Chapter 9 – One Week Later
CHIARA
ONE WEEK LATER
I’m being watched.
I can feel it in the marrow of my bones.
That sixth sense, causing the hairs on the back of my neck to stand up, knowing someone is there in the shadows.
Waiting.
For what, I don’t know.
Every time I’m out to work or with a friend, my skin prickles, that deep sense of awareness causing the knot in my stomach to tighten.
I may sound crazy, but knowing the type of life I live, I’m probably not. I have a feeling I know who’s watching me: my father. Or more likely his men. It’s not like I can go and ask him. We still don’t have that kind of relationship.
After Mom died, he didn’t magically become nicer. He got worse. With the years, my disdain for him only grew with his wrath.
The teenage years were awful. He hurled degrading words seeped with so much venom, it tore me apart from the inside out. But he only dug the blade in deeper, wanting every little bit of my agony, like he did with my mother.
He reveled in our pain.
He made me feel worthless.
I thought foolishly that after she was gone, he’d finally love me like I deserved. But as he chucked hurtful word after hurtful word, I knew it was time to bury that dream where I could no longer taste it.
To this day, I’m nothing more than a chess piece he uses whenever it suits him. That revelation doesn’t cause me grief anymore, and I guess that’s sad.
Each time he calls or forces me to see him for a business meeting, I want to pick up one of the large vases in his home and bash him on the head until every bit of oxygen leaves his lungs, until every ounce of blood flows out of his battered body.
I’m so grateful to whoever is after him, causing him to go into hiding.
Who knows who he’s started a war with or how long it’ll last?
It’s not the first time he’s done something to piss someone off, and I’m sure it won’t be the last. My father has a problem with anyone telling him what to do, which doesn’t always work out to his benefit.
Oh, well.
Maybe they’ll kill him and save me the trouble. There are so many times I’ve thought about doing it myself, but never had the guts to go through with it.
Whenever I show up to a meeting with him, I have my gun from work on me. Sometimes, while he’s talking, I imagine that split second of shock on his face before my bullet hits him right between the eyes.
I only ever had one parent. My mother. Mom was everything he wasn’t. And I still don’t know what happened to her.
I’m afraid of the ultimate truth: that she’s gone forever.
That he killed her.
But I do think he did.
He must have.
A rotting ache builds in the middle of my chest, stabbing the very core of me, engulfing me in the memory of the day he told me she was gone.
Eyes drifting to a close, I take deep breaths, quieting the pain. I need to be strong, even when it’s far more difficult to mask the pain. But living with it day in and day out is unbearable.
I’ve tried to dig into my mom’s disappearance, but it’s led nowhere.
Any useful information he may have on where she may be is locked in his study, the one no one’s allowed to step foot in.
The one he locks every time he isn’t home.
I’ll find out what happened to her. I won’t rest until I do. Even if it means finding her remains.
When my mother disappeared, I told myself I’d eventually find a way to leave. I had no choice. I had no one in my corner anymore. It was just me and him in that house. Him and his cruelty, his need to control me in every aspect, including who I marry.
Yeah, that’s right. When I was sixteen, he told me he had picked a guy for me, someone a little older. A son of a boss in another family.
At twenty-one, I was to marry him. It didn’t matter whether I agreed, who this guy was, whether he’d treat me right. All my father cared about was uniting the two families to make himself stronger.
I knew then that it wasn’t happening. No one was going to tell me who to marry, especially my father.
I’d wanted to run away from home as soon as my mother was gone. So, from the time I was fourteen, I saved every penny I received from birthdays and side jobs, like working at his friend’s wife’s beauty salon.
By the time I was eighteen, I had over fifty thousand.
Let’s just say my dad’s friends were extra generous at parties, and my father was too drunk when they handed me the envelopes.
Luckily, he never looked under my mattress or in my closet.
I slowly began to put the money into a secret bank account.
One day, I was ready to go. I had my plan all mapped out. My father was away on business, and I figured it was now or never. Except I didn’t realize that never was the only option I had.
When I arrived at the airport, he and a dozen of his men were waiting for me.
I thought he’d kill me—or worse, make me marry that man sooner. But he didn’t. He silently drove me home and locked me in my room for weeks, only coming in to give me food once a day.
I was slowly shattering into infinite fragments, but I didn’t show it, even when all I wanted was to be free for once in my life. I remained strong, keeping the agony within my heart where it always remained.
Then one day, after two weeks, he came and sat down on the bed beside me. He told me I could either marry Michael or get my degree and run his strip club.
Girls in my position don’t have many options. Our families are old-fashioned, expecting marriage at a young age and kids not long after. We’re supposed to be good, well-mannered Sicilian ladies, who do what Daddy tells us. Like marry a man we don’t love.
Michael is the son of the don of the Messina family. He’s handsome, sure, but I’ll never marry a man who’s part of the lifestyle I grew up in. Living with Michael would be everything I have spent my entire life trying to avoid.
So my father’s offer wasn’t much of an offer, and he knew it. I accepted his deal to run the club.
It’s not just any club, either. Tips & Tricks is one of the most lucrative strip clubs on the East Coast, about a one-hour drive from New York City. Celebrities and politicians frequent this place, and I do a hell of a job of making sure it’s run smoothly.
My father owns a few other businesses, but it’s all for show. He uses every single one as a means to launder money, including the one he put me in charge of.
I hired someone in secret who regularly checks the club, my car, and my home for bugs. He even scans the employees’ cars. Between the law and my own father, I can’t be too careful. He’s yet to find anything.
I have no desire to end up in prison or be forced to snitch on my father and get killed for it. He wouldn’t even hesitate. He might even pull the trigger himself.
Pushing a button, I turn on my laptop to look over the club’s finances for the month. We’re in the black, just how dear old Dad likes it. If he thought for one second that I couldn’t handle running his place, I’d be in a white dress already, exchanging vows with a man I don’t know.
Tapping a few more keys, I check on my current liquor order, making sure all the shipments are on time. If they weren’t, they’d lose my business quickly. I pay them enough to ensure prompt service.
Finally done, I shut my laptop and lean against the back of my chair, stretching out my feet beneath the high-heeled black over-the-knee boots I’m wearing.
Knowing I have some free time, I decide to call my aunt Kirsten, my mom’s sister. She lives alone, and I know she’ll be up at midnight, being that she’s an author who prefers to write in the solitude of the night.
I feel awful knowing she has no one in that house of hers. She was married once, a long time ago, to a man who preferred to beat her instead of love her, causing severe damage to her ovaries when he kicked her one too many times. She can’t have kids as a result.
It took her years to leave him, and she never found anyone again.
I think it was my mother’s disappearance that gave her the courage to finally pack her bags and go.
As sad as that is, knowing what my mom was going through and fearing her sister’s death at the hand of an abusive man gave my aunt a glimpse into a future she could have.
At least that’s what I think. She never outright told me any of this when she shared stories about the horror she’d endured.
Picking up my cell off the desk, I dial her number, and she answers on the second ring.
“Hey, Chiara,” she yawns.
“Hey, Auntie. Up writing?”
“You know it,” she laughs with another yawn.
“I don’t know how you manage to write your scary stuff in the middle of the night. I still have nightmares after your last book. I can’t step foot into a bank without wondering if one of the tellers will look me up and murder me. Thanks for that.”
“Hey, it was a bestseller for a reason,” she tosses out with a smile in her voice.
She’s so talented. I can’t believe we’re related. If I tried to write a book, I probably couldn’t even put two exciting sentences together.
“Enough about me,” she throws in. “How are you? Are you at the club?”
My office is soundproof, which is great, since I don’t actually want to hear what’s happening out there. Unless a customer gets handsy with my girls, then it’s a bad day for Mr. Asshole.
I could let my bouncers handle it, but I like to show my face. I want those dickheads to know a woman runs this place, and she won’t allow any of them to shit on any woman who works here.
“Yep. Just another day in the office.” I lift my feet, placing them on top of my desk, ankles crossed.
“I really wish that asshole father of yours would leave you the hell alone. And if he’s fucking listening, fuck you, Faro. I know you can’t see it, but I’ve got a middle finger with your name on it.”
I choke on a laugh. The kind you feel in your soul. The kind that brings you warmth.
“I love you,” I tell her.
“I wish you could come see me soon. I really miss you, Chiara. It’s been months.”
She’s right, it has. I’m so glad we’re close now.
As a child, I never saw her, but that’s because my father wouldn’t let Mom and me visit her.
He dictated everything Mom did. Every friend she had.
She couldn’t go anywhere without one of his men chauffeuring her around.
She wasn’t even allowed to drive. He controlled everything, from what she ate to what she wore.
My father despises my aunt all due to her hatred of him. But who in the hell would like him?
I had her number saved back from when Mom gave it to me in case of emergencies.
“Your aunt is the only one you can trust. Remember that, baby,” she’d say.
Even at a young age, I knew that number was important, so I kept it hidden.
My aunt and I got pretty close after Mom disappeared, and we now speak at least once a week behind my father’s back. I’m glad I have her in my life. She makes me feel a little closer to my mom.
When I was younger, I’d find a way to meet her whenever I had a break between my classes in high school.
Dad had no idea. At least I don’t think he did, since he never mentioned it.
It’s unlike him not to gloat when he’s caught someone doing something they shouldn’t.
When I couldn’t see her, we’d talk via email.
I was afraid if I called her, he’d find out.
“I miss you too, Aunt Kirsten.” I release a weighty sigh. “I’ll figure out a way to make it out to you on the one day a week I have off, unless he forces me into a meeting with him, which kills most of my day.”
“I know we shouldn’t wish bad things on people, but I hope he gets his.”
“Yeah, you and me both.”
We laugh simultaneously, but she sounds exhausted.
“Go to sleep,” I tell her.
“I will, I promise. Right after I get some more words in.”
I shake my head with a grin. “Okay. Go write. I’ll speak to you soon.”
“Good night, honey. Love you.”
“Night. Love you too.”
I end the call, dropping the cell back on the desk. Hopefully, the men are behaving tonight. I don’t feel like dealing with the occasional dickhead.
The ladies at my club are all special to me. It’s my job to watch out for their well-being. They all have stories to tell. They’re all trying to earn a paycheck to feed themselves or their families. They deserve respect.
And here, they get it.
I make sure of it.
One of them, Joelle, who’s my age, has been my work friend since I’ve started. We don’t hang out when we aren’t at the club or anything, but before the clock starts, we sit back and enjoy a drink and girl talk.
Not that I have much to share in that department. Sex isn’t even on my radar. It’s been almost a year since I’ve had a good bang. All the men I meet are sleazeballs, and they’re not coming anywhere near me.
The last guy I slept with was a quickie in the bathroom of a bar I went to alone on my day off. He was in a suit and hot as hell, with his honey-brown eyes and lips made for kissing.
I won’t even blame it on the alcohol. This girl wanted him.
Badly.
The sex was pretty hot for a bathroom stall. And since then, it’s been crickets.
I have no desire to marry anyone. I’m not pulling any poor sucker into this life of mine. Nor will I have kids who may be forced to carry my father’s legacy and bad name. Not to mention, kids deserve a sweet grandpa, not an evil son of a bitch.
If I ever manage to escape his leash, which is crazy unlikely, maybe then there’s hope for a future.
But I’ll work here as long as I need to, just so I don’t have to marry anyone having anything to do with my father or the likes of him.
I’m about to rest my eyes when my door pounds with a loud knock.
Great.