Chapter 9
Nine
AMARA
I t was another two days after my encounter with Ciro before I saw my father in person. He had turned me away every time I knocked on the door of his bedroom. I had tried to bring a tray in myself, but the doors were locked. Ciro’s warning about my father had gotten to me. The words wiggled their way to an uncomfortable place beneath my ribs. There was a part of me I hated to admit that was glad he hadn’t left his bed. Every day he stayed in there was another day I had my freedom. It was another day he wasn’t searching for my husband. Another day I didn’t have to fear who I was contracted to marry.
But last night I stood outside his door, listening to him cough and cough. My hand pressed to the wood panel, debating what I should do. He finally stopped and I padded off to my bed nearly sick with guilt for putting my freedom ahead of his life.
This morning when I knocked and rapped on his door with no response, I could no longer stand outside silent. This time, I took reinforcements.
I raced downstairs to the security room and begged Ciro to follow me. He knew what my urgency meant. Ciro used the key he had been given for emergencies and let me into my father’s bedroom.
“Papa?” I tiptoed, then hurried next to him. He was hunched over, coughing.
He pushed my arm away. “How did you get in?”
Ciro was standing in the doorway. His hulking figure loomed behind us.
“We were worried. I haven’t seen you. You aren’t taking calls or meetings.” The fact that it was the weekend didn’t have any bearing on whether my father continued business as usual.
I glanced at the rows of pill bottles lined up on his nightstand. “What’s all this?” I asked.
He shook his head. “It’s for the cough. So, I sleep at night.”
It was the first time I felt a buzz in the back of my head. An alarm bell. Something was wrong. It wasn’t just bronchitis. Maybe this was the other coded message Ciro had been trying to give me. I nodded at Ciro to step out of the room.
“Papa, I think I need to get you in to see your doctor,” I urged.
“No,” he snapped. “Amara, I’m fine.” He wobbled to his feet, and I moved out of his way. I didn’t say a word when he grabbed the doorframe to the bathroom to steady himself.
“What are you doing? Where are you going?” I screeched, worried he would fall at any moment .
“I have a meeting. I’m going to get ready,” he barked.
His silk-striped pajamas looked like they had been worn for days. His cheeks were sallow. His voice was scratchy and soft.
“I think you need to rest some more. Can’t you reschedule the meeting?” I pleaded, surprised at the rising panic in my chest.
His knuckles turned white as he pivoted toward me without letting go of the arch. “Business continues whether I have a cold or not.”
“It’s not a cold,” I argued. “You can barely stand.”
He closed his eyes. But before he could fire back at me, I saw his knees buckle. I rushed toward him. “Papa!” I caught him before he slumped to the floor.
He groaned. It took all my strength to maneuver him back to the bed.
“Just leave me alone, Amara.” He swatted at me when I pulled the comforter to his chest.
I placed my hands on my hips. “You need to cancel the meeting. I need to call a doctor for you. You can’t go on like this. You’ve been in here for days.”
His tired eyes lifted. “I can’t cancel the meeting. Not this one.”
I bit my lip. Was the meeting about me? Was it a marriage meeting? My stomach turned sour.
“You can’t see anyone like this. They’ll take one look at you and think you’re on your deathbed.” I had to stall him.
Something in his eyes shifted, and I felt the zing again. What the hell was going on? When had he become so weak ?
“I’ve run this family for a generation. You don’t know what you’re talking about. You’re still a child.” Insulting me wasn’t going to work.
“Far from it. What can I do to convince you to stay in bed, or at least call a doctor?” He didn’t have the strength to make it to the shower. He would collapse before taking the first step on the staircase. He would fail at the meeting, no matter what it was and who was there.
He grumbled and coughed again. I waited.
“You say you’re not a child. Prove it.” His voice was strained, but it was still sharp.
I folded my arms. “What does that mean? Anyone would take one look at you and tell you the same thing I’m telling you. You should not work today. Probably not for a while. You can call me names. Tell me I’m a baby or a little wrong, none of it changes that you’re sick. I’m not wrong. You have to cancel the meeting. Reschedule it.”
“This is why you’re a child,” he seethed. “You don’t understand what’s behind everything I do.”
“Enlighten me.” For the first time in my life, I felt I had the slightest bit of a power shift away from my father. It made me edgier than I anticipated. Nearly giddy.
“Our name is our legacy. I’ve tried to teach you that since you were born. We have our name . Sometimes that’s all we have.” He reached for a glass of water. “You take the meeting.”
I blinked. “What?”
He nodded. “It’s time you start training. I let you go to college. I’ve let you have a regular life. But our expansion in New Orleans needs complete focus. We could do this together, Amara.”
I had never been privy to his business plans. Suddenly, I felt a rush of relief that the meeting had nothing to do with marrying me off to a New Orleans family. I took a much deeper breath, filling my belly with air.
“What’s the meeting about?” I dragged a chair across the floor to sit close to him.
“One of the well-established families has made an invitation. It would be suicide to reschedule.”
“You’re trying to impress them, or they are trying to impress you?” I inquired.
He growled. “Are you able to take this seriously?”
“Yes, of course, I am. I’m just trying to understand all the angles.”
“At least you’ve learned to size up the competition.”
“If I take this meeting for you, will you promise to rest?” I asked. “Otherwise, I’m not doing it, and I’ll call an ambulance if I have to.” It was the first time I had threatened my father with something I could follow through on.
“No ambulance.” His eyes hardened. “Yes, I’ll stay here. You go. Take the meeting.”
“We have a deal.” I smiled softly. He closed his eyes from exhaustion. Had he been suffering up here for days while I lounged at the pool and went boutique shopping? When did he acquire all the pill bottles? Ciro had been right to alert me. I should have worried sooner .
“Good.” He nodded. “I’m going to tell you exactly what to say.”
“You don’t trust me to handle the meeting on my own?”
He glared at me. “I will give you the script. This is your first meeting as Lorenzo Amato’s daughter.”
“Fine,” I relented. “Tell me what to say.”
“Ciro will take you to and from the meeting. You stay exactly twenty minutes.”
“Twenty minutes?” I questioned.
“Yes. It shows interest, but it also shows you are busy. Your time is valuable, Amara. Your time should not be wasted by anyone.”
I nodded. “Okay, got it. In and out in twenty minutes.” The meeting seemed more doable. The time limit took the edge off.
“Do not mention my health.” It was a warning. “I am also a busy man. That’s all they need to know.”
“I won’t, but what do you want me to say when I show up instead of you? I think it will be obvious something is wrong.”
I could tell he was thinking through the strategy. He wouldn’t want to insult the family. He wouldn’t want to be caught in a lie.
“Tell them I was called to Philadelphia for a family emergency that couldn’t be helped.”
I peered at him. “What was it?”
“What?”
“The emergency,” I pressed .
He waved his hand in the air. “He won’t ask.”
I didn’t believe him. People were curious. They always had questions and more questions on top of those.
“All right. What is the meeting about? What do we need to discuss?” I was concerned about this part.
“It’s only an introduction. A family meeting. Have a drink. Tell him you love New Orleans. We’re happy here and glad to be out of Philadelphia. Make my apologies for not being able to make it. That’s all. Nothing more. Twenty minutes. And come straight here when it’s over.”
I nodded. “Okay. I think I can do that. What’s his name?” I asked.
My father sighed. “Dmitry Novikov.”
My stomach rose high into my chest. “Did you say Novikov?”
“Yes. This meeting is important. Did you meet him at his daughter’s engagement party a few nights ago?” His hand slid off the bed. I lifted it and placed it next to his waist. He was too weak to talk much longer.
“Not exactly, but I did see him.” I thought about how to twist the truth.
But he started to drift in and out of sleep. I was glad the coughing had stopped.
“What time is the meeting?” I whispered.
“Ciro has the details.” I could barely understand him.
I stood from the chair and returned it next to the wall. I backed away from the bed, watching my father sleep. I didn’t know how much time I had before I met with the king of New Orleans. My body buzzed and tingled with fear. The certainty I had that I could take the appointment evaporated when I realized it was Luka’s father I would have drinks with, not a random boss in town.
I stepped out of the bedroom. Ciro was in the hallway.
“Do you have the meeting details for today?” I asked.
He looked at his watch. “I’ll have the car ready to leave in an hour,” he reported.
I took a deep inhale. “I’ll get ready.”
He placed a hand on my shoulder. “I’ll keep you safe.”
I gulped. “Maybe you should have told me everything about the Bratva after I had this meeting.”
He pressed his lips together. “Maybe I should have.”
My fingers trembled as I turned the handle to my bedroom door. I didn’t know if I could do this.