Page 16 of Thiago (Family Ties #6)

Chapter Sixteen

A t first, Thiago had considered taking India to one of his brother’s restaurants but changed his mind. Too easy.

He decided to put forth a little effort and chose Wine & Bone for their night out.

The high-end restaurant was known for its extensive wine list and succulent steaks.

Their popularity meant a long waiting list for reservations, but he had paid a hefty sum for another customer’s private room reservation, which meant he and India could enjoy their meal without distraction.

The hostess led them into The Ember Room, cozy and hidden away from the main dining room. As she politely waited beside the table, she mentioned in a hushed voice that the waiter would arrive soon.

Thiago helped India into her chair.

“Thank you,” she murmured.

As the hostess departed and he sat down, she looked around.

The unlit fireplace must make for a great atmosphere during colder months.

Lowered lights cast a warm golden glow on the table, which was covered with a white tablecloth.

They had a good view of the street outside through one-way glass allowing them to see out, but no one could see in.

Colorful artwork lined the walls, and a bottle of wine was decanting on the table—a Bordeaux he had ordered ahead of time.

There was a discreet knock on the door, and then their waiter entered, a bearded young man with a short ponytail. After introducing himself as Griffin, he briefly went over the menu and told them about the specials. He then took their orders and poured them each a glass of wine before disappearing.

“I have to say, you did good for our first date,” India said, placing her cloth napkin across her thighs.

Thiago briefly smiled across the table. “You sound surprised.”

“I’m not. You do everything to the best of your ability.”

“Exactly,” Thiago said.

She laughed a little and shook her head. His confidence could be a turn off for some people, but he always had the distinct impression that she appreciated his self-assurance and possibly saw it as one of his more attractive qualities.

At first, they talked about surface topics, steering clear of anything personal, but during the salad course, India asked, “I’ve always wondered, why did you decide to work for Santana International?

Your other siblings didn’t. As an angel investor, you’re an equity partner in a number of businesses, and you have partnerships with family members, like the olive grove in Spain with Ethan and Bruno. You have plenty of money on your own.”

“I’ve never seriously considered working anywhere else before,” Thiago admitted.

“None of my other siblings were interested in taking over my father’s company, and I naturally gravitated toward working with him.

I admit, though, for a long time I didn’t know what I wanted to do.

Bruno had cooking, and Ignacio was obsessed with acting and modeling, and I had… nothing.”

Since then, his investments and ownership shares in multiple companies had made him a billionaire.

He had become known as someone who took big risks, and luckily, they had mostly paid off, especially in the technology sector where he concentrated, which had the greatest risks but the greatest rewards.

“You suffered from middle child syndrome,” India remarked in a matter-of-fact voice.

“No,” Thiago said, shaking his head.

“There’s no shame in it. It affects a lot of people. Middle kids often feel invisible or overlooked because they’re not the youngest or the oldest. They tend to become independent overachievers.”

“So what’s your excuse? You are an overachiever.”

“I’m an only child, and well, we have our own issues,” she said with a slight shrug.

“Care to elaborate?” Thiago asked, lifting his wine glass to his lips.

Using her fork, India punctuated the words. “Perfectionism. Independence. Overachieving because of pressure and high expectations. Not wanting to ask for help.”

“Not good,” he said.

“I know.”

“I hope if you need help, you won’t hesitate to ask me .”

She seemed surprised by the statement and didn’t respond right away. “I didn’t know that was an option.”

“Now you do.”

He could tell she was digesting the information in the silence.

“Thank you,” India finally said. “Growing up as an only child wasn’t all bad. I had my friend Kiara, who lived in the neighborhood. We were as close as sisters.” She laughed, as if remembering something from the past.

“Now you have to tell me why you laughed,” Thiago said.

“It’s silly.”

“I still want to know.”

She bit the bottom corner of her plump lip, which she often did when she was in deep thought.

“Like I said, Kiara and I were very close, and I used to spend a lot of time at her house. When I moved in with Grandma Selah, she went back to work, so I’m sure she was happy for the break from having to take care of me and help with homework when she got home.

Anyway, Kiara and I were inseparable in school.

Everyone knew if you saw one, you saw the other.

I’m dark-skinned, but Kiara is light-skinned.

The kids had a running joke, calling us salt and pepper. ” She laughed again.

“The nickname never bothered you?”

India rested her chin on her fist, fully engaged in the conversation and forgetting her meal.

“No, because we didn’t believe they were being malicious.

We kind of embraced it. To be honest, we were like night and day.

Kiara is funny and never really wanted to work.

She shamelessly admits she went to college to find a husband.

Meanwhile, I was the serious one, working hard and getting good grades. ”

“Did you always want to be in marketing?” Thiago asked.

She cut a cucumber round in half. “I actually wanted to be an artist.”

“Really? I would have never guessed.”

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me.”

She fell quiet, and he chose not to fill the silence because he suspected she wanted to say more.

India fiddled with the napkin on her lap. “The charcoal sketches in my apartment… I drew those.”

Thiago almost dropped his fork. “The three framed ones hanging on the south wall above your desk in the living room?”

She nodded, and he saw something he had never seen on her face before. She appeared bashful, as if embarrassed to admit her secret talent. “I—I have a ton more in a box in my closet.”

He leaned forward, completely enthralled by this revelation. He had assumed they had been done by a professional artist. “I had no idea.”

“I stopped drawing about two years ago,” she said, looking uncomfortable as she shifted in her chair.

He was about to ask why, but she continued talking.

“I’ve drawn all kinds of images. Landscapes, still life, portraits. I started out drawing people. The first one was a boy I had a crush on in middle school.” As she shared more, she seemed to relax.

“He must have been something special,” Thiago remarked.

“He was a decent guy.”

“Your first love,” Thiago guessed.

“My first crush,” India corrected.

The correction took him aback. “Don’t tell me you have never been in love.”

She paused, swirling her wine as she looked at him across the table. “This might surprise you, but I don’t think I’ve ever been in love. I’ve been in deep like. In lust. But in love?” She shook her head. “Never.”

“I’m surprised. You’re a beautiful woman. I imagined you fighting off male attention all your life.”

“Male attention has nothing to do with love,” India pointed out.

“True.”

“So what about you? Have you ever been in love?” she asked.

“We do not want to go down that road.” Thiago placed some lettuce in his mouth.

“Why not?” India asked with a laugh, her eyes sparkling with amusement. “You started us down this road.”

“Because I wanted to find out more about you, not divulge my innermost secrets.”

“Too bad, I want to hear all about your secret love. Were your feelings unrequited? Was there pining? Who was she?”

He took another sip of wine and then carefully placed the glass on the table.

“I don’t know if it was love, but there was a girl in high school who I was certain I would marry.

Her name was Kimberly. Her father was in the military, and one day they arrived, and then they were gone again.

I was devastated. We stayed in contact for a while but eventually lost touch. ”

“Maybe you should find her.”

“Years ago, I found out she is happily married with two children. I don’t think her family would appreciate me coming back into her life.”

She laughed lightly. “Probably not. What did you like about her?”

Thiago pondered the question for a few moments.

“She was smart and never took shit from anyone. She stood up for other kids who were bullied, which told me that she was compassionate. And she was beautiful. Full lips, cinnamon brown skin, and long braids falling to her waist. She would put these gold sparkly things on individual braids. She was… magnetic. A goddess.”

“Do you have a thing for Black women, Thiago?” India asked in a teasing voice.

He chuckled. “One could say that, yes. I suppose that’s why I enjoyed my time in Brazil so much.”

His biological brothers had both ended up with Black women but over the years had dated women of all races and backgrounds. He, however, except for one relationship in distant memory, had always been drawn to darker-skinned women.

“By the way, it is not a fetish. It’s a preference,” he added.

“Interesting…” India said, tipping her glass to her lips.

The waiter arrived with the main course. Thiago had chosen a steak with a side of vegetables. India had opted for steak as well, along with the restaurant’s famous roasted carrots with harissa and yogurt.

“Remind me of your Mexican and Colombian background again,” India said.

“Born in Mexico, moved to Colombia after my parents split, and my mother took us back to her country. I was glad when she sent us to live with my father permanently. My mother is not a bad woman, but she is not very maternal. I missed my abuela most of all when we moved. She was more like a mother to us. She passed years ago, but I can still taste her arepas con queso. They were…” He kissed his fingertips.

“The smell of cornmeal dough and the taste of the gooey cheese is a fond memory.”

“We were both lucky to have our grandmothers in our lives. I’ve never had arepas , though. I’ll have to find a restaurant that makes them,” India said.

Thiago paused from eating. “No, absolutely not. You will not go to a restaurant. You need to taste the homemade version. I cannot cook, but I will ask Bruno to make some. His are delicious.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“I insist. Do not argue with me.”

She smiled. “Yes, sir.”

Had she said that on purpose?

He watched as she continued eating, calm and composed, while need uncoiled in his gut.