Total pages in book: 58
Estimated words: 56771 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 284(@200wpm)___ 227(@250wpm)___ 189(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 56771 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 284(@200wpm)___ 227(@250wpm)___ 189(@300wpm)
“It happens because you’re a mob family,” I almost yell, with way more anger than I intended. It’s like everything has balled up until this moment, and now I let it all out.
The corner of his lip twitches, a glint passing across his mismatched eyes. It’s like he’s calculating, and for a wild moment, I imagine he’s wondering what use he can make of me in the bedroom or life. Not that I’d be much good at either, but I’d try with him.
“I’m sorry,” Rosa says, crossing the room and sitting beside me.
Our friendship’s at a level where she doesn’t need me to explain. She can look at me and figure out why I’m so mad.
“Of course, you guessed,” she says, taking my hand. “Now what, Dad?”
We wait for Leo’s answer. I try not to let my eyes roam up and down his body, especially to his clenched fist.
Remember the shrine. That’s it, all those photos of Angelica. When she was young, maybe my age, she was an angel with a gorgeous figure and the goddess’ hair to match, not awkward and curly like mine. He lights candles for her every single day. He still loves her. He’s Rosa’s dad and a crime boss, as if I need more reasons not to think about inappropriate things right now.
“Dad?” Rosa says, turning the word almost into a plea.
Now she swims with the fishes, I imagine him saying in an old-time accent, and the thought almost makes me lose it completely. That would convince him I’m insane, giving me a good reason never to talk.
“That depends on you,” Leo says, staring at me.
“Dad, can you sit down? You’re being intimidating.”
“I’m intimidating you?” Leo says, with genuine hurt in his voice, looking at Rosa with love.
This gets really wild, but I distantly have thoughts like Leo looking at our son or daughter with that same love and immediate understanding.
I miss that. I miss Mom.
No.
“No, not me. Don’t be silly, Dad.”
Leo sits in the chair Rosa was just in, folding one leg over the other, his fingers drumming the arm of the chair.
“It depends on you, Emma.”
A tingle dances up my back when he says my name. I’m not sure if it’s fear or want or maybe both. Those sensations shouldn’t mix, should they, like a bad cocktail?
“What did you see?”
“N-nothing,” I say, struggling to talk.
Rosa’s wrong. He’s more than sort of intimidating.
“Dad, she means it,” Rosa says.
“I believe you, but…” His eyes refocus when he looks at me. He stares for a long time like he’s calculating something again. Finally, he goes on. “The war. The Russians. Emma, you should stay here for a while. Things are happening, and you may be a target.”
“What?” Rosa gasps.
“Almost two years,” Leo says, “and you haven’t had any visitors here. Suddenly, Emma shows up. The Russians will take notice. They might target her.”
“This is why you couldn’t visit me,” I whisper, “and why you didn’t want me to come here.”
Rosa squeezes my hand. “I’m so sorry.”
“I can’t stay here.” I sit forward. “I’ve got an apartment waiting for me. I’ve already paid for the first month. I’m starting a job tomorrow, a waitressing job.”
“Is that what you want to be, a waitress?” Leo says.
If I let myself dream, I’d read a lot into how he asks the question, with genuine curiosity and belief in his voice, as if he thinks I’m capable of so much more.
“No,” I reply defiantly. “I’m going to be an accountant, but I’ve got to earn money somehow.”
“Not for the immediate future, you don’t. You’ll have everything you need here.”
“Dad, you can’t keep her here.”
Leo stands with an air of finality. He puts his hands behind his back, emphasizing his shoulders, his thick arms pushing through the sleek dark blue suit.
“I’m doing this for her safety,” he says gruffly.
“Dad—”
It’s like the monster beneath the veneer emerges. He grips the back of the chair, glaring down at us, his voice getting savage and somehow violent like he’d happily hurt something, anybody, right now. The veins in his neck bulge.
“How would you feel if some Russian thug found her? Hurt her? What then? What would we do then?”
He says this almost desperately. It’s as though it would somehow hurt him as much as Rosa, which shouldn’t be the case.
“She stays,” he says, then marches for the stairs.
I stand up and go to the bottom of the stairs.
“Emma…”
Walking up, I grab the handle. It rattles in the lock, the bolt holding it in place.
“He locked the door,” I tell her, almost numbly.
“I’ll talk to him.”
“I’m trapped down here.”
“It’s a lot to take in, I know. Sit down.”
“I don’t need to sit down.”
She moves her hands away as if I’ve burned her. Tears glimmer in her eyes. “I wanted to tell you for so long but never knew how. Anyway, Dad said I couldn’t tell anybody.”