Reckless (Bertoli Crime Family #2) Read Online Free Page B

I could see in her eyes that she wanted to hit me with it, probably right across the face.
    "Let me take you to coffee, say in the afternoon? The show's gotta have a break built in there somewhere, and it's just a cup of coffee. I . . . I'd like to show you that I'm not always such an asshole."
    Luisa chuckled and nodded at my admission. "For the sake of our fathers and families, I accept. Here’s my phone number. Call me tomorrow afternoon. My break right now is about two in the afternoon until three. Maybe then, we can try and make a better start than this. Have a good evening, and good luck with your work tonight."
    "Thank you," I said, a pleasant buzz going through me as she took out a card from her purse and wrote her number on the back. "And like I said, I'm not always an asshole. You'll see."
    "Goodnight."

Chapter 4
Luisa
    T he next day was the sort of day that I had least looked forward to about Seattle—the sort of dreary, overcast day where the sky looked like it constantly wanted to rain but didn't. In Brazil, it’s different. When the clouds boil over dark and heavy, you know to get yourself indoors. When they were done raining, the clouds knew enough to go away, and the sky was beautiful.
    Seattle clouds, on the other hand, seem to enjoy just mingling with each other, turning the entire sky into a sort of slate gray that sucks the life and pleasure out of the entire day. Everything gets washed out into a monotone yech that can only be abated by sleep. No wonder the city was full of hipsters who have to constantly drink coffee to stay awake.
    The convention center was a lot of the same, with most of the men wearing dull, drab suits that looked like they were all made in the same factory and handed out to American businessmen along with one of three options in ties. Still, as things started, I quickly got into the zone and started to enjoy my work.
    The key to my task at the Seattle convention was not to set up a booth. My family didn’t have the presence nor the available manpower to send such an entourage. Instead, my father trusted me to do what I did best, which was use all of my six-foot-two inches (in heels) and thirty-eight inches each of chest and hip to get the attention of the people at the convention, and then use my brains to complete the work and make the connections. We weren't planning on making any immediate sales, but instead to make the sort of introductions and inroads that could lead to future sales. That didn't mean I didn't have sales forms with me, but they were kept in my small folder case.
    My immediate target, of course, were the churrascaria chains, the Brazilian barbecue places that could use the fact that my family offered authentic Brazilian beef for export as a selling point to their customers. So my immediate target list of people to talk to included Fogo de Chao, Rum Jungle, and Texas de Brazil. But, if the opportunity arose, I'd be happy to talk to any of the chains or even the few supermarkets that were at the convention.
    In the morning, I was able to talk to the lead representative from Texas de Brazil, who sounded interested in what my family had to offer. After exchanging information, he talked with me for nearly twenty minutes, and for the most part, he kept his eyes where they were supposed to be. I was certain that he would actually give our offices in Brazil a call soon in order to get some of our winter cattle, although he stopped short on actually filling out an order form.
    Skipping lunch, I used the opportunity to make some of the smaller connections I'd sought for after seeing the big players leave their booths for lunch. However, the little places, the single restaurants or small chains that were looking for anything they could as every penny was precious to them, stayed at their booths or kept circulating, hustling to make deals and connections. It was capitalism and business in its truest form, which to me was both intoxicating and dangerous. If you let