It turns out his is a remarkably effective closing line as I am met once again with the sight of his back and the rarity of watching a man walk away from me.

I never accepted any of those five proposals, never really considered them, because while most were nice enough men, some odious but in possession of perfectly nice fortunes, they never made me feel anything.

They never slid under my skin and rattled me.

In one evening, Nicholas Preston has.

chapter three

“How did it go last night?” Eduardo Diaz asks me in Spanish, his voice low, his gaze darting around the crowded restaurant as we debrief the introduction he arranged between Mr. Dwyer and me.

“I’m not sure,” I admit. There hardly seems to be a point to lying to a man I used to blackmail into playing tea party when we were children. Eduardo is the sort of friend who is practically family.

“Well, how did you leave things?”

“Mr. Dwyer said he’d be in contact.” I lower my voice. “I got the impression the CIA doesn’t have a plan for getting close to Fidel, but he was intrigued by the idea of using me to accomplish such a feat.”

Eduardo takes a sip of his coffee, a frown on his handsome face. “It’s not enough.”

“Maybe not, but what was I supposed to do? The man is suspicious. If I’d pushed too hard, he likely would have thought I was a Cuban agent or something.”

The spying going on between Washington and Havana has been particularly fervent these days, and Fidel is rumored to have inserted spies into the growing exile circles.

“Perhaps.” Eduardo leans back in his seat, taking another sip of coffee. The instant he sets it back on the table, a server is there to refill it. He flashes her a smile, one I’ve watched him employ countless times. Women are forever falling in love with Eduardo Diaz, which I fear is a terrible mistake. He’s a selfish bastard, albeit a lovable one, and at the moment, his focus is devoted to our cause, and a pair of fine eyes or other virtues won’t sway him. Despite how much Eduardo likes women, he loves Cuba more.

A pink hue tinges the waitress’s cheeks.

Once Eduardo’s coffee mug is filled to the brim once more, the waitress leaves us.

“I heard you gained an admirer last night,” he muses.

“I imagine I gained more than one; I was trying for my best damsel in distress—the princess without a throne, in need of a valiant knight to slay the dragon for her. Men love nonsense like that.”

He grins. “Some do.”

“No dragon slaying for you?”

“Hardly. You know I hate to dirty my hands.”

“Well, presumably some of these American men don’t share your sentiment.”

They say Nicholas Preston was a war hero.

His gaze turns shrewd. “Speaking of American men, I heard you were the recipient of a ballroom proposal.”

Eduardo wasn’t at the party, but clearly, I’m not the only set of eyes and ears he has placed in Palm Beach society.

“You could just come to these events yourself, you know. Rather than relying on your little network of spies to tattle on us for you.”

“I was playing cards last night. It turned out to be a very profitable endeavor.”

“Cards? Is that what they’re calling it these days? I’m sure there were other, shall we say, distractions to your evening.”

Eduardo enjoys a position in society the rest of us haven’t achieved. Despite the temporary lack of fortune, they view him as a catch, the sort of escort bored housewives and ambitious mothers love: his appearance handsome, his manners impeccable, a perfectly tailored dinner jacket at the ready.

“I can’t help it if everyone finds me irresistible,” he teases.

“Please. It’s far too early for that sort of talk, and I went to bed far too late last night.”

“So I wasn’t the only one who had an interesting evening.”

He manages to make “interesting” sound like a very naughty thing, indeed.

“I very much doubt my evening was as interesting as yours, considering I went home with my parents and sisters, and you went home with—who was she?—a lonely widow or aspiring cabaret singer? Perhaps a misunderstood, much younger wife?”

“Oh, I think your companion for the evening was a touch more interesting than mine.”

My cheeks heat. Despite the lack of familial relation between us, Eduardo has always had a way of ruffling my feathers in a manner only older siblings can achieve.

“I’m quite certain I don’t know what you mean.”

“I think you do.” His expression sobers. “They’re a powerful American family, Beatriz. Influential in politics.”

“They may be, but he’s a distant cousin. I hardly think he’s influential in their political decisions.”

“I wasn’t talking about the marriage proposal. I heard you also caught a certain senator’s eye.”

My voice cools. “Do you have spies among the staff at these parties, or guests you’ve converted to the cause?”

“You know I can’t give away all my secrets.”

“It was just a dance.”

“Right.”

“It was,” I insist.

“The way I heard it, he spent the whole night watching you.”

It shouldn’t make me feel a sense of satisfaction, but it does.

“He spent most of the night getting engaged.”

“Engaged men still have eyes.”

“Oh, charming, exactly want I want, a philanderer.”

“Yes, better if he is a philanderer—for our purposes, at least. I’m sure his pretty fiancée can fare just fine. There may be a day when we need his vote in the Senate, Beatriz.”

It’s a struggle to keep my voice light. “From a dance to votes in the Senate, my, you are ambitious. I thought the plan was to kill Fidel, not legislate him to death.”

“We need to keep all of our options on the table. There’s a party tonight. Senator Preston will be there. All I’m suggesting is that you entice him a bit, see if he’s interested.”

My gaze narrows, my voice hardened to steel.

“You might not have a hard time finding underlings to do your bidding, but I’m not for sale. I’m here for Fidel, not to sleep with politicians to help you regain your fortune.”

“I thought you were here for Alejandro,” Eduardo counters, not a hint of shame in his expression. What is it with people throwing my brother’s name around as though I will simply bend to their will if they tug at my heartstrings? You can love someone and still not lose your reason. “And it’s not just my fortune we’re talking about here,” Eduardo adds. “Don’t you want a better life for yourself, your parents, your sisters?”

“I’m not going to sleep with Senator Preston for you, or for Alejandro’s memory. Or because my sisters and I are forced to re-wear our gowns. There are other ways to defeat Fidel. Besides, I knew my brother better than anyone, and I’m fairly certain he would have objected to me prostituting myself for the cause.”

Despite the manner in which Fidel has beggared us all, Eduardo’s upbringing is enough to ensure he finally looks momentarily abashed. “Fine. Don’t sleep with him. But see what comes from you holding his interest. Maybe he’ll be more amenable to helping us if he likes you.”

“He’s getting married,” I say for Eduardo’s benefit, and perhaps a bit for my own, the reminder a necessary one in the face of the memory of how much I enjoyed myself on the balcony last night.

Was he really watching me the whole evening?

“And you’re Beatriz Perez,” Eduardo retorts.

“I’m not going to ruin a man’s life or his marital ambitions. I’m not going to hurt innocent people.”

“He’s an American politician,” Eduardo counters. “How innocent can he possibly be? The Americans have unclean hands in all of this. There’s a party tonight. Your Senator Preston will be there. Come with me.”

I hesitate.

He smiles. “What’s the harm in trying? Like you said, it was only a dance.”

Eduardo throws the gauntlet down with a knowing gleam in his dark brown eyes—both a challenge and a plea—and damn him for it, because we both know I never was one for resisting lost causes or walking away from a dare.

* * *

? ? ?

The crowd differs from last night; there are no matrons or gray-haired parents. This is the fast set, some of the faces familiar, most a far cry from the parties I attend with my parents.

“You look beautiful,” Eduardo whispers, my arm tucked in his as we enter the room.

“That may be, but it’s a little disconcerting when you say it like that.”

“Like what?”

“As though you’re dangling me in front of them like a cut of meat.”

Eduardo chuckles, a lazy smile on his face that draws the notice of the vast majority of the women in the room. If they didn’t hate me before, showing up on the arm of one of the season’s most handsome bachelors certainly won’t do me any favors.

“I really did miss you when you were still in Cuba,” Eduardo murmurs, his manner affectionate and indulgent, giving the impression that we are either old friends or lovers.