Located on Ocean Drive, Larios on the Beach was owned by Gloria and Emilio Estefan and opened in 1992. The menu’s Cuban-inspired dishes included baked empanadas, vaca frita, and a ceviche rumored to rival the Peruvian variety served at Patagonia.

It was the perfect day for a leisurely walk, with a cool breeze coming off the ocean, blowing the leaves of the palm trees and weakening the heat of the sun’s rays. Across the street, residents and visitors lounged on the grass or threw Frisbees. A young man with his hat turned backward slowly rode his bike parallel to the beach, like someone who had nowhere to go.

Abena and Santiago walked up to the white building with bright blue umbrellas out front, which matched the blue awnings and accents on the exterior. Santiago immediately spotted his father sitting outside at one of the tables. The older man smiled and waved, the metal chair scraping on the concrete when he stood to great them.

“I knew you’d be early, so I arrived earlier and ordered something for us to eat while we wait.” Constantino removed his sunglasses. “Abena, well, this is a surprise. I did not know the two of you were seeing each other.”

“Hello, Señor Vila.”

“Please, you’re with my son now. Call me Constantino.” His eyes flicked over her, blatant male appreciation in the way his gaze idled on her exposed shoulders and shapely legs.

Santiago placed a hand on her waist. “Where’s my future stepmother, as you call her?”

Constantino dragged his gaze away from Abena and waved his hand dismissively. “She should be here soon. Have a seat.” He motioned to the empty chairs. Santiago sat across from his father and Abena sat to his right.

“Big plans today?” Constantino asked, slipping the sunglasses into the pocket of his linen shirt.

He appeared relaxed and rather content. Perhaps Santiago’s reservations had been for nothing and the uneasiness in his stomach was misplaced anxiety. Perhaps his father really did just want to introduce him to the woman he’d fallen in love with, and there was no ulterior motive behind the meeting.

“After lunch we’re hitting the beach,” Santiago answered.

The waitress interrupted the conversation when she brought out the appetizers his father ordered. She smiled at the newly arrived guests. “Hello. These are bacon-wrapped maduros. They’re sweet plantains wrapped in Applewood bacon and served with guava cream. The black bean hummus is accompanied by crispy plantains and malanga chips made in-house. Can I get you both something to drink?”

“Water for me,” Santiago said.

“Same, but with lemon, please,” Abena said.

“Oh, come on,” Constantino said. “You’re going to make me drink alone?” He held up his Bloody Mary.

Abena glanced at Santiago, and despite himself, he let his father’s badgering change his mind. “I’ll have a Bloody Mary, too.”

“Excellent! That’s what I expect from a son of mine. Abena?”

“I’ll stick with water, thank you,” she said politely. She folded her hands in her lap.

The waitress disappeared and Constantino took a sip from his glass before setting it back on the table. “So how long has this been going on between the two of you? Does Esteban know?”

“Esteban doesn’t dictate what I do in my personal life,” Santiago said.

“But I imagine he would not be keen on his VP of operations and his assistant establishing a relationship. You could get easily distracted.”

“We won’t,” Santiago said shortly.

“And you, Abena?” Constantino turned his attention to her.

She opened her mouth to answer, but Santiago spoke for her. “She won’t, either. We’re both professionals.”

His father smirked. “My son hates me, Abena. Did he tell you that? His mother turned him against me from since he was a child. My only son.”

“Did you bring me here to stir up old arguments? My mother never turned me against you. In fact, if I didn’t ask about you, she never mentioned you at all.”

Abena shifted in the seat.

Constantino’s face became impassive. “Saint Elena, who could do no wrong.”

Santiago gripped the arms of the chair to keep from launching over the table and putting his fingers around his father’s neck. He would not sit here and listen to him make disparaging remarks about his mother. Compared to Constantino, she was indeed a saint. “I can see now this was a mistake.” He pushed back his chair and stood.

A smile broke out on his father’s face, as he looked past him. “There she is.”

Before he could turn around, the woman walked up, and a chill overtook Santiago’s body. He recognized the short, bouncy dark hair and dark eyes. Almost ten years and she’d barely aged, exuding the same elegance that came from dressing well and having confidence in herself.

Her mouth fell open and her footsteps stalled when she recognized him. “Santiago,” she breathed.

“Romina, mi amor.” Constantino held out a hand in greeting and she went to him, zombie-like, her body stiff as a reed when he kissed her on the cheek.

Santiago literally felt the blood drain from his face. He slowly lowered into his chair.

“Are you all right?” Abena leaned toward him and covered his hand with hers.

He stared at his father’s smiling face as he and Romina sat down. The man’s viciousness knew no bounds. Now he knew why his father had been so tightlipped about the new woman in his life.

The woman he claimed to love, the woman he claimed had changed him, had been the same woman Santiago had fallen in love with years ago. She’d cheated, lied to him, and broken his heart.

“Romina, you know my son. This is his girlfriend, Abena…is it Dubango?”

Abena’s mouth fell open. She clearly recognized the other woman’s name. Catching herself, she nodded her head, answering, “Y-yes. Dubango.” She swallowed. “Nice to meet you.” She extended a hand across the table.

“Romina Calderon. Nice to meet you, too.”

They shook hands briefly. Romina flicked her gaze to Santiago and just as quickly looked away again to stare down at the table.

“So who is using who?” Santiago asked.

“No one is using anyone,” Constantino said.

“You’re not using her?” Rage billowed in his blood.

“Using her? Of course not.” Constantino placed a hand over Romina’s, but she eased her hand from under his and clenched her fingers together in her lap. “I know this isn’t ideal,” Constantino continued, “and I wanted to tell you, but this way is better. Rip off the bandage, so to speak.”

“Rip off the bandage. Of course.” His father’s manipulations soured his stomach.

“You’re not still in love with her, are you?” his father asked.

Romina’s head snapped up. “Tino!” she admonished.

“Our relationship ended almost a decade ago. Rest assured, I am no longer in love with her.”

“Good. Then there doesn’t need to be any awkwardness, especially with Abena sitting here. The lovely Abena.” His gaze flicked over her again in an unsettling way.

Santiago gripped the arms of the chair. He counted to ten to keep from flipping the table. “She’s more than lovely. She’s kind and smart and has a conscience.”

“Are you suggesting Romina doesn’t? I assure you, whatever happened between you in the past is irrelevant. She’s a changed woman.”

“A leopard never changes its spots.”

Romina turned her gaze on him, but he couldn’t read her expression.

Constantino sighed. “I thought you’d be happy for me. Even a little bit. This will be your new stepmother.”

“Is this just a goddamn joke to you? When do the games end?” Santiago asked.

“This is not a game. I love her and I want you to share in my happiness.”

“You have never ever wanted me to share in any part of your life before, and I should have known better than to get sucked into our ridiculous feud yet again.”

“The feud is in your head.”

“It’s in my head? What do you call this? I bared my soul to you years ago, and this is how you repay me?” At the nearby tables, heads turned. He’d never been this angry. He didn’t care who heard. In a moment of weakness, he confided in his father, and Constantino chose to use the woman Santiago used to love as a tool to inflict misery on him. “Why? Tell me why.”

And then the reason hit him. You’re like your mother, Constantino had said in California. Wrenching pain twisted Santiago’s stomach and stole his breath.

He answered his own question. “Because I, your only son, remind you of my mother. She and I have the same eyes, the same personality, the same smile. Because Elena Batistuta left you and didn’t need you. Because I showed you I don’t need you, either.”

His father’s face grew harsh in anger, and he slammed his palm on top of the table, making both women jump. Leaning forward, he lapsed into Spanish. “Your mother was no goddamn saint. She was a whore who took you away and ran off with another man while she was married to me.”

Santiago grabbed a fork and shot to his feet. The women gasped and Abena jumped to her feet, too, eyes wide, and grabbed his wrist.

“Santiago,” she whispered in alarm.

Santiago leaned over the table and continued in Spanish through clenched teeth. “My mother was no whore. She became sick and tired of your cheating ways. You didn’t respect your vows, so she found a man who loved her and her son and honored her the way she deserved. You hate her for it. You hate that she moved on and was happier than ever. You hate that she never needed you or your money.”

The waitress approached hesitantly with the drinks on a tray. “Um…”

Abena brushed her away, and she scurried off. Gently, she eased the fork from Santiago’s clenched fingers.

“She needed me, but was too proud to admit she’d made a terrible mistake,” Constantino snarled.

“My stepfather made her happy, and his name was on her lips when she passed away. Trust me when I say she never gave you much thought. You were the furthest thing from her mind for years, and I’m so glad she managed to find happiness with a good man. I’m done with you, old man.” Santiago shot a glance at Abena. “Let’s go,” he said.

“Santiago, I didn’t know,” Romina said, her face stricken, half-standing before Constantino put a hand on her forearm. She fell back into the chair.

As far as Santiago was concerned, whether or not she knew didn’t matter. He didn’t doubt she was telling the truth, but his relationship with his father was completely over. There was no going back when his own flesh and blood pulled such a low tactic like this, to hurt his own son. And he would never forgive him for how he spoke about his mother.

Thanks to Santiago’s fractured relationship with his father, Romina never met him when they were a couple. Vila was a common enough name that she might not have made the connection. At any rate, his father probably did everything in his power to keep her from connecting the dots and realizing they were family.

Plain and simple, Constantino Vila was an evil, sadistic piece of shit who enjoyed hurting people, particularly the women who loved him and the children who sought his approval. That was the totality of his nature, and he would never change.

If Santiago never saw him again, it would be too soon.