Rushed(73)

I tilted my head, remembering that America operated on different rules than Brazil, and nodded. "My apologies, Mr. Marconi. Please, lead on."

He led me through the house, which I saw had three wings in a reverse open rectangular pattern, quite standard and quite nice. Taking me through the main wing, we exited into a garden, where he led me along a concrete walkway to a small picnic area. "If you would wait here, he'll be out in a moment."

I had just taken a seat at the table when a man approached, wearing a fine custom tailored Italian suit that had to have cost a couple of thousand dollars. He was slightly dumpy, but in his eyes burned an intelligence and power that only a fool would ignore. Then again, I'd met many fools in the short twenty-one years of my life to that point. I stood up, offering my hand to shake. "Don Bertoli?"

"Miss Mendosa, it's a pleasure to have you in my home," the Don said, smiling and returning the handshake with vigor and strength. When he did, the steel in his face mellowed slightly. "Was your flight from Brazil reasonable?"

"Reasonable? I'd say that would be a good word," I said with a slight laugh. I noticed that he had an Italian accent, which somewhat surprised me. The family had been in the United States for at least three generations that I knew of, and Carlo Bertoli himself had been born in Seattle. How such a man still sounded like an Italian immigrant was beyond me. "The flight from Rio to Dallas was the longest part, of course. But I was able to fly in one of the new Dreamliners, so it wasn't too bad."

"That's good to hear. Please, relax and have a seat. I'm sure you must be tired."

"Actually sir, I had a good nap on the plane. I woke up just as we crossed into American airspace."

"That's great." he said, smiling. "Well then, it'd be my honor to have you as my family's guest for dinner tonight.”





Chapter 3





Tomasso





I was in the house gym, straining inside the press machine when Pietro came to the door. "Change of plans."

"What’s up, Pietro?" I asked, letting the handles to the plate-loaded machine down slowly. While I wasn't the best fighter in the Bertoli house, that honor probably belonged to Daniel Neiman, nor the strongest, Lorenzo was certainly that, I more than held my own in both arenas. "I was just finishing up before going to do pickups like you ordered."

"The Don wants you to delay the start of your work for tonight," Pietro said. "A visitor from Brazil came to pay respects, and he wants you to have dinner with the family. So it'll be you, your father, Mrs. Bertoli, and Miss Mendosa."

"Mendosa, huh? She cute?" I asked with a grin. I realized I was acting like a spoiled boy and not a Bertoli man, and I stopped. "Sorry. I shouldn't have asked."

He smiled, not choosing to comment. “How quickly can you be ready?"

"I had a few sets left, but I can stop now," I answered. "Give me fifteen minutes?"

“Okay. Suit and tie, of course.” He gave me a nod and walked out. Even though I was supposed to be working for Pietro, I still had to respect my father's wishes.

I finished one more set and went up to my room, where I grabbed a quick shower and changed. I chose my gray suit, mainly because I could use it for both dinner and work later on, and because it was breathable. Seattle may not have been as hot as Alabama, but I wasn't used to wearing suits yet either. Adjusting my tie, I looked in the mirror and thought I looked pretty damn good, if I could say so myself.

Coming out of my room, I saw Aunt Margaret. “Hey, Squirt," she greeted me, using the nickname that was reserved for her and her only. "You look handsome. Trying to impress a new girl?”

I laughed and gave her a hug. "Hardly. You know Dad wants his men to look the part when on the job. It’s going to take some getting used to, so I figure now’s as good a time as any. What do you think?"

Margaret adjusted my tie and ran her fingers through my hair. “You look so much like your uncle that I want to cry sometimes," she said with a sad little smile. "It's amazing having you back in the house, even if it is bittersweet. Tell you what—how about you escort me to the dining room tonight?"

I smiled and offered my arm. "I'd be honored. I'm not sure I could have a better looking lady on my arm anyway."

Margaret chuckled and smacked my chest with her left hand while slipping her right arm in mine.

We went downstairs and into the main dining room, where the giant twenty-four-person table dominated the room.

She was facing away from me when Aunt Margaret and I first came in, but even with her back turned, I was impressed by what I could see of Luisa Mendosa. She was as tall as me, especially in the heels she was wearing, which made her legs look miles long—the sort of legs a man wants to run his hands over and then his lips and tongue. Well-muscled, they led to an amazing ass that swelled out in all three dimensions. This wasn’t the backside of just genetics, nor of just hard work, but of the perfect combination of both before narrowing down to a waist that, while not model skinny, still highlighted her hips before flaring out again to a firm, flat back that was covered in long honey-blonde hair.

Our footsteps caught the attention of Luisa and Dad, who both turned to see us, and I was left stunned again. Her breasts were full and round, creating the epitome of an hourglass figure that caused a stir within my shorts even at a distance.