Rushed(119)

"And you’re the one to tell me about this . . . why?" I asked, trying to control my excitement. To see Tomasso again, even with the stress and the situation in our laps, was more than I could have wished for, and my heart was leaping in my chest.

"Well, at first, Father wanted to greet the them with a hail of shotgun shells," Eduardo said, but he waved it off when he saw the shock and pain on my face. "Don’t worry, I talked him out of it, but he did ask me to do something, and you should probably know.”

"What?" I asked, suspicious. Eduardo already had multiple deaths to his name, and was as cold-blooded as any reptile when he wanted to be.

“Let’s just say that Tomasso won’t be returning home in the same condition, if you get my drift."

I swallowed and controlled my emotions. "I understand your feelings, and I’m flattered that you feel like you need to defend my honor. But what if I don't want you to?"

He shook his head. "That doesn’t change the fact that I have to do it. My question to you is, how would you prefer I do it?"

I could tell from the tone of his voice that it was no use arguing with him. Whether he was convinced to do it or father ordered him to, it didn’t matter. Once his mind was made up on something, there was no changing it. “Fine. If you have to do this—Vale tudo," I said. "Can you do that, at least?"

"No weapons?" He asked, surprised. "You must not love this man as much as I thought if you’re willing to put him in a fight with me with no weapons. If he had a stick, at least he'd have a chance."

He got up, wiped his hands on his pants, and headed for the door. Just before he left, he paused and looked back at me, giving me one last look before he left. I shivered at the coldness he left behind. I knew that fights in Brazil were different than in America. There would be no rules, literally, except to respect the referee's commands and that only two men would fight. And I knew how good Eduardo was. Even if Tomasso had been perfectly healthy, the odds were stacked against him.

I got to my feet and left the room, looking for Father. If Tomasso were to have a chance, he had to know at least a little bit about what would be happening to him.

I found him in his office, talking on the telephone with someone. Seeing me, he ended his conversation and hung up the phone. "Repairs from the storm are going to schedule," he explained. "And the other men are helping with the repairs around the city."

I nodded and sat down. "Eduardo just found me. Apparently you spoke with Margaret Bertoli?"

He nodded. "A nice woman, not Italian in appearance at all. I assume that Eduardo told you about my orders, which is why you’re here?"

"It is. I came to ask that you allow me to speak with Tomasso and explain it to him. He deserves that much.”

He studied me for a moment, then nodded. "Fine—it won’t matter. I’ll set up the call."

I stopped for a second, surprised. "Call?"

"Yes. Mrs. Bertoli gave me the number to the phone aboard the plane. I’ll make the call and leave you to it. Give me a few minutes—go and grab some tea from the kitchen for me while you wait."

I nodded, swallowing the anger at his dismissive tone of voice. Going to get my father some chimarrao, the strong Brazilian tea that I also enjoyed, I looked down at my stomach and rubbed my tummy, knowing I’d need to avoid such drinks for the foreseeable future. "Nine months of no caffeine or no alcohol? I think for you, I can do that."

I brought the tea back to the study, where he looked up from his computer. "It’s ready.”

"Thank you," I said, handing him the drink. "May I have some privacy?”

He nodded and left, closing the door behind him. I took a deep breath and un-paused the call, tears springing to my eyes when I saw Tomasso looking back at me. The camera jittered, and I wondered what he was using to make the call, then figured he was probably holding a tablet in his hands. "Luisa?"

"Tomasso?” I answered, smiling despite my worry. "It's so good to see you."

"It's good to see you too, my love. Can you tell me what the hell is going on?" He said, concern in his voice. "I get a call from Aunt Margaret that says your father wants to talk, but then when we call him, he puts me on hold before I can even get a word out. Dad's been patient so far, but he’s starting to get a little pissed off.”

“Well, this isn't the way I wanted to tell you, but . . . Tomasso, I'm pregnant."

The video in front of me shifted as Tomasso was so startled he dropped the tablet. He picked it back up, his face shocked, but at least it appeared to be a happy shock. "Say that again?"

"Tomasso, I'm pregnant," I repeated slowly, my heart lifting as his smile spread across his face. "Well, that's a relief off my mind."

"I . . . you mean we . . ." Tomasso said, still grinning. He looked over at Carlo off-screen, nodding.

Off-screen, I could hear Carlo. “Isn’t that good news? What is the problem?"

"Yeah, what's the problem then?" Tomasso asked, turning back to me. "Oh . . ."

"Yeah," I said, sobering. "My father isn't exactly happy about it, obviously. It was probably worse because someone ratted on me instead of me telling him myself. I wanted to tell you first and then him, but it looks like things didn't happen that way."