48. Chapter 47
Chapter 47
Blake
M y father’s laugh cut through my heart like a hot knife through butter. How could he be here with these guys, laughing?
I channeled strength I didn’t know I had while chanting, I will not cry, on a loop in my mind.
My father sat with his back to me, so I saw him before he saw me. One man leaned on the counter, but I didn’t give him the time of day.
“Welcome, Blake.” The guy sitting at the table tilted his head in my direction.
I glared holes in the back of my father’s head instead of answering.
He stood up and turned. “Princess,” he sounded far too cheerful as he reached for me.
“Don’t,” I said, holding my still bound wrists in front of me as I stepped back.
His face had a few bruises, like he’d gotten in a fistfight and lost. Did they do that to him? Maybe they’d forced him to be here and then lied to me about it . But I couldn’t convince myself—he looked relaxed, and he’d been laughing. No, they may have hit him, but he wasn’t a prisoner.
The driver stopped me from backing away more than a step.
“I know this looks bad, but it’s not what you think,” he said.
“So you didn’t betray me?” I lifted my hands and shook them in front of his face. His eyes stayed glued to the ties binding my wrists as he stammered out an answer.
“What? Betray you? No.” He was lying. The high pitch of his voice gave him away. “I’d never do anything to hurt you.”
“But you did. You lied to me and you’re corrupt.” I poured my disappointment into every word.
"It’s not like that."
The smirk on the other guy's face eliminated the last shred of doubt I had.
My anger flared, replacing my fear and disappointment. “If you’re here against your will, why aren’t you tied up?” I lifted my hands in front of his face again.
“Can you untie her, please?” he asked.
“Not yet.” The guy at the table answered. He must be the man in charge. Good to know.
The man leaning against the counter laughed, sending shivers up my spine.
I turned towards him, focusing on his face for the first time. My eyes rounded as my breath caught in my throat—he was the guy I’d seen outside the coffee shop on the Friday of my father’s dinner. The guy I’d convinced myself wasn’t staring at me.
When I’d mentioned the situation to AJ, and told him how creeped out I’d felt, he told me to always trust my gut instinct in situations like that. Neither of us could have known how right he was.
“Can I have a moment alone with my daughter?” he asked.
“Sure thing.” The guy at the table stood up, signaling for the other guy to follow him. “But don’t do anything stupid, Stevo. I’ll be right outside this door.” He nodded to the driver, who backed away from me.
Stevo? What the fuck! My father had his own gangster nickname. Because that was the only word that came to mind when I thought about these guys.
I glanced behind me; the driver hovered just outside the doorway, acting like he wasn’t listening. I couldn’t see the other door to the large kitchen, but it wasn’t hard to envision the other two guys doing the same thing.
We’re not really alone.
“Princess, I’m sorry you got dragged into this.”
“What exactly is this?” I gestured with both hands.
“I, here, sit, so you’re more comfortable.” He pulled out a chair for me.
I glared at the chair like it was the reason I was here. “No. Tell me why I’m here.”
“I owe them money.”
At least he had the decency to sound embarrassed. Not that it made me any less angry.
“I know that much. Why?”
None of this made sense. If they were bribing him, why’d he owe them money? I asked him as much.
“After your mom died, I was a wreck. I started gambling to numb the pain.”
At least mom didn’t know .
I no longer recognized the man standing in front of me. Sure, he looked like my father, but the words coming out of his mouth didn’t sound like the man I’d known all my life.
“Don’t blame Mom.” My voice could have frozen a lake.
“I don’t. Gambling was an escape and winning felt good.”
Was he a gambling addict?
“I was winning. A lot. Then I started losing, but I had it under control.” He paused. “Until I didn’t. I started chasing the next win.” After a particularly heavy loss, which drained his savings, he stepped away.
“Most of my savings were gone when I married Priscilla, but I expected to inherit my father’s fortune, so I figured everything would be okay.”
How dare he blame everyone but himself? “Don’t blame this on me or Grandpa.” I wanted to cross my arms in front of me in a huff, but couldn’t.
“I don’t. But Priscilla demanded a certain lifestyle, one I’d promised to provide and couldn’t. I went back to the table thinking I could earn some quick money and then quit for good. But I messed up.”
He looked sad as he told me that after a big win, he’d doubled down with money he didn’t have. And lost.
“Roman told me he’d erase half my debt if I dismissed charges against a colleague of his. I said no, told him I’d find the money. But I had no choice when he threatened to expose my gambling addiction.”
“So you violated your oath? Committed a felony? How is that better?”
“I couldn’t let them destroy my reputation and ruin the career I’d worked so hard for. And I didn’t want my father finding out.”
No wonder I hadn’t seen the signs; I was away at college.
Is this why his relationship with his father deteriorated near the end? And how was committing a felony and betraying your family’s trust better than a little embarrassment?
“He suspected I was in trouble. That’s why he left everything to you.”
“He knew you lost all your money,” I said, more accusation than question.
“Yes. but I didn’t find out he'd but me out of his will until it was too late. I’d already promised Roman I’d pay him back once I settled the estate.”
But he couldn’t, because Grandpa didn't cut my father out of his will, but he had changed it so I'd inherit most of his fortune.
My father looked remorseful when he explained how Roman blackmailed him, saying he’d turn my father in if he didn’t help another colleague.
“Instead of reducing my debt, he transferred money to my account, knowing it’d look like a bribe. He trapped me; I had to do his bidding.”
I thought back to all those times Priscilla whined about money problems. “Does Priscilla know?”
“Not about the gambling, no. But she knows I’m in financial trouble.”
Now he needs me to bail him out. I would’ve given him the money if he’d just asked, but he sold me out. I’m a prisoner until I turn twenty-five. And God only knows what’ll happen after I give them the money.
“But you can help me,” he practically begged.
So why hire SSI? Was it just for show? And how was he paying them?
“Why’d you hire a bodyguard?”
He clasped my hands as he said, “Because I wanted to protect you. I thought I could take care of things. You have to believe me. I never wanted this to happen, for you to get involved.”
That I could believe. He’d always done his best to take care of me. In his own misguided way, he’d tried to protect me by hiding the truth.
“Did you know about the attack at school?” Was he in on it?
He claimed he didn’t know until after it had happened. Though he admitted he found out from Crowley, not SSI.
When I asked, Dad explained Crowley was the guy he was talking to when I walked in. “He’s Roman’s right-hand man.”
“They didn’t realize I’d hired a bodyguard.” He touched the bruises on his face. “That’s when they threatened to kill me if I didn’t bring you to them.”
“But you told SSI to send me to a safe house instead?” I might be able to forgive him for fucking up so badly if I could trust he had nothing to do with the attack or the kidnappings.
“I did, but then I changed my mind. I told John I didn’t think it was necessary.”
What the hell! No one had shared that nugget of information with me.
“You would have brought me here,” I whispered as the weight of my father’s betrayal sank in. He would have handed me over to clear his debt.
My father was willing to risk my lift to save his own.
That’s why they had to take Meg—SSI had ignored my father and kept protecting me.
Andrew .
“You let them kidnap an innocent woman to get to me?” I gave up trying and accepted my father wasn’t the man I thought he was, not anymore.
“They didn’t give me a choice,” he whined.
“There’s always a choice,” I said, turning my back on him.
And he’d been making the wrong ones for a long time.