Page 7 of Ruthless Contract
“Yeah,” Anthony sighed. “They have a hard time understanding her Hispanic accent.”
Damn.
“I thought she was working on learning Italian.”
“She is. She’s just frustrated because she’s having a hard time mastering it. And she doesn’t want my help. She gets frustrated when I try to teach her Italian words. Anyway, don’t be surprisedif she gets irritated during the meeting and curses you out in English, Spanish, and Italian. It shouldn’t amaze me that she’s somehow managed to learn enough Italian words to curse people out.”
A laugh escaped me at that.
“If it makes her feel any better, she can curse me out in every language she knows. I’m just glad she agreed to come here and take charge of our financial department.”
And I meant that. Julisa was sharp as hell with numbers. She noticed problems before most people realized they existed. Half the reason the Louisiana branch ran as smoothly as it did was because Julisa caught financial issues before they became disasters.
“It’s only for five years, until she hires and trains a team to replace her,” I reminded Anthony. “Same for you. You’re only here until you hire and train someone to replace you. Until then, you and Julisa are the people I’m entrusting this branch to. Along with Davide DeLuca.”
Leaving the casino in Anthony’s hands as Operations Manager had been an easy decision. The man was organized, levelheaded, and loyal. Davide DeLuca would work beneath him as Assistant Operations Manager.
This casino was truly a blend of both the Cattaneo and DeLucas’ efforts. With Anthony and Davide managing this branch and Julisa overseeing the financial side, the casino would continue to thrive after I returned stateside.
At least, that was the plan if none of my shitty family members tried to tear it down and sabotage us again before then. I leftmy office a few minutes later and headed toward the conference room.
Employees nodded respectfully as I passed them. The sound of slot machines and distant conversations blended together throughout the casino. A woman from the janitorial staff smiled at me while pushing her cleaning cart down the hallway.
I smiled back politely before continuing on my way. Then, against my better judgment, I found myself wondering what Juliet looked like when she smiled. I bet she had a mischievous smile.
Fuck. I needed to stop thinking about that woman every five minutes. Shoving the thought aside, I pushed open the conference room door and stepped inside. The scent of lemon filled the air. I guess the staff had just finished cleaning the office.
Julisa was already there, placing iPads in front of each chair at the long conference table. Six chairs total. Financial reports were neatly stacked near the center, beside bottles of water and folders.
She no longer provided snacks during the meetings, complaining that no one ate them anyway. The moment she spotted me, she started muttering under her breath in rapid Spanish.Yeah. She was definitely in a mood.
“Hello, Julisa,” I greeted, walking farther into the room. “How’s it going?”
She responded with another stream of rapid Spanish while rolling her eyes so hard I thought they might get stuck in theback of her head. I hid my amusement and pulled out the chair at the head of the table before sitting down.
“Five years,” I reminded her. “Five years and then you and Anthony can go back to Louisiana.”
“Returning to Louisiana isn’t the problem,” she snapped as she placed another iPad onto the table. “I actually like Italy.”
“Good. Then what’s the problem?”
Huffing out a sigh, she faced me.
“Your translators are the problem,” she stated flatly. “I need someone who can understand me better before I lose my fucking mind. You know what happens when I lose my fucking mind, Romaneo Cattaneo.”
Her left eye twitched slightly. That wasn’t a good sign. She was right, I knew what happened when she lost her mind. Anthony once showed up at my place here in Italy, carrying an overnight bag after Julisa lost her mind and tried stabbing him in the nuts.
Why?Because he’d returned from the grocery store without her favorite coffee. In his defense, the grocery store here didn’t sell the coffee she wanted. He’d told her that. She hadn’t cared. She’d wanted that coffee, and she’d wanted it right then.
That situation had taught me two things very quickly. One: Julisa was crazy enough to follow through on threats. And two: Never let a woman addicted to caffeine run out of her favorite coffee. Ever.
“What can I do to stop you from going crazy?” I asked carefully.
“Get me a translator who understands me.”
A translator who understood her.
I leaned back slightly in my chair as I considered that. The only other translator I could think of was Stefano DeLuca’s girlfriend. But would she be willing to work here? She was the translator at Tower D.
