Page 54 of Rio
He walks up to the front and stands to face the audiences.He’s wearing a white shirt and tie, dark trousers, and carries plenty of attitude.No blazer, but his signature shades dangle from the pocket of his shirt.Hands on hips, he welcomes everyone and thanks them for being here.Then he makes a joke about the sweltering heat.
I don’t expect anyone to laugh, but to my complete shock, some people do.Looking around, I’m not surprised to find that it’s mainly the female contingent.The moms and grandmas who are here.
Caraca.
I was hoping they wouldn’t be taken in by his good looks and charm, like I was, unfortunately.I blame the rum punch for that.
“I’m Rio Knight, here on behalf of Knight Enterprises, Delport Realty’s parent company.I’m not a spokesperson.I’m here to listen.”
He’s about to return to the side, when I stand up.I’m not going to let him get away with that.
“As the parent company, can you enlighten us as to your mission for the eco resort?”
He blinks, before giving me the death stare.I press my lips together, to stop them from flashing a smug smile.
“And, who are you?”he asks.
He’s playing that game, is he?“Raquel Monteiro here, with Alma Flores, to record testimony.Let’s stay on track, Mr.Knight.I’m still waiting for an answer.”
He shoots me a what-the-fuck look.Like he can’t believe I’ve had the balls to stand up and ask him.I almost didn’t.I almost stayed seated, but maybe that’s what he wants.Maybe he’s trying his best to quieten me, and using his good looks and charm to do it.It’s not going to work.I mean business, even if, deep down inside, I feel he’s doing his best to make this difficult for me.
Last night was a bad mistake.I’m starting to believe that he engineered it, right from the start when he turned up, leaning against the tree looking like someone out of a Condé Nast magazine.These Knights play dirty.I must never forget that.
“Speaking on behalf of Delport Realty, we believe that sustainability and progress can exist together.We’re bringing jobs, infrastructure, and eco-conscious tourism to a region that deserves visibility and investment.”
I give him a pointed stare.Did I hear correctly?Visibility and investment?Is that what they’re calling mangrove destruction these days?To my dismay I note that a few people are nodding in agreement.A journalist next to me scribbles in her notebook.No one questions a word he’s saying.
“Are you planning to disclose that the resort sits on land previously designated as being protected under the 2008 Coastal Conservation Agreement?”I throw back.Sweat trickles down my neck as all eyes turn to me.
To my satisfaction, I notice his Adam’s apple bobbing, as a hush descends.The only sound I hear is that of the whirring fans.Rio’s eyes lock with mine.“The agreement expired in 2018 and was renegotiated in 2019.Those terms were reviewed by the Ministry of Natural Resources.”
“Renegotiated?How convenient.”He’s implying that nothing shady happened, but he’s also not denying it either.A vein along his forehead pops.He slicks his hair back, and my attention fixates on that bold, brash watch of his.How cool, smug and self-assured he is.It’s a trait baked into the Knight DNA.
“I can assure you that all of our permits are above board, and we followed every legal procedure.”
“Hmmmm.”I put on my most serious face, and nod, as if I’m thinking about something.“But legal doesn’t always mean it’s ethical, Mr.Knight.”
“And unethical doesn’t always mean illegal, Ms.Monteiro.”His tone is sharp again, like he’s been wounded.Like when I mentioned him having an escort.
Something hits hard and my spine stiffens.This man isn’t only defending the eco resort; he’s defending himself.
My blood boils.“A resort, aneco resort, no less, built over bulldozed coastline, a waterway blocked, mangrove trees destroyed.Communities affected.You call thissustainable?”
The crowd’s murmur turns louder.Someone stands behind me.I turn to see a local elder.“They promised we would have better access to water, but they lied!We’re forced to buy bottled or get sick.”
The silence is deafening, and only the scrape of a chair breaks it.The men from the construction site, sitting next to Rio look sheepish.One of them, the foreman, stares down at his shoes.I wonder if he’s wishing the floor would swallow him up.Tomas, the guy Alma knows, nods in approval.
My eyes fix on Rio.“Do you still insist on calling this sustainable?”
His jaw flexes.I’ve put him in a tight spot and he doesn’t like it.“We’re working on it, Ms.Monteiro.I didn’t design this resort, I didn’t approve the plans, but I’m here now, representing the parent company, and aiming to put things right.”
A couple of people get up and take photos of us.We’re only a few feet away from each other, in a fiery standoff.Faces twisted in anger, nothing like how we were last night in the lagoon.
Alma gives a discreet tug of my skirt.“Calm down,” she whispers.“Not like this.”
I should have backed off, but I wanted to dig the knife in.Still, I don’t regret it.I sit down.
Rio looks at the elder.“If the resort caused this, I’ll make it right.But I want facts—not rumors.”
