12. Vinnie
12
VINNIE
D aniela Agudelo is not eleven years old. She’s a beautiful young woman with gorgeous olive skin, hair that’s black as night, and dark chocolate eyes. Her lips are painted ruby red, her lashes long and lush.
Not eleven by a long shot. Probably early twenties. The documents said eleven. How did Mario get the age wrong?
“You must be Mr. Gallo,” she says to me in only slightly accented English. “I’m Daniela.” She holds out her hand.
I shake it lightly. “It’s a pleasure. I was told you were eleven.”
She chuckles. “I’m not sure where you got your information. I’m seventeen. Eighteen in a few months.” She pouts her lips. “It’s very nice to meet you, Mr. Gallo.”
“Yes, the feeling is mutual,” I say.
She gestures toward the dining room. “I hope you enjoy the meal. Our chef has prepared ceviche de camarón con mango for an appetizer.”
“Sounds great.”
She narrows her gaze. “Would you do me the honor of sitting by me?”
“Of course, Senorita Agudelo.” I hold the chair for her as she sits down.
I take my own chair and read the printed list of courses at my seat.
Ceviche de camarón con mango.
Ajiaco Santafereno.
Lomo al Trapo con Chimichurri.
Ensalada.
“Ensalada means ‘salad,’ I know that.” I point at the remaining entries on the list of courses. “What are all the rest of these?”
Daniela smiles. “The ajiaco is a traditional Colombian soup with three types of potatoes, shredded chicken, corn, and a touch of guasca leaves. It’s garnished with heavy cream and capers, served alongside avocado slices and white rice.”
“Sounds very tasty,” I say.
Daniela smiles. “It is, Senor.”
“And this next thing. With chimichurri?”
She nods. “Lomo al Trapo, the main entrée. It is our chef’s specialty. Beef tenderloin cooked directly over hot coals while wrapped in a salt-covered cloth and served with a fresh chimichurri.”
“Which is…?”
“A sauce made from cilantro, parsley, garlic, and olive oil. The beef will be accompanied by golden baby potatoes roasted with herbs and coconut rice.”
“Which brings us to the salad. What does your chef usually serve with his?”
“I believe tonight’s salad will be made with hearts of palm, ripe avocados, and cherry tomatoes in a lime vinaigrette.”
“It all sounds wonderful,” I say. “You speak as if you have more than just run-of-the-mill culinary knowledge.”
Her face brightens. “I’ve always been interested in the culinary arts.” She then casts her gaze to the floor. “Unfortunately, my father doesn’t value higher education for women.”
I frown. “Yes, that sounds familiar. My grandfather doesn’t either. I, however, don’t share that philosophy.”
Her big eyes widen. “You don’t?”
“No, I don’t.”
She takes my hand delicately. “I understand you’re promised to a young lady back in Texas.”
“I am.”
Just the thought of Belinda being promised to me makes me nauseated. Not because I’m engaged to an eleven-year-old. That marriage will never happen. But because of what she’s going through—possibly this very moment—at the hands of her father.
“I am promised as well,” she says. “To Senor Vega.”
I stop my jaw from dropping. Vega must be in his sixties.
“I guess I just assumed he was already married.”
“He was. His first wife passed away eight years ago.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
A staff member brings in the first course. “Wine, senor?” he asks me. “It’s Argentinian Malbec.”
“Yes, please.”
The staff member nods and fills my wine goblet.
I take a drink, letting the fruity wine glide over my tastebuds.
Daniela takes a second glass, clinking it to mine. “So tell me, Senor Gallo, what are your interests?”
She’s asking about my interests? That’s odd.
“My only interest here is making a deal work with your father and, apparently, your fiancé.”
She narrows her eyes. “I’d like to offer you my services.”
I nearly spit out the splash of wine in my mouth. “What do you mean your services?”
She bats her eyes. “My father asked me to…take care of you this evening since he’s not here to see to your entertainment.”
I blink a few times. “I don’t require any entertainment.”
“What about a night out on the town?”
I bite my lip. “I’m afraid I’m exhausted.”
“Then a night in,” she says demurely, leaning in.
“I’m afraid I have too much work to do this evening.”
“You do understand what I’m offering you,” she says, her tone flirtatious.
Yes, I’d be an idiot not to pick up on her innuendo. I find it all disgusting. She is beautiful, but I’m not even slightly interested in someone underage. Hell, I’m not interested in anyone overage either. I’m interested only in one woman—a woman who I can’t have.
“I do,” I say. “And I’m not interested in an evening with a child.”
She widens her eyes. “Do I look like a child to you?”
I can’t answer that truthfully because indeed I mistook her for a twenty-something when I first saw her.
“What you look like is irrelevant,” I say. “You are a child in my eyes. I’m afraid I must decline.”
She wrinkles her forehead. “No one declines, Senor Gallo.”
“Then let me be the first, Senorita Agudelo.”
“Please, Daniela. Or Dani, if you prefer.” She lays her hand over mine. “And it may interest you, Senor Gallo, that here in Colombia the age of consent is fourteen years. It is not a crime to take a woman of my age for the evening.”
She is beautiful. Just by the way she speaks I can tell how intelligent she is. And that’s in what I assume is her second language. Frankly, I don’t give a damn whether she’s legal or not. A man my age has no business sleeping with a woman under eighteen. Hell, I don’t have any business sleeping with a woman under twenty-five.
Daniela should be following her interests, her passions. Studying cooking if that’s what she desires. Or something else. She can make a life for herself, I can tell that much just from a short conversation with her.
Damn. She has a lot in common with Belinda.
I hate when my mind goes to her. And what her father’s undoubtedly doing to her this evening. I wipe the thought from my head. But still… That child should be preparing for life as a virtuoso pianist. She has a gift. She’s a prodigy.
Perhaps Daniela is too. Perhaps she has the capacity to become a master chef.
“Daniela,” I begin, “I’m not interested in any entertainment this evening.”
She twists a strand of hair around her finger. “I know what I look like, Mr. Gallo. I know how beautiful I am. People have been telling me I’m beautiful since I was twelve.” She sticks her chest out, nearly knocking me out of my seat. “I was an early bloomer, you see. And don’t feel like you have to be some kind of hero. You don’t. I’ve been entertaining my father’s colleagues for the last two years.”
Two years? She’s been doing this since she was fifteen?
Apparently, this particular family doesn’t require their females to remain virgins until they’re married.
Of course, my own family is a crock on that front anyway. My mother was no virgin when she married my father. She had been raped by her own father and left pregnant with me.
“Don’t you have anything to say to that?” Daniela asks.
I put my wine glass down and look deep into her eyes. “To be honest, Daniela, I find that very sad. You should never have to do that. You should never have to give yourself to men as entertainment. Certainly not at your father’s orders.” I feel another pang of nausea in my gut. “You’re seventeen years old. I’m thirty-four. I’m twice as old as you are.”
She scoffs. “Thirty-four is young. Most of the men I entertain here are in their forties or fifties.”
“Then I feel even worse for you.”
She wrinkles her nose. “I’m not asking for your pity, Senor. I’m asking you to let me entertain you this evening.”
“Thank you,” I say, “but again, I must decline.”
She bites on her firm lower lip. The expression in her eyes has turned from flirty to…frightened?
“Is everything all right?” I ask.
“It’s just… If I don’t entertain you, my father will be angry.”
I lean in, lower my voice. “Why would he be angry?”
“He’ll think you didn’t find me attractive enough. That I didn’t do my job.”
“You’re perfectly attractive, Daniela. You and I both know that. But you’re way too young. Tell him I’m an old prude or something.”
She looks down. “Men don’t turn me down, Senor.”
“I’m afraid this man is turning you down.”
“He’ll punish me.” She grabs my hand, squeezing tight. “Please… Let me come to your room.”
“No. I can’t do that.”
“Please…” She looks around nervously.
“May we not speak freely?” I ask in a whisper.
“I don’t know.”
The staff comes in to clear the dishes from the first course.
I rise. “If you’ll excuse me, Ms. Agudelo, I’m going to go out on the front veranda and have a smoke before dinner.”
I don’t smoke, of course, but I did bring a few cigarillos. I nod to Elmo, who’s in the next room. He rises and follows me out.
“Everything okay, Mr. Gallo?” Elmo asks.
I look around. “May we speak freely here?”
He frowns. “There are cameras here. But if we walk away from the house, they shouldn’t be able to capture any sound.”
I nod, and we move away as I light my cigarillo. I inhale, letting the smoke float over my tongue.
“She thinks I want to bed her.”
Elmo doesn’t look overly surprised.
Why would he be? He’s been working for Mario for years. He knows the drill.
“I don’t understand it,” I say. “If Agudelo wants to give me the gift of a woman, why not hire a professional? He’s pimping out his own daughter?”
Elmo presses his lips together. “In his defense, she’s gorgeous. Probably way better-looking than most professionals.”
Seriously? My opinion of Elmo just went down several notches. “I’m sure he could find the most beautiful women in Colombia to be of service,” I say. “No, Elmo. There’s something else at work here. Something much more sinister.”
“You think so?”
I nod, taking another drag on my cigarillo.
“She seems fearful. That if I don’t let her entertain me, she’ll get in trouble. Be punished.”
Elmo chuckles darkly. “She probably didn’t even entertain the idea that you might turn her down. I mean, look at her.”
“She’s not eighteen yet, Elmo. She’s a child.”
“Oh? I would have put her at twenty-one or twenty-two. Either way, age of consent here is only fourteen.”
Christ, does everyone check the rules to see if they can fuck a teenager before heading to a foreign country? My opinion of Elmo slides down another few notches.
“My information said she was eleven. Can you believe that?”
“Hmm,” he says, “I see what you mean. Something else is going on.”
“Yes. She spoke freely about offering herself to me. I’m pretty sure the whole place is bugged.”
“It is.” Elmo says. “I’ve been subtly casing things. Every room is bugged with video and audio.”
I nod. “That’s no less than I expected.”
I look around, and a moment later, Daniela is outside, joining us. She’s still beautiful, but she looks a little deflated compared to before. There’s an uneasiness in her eyes, and I catch the slightest trembling in her lower lip.
“Great,” I mutter to Elmo. “Here she comes.”
My bodyguard looks at her. “She is a beauty.”
“Unfortunately, I’m only interested in one beauty. And it’s not her.”
Elmo subtly nods. Then he turns to her. “Is there something you need, Senorita Agudelo?”
“Yes,” she says. “I need to speak to Senor Gallo. In private.”