Mr. Fiancé(196)

She kept up her touches and taps, and as she did, I felt myself drifting, and the pain not so much stopping as becoming manageable, something I could accept and deal with. When she stopped and I opened my eyes, I was amazed. "What was that?"

"A little bit of acupressure, point therapy, and what was it you called it? Oh yes, biofeedback bullshit," she said with a little smile. "My jiu-jitsu instructor learned under Rickson Gracie, who is into that sort of thing. I learned a little bit of it myself. Now, how do you feel?"

"Better," I admitted, taking her help in sitting up. "Like you said, the pain is still there, but the volume's turned way down. Right now, the biggest thing I feel is hunger.

She smiled. "Let me get your crutches."



"So what's the plan for this morning?" Luisa asked as we ate. "I assume you don’t intend to drag everyone into the pool area and have me hold a gun to their heads until someone fesses up.”

"Effective, but far too crude," I replied, contemplating. "We need to check the security video. Even if it doesn't show the actual phone call being made, we can see who was on the grounds at the time of your leaving that morning."

"And then?"

"We start narrowing it down."

Luisa finished her omelet and set her fork on her plate. "You know what the most difficult part of all of this is going to be, I assume."

"Making sure we don’t tip off whoever sold us out," I replied in appreciation of her foresight. I smiled before growing sober. "This is going to be difficult. I'm not as skilled as some of the men who work for my father. I don't pick locks, I can't hack computers, and while I can shoot, it'd look mighty strange if I started carrying a Beretta to the toilet. I've spent most of the past four years learning more about marketing, human resources, and sales plans than some of the nastier parts of our family's business."

"And we have to come up with a reasonable explanation why I'm spending so much time with you," Luisa said with a slight blush. "I mean, I’m supposed to be a bitch to you, remember?"

"You still can be," I replied lightly. "We just know that things have changed between us, haven't they?"

She and I hadn't really talked much about that portion of our lives, perhaps out of the knowledge that regardless of what we felt, the obstacles that we might have to overcome were depressing. So, if we wanted to be friends—friends with occasional benefits, or maybe something more—it didn't really matter. We'd just have to let that go for now.

"I'm sure we can figure something out,” Luisa said after a moment. There wasn't much else to say, and she poured herself another glass of orange juice.

We finished breakfast, and I wiped my hand across my stubbly chin. "I know what I want to do first," I said as I struggled to my feet. "I need to take a bath and shave. I'm going to miss showers for the next few weeks, at least until I can keep my balance standing on one foot."





Chapter 12





Luisa





"It's the only place on the property where Dad would be willing to keep it," Tomasso explained as he stumped along on his crutches to his father’s study. "There are more than a few layers of security, both physical and electronic. When your house is on the police's top ten list of places they want to raid, you have to have precautions."

I nodded and pointedly turned my back while Tomasso pulled up the the system. "Only a member of the Bertoli family knows exactly how to get in here," Tomasso explained. Okay, I'm in. You can turn around, and thanks."

I smiled and came around the desk, where a flat panel monitor showed the security camera footage interface. "We're lucky. This stuff is supposed to be blanked and recorded over on a weekly basis. There's keeping tabs, and then there is just idiocy.”

I nodded and pointed with my chin to the monitor. "So how do you use this thing?"

"Well, we start with a date and time search," Tomasso said, typing in the date of the accident. "Since I'm not sure what time we had our fight, I'll start it from when I got up. I remember glancing at the clock around then, and I went to get some food and to try and talk to you soon after that."

I watched as the screen split into four parts, which would then rotate among different cameras. "How many security cameras are there on the property anyway?"

"Twelve," Tomasso said offhand. "And no, there are none in the bedrooms or the showers. Ah, here I am!"

I saw as Tomasso on screen came out of his room, walking casually but with still noticeable exhaustion out of his room. "Man, look how easy that was just a few days ago," he noted, sighing. "Think I'll ever walk that easily again?"