The Beautiful Ones (Arabesque) by Adrianne Byrd

“Te quiero.”
He tensed and then stared at her sleeping form. “What did you say?” He waited for what seemed like forever, and just when he thought that she had fallen asleep, her eyes fluttered open.
A lazy smile eased across her lips as she lifted her hand and gently caressed the side of his face. “You always take such good care of me,” she whispered.
“I do what I can.” He kissed her hand. “You better get some sleep.”
Her smile widened briefly and then her eyelids slowly lowered. “Te quiero.”
Solomon leaned forward and brushed a paternal kiss against her forehead. “Yeah, I love you, too.”

Chapter 12
     
“N o one can say that you don’t have balls,” Selma snickered as she eased into the passenger seat of Solomon’s black Hummer. “Why in the hell did you tell the man his fiancée kept murmuring she loved you in her sleep?”
“I just said what happened.” Solomon slammed her door shut. He glided to the driver’s side, failing to see what was the big deal. When he finally opened his door, he caught the last few notes of Selma’s amused laughter.
“I thought the man was going to come out of his seat and choke the living daylights out of you,” she admitted.
“It wasn’t that serious.” He started the vehicle.
“Uh-uh. And the Pope isn’t Catholic.”
Solomon shook his head and pulled out of the parking garage. In retrospect, the dinner table had gone awfully quiet after his short stroll down memory lane.
“If Jonas is insecure about me and Ophelia’s relationship, that’s his problem, not mine.”
“It’ll be your problem if he prohibits Ophelia from seeing you.”
“What?” Solomon glanced over at her. “He can’t do that. Besides, Ophelia wouldn’t agree to it. We’ve been best friends since—”
“If nothing, marriage is a list of compromises. Sure, you’re her best friend, but if the love of her life is uncomfortable with you being in the picture, then what do you think she’s going to do?”
“The love of her life?”
“She agreed to marry him, didn’t she?”
Solomon held his tongue.
“Look, as your friend, I’m just telling you like it is,” Selma continued. “If Marty had a problem with our relationship, I would do what’s in my power to get you two to get along. If that didn’t work, then I’m sorry, but I’d have to cut you loose. Ace trumps king. It’s as simple as that.”
He hated to admit it, but Selma made sense. However, he had a hard time accepting Jonas as the love of Ophelia’s life. His mind replayed the evening’s events. Ophelia had spent most of the time nestled in Jonas’s arms and grinning cheekily at the man’s boastful stories of big business deals.
Money was a big deal to Mr. Hinton. How he made it, how much he saved, and how much he flaunted it. True, Solomon was no pauper, but he was no braggart either.
“Love of her life, humph.”
“What did you say?”
His gaze slid to Selma. He had forgotten she was in the car. “Nothing.”
Selma shook her head. “Well, I guess it could’ve been worse. The story didn’t end with you two having sex. That would have been a nightmare.”
Solomon fell silent as he concentrated on the road.
“You two never had sex together,” Selma asked with suspicion dripping from her tone. “Right?”
He didn’t respond.
“Solomon?”
* * *
     
Jonas was furious. He wanted to throw or hit something—or rather someone—Solomon. Now more than ever, he was convinced that there was more to Solomon and Ophelia’s relationship than either was letting on.
Te quiero. He glanced over at his fiancée as she headed toward her separate bedroom. He glared at the fuchsia dress she’d chosen to wear. Solomon always said I looked good in this color.
“I’m going out for a drive,” he announced.
“What?” Ophelia faced him and then glanced down at her watch. “But it’s nearly midnight.”
“I need some air.” He stormed toward the door.
“Wait. I’ll go with you,” she offered.
“I’d rather