| MYA |
To say that Marcelo was pissed was an understatement. He was completely ignoring me. When we entered the jet, he walked straight into one of the bedrooms and locked the door.
I would say he was being a little childish, but then again, he has seen things that I have not. I was about to knock on the door to check on him when I heard grunting from inside.
“What the heck?” I whispered to myself. Was he that mad that he had started working out?
I guess I will leave him alone for a few hours. I didn’t want to upset him anymore. I was not changing my mind, but I wasn’t in the mood to argue with him.
“Cocktail di gamberi, Signorina Fontana?” (Italian for “Shrimp cocktail, Ms. Fontana?” I heard one of the air hostesses ask.
“No grazie,” (Italian for “No, thank you,”) I told her befo
