Delgano: A Dark Contemporary Interracial Romance

“I’m glad you like it,” she said, picking up her spoon. “Think of this as my official apology. This morning, I wasn’t being considerate. This can’t be easy for you, regardless of what circumstances you came from. I know how hard it is to be in a place that’s not home and where you can’t leave when you’re ready. Making ‘the best’ of things doesn’t come naturally to a lot of folks, myself included.”

It would have been the perfect opportunity to pick at her, testing the limits of her vulnerability, but he devoured his soup instead. Then, the rice and fish dish was even better.

She was right; without her, he wouldn’t eat as well. Yes, he could cook for himself, and he would never starve on his own, but she wielded magic in a kitchen. He also wasn’t one of those kids whose mother was a natural-born chef, so Sayeda’s food was some of the best he’d had in his twenty-four years.

“So, tell me about today,” she said.

He added another fish steak to his plate. “I went shooting. It was my first time using a shotgun.”

“Were you afraid?”

“Afraid? Me?”

“It’s a fair question.”

“Not for me, no.” For him, weapons were often more like siblings than something to fear. “But, if I’m being honest, although I’m not sold on the entire team thing yet, I’m not as against it as I was, especially after what you told me.”

Silence blanketed the dining area, but he was so busy stuffing food into his mouth that it took him a moment to notice.

“When I learned I was going to be your chef, I took a peek at your file,” she said. “I didn’t see much, but the way I saw it, with us being in close quarters, we might get to know each other. So, I wanted to know if someone like you still had something,” she tapped her chest, “in here.”

“You keep saying that,” he pointed out. “Someone like me.”

“Someone fit for this life.”

“Why?”

“I knew someone like that. Kind of. I mean, I didn’t know him, know him, but…actually, never mind.”

“Tell me more about what you were talking about the other day,” he said, uncomfortable with the fact that the person in this story was a “him” she wished she’d known better. “To me, it sounded like you were talking about slavery.”

“I was. Right now, slavery still exists in Mauritania. Officially, it was abolished in 1981, but it’s still rampant. I mean, that’s only twenty-nine years ago. Thirty-year-olds are walking around older than the institution of slavery in Mauritania.” She shook her head and picked at the skin on her palm, which was covered in henna ink. “Look, Mr. Delgano, the story I’m about to tell you, you can’t repeat anywhere, okay?”

Considering how close in age they were, whenever she called him “Mr. Delgano,” he wanted to visibly cringe.

“Will telling me hurt you?”

“No. No one here will hurt me.”

She’d made the comment as if the armed guards knew better than to lay a finger on her. Although he was curious about why that was, he wanted to hear this story, especially if he could help in some way.

“I have two younger brothers,” she began. “They were born to an enslaved mother, and as they grew older, it became clear that they were strong enough to survive the harsh conditions they were born into. Children like that are considered highly valuable, and their mother knew this. So, before they could be ‘sold,’ she found someone to smuggle them to safety.”

“Their mother isn’t your mother?” he asked.

“Brother doesn’t always mean blood.”

“Are you the person she found?”

“I’m part of the process.” She looked around. “It’s…sort of what I do.”

“How old are the boys?”

“Twelve and ten.”

“Is their mother still alive?”

“No.” She sighed. “She’s not.”