Delgano: A Dark Contemporary Interracial Romance

“I’ll try.”

Hannah released her and headed for the door. It was what she said, but if “being good” meant staying away from Adrían, she had no intention of following through.

CHAPTER

FIVE

She introduced herself as Dr. Mora Bentley and told him why she was there—to assess him directly. Once her introduction was complete, she’d said nothing else, and Adrían hadn’t said a word since he entered the fancy office.

They sat facing each other on expensive-looking chairs in a room where books lined the walls from the floor to the ceiling. It almost felt as though he was no longer in Morocco, but they’d skipped drugging him this time around. After riding for a few hours in the back of a van, he’d entered a building via an underground garage suffused with the unmistakable dry heat of Northern Africa.

“Ask,” she said.

He scratched the side of his neck. “Ask what?”

She angled her head, an attractive woman who looked to be in her late thirties to early forties with close-cropped, tightly curled black hair. A pair of glasses with thick red frames hid part of her face, and they blended well with her red blazer and black skirt, which looked like modern versions of stylish outfits from the past.

“I’m trained as a military psychiatrist,” she explained. “I received my medical degree from the NYU Grossman School of Medicine and completed my residency at Cornell. After residency, I went to work with the Veterans Administration in the Washington D.C. area. If you’re also picking up on something else, it might be because I’m a Lieutenant General in the United States Army.”

“Why did you go to medical school?” he asked. “You would have been impressive otherwise.”

“Well, medical school was always a dream of mine. Then, I have a daughter—she’s close to your age, actually—and I wanted to show her what success looks like.”

“You have a daughter my age?” Which meant he was wrong about how old she was but not necessarily about how old she looked. “Are you married?”

A ghostlike hand slapped him in the back of his head, and he heard his mother’s voice:

“Em boca fechada não entra mosca.”

“A fly doesn’t enter a closed mouth.”

In other words, he needed to shut up and quit while he was ahead.

Slightly embarrassed, he adjusted in his seat, clearing his throat. “Never mind. What I really want to know is why I’m here.”

“It was either this or have you brought up on so many charges, you’d have to serve time in several different countries,” she said. “Now, tell me…what do you remember about your mother?”

“Which countries?”

She wrinkled her nose. “Your mother, Adrían.”

“Does your daughter favor you? Because you’re an attractive woman, and I might be looking for a girlfriend.”

“You two are grossly incompatible. She’s innocent. Naive. Like a domesticated hen trying to hide from a pack of wolves.”

“Does this innocent and naive domesticated hen have a name?”

“I’d never allow her to date you,” she countered. “Now, do you remember your mother’s name?”

“I’ll tell you if you tell me your daughter’s name,” he pressed. “And, if she’s around my age, she might not require your permission to date me.”

“Your mother’s name, Adrían.”

“Mamãe.”

She smiled. “That’s good. That’s very good. Teasing and flirting means you’re adjusting well. Now that I see this side of you, I understand why Hannah enjoys your company so much.”

“What about Sayeda?”