Rushed(80)

Dad turned and walked out of the gym, leaving behind an obviously pissed off Luisa, who stared at the door before looking at me. "Well?"

"He's a stubborn man," I explained simply, refusing to be baited into an argument to let off her anger. "Come on. The gym has a shower, and you've got a lot of blood in your hair. Doc didn't say anything about you washing up some, but speaking from experience, be careful with the scrubbing. Angelo's got a scar on the back of his head from a bike accident when we were kids, and he ripped the sutures open by accident washing his hair afterward."

"And clothes?" Luisa asked, looking at her suit. "Should I just wear this nasty mess?"

"You didn't listen very well, did you?" I said with a smirk. "He said Adriana left some things here for when she visits. She's shorter than you, but she always did like longer t-shirts for when she was painting. I'll get you some shorts too, if that's okay."

Luisa growled, but nodded. "Can you show me to the shower, at least?"

"Sure," I replied with a chuckle. I showed her the small locker room, which was normally used by the staff members who didn't live in the mansion but still wanted to use the room. "From what I remember, the water pressure's not too strong, but be careful still."

"Can you leave me alone long enough to risk showering alone, or will these terrorists come charging in while you’re fetching a t-shirt?"

I couldn't help it. Luisa was both cute and funny when she was pissed off. I laughed. "I think you can shower perfectly fine by yourself. Unless, of course, you want some company. I can help with that too. Like Dad said at dinner before, I’m a man of many talents.”

"I doubt it," Luisa hissed back, closing the curtain to the changing area. I left and headed up to Adriana’s room, where I found one of her old painting t-shirts and some basketball shorts folded in her drawers. Taking them down, I left them for Luisa, pausing to marvel at the silhouette that was barely visible against the shower curtain. Despite her bitchiness and her obvious distaste for when I was trying to be smooth, she was certainly beautiful, and I knew that I was attracted to her. I'd be a fool not to be.

"Here are your clothes," I said loudly enough to make sure I was heard. "I'll set them on the stool."

She didn't reply, and I shrugged, figuring that she was still pissed about my father's decision. I turned to go when I heard her turn the water off, and her voice was soft in the sudden silence. "Tomasso?"

"Yes, Luisa? Need something?”

"No," she said quietly, unlike her. "Just . . . thank you. I know you were trying to take care of me. Thank you."





Chapter 6





Luisa





"You want me to what?"

I was speaking in Portuguese, but it was close enough to Spanish and Italian that I knew both Tomasso and Don Bertoli were able to understand my conversation with my father. If they couldn't get every word, they certainly could tell what I felt about the situation.

"Luisa, these terrorists are not just in Seattle. Some of our allies in Brasilia and even Argentina have confirmed for me that they too have gotten threats or even action from these men. We’re going to teach them a lesson."

My father's face loomed large in the monitor that had been set up for the video call, and I was impressed by how advanced the office was. It certainly hadn't appeared that way when I first walked in. “This is outrageous. I understand giving the police the description of the man that I have told you about, but to stay in this . . . city and continue to cooperate? To act like some sort of bait, to see if they come after me? This is madness!"

I stepped over the line, but I honestly didn't care. His face grew flushed, and he looked over his shoulder. I saw some motion in the background, and I knew he'd sent away everyone who could listen in. When he turned back, he was angrier than I'd seen him in a long time. "You are my daughter, and there is no way a daughter of mine is going to disrespect me in front of my men like that. Ever. So I’ll say this only one more time. You will stay at the Bertoli house, you will do exactly what Don Bertoli asks of you, and you will come home when I say you will. Do you have any questions?”

I gritted my teeth and shook my head slowly. "No."

"Se?or Mendosa, I have a request," Don Bertoli said, giving me a glance. He saw an opportunity, and he was going to take it, that was for sure. “I’ve asked my son to look after your Luisa. He’ll make sure that your daughter is safe and sound the rest of her time in Seattle."

My father immediately brightened, smiling his most friendly smile. I'd seen it often. It was the one he used when he was actually pleased, or if someone had massaged his ego just right. There are a lot of misconceptions about the idea of macho, but there is a lot of truth to it too, and my father oozed macho. "Don Bertoli," he said, switching to heavily accented English that to me was nearly as unintelligible as Chinese, "I would be honored. My daughter will remain in your care, and your son shall be responsible for her safety. Thank you for such a high level of respect."

"Of course, Se?or Mendosa. Once this is taken care of, we can discuss how we might be able to turn this unfortunate event to both our advantage by discussing a more permanent business arrangement." Leave it to men like Don Bertoli and my father—they always had at least part of their minds focused on business.