gentle.
    â€˜I … What has she told you about my association with this clan?’
    â€˜Nothing, really. She just said you were on good terms with them and that you might be able to assist me.’ Charlotte tilted her head to the side, wondering why he’d had such a strong reaction.
    â€˜You do not need to pay me for my time.’ He jutted out his chin. ‘Be aware that the Giménez clan do not like the foreigners and I cannot guarantee my making the introductions will assist you in any way. That is, of course, if I choose to help. First, I must understand why you need to meet with them. If I do not think it is a valid reason then you will not have my assistance.’
    â€˜Please, it’s very important. There’s no other way, there’s no—’
    The woman in the white shirt and yellow skirt sashayed over and slung a long, beautifully manicured hand over Mateo’s shoulder. She gave Charlotte a saccharine smile while she leant down and placed her glossy red lips next to Mateo’s ear. In a low voice, she whispered, ‘It is time.’
    He stood, winked at Charlotte and followed the woman who glided back to the stage. Mateo and the rest of the group readied themselves and Charlotte settled back in her chair, unable to leave the bar until she got a definitive answer. Pulling the phone from her bag she surreptitiously checked for messages, but none had arrived from her family about Abuela’s condition. In this instance, no news was good news.
    * * *
    Charlotte stifled a stream of yawns, despite having enjoyed the dancing and music. The group had finished their performance ten minutes earlier and the crowd had dispersed, filing out the door rowdy and happy, onto the cobblestoned streets, ready for a short or long stagger home via the next bar. While the band packed up, she sipped a tall glass of water, her belly full from the never-ending tapas. Pedro, the waiter, deposited the bill on the table while she pulled out the cash, happy to leave a generous tip. He had, after all, led her to the man who was her only chance of meeting with the Giménez clan.
    â€˜ Gracias .’ Pedro collected the money and took away the tapas plates, leaving the unfinished wine.
    Charlotte closed her eyes and rubbed them. She hoped this visit to Granada wasn’t in vain and didn’t end up with Abuela being bitterlydisappointed. It had been difficult witnessing her grandmother’s suffering from the decline in her health but it was harder still being on the other side of the world chasing a long shot and missing Abuela immensely. From the last phone conversation they’d had, Charlotte knew finding out about the artist behind the fiery painting was the only thing that kept her grandmother going through the tough medical tests, the poking and prodding, and the endless worry about the future of her health.
    No pressure whatsoever. Nope, none at all.
    Mateo wandered over to her table and sat down, his guitar case resting against his leg. The dancer stood on the stage, flicking through a stack of papers and casting well-timed glares in Charlotte’s direction.
    â€˜She doesn’t like me,’ Charlotte said, hoping she hadn’t inadvertently got caught in some weird relationship between Mateo and the dancer.
    â€˜Who?’ Mateo turned around and the woman balled her hands on her hips and stared at him. Charlotte couldn’t tell