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“The pleasure is ours, of course. We’ve heard a good deal about you this week, and we’re so happy you could come to our little party.” Vincente’s voice is gruff, and his thick Hispanic accent is markedly different from the unaccented tones of his sons.
“Thank you so much for inviting me. This is quite a ship. Vincente was just giving me a tour. May I ask, why did you name it ‘Queen of Hearts?’”
The older man chuckles awkwardly. “Ah, after my wife, of course. She is my queen.” With adoration, he lifts her hand to his lips and kisses it.
Alicia Vargas is wearing a stunning midnight blue gown, similar in shape and cut to the one Vincente gave me. I might almost say they are from the same line, and with her ebony hair piled elegantly on her head, I’m certain she looks far better in hers than I do in mine.
“It’s nice to meet you,” she finally purrs in a soft, sensual voice. For a woman with three grown sons, she doesn’t look nearly old enough to have birthed them. I’d be more likely to guess she was their older sister than their mother at first glance.
“If you’ll excuse us, we have to see to the preparations before our guests arrive.” With a gentle tug, she pulls her husband away and leads him toward the galley.
Vincente wraps warm fingers around my hand and squeezes. “See, it wasn’t that bad, was it?”
He’s trying to act confident, but I can hear the relief in his tone.
“No, it wasn’t that bad.” I agree with a small smile.
“Ah, now here are our cousins. Sloane, this is Emiliano and Manuel Vargas, and Miguel and Diego Vazquez. Guys, this is Sloane King.”
All four men are neatly dressed in tuxedos. The first two are shorter, slightly rougher-looking, with wide, muscular shoulders that don’t seem to fit well in their restrictive tuxedos. They both hold large black duffel bags and don’t seem interested in the introductions. They nod in my direction, then continue toward the back of the ship.
The second pair is taller, more refined-looking, and obviously twins. One has a sharp beard cropped close to his jaw with hair that is styled loosely on top of his head. The other has a clean-shaved face, with neat, perfectly styled and shorter hair.
The bearded one steps forward and offers me his hand. “I’m Miguel, my brother is Diego. It’s a pleasure to meet you Sloane. Officially, we are here to manage the caterers, so we might run into you again later.” His voice is smooth with a delectable hint of an accent. “But for now, regretfully, we must get to work.”
I accept his shake more confidently than I greeted the guys’ parents. “It’s nice to meet you both. I guess I’ll see you around.”
Both men treat me to a charming grin, and Diego shakes my hand as well before they descend the stairs to the kitchen.
Which leaves just me and the three Vargas brothers.
They’re all gazing at me like a pack of hyenas with a wounded gazelle, hunger in their eyes that makes my belly clench.
“So… now what?” I ask, performing an awkward little shimmy with my shoulders. I have no idea why I suddenly feel the need to steer the conversation, but I don’t know what else to do with myself.
“Now,” Elian steps forward with a dimple-popping grin, “I think we follow our cousins to the galley and get a glass of champagne before our guests arrive.”
“I’m down for that,” Sandro agrees.
Elian holds out his hand. “Shall we?”
Even though Vincente and I just emerged from the party space five minutes before, somehow it’s already completely transformed. It’s as if the catering employees were just waiting on Miguel and Diego to appear, and they popped out of the woodwork like magic.
We don’t even make it to the kitchen. As if sensing our needs, a server with a tray of fluted glasses appears as soon as we make it down one deck, and we’re able to take our drinks to lounge on the giant leather sectional in the main indoor space. Servers pop in and out occasionally, towing buckets of ice, setting out trays of prepared food, or refilling our glasses.
It takes a few minutes for me to settle down, but eventually the peaceful rhythm the brothers have together sets me at ease as well. While Vincente is the more serious one, and Sandro the jokester, together they have a chill, happy vibe that I enjoy immensely. Elian keeps me involved in the conversation that flows freely, but it’s not as if the other two forget me, either. Sandro enjoys regaling me with stories about his brothers’ embarrassing exploits as kids, and Vincente fires back with a few anecdotes about Sandro that turn his tan cheeks pink.
And I don’t, for a second, feel like an outsider. It’s as if they have immediately adopted me into this family, even though I don’t understand how everything works yet. Or why I’ve been chosen. All I know is, I’m happy to be here.
Finally, Vincente glances at his watch and sighs. “Alright guys, we had better get upstairs and form the greeting line. You know Mamá will not be happy if she has to send Pápa to come find us.”
The others grumble but stand, straightening their tuxedo jackets. I shift in my seat, unsure of what I’m supposed to do.
“Sloane?” Vincente’s voice is warm. “Would you like to come with us?”
Panic. “Oh, I don’t know? You want me to greet your parent’s guests with you? I don’t even know who’s coming. What exactly am I supposed to say?”
“Don’t worry, it’s not as complex as you’re thinking.”
