I gritted my teeth and shook my head slowly. "No."
"Señor 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, Señor 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.
"That would make me a happy man, Don Bertoli. Thank you."
Father hung up without saying goodbye to me, and I stood, fuming. I always hated my father's chauvinistic tendencies, and for him to demonstrate them so openly in front of others infuriated me even more. I was nearly in tears, both from shame and frustration. I looked from the Don to his son and clamped my fingers tightly together to control my outer expression. I wouldn’t cry in front of these men. "Don Bertoli, if I’m to stay in your house, I need a bedroom. Is there one I can use?"
He gave me an understanding look, one that threatened to undo all of the control I had placed on myself, and I squeezed my fingers so tightly they threatened to break. "Of course, Miss Mendosa. Tomasso, could you find a room for her, please?"
"I can do that,” Tomasso said, not unkindly. Considering the conversation we'd had that afternoon over coffee, he at least partially understood my frustration. He looked at me now with understanding written on his face, which for some reason just made me angrier. "Luisa, would you come with me, please?"
In the hallway, I stopped and stared down the richly carpeted surface. Tomasso closed the door to his father's study behind him, and I looked over. "You said please. I appreciate it."
He turned and looked at me carefully. His face was collected, but his voice was slightly haughty and commanding. "Luisa, I don't like this any more than you do. You don't want to be in Seattle—I get it. You've got some bug up your ass about Americans—I get that too. Right now, I'm just as frustrated because I haven't even learned all the parts of being an errand boy for my father's organization, and now I'm being tasked with something much more important, making sure you stay safe. I'd prefer if we could at least be polite with each other like we were at the cafe this afternoon, but if you want to hold your father's stupid chauvinism against me, there's not a thing I can do to stop you. Your choice, chica."
I wanted to slap him. Nobody except my father had spoken to me in such a frank, yet still disrespectful tone since I was a child. Even my brothers had learned to avoid my wrath. However, Tomasso was right. I wasn't pissed at him as much as I was pissed at my father. "Come on then," I said instead, pointing down the hall. "I'm sure you know which room I'm supposed to use."
"Actually, no," he replied with a chuckle. "But we can ask Jessie. She's one of the maids, and she'll know."
We found Jessie in the kitchen, busily cleaning the silverware. A pretty girl wearing what looked like a new wedding ring, she still blushed when Tomasso called her name, and I wondered if the two had any sort of history together. "Jessie? This is Luisa Mendosa. She's going to be staying at the house for a little while. Dad said there might be some empty rooms in the guest wing."
Jessie thought, then nodded. “Only one, sir. It was the room your cousin used when she was staying away from that psycho stalker.”
Tomasso smirked and chuckled. "Oh, the irony. All right, show us the room, if you could."
Jessie, complete in a little maid's outfit that while not totally sexist, certainly accentuated her petite but sexy figure, led us both across to the other wing of the house, opening a door to an internal room. "I'm sorry, Miss Mendosa, but all the other rooms are currently in use. Well, except for Miss Bertoli's private room. If you'd like, and Don Bertoli approves, I can—”