My trip to Puerto Rico had been planned weeks prior. I stepped out of my private jet, grimacing as the humid weather hit me unexpectedly.
The drive from the private hangar to the villa I was having the meeting was longer than I anticipated. I began to wonder where Tomas had chosen for me to meet up with Armando Rivas.
Just when I was about to get really sick of the ride and wish I was driving, the driver swerved into the villa that faced a water front.
And just when I was about to get out of the car I remembered my mother had called to tell me Mira had refused to eat anything all day. I groaned. Why did she have to be unnecessarily stubborn? I understood that she was upset about the fact that I had basically reimprisoned her in the bedroom but that was her punishment for trying to move out in the first place.
I was going to return in a few days and maybe, just maybe I would make it up to her. Maybe.
