7. Antonio

Daniela’s eyes dart from me to the doctor and back. Whatever’s on the tip of her tongue, she doesn’t want it overheard. While I appreciate her discretion, she better not be here to stick her nose into my business.

Listening at the door is no different than spying. I don’t care who you are. Lucas and I were having a private business discussion. Daniela knows eavesdropping isn’t something I easily forgive. Especially today.

Someone put a bomb on my boat, my shoulder’s fucked up, and I’ve had my fill of traitors. Daniela’s not a traitor, but I’m sure she overheard something she shouldn’t have, and now she wants to offer me her opinion. Fuck that.

I glower at her. “He can’t hear you. Say what you came to say, or go back to the girls. I’m working.”

She holds her head high and shoots me daggers. Normally she aims at least one that breaks the skin, but today, they all bounce off my chest. One after another. And she knows it.

“Someone has Cristiano and—”

I cut her off immediately. “Not your concern.”

“Like hell it isn’t my concern. I heard you talking when I came in. Someone wants to exchange Cristiano for me. How is that not my concern?”

Challenging me, listening at the door—it’s all insubordination that I won’t tolerate. I don’t care if the doctor has no fucking clue. Lucas is here. She knows better.

I glare at her, before yanking the headphones off the doctor. “Get out.”

Lucas, who has been staring at his shoes since Daniela first opened her mouth, is eyeing me warily. But no one breathes a word as the doctor scurries out.

When he’s gone, I get up and cross the room to the built-in cabinet with a sink. I lean with my back against the countertop and fold my arms over my chest. I don’t trust myself to have her within arm’s reach. I’m edgy as hell, and she crossed a line.

“Sit down.” I cock my chin toward the stool. She bristles at the command, and I’m sure she’s tempted to tell me to go fuck myself, but wisely keeps her mouth shut and puts her gorgeous ass on the seat.

“What is it you think you overheard while you were spying on a private business meeting? My private business meeting,” I hiss.

Undaunted, she peers directly into my eyes. Her self-preservation instincts leave something to be desired, but she has balls. Got to give her that.

“Someone has Cristiano, and they’re willing to exchange him for me.”

Not quite accurate, but eavesdroppers often miss the fine details.

“Let me guess. You have a suggestion.”

She doesn’t respond, but she doesn’t lower her gaze, either.

“What is it you’d like me to do? Tie a big, pretty bow around your neck, and have a guard drop you off with the Russians? Shall I send Lucas, or would you prefer Santi to deliver you to your death?”

She winces at the biting sarcasm, but it’s well-deserved. The princesa needs to be put in her place, and I’m just the man for the job.

“Lucas, do you know how to make a bow? One of those big, fancy ones.” My eyes don’t leave hers, even as I speak to him. “Do we have red ribbon, anywhere?” Silence. “It’s such a nice color for a princesa.”

Daniela clasps her hands tightly in her lap before she speaks. “Please don’t treat me like a child.”

Despite the polite way she couches her words, her tone is demanding. The woman doesn’t know when to quit. Normally I admire her tenacity, but my patience is thin right now and I’ve about had my fill, when she sticks out her chin and pulls her shoulders back.

“Cristiano is like a brother. To both of you,” she says softly, glancing from me to Lucas, who I know admires her grit. “Surely there has to be a way you could make an exchange, or pretend to, while still ensuring my safety. My father would make those sorts of deals whenever thieves tried to blackmail him for grapes.”

She’s lost her fucking mind. Does she really think I’d even consider a trade that involved her in that way?

I’m done with this bullshit.

As I prowl toward her, Daniela’s eyes widen, and she lists back on the stool. It’s a slight movement, because there’s really nowhere for her to go. But I saw it. She’s afraid. And she damn well should be.

“I’m not your father,” I growl, inches from her face. “And you’re not a fucking grape.”

I turn to Lucas. “Go see what’s taking so long with the goddamn servers.”

Lucas tips his head in a way that tells me he’s concerned about leaving us alone. If I were him, I’d be concerned, too. But he doesn’t question it, or ask to have a word outside, like Cristiano would do in this circumstance. Although the look he gives me as he leaves holds a plea for her safety.