I was shocked for a moment at his words, and turned to look at him. "You're not going to call me a whore or say I screwed up? Or are you just being sarcastic?”
"The Lord does nothing without purpose," he said. He’d always been the most religious member of my generation in the family, weirdly enough. “Don’t take this the wrong way—it’s just a question. I take it you’re going to keep the baby? I only ask because despite what the Church teaches, so many young women our age do it."
I shook my head fiercely. "Even if I never see Tomasso again, this child is my child. I’ll love and protect it."
“And I’ll love and protect my sister," Eduardo said simply. "I just got a message from Father. It seems that after his little rant last night, the Bertolis have decided to respond."
"Oh? And how is that? Eduardo, I don't want to cast doubt on our men's skill, but if Father thinks he can take the fight to Seattle and wipe out the Bertolis, he's sadly mistaken. They're well-trained, professional, well-armed, and bigger than our family. It'd be a bloodbath." I was being slightly hyperbolic, but I wanted to do whatever I could to prevent fighting. If that meant scaring my father, I'd try it.
"That won't be a problem," he said, a chilly smile on his face. "Carlo and Tomasso are flying to Porto Alegre. According to Margaret Bertoli, their intention is peace.”
I blinked, stunned. "They're what?”
Eduardo nodded. "Either they are serious about peace, or they are insane, because we've already checked with our friends at the airport, and a private charter jet is scheduled to land at three this afternoon. We've already instructed the customs officials at the airport to let them in without any real inspection. From there, we will determine what course of action to take."
"And you’re the one to tell me about this . . . why?" I asked, trying to control my excitement. To see Tomasso again, even with the stress and the situation in our laps, was more than I could have wished for, and my heart was leaping in my chest.
"Well, at first, Father wanted to greet the them with a hail of shotgun shells," Eduardo said, but he waved it off when he saw the shock and pain on my face. "Don’t worry, I talked him out of it, but he did ask me to do something, and you should probably know.”
"What?" I asked, suspicious. Eduardo already had multiple deaths to his name, and was as cold-blooded as any reptile when he wanted to be.
“Let’s just say that Tomasso won’t be returning home in the same condition, if you get my drift."
I swallowed and controlled my emotions. "I understand your feelings, and I’m flattered that you feel like you need to defend my honor. But what if I don't want you to?"
He shook his head. "That doesn’t change the fact that I have to do it. My question to you is, how would you prefer I do it?"
I could tell from the tone of his voice that it was no use arguing with him. Whether he was convinced to do it or father ordered him to, it didn’t matter. Once his mind was made up on something, there was no changing it. “Fine. If you have to do this—Vale tudo," I said. "Can you do that, at least?"
"No weapons?" He asked, surprised. "You must not love this man as much as I thought if you’re willing to put him in a fight with me with no weapons. If he had a stick, at least he'd have a chance."
He got up, wiped his hands on his pants, and headed for the door. Just before he left, he paused and looked back at me, giving me one last look before he left. I shivered at the coldness he left behind. I knew that fights in Brazil were different than in America. There would be no rules, literally, except to respect the referee's commands and that only two men would fight. And I knew how good Eduardo was. Even if Tomasso had been perfectly healthy, the odds were stacked against him.
I got to my feet and left the room, looking for Father. If Tomasso were to have a chance, he had to know at least a little bit about what would be happening to him.
I found him in his office, talking on the telephone with someone. Seeing me, he ended his conversation and hung up the phone. "Repairs from the storm are going to schedule," he explained. "And the other men are helping with the repairs around the city."
I nodded and sat down. "Eduardo just found me. Apparently you spoke with Margaret Bertoli?"
He nodded. "A nice woman, not Italian in appearance at all. I assume that Eduardo told you about my orders, which is why you’re here?"
"It is. I came to ask that you allow me to speak with Tomasso and explain it to him. He deserves that much.”
He studied me for a moment, then nodded. "Fine—it won’t matter. I’ll set up the call."
I stopped for a second, surprised. "Call?"