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Chapter 10
Stefan
Last night was anything but easy. Presley was a nightmare, and I’m not exaggerating. Any time she could cause an issue, she did. I think she even had a smile on her face when she was doing it. I ended up tossing her on her bed and locking the door to her bedroom. I told her that she could figure out how the fuck to calm down or I’d see her in a couple of days.
It’s about eleven in the morning, and she’s still screaming, cursing my name from the other end of the house. I’m just going to let her stay in there and calm down a bit more before going to see her again.
“Lord, she’s still going?” Silva comes into the sunroom, raising a brow.
“Yep. I imagine she’ll continue doing that for another couple of hours, or at least until she passes out.”
“I’m half tempted to put a tranquilizer in her food so we can all get some quiet around here.” Silva chuckles.
“If she was anyone else, I’d give you the go ahead, but she needs to understand that we’re not the enemy. It’ll take her a bit, but she’ll understand soon enough. I’m relatively confident.”
“Well, I’m sure your confident ass doesn’t mind if I leave one of the boys back here to deal with the screamer while I go see your mother with you.”
Early this morning my mother called me and asked me to meet her downtown at one of her favorite cafes. She doesn’t normally come in town very often, and it’s no surprise that I enjoy her company far more than I like my father’s. “Sure, you can come along. Just don’t do that hovering thing. You know she hates that.”
“Yeah, well, it’s my job. I’m not going to apologize for watching over you the way I should be. You haven’t been killed yet, and you won’t with my process.” I want to roll my eyes at the bastard, but he’s not wrong. It’s why I’ve kept him with me for so many years.
Fuck, after the shit with Mariana when she was looking for a potential new betrothed, I’m shocked Ion didn’t figure out a way to assassinate me. I
get up from my chair just as Presley screams from the other end of the house.
“Jesus, I’ll meet you outside in a moment. Can you get the car cooled off?” I ask Silva who nods and heads for the front of the house.
I walk down the hallway to where I have Presley in one of the guest rooms and slide the key into the door. What she doesn’t realize is that I have two men posted outside her windows and the door that leads into her bedroom. Pushing open the door, I see a very pissed off woman in a pink gown. “I thought you would’ve changed by now,” I mutter, looking down at her sitting on the edge of her bed.
“I don’t want to wear anything you buy me,” she hisses, feisty as can be.
I chortle out a laugh. “You’ll just have to get over that, pumpkin. Anything in this house is purchased by me; from your luxurious clothes to the food you’ll eat. I was going to let you tour around the house with some of our security, but if you can’t calm down enough to do that, I don’t think I’ll let you.”
Presley lifts her head up a little higher, analyzing me. I’m sure she’s wondering why I’d let her roam the house now, of all times. “I’m getting ready to go into town to have coffee with my mother. I expect that if I let you out of this room you’ll be on your best behavior. If you aren’t, my men have been given strict instructions to toss you back in this room and lock you in here until I return,” I state, handing the key to her room off to Rodriguez, who is the head of Presley’s security.
“Fine,” she grumbles, standing up from the bed. I watch her go over to her closet and grab a couple of things out of it. “I’m going to take a shower, and then your monkey’s can tour me around the house.”
“Fantastic. I’ll see you in a few hours. Don’t forget to go into the kitchen and get something to eat. I have a chef. Her name is Antonia, and everything she makes is delicious.” Presley doesn’t respond to me. Instead, she walks into her en-suite bathroom and slams the door. I take that as my signal to leave and go out to the front of my house and catch up with Silva. He's already in my car behind the driver’s seat, and I get in the passenger side.
“I didn’t expect to be chauffeured today.”
“I didn’t expect to get no sleep last night. Looks like surprises are coming from every which way,” he responds with a snarky tone.
I pay him no mind, instead, leaning my head back against the headrest and close my eyes as he drives me into town. From my home I can see Rio de Janerio. If traffic isn’t too heavy, I can be there within twenty to thirty minutes.
The café where my mother wants to meet me is on the outskirts of town. They’re famous for the way they make their coffee and scones. For the most part, whenever I’m driving down to my family home, I bring her a box of goodies that are begging to be eaten.
Silva pulls up to the side of the street and parks alongside the café. Scanning the area, I don’t see my mother in sight. Usually, she’s a creature of habit and sits on the outside of the café with one or two members of her team closely beside her.
I brush this off and head inside, ordering a hot coffee and a large order ofBolinho de Chuva. They’re basically cinnamon flavored donut holes, but, fuck, I’ve been to a lot of places around the world, and no one can make donut holes like this place. I ask the girl in the front if they can do me a favor and sprinkle a little bit of powdered sugar on top, and she has no problem with making sure my request is met. Seeing as she’s usually the girl who waits on my mother and I, I ask if she’s been her yet. She tells me that she isn’t here, but there’s a girl upstairs who said she was here to meet her.
Now, this causes me to be on guard. “What does the girl look like?”
“She’s probably in her mid-twenties. Has long, straight, brown hair with tanned skin. I can bring your order upstairs if you’d like, Mr. Dalca.”
I nod. “Yes, that would be good. Thank you.”
Silva is only a foot behind me and grabs my shoulder. “Who would be here to meet your mother? Wasn’t she supposed to meet you?”
“That’s what she said, but now I’m thinking my mother had other plans.”
“Ah, or your father told your dear mom to call you and pull some shady shit.”
I scoff, but Silva has a point. “You’re probably right,” I agree with him, heading towards the stairs.
“When am I ever wrong?” He laughs, footsteps coming in heavy as we go up the stairs.
The moment I reach the top I see the upstairs is completely empty, with only one table being taken. There’s no mistaking who this woman is, seeing as I’ve looked at a photograph of her maybe a week ago. “Isabella?”
She glances up from her cell phone and looks startled, like she wasn’t expecting this either. “What are you doing here? I came to meet your mother, not you,” she snaps out, aggravated as can be.
I go over towards the table she’s at and take a seat across from her. “Odd. I was supposed to meet my mother, and now you’re here.”
“Fuck!” Isabella snaps out, covering her hand over her face. “She was supposed to meet me here to give me intel, not to arrange some sort of private blind date with your ass.”
“Oh my, Isabella . . . when did you become such a crass creature? Was that after you started working with the United States government?” I don’t bother holding back the information I have on her, wanting to see the reaction.
“What?”
“You know what, don’t play coy with me. I have a friend who told me you’re on a covert mission.”
“Your friend is obviously mistaken. I’m just an accountant’s daughter.”
“No, you’re much more than that. Why don’t we make a deal?”
She narrows her eyes. “What sort of deal?”
“The deal where you keep your precious secrets to yourself. Where we can help one another.”
“How are you and I going to help one another?” Isabella leans back in her seat and crosses her arms, cocking a brow like she suddenly grew a pair of balls.
“You get out of my hair and avoid whatever deal my father is trying to strike up with yours.”
It’s pretty simple really, she just needs to keep doing whatever she’s doing, staying out of contact with her father for a little while. “That’ll be hard. My father signed the contract that yours sent over. I was made aware of it two days ago. I came here to talk to your mother because she had some information on how I can get out of this giant mess.”
The waitress from downstairs comes up with my coffee and cinnamon donut holes, sits them on the table and disappears. “Yeah, so you can continue to do whatever shit you’ve been up to,” I comment, taking one of the scrumptious treats and shove it in my mouth.
“I’m not up to anything,” Isabella argues, but I know she’s lying through her teeth.
“Yeah, right. Just go back to wherever you came from, and make it known that I’m already married.”
“Wait. What? Does your father know about it?” Isabella looks shocked but the moment I told her she smiled from ear to ear.
“Nope, he doesn’t have a damn clue,” I say, picking up my coffee I bring it to my lips and let the bitter taste mix with the sweetness from the cinnamon that’s still left on my tongue.
She giggles. “I thought I didn’t like you, Stefan, but it turns out you’re proving me wrong. Looks like we’ve both won today.” She puts her hand on my plate and grabs a couple of treats, popping one in her mouth. “Damn, this is delicious!”
I offer the plate to her, finishing my coffee up in a couple sips. “Consider it my farewell gift. It was a pleasure doing business with you.”
I rise from my seat and head over towards the stairwell. Silva is quick to cock a brow and let me know he heard the entire thing. “So, you’re married?”
“Shut up and get me the name of that priest you know who signs the documents.”
I’m not having a legitimate wedding, but Presley and I will be married according to the great country of Brazil as of yesterday.
