Page 21 of Hit Man
I blush.
A few men laugh.
Before the sound of glass smashing overshadows them all.
“I said crème fraîche. This is whipped fucking cream.”
“Sorry, Señor Mendoza,” a waiter mumbles.
“We won’t make this mistake again, señor. My deepest apologies.”
“And if you forget to lock the goddamn door behind you, there won’t be a next time,” their boss continues, angry and unfiltered and as obnoxious as can be.
Diego propels me toward the door again, and this time I’m definitely more willing to follow along. Hitting up an elusive billionaire for funding is one thing—hitting up a sexist billionaire with some anger-management problems while hungover is another.
“How do you find yourself at Casa Bella?” I hear Juan Carlos ask. For a second, I’m too stunned by what just happened to understand his question is directed at me.
I inhale deeply and find my voice, aware of an odd undercurrent of danger here. “I’m a friend of Renaldo’s.”
“Ah, Renaldo. He likes the pretty ones.”
Don’t scowl. Don’t react. Get out of the room. Reassess.
“Are you here for the entertainment? Maybe to be part of the entertainment, perhaps?”
A few men chuckle. I stiffen.
“I came because I have a business proposal for you,” I manage in a calm voice. Desperately trying to salvage what I can from this horrible, unsettling battle. That’s what this feels like, a battle of wills. Juan Carlos’s being the driving force.
Juan Carlos and . . .him, who is suddenly moving, a whirlwind of motion as he stalks past me.
“When you’re finished with her and are ready to continue, I’ll be waiting in the media room.” Without another word, Diego leaves.
“Come back here,” Juan Carlos shouts. Pointing to the place Diego just exited, he orders me from the room. “Go.” Then he shakes a finger at two of his men. “Get him.”
I’m mortified. Ordered from the room like a child. I spin and make a beeline for the door. My chances with Juan Carlos crushed, beneath my own heel as much as by this unfortunate chain of events. Do I really want to do business with such an asshole?
Business. That’s all it is. Gain his financial support. Deal with him. Don’t allow your emotions or his brutish behavior to affect the outcome of what you’re aspiring to achieve.
“Juan Carlos. I apologize for the interruption,” I pause to say, emotionless and with great dignity. I’ll escape, lick my wounded pride, reassess, and decide. Somewhere far away from all the prying eyes that seem to be fixed on me.
I pivot on my heels, anxious to leave.
“Wait,” Juan Carlos’s voice booms.
I take a fortifying breath and turn.
“Make an appointment with my business manager if you want a private audience with me.”
6
Diego
Iwatch the monitor of one of the surveillance cameras set up by the bungalows at the southeast end of the estate, studying Aubrey as she kicks a stone across the garden path. In her hand, she’s clutching a waded-up note.
Bad news.
Andlies.
