Chapter 19 #2
That was true. I highly doubted I’d been Roger’s only victim, but that didn’t justify killing him.
Sending him to prison would have kept other women safe just as effectively.
Of course, that had been my job—to report him to the authorities.
But what was I supposed to tell them? My boss told me I have great lips?
The cops would have laughed me out of the station.
My thoughts were digressing on a tangent of self-imposed guilt. I had plenty of time later to dwell on my role in what happened. For now, I needed to deal with Luca. He had given me the admission I was after; it was time for me to find my backbone.
“I can’t do this; I can’t be with you. I thought I could ignore your situation, pretend you were an ordinary man with an ordinary job, but I can’t.” I forced as much calm certainty as I could muster into my voice.
“You don’t know what you’re saying. You’re upset—”
“Don’t treat me like a child,” I hissed, turning to glare at him. “Whether I’m upset or not, I’m not okay with you killing people. Me being upset changes nothing.”
“We can’t discuss these things in public. We need to go somewhere private.” He stood up, towering over me.
“I’m not going anywhere with you.”
He leaned down, and I froze as he spoke quietly next to my ear.
“Either you come with me willingly, or I throw you over my goddamned shoulder and carry you out of here. We are going to talk about this, and I’m not doing it where half of New York can listen in.
” When he pulled back, his black eyes bore into me with ice-cold fury.
He wasn’t the only one battling indignant rage.
I experienced anger so violent, it pulsed at my temples.
He was the one who had brought on this situation, not me.
He was the one responsible for a man’s death.
His actions had pushed me away. His anger toward me was completely unfounded, and it made me furious.
I shot to my feet, giving him an equally cutting glare. “Fine. There’s a family restroom in the lobby. We can go there, but I’m not leaving this building.” Not allowing him a response, I whipped around and stomped back to the Triton entrance.
Once we were inside the single-stall restroom, Luca locked the door, and I folded my arms defensively across my chest. When he turned to face me, I had to fortify myself against his dominating presence. He was a giant in the tiny space, and I had to force myself not to cower.
“I don’t know why we’re here—there’s nothing more to say,” I snapped at him.
“There’s a hell of a lot more to say. I couldn’t figure it out at first. You seemed so na?ve and rule-bound, but then I realized you had no idea. He’s done such a flawless job secreting himself away, not even his children know who he is.”
“What are you talking about?” My arms came down to my sides, my austere resolve faltering.
“You think I’m a monster, but you live with the biggest bad of them all,” Luca sneered.
“Stop playing games and just tell me what you’re talking about!”
“Your father, the boss of the Lucciano crime family.”
“Don’t be absurd! My family isn’t in the mafia—I would know.” I stepped forward, pointing my finger at him angrily.
He met my advance head-on, closing the small distance between us.
“You think you would have had any idea what I did if I didn’t want you to?
I told you I would never lie to you, and I haven’t.
I didn’t lie then, and I’m not lying now.
Your Uncle Sal is your father’s underboss and acts as the face of the outfit—to keep him and his family safe, your father’s identity has been kept confidential.
His own soldiers don’t know who runs the outfit.
Your mention of Sal is what confirmed my suspicions that your father was the boss. ”
“So, you don’t even know for sure—you’re just guessing. You think just because my dad is friends with Sal and because we’re Italian, we’re in the mafia? That’s just crazy!”
“You think what I’ve done is bad, your father is ten times worse. If you don’t believe me, ask him. You think I’m full of shit, fine, but go talk to Daddy and see for yourself.”
His insistence was absolute.
He was wholly confident he was right, and his resolve shook me.
What if he was telling the truth? I suddenly felt like I’d walked into the movie Inception where the constructs of our reality no longer applied—as if at any moment, the walls of the room might turn, and I’d be walking on the ceiling rather than the floor.
Could my father be a mafia boss? Had my entire world been a thing of fiction?
The possibility was more than unsettling—it rocked me to my core.
“Get out,” I whispered, not meeting his eyes.
“Lessia—” he started, but I never let him finish.
“Get out. Get out. Get out!” Each of my commands grew in strength until I was nearly shouting. If someone heard me in the lobby, I didn’t care. I was done caring. My world was turned upside down, and the only thing I could focus on was survival.
Luca stood motionless and silent for a long moment as I stared at the dirty grout lines on the floor.
“I’m going to give you time to cool down, then we’re going to talk this through like adults.
Go talk to your father. I’ll be in touch.
” He let himself out of the bathroom, and I dropped my head in relief that the moment was over.
Stepping toward the small vanity, I stared vacantly at my reflection. Who was the woman staring back at me? I never thought the answer to that question would be so elusive. Was I the daughter of a criminal? Had my entire life been a lie?
My father was imposing, but so are plenty of men. Could he have had a secret life hidden away from us all these years? If so, had my mother known? I felt sick with betrayal. I needed to know the truth, and there was only one way to do that.
I stepped out of the bathroom, scanning the active lobby as I’d done so many times before.
The place I’d been so proud of only hours ago now looked tainted.
If my father was in the mafia, it was doubtless my family wasn’t the only casualty of his activities.
The company I loved so dearly likely bore the sticky fingerprints of his criminal ties.
I walked straight to the elevator, eyes directly ahead. Looking at the lively animation of the people who called this place their home away from home made me sick to my stomach. My lifelong dream had been dipped in tar and was now irrevocably spoiled—corrupted and dirty.
Avoiding eye contact with my coworkers, I walked numbly to my father’s office. I wasn’t sure how he would have managed a second life when he spent so many hours inside these walls. Everything about Triton had felt legitimate. How could something so real, so tangible, be a sham?
I didn’t knock when I walked into his inner sanctum.
His was the only office with rich wood paneling on the walls.
He said it made the space feel more inviting, but it would also help soundproof his office.
It was amazing how, in a matter of minutes, one piece of information forced you to look at the world from a different perspective.
I approached his ornate wooden executive desk, standing awkwardly, feeling suddenly like a child again. “Is any of this real? Has it all been a lie?” My words had been cryptic, but it was the first thing that popped into my head.
My father looked up in surprise, unaware I had entered the room. His eyes narrowed as he took in my pallor and my bloodshot eyes. Without saying a word, he went to close the office door before slowly returning to his desk chair.
“I’m not sure I understand—can you explain what you’re asking?” His words were the epitome of caution and diplomacy. Just like Luca, everything I needed to know was there, written between the lines.
“You’re in the mafia, aren’t you? Our lives have been one giant lie.”
He inhaled a deep breath, then leaned back in his chair, lips pursed tightly. “Who gave you this information?”
It was unsettling how calm I felt when my world was crumbling around me, piece-by-piece.
I slowly lowered myself into one of the guest chairs, perching on the edge of the cushion.
Who was this man who sat across from me?
I glanced up, searching in vain for a hint of familiarity.
Only the contours of his face and his outer appearance bore any significance—the man beneath the surface was a mystery.
He stared at me expectantly, a dangerous glint in his eyes, still waiting for an answer to his question. Would Luca become a target for sharing the truth with me? Regardless of my torn feelings for him, I didn’t want him hurt because of me. “A friend.”
“A man,” he concluded.
I kept my lips sealed, not confirming or denying.
“I take it someone from one of the other families. No one in my outfit would have dared.”
“I guess I appreciate that you aren’t trying to deny it. I can’t imagine it’s been easy lying to everyone for so long.” My words were clipped, an undercurrent of anger infiltrating my numbness.
He lifted a brow in warning. Normally, I’d never be allowed to speak to my father with attitude, but he was giving me a small amount of leniency, considering the circumstances. “I did it to keep you and your sisters safe. After Marco was killed, I wasn’t going to put you all at risk.”
Then it clicked—Marco’s killing wasn’t a random mugging. His death had been a byproduct of my father’s mafia dealings. “It was you. You’re the reason he died,” I breathed the words more to myself than him.
My father went inhumanly still.
What I’d said had been hurtful, but I didn’t care. He’d brought it on himself—and for what? Power? Money? I’d rather we had been poor and still had my brother alive.
“None of this is any of your concern,” he said coolly. “You’ve lived all your life in the dark; there’s no reason this has to change anything. Find a nice young man to marry, have children, and join the PTA.”