Chapter 48
Raven
Cindy stood frozen, her carefully applied makeup doing nothing to hide the panic spreading across her face. Karen, oblivious to her daughter's distress, grabbed Cindy's arm and practically dragged her toward Leonard Fischer and his Brazilian guest.
"Mr. Fischer! My daughter would be delighted to translate." Karen's voice dripped with artificial sweetness. "She's quite the linguistic expert."
Leonard's face brightened immediately. He turned to Ben with a conspiratorial grin. "This is your daughter? Not just beautiful but bilingual too! Impressive!" He clapped Ben on the shoulder. "After this deal closes, we'll have to discuss that shipping contract I mentioned."
I watched the spectacle unfold, sipping my water with practiced nonchalance. From the corner of my eye, I caught David shifting forward in his seat.
"I'd be interested in discussing potential partnerships as well," my father interjected, his voice hopeful. "My hardware business—"
Leonard didn't even turn to acknowledge him. "Maybe when you've produced a daughter as accomplished as Cindy here, we can talk business." He laughed as if he'd said something clever.
The dismissal hit David like a physical blow. I felt something dangerous stir in my chest—not quite anger, but the cold calculation that preceded violence in my previous life.
Portuguese? I thought, watching Cindy's terrified expression. This should be interesting. She'd better understand more than textbook phrases, because street Portuguese is an entirely different language. And Almeida doesn't look like the type to stick to proper grammar and polite conversation.
I suppressed a smile, thinking of my own expertise. I'd spent three months in the Azores hunting a weapons dealer who'd crossed the Bloodline. By the time I left, I spoke Portuguese with such fluency that locals assumed I was from a small village outside Lisbon. I even picked up the distinctive slang of the dock workers and smugglers—vocabulary no prep school princess would ever learn.
Almeida approached with the swagger of someone who believed his wealth exempted him from social graces. He wore designer streetwear that probably cost more than David's monthly income, accessorized with enough jewelry to stock a small boutique.
"E aí, meu parceiro!" Almeida greeted Leonard with a wide grin, clasping his hand. "Festa maneira que você tem aqui. Depois de comer, podemos ir para algum lugar privado? Conheço umas gatas que podem nos fazer companhia enquanto falamos de negócios."
I bit back a smile. He'd essentially just suggested they find some "chicks" to entertain them while discussing business later.
Leonard smiled blankly before turning to Cindy. "What did he say?"
Cindy swallowed hard. "Um... he said... hello."
Leonard's brow furrowed. "That's it? All those words for 'hello'?"
Almeida, noticing the confusion, continued with increasing animation. "Cara, tem muita mulher bonita aqui. Olha só essa!" He gestured toward Karen with an appreciative nod. "Peitos enormes, hein? Deve ser um 'E' pelo menos. Deve ser gostoso de apertar."
I nearly choked on my water. This man had just commented on Karen's breast size and speculated about how they'd feel to touch.
"What did he say about me?" Karen preened, clearly recognizing she was being discussed.
Cindy's face had gone from pale to crimson. "He... he said you look very... elegant and sophisticated."
Karen beamed. "Oh! How kind! Please tell him—"
"Bullshit," Leonard interrupted sharply. "Everyone knows Almeida doesn't talk like that. The man once told the Brazilian Finance Minister his wife had a 'fuckable ass' during official trade negotiations." He turned to Cindy, eyes narrowing. "You don't actually speak Portuguese, do you?"
The room fell silent. Karen's smile froze while Cindy stammered incoherently.
I stood up, ignoring my mother's urgent whisper to sit back down.
"Allow me," I said, crossing the room with deliberate confidence. I positioned myself between Almeida and the increasingly uncomfortable gathering.
"E aí, mano, que legal conhecer você," I began in flawless Portuguese street slang. "Hoje estou aqui como tradutora do Leonard, mas isso aqui não é Portugal. Melhor mostrar um pouco de respeito, porque se você for gente boa comigo, eu serei gente boa com você. Posso te levar a uns lugares depois onde você vai curtir muito. Mas se não, vai ser difícil manter a amizade, tá ligado?"
Almeida's expression shifted from surprise to respect in an instant. His eyes widened, then he broke into a genuine smile and extended his fist for a bump, which I returned with the exact right rhythm and pressure.
"Uma americana que fala como os caras do cais! Onde você aprendeu isso?" he asked, clearly impressed by my command of dock worker slang.
"Passei um tempo nas ilhas. Aprendi com os melhores." I replied smoothly.
The entire room stared at us in stunned silence. I turned to face the onlookers, maintaining my composure.
"Cindy doesn't understand street Portuguese," I explained. "What he actually said was that Karen has large breasts that he'd like to grab, and he wanted to know if Leonard would join him later to 'hook up with some chicks' while discussing business." I shrugged casually. "He's your typical trust fund playboy—drugs, women, parties. That's his language, and it's one Cindy was never going to translate correctly."
Karen's face contorted with rage, her perfectly Botoxed forehead somehow managing to crease despite the injections. Her mouth opened and closed like a designer handbag being snapped shut repeatedly.
"How DARE you!" she finally shrieked, her manicured hand flying to her chest as if to protect her now-infamous assets. "This—this is slander!"
Ben shot a disappointed glance at Cindy. "You told us you were fluent! How could you not understand what he was saying? Four years of private language tutors and this is the result?"
Cindy had shrunk into herself, tears threatening to ruin her expertly applied mascara. She stared at the floor, unable to defend herself.
Leonard raised his hand, cutting through the family drama with the authority of someone used to commanding rooms. His attention had completely shifted away from their meltdown and was now entirely focused on me.
"And you... you're..." he began, clearly reassessing everything he thought he knew about the dinner guests.
I met his gaze directly, enjoying the shock that had replaced his earlier condescension. "I'm the daughter of the man you just insulted. David Martinez." I let my words hang in the air. "And unlike some people, I don't need to pretend to be something I'm not."