Chapter 5 - Adrian
She hasn’t said a word since we left the bar.
It’s no surprise her father was at a place like that.
The Mafia runs those dives. Lower-level families make their money by getting people into debt and charging astronomical interest on those debts.
Of course, if you are stupid enough to gamble or take a loan from a place like that, then I have no pity for you to begin with.
The thing is, no one who goes there can claim they don’t know who they’re mixing with. It’s not the type of place you land up in by accident.
You get invited. You get pulled in. You get warned, even. The warning is a play on the bookie's responsibility. You knew what you were getting into… We warned you when you loaned you the cash…. You know Lenny doesn’t take late payments lightly…
Yes, her father knew the moment he walked into that place, and all the other places like it, that he was getting involved with the mafia.
***
We’re halfway home when she seems to snap out of her shock, and she spins toward me, full of anger.
“What the hell was that about?” she snarls at me. Her eyes are wide, glimmering, and ferocious. A black kitten.
“I thought you had a right to see for yourself.”
“No, you had some other benefit from showing me that. You got something out of it? What? To prove a point? To rub it in my face? What the hell kind of sick and twisted person gets satisfaction out of hurting other people!” Her voice is shaking with anger. Her eyes are shining with emotion.
“Athena, that wasn’t why I showed you. I felt you should know the truth.”
“Who were all those people?” she demands.
“Gangsters, bookies, gambling addicts…criminals. It doesn’t really matter. You could see for yourself.”
“It doesn’t matter. Of course it matters. My father is hanging out with criminals?” she blurts out, horrified. “I thought that stuff only happened in movies,” she gasps.
My chest tightens. She really had no idea.
Not even a glimmer. And now I am responsible for exposing her to his hidden life.
Was that fair of me? Probably not. She probably would have been happier not knowing.
But then her father would have continued to use her, and she would have kept helping him and helping him.
Giving away her hard work, only to get no gratitude from the old guy.
Entitled. That’s what he is. Entitled and selfish, and she really does have a right to be fully aware of his true nature.
I glance across the car at her, at her tension, her agitation. The distraught way she is twisting her hands and biting at her lower lip. The illusion must be breaking down. The illusion of the man she thought he was.
“I hate you for taking me there!” she blurts out as tears roll down her cheeks.
I open my mouth to defend myself, but a deep realization hits me.
It’s not me she hates.
It’s not even me she’s angry with.
The truth is hurting her.
The truth of who her father really is has shocked and hurt her.
She has to lash out at someone, and there is no one else here but me.
I swallow hard, fighting the urge to pull her onto my lap and hold her against me until we get home.
The urge to protect her from everything is much stronger than it was before.
To protect her from the type of man her father is.
The type of man who would choose gambling over his own daughter.
Who would take from his daughter and use her just so he can keep playing his games and chasing that lifestyle?
I want to tell her I’m sorry, but right now it won’t do any good.
“Athena,” I say gently, reaching across the car and placing my hand on her leg.
She brushes it away. “Don’t you dare touch me.”
“I wish there had been another way to show you the truth about your father. But you wouldn’t have believed anything I said. You had to see it for yourself.”
She shakes her head, turning her beautiful face away from me before she falls silent again. I can hear the deep breathes now and then as a heavy sob tugs at her and shakes her shoulders.
We arrive home, and I want to climb out of the car and hold her, just for a moment, to let her know that I would never treat her as her father has treated her.
She needs reassurance that, despite what he is doing, she is safe now.
She has been taken away from his bad choices.
I will never let his shit affect her ever again.
But she’s out of the car and hurrying toward the front door before I’m even out. Walking briskly, I catch up with her where she’s waiting on the top step to be let into the mansion.
I open the door for her, taking note of her body language. Her closed-off demeanor.
She wants nothing to do with me right now.
Athena goes straight up to her room without saying a word to me. I hear the bedroom door closing and let out a long sigh of frustration. I thought the truth would help her.
I had no intention of hurting her.
Hopefully, in time, she will come to see that.
I still believe I made the right choice.
***
Over the next three days, I hardly see her at all. The house is too quiet. No feisty little black kitten is giving me hell every day. There is no huffing and groaning because I’m keeping her locked up. And there are so few arguments between us. Nothing. Silence.
Deafening, heavy kind of silence.
It’s strange to miss someone when all you really did before was fight with them.
And it’s even more strange for me to miss a woman. I like my space, my privacy, my time alone. I don’t think about women outside the occasional hook-up when I feel the need. One night. Gone in the morning. Not another thought toward the person.
With Athena, though, despite never hooking up, I miss her.
The house is far too quiet.
It’s late.
From the living room sofa, I can see soft snow falling in the dark blue evening light. The sky is almost glowing from it.
A massive fire rages in the fireplace. I threw a few more logs on, and they’ve all caught and are flaming nicely. Orange light licks at the walls, teasing a flickering pattern of warmth over all the surfaces in the room.
Sitting quietly, I sip a glass of whiskey. I’m thinking about her again. I have plenty of other things that should be occupying my thoughts. Work. Clients. Shipments. But it’s her that my mind always drifts to.
I haven’t seen Athena all day. Her bedroom door was closed when I left and closed when I got home. I’ve heard her moving about. Sometimes soft music plays from her room. But all in all, she is elusive.
It bothers me that I miss her because I don’t understand it. Or is it because I can’t control it? Or her. I’m more accustomed to telling people what I want and then getting it.
With her, things aren’t like that. She’s a wild card. Forcing her to obey me is tempting, but it’ll get me nowhere in the end.
Besides, the idea of forcing her to obey me always ends up in mischievous, delightful images in my head. Oh, I would love to force her to obey me.
“Adrian?”
Her voice snaps me out of my thoughts in surprise.
I almost spill my drink, turning around to face her. “Athena,” I say with no hiding the excitement in my voice.
“Can we talk?” she asks, walking into the living room. “Oh, it’s lovely and warm in here.” She sat quietly, thinking out loud.
“Come sit with me. Do you want a blanket or some coffee? Maybe a drink?” I hold up my whiskey.
She shakes her head. “No, thank you, nothing. I just want to talk.”
“Alright. Well, I’m listening.” I gesture toward the sofa. She sits in the chair closest to the fire and curls her legs beneath her on the massive sofa.
I remain quiet. When she’s ready, she can say what she wants to say.
But in the silence, my eyes are roaming her.
I love the way the light plays across her face.
It darkens her eyes but also makes them glimmer with life.
Her chocolate-brown hair has an auburn glow, and her skin is already turning rosy in the heat.
She bites at her lower lip, her full lip dragging against her teeth as she tries to figure out what she wants to say and how she wants to say it.
Finally, Athena lets out a sigh and nods.
“I want more evidence,” she says, lifting her face to look at me.
“Of…” Of course, I assume she’s talking about her father’s activities, but I’d rather hear her say it. She needs to be clear here. I already forced her to witness the truth last time. This time, I’d prefer for her to ask me for it.
“I want more evidence regarding what type of person you say my father is. I’ve been thinking and thinking, and even though I saw him there…
maybe he got pushed into this. Maybe someone else forced him to do things…
” Her voice trails off as though she’s already fully aware that no one was pulling the strings on him.
He was there by choice. Laughing. Having a good time. Sharing a drink with so-called friends.
But clearly, she needs this.
“I can show you evidence,” I nod slowly, mulling over my options.
If she’s asking a favor of me, I want something in return.
“Now?” she asks.
“Tomorrow. You can come to the warehouse with me. But I have a condition.”
Her eyes narrow and her head tilts to the side. Her lips tighten as she watches me. “What condition?” she asks, already not liking the sound of it.
“Nothing big. I want you to stop hiding in your room. Stop hiding, spend some real time with me without trying to escape. Wait, I have two conditions…”
She sighs. Clearly, the first condition wasn’t as bad as she thought it would be.
“What is the second condition?” she asks.
“When I show you the evidence, you need to look at it with a clear mind. You need to stop being in denial about your father and see the truth for what it is.”
She’s biting at her lip again. Her eyes drift toward the fire, watching the flames dance. I watch it reflect in her eyes, and I wait.
“Ok,” she says without taking her eyes off the fire.
“If the evidence is good evidence, then I will accept it for what it is. It’s not easy, you know…
accepting that someone isn’t who you thought they were your whole life.
It’s not easy seeing him as a bad guy. I’m still not willing to just accept it—but if you can show me more…
maybe…” she sighs, pulling her mouth to the side.
“I’ll show you more. And the other condition? You’ll stop trying to escape and maybe spend more time out of your room. Maybe you and I can try to get along.” I suggest, not pushing, but my voice is stern. The conditions have been set. She needs to acknowledge both.
Athena nods again, and her long dark hair falls over her shoulder. Absentmindedly, she threads her fingers through it, fidgeting with it. “Yes,” she says.
“Alright. We can leave early tomorrow morning. Around nine, after breakfast.”
Athena stands up.
“You don’t want to sit by the fire a little longer?” I ask.
“Maybe tomorrow,” she smiles tightly. It’s her way of making sure I understand the conditions will only be met if I can show her something convincing enough.
A soft chuckle rolls through my chest. “Maybe tomorrow then. Good night, kitten.”
Her lips flicker as a smile plays across them.
“Good night, Adrian,” she responds, her voice sweet and warm. I might still have to prove things to her, but I can already see a change in her. The slight dropping of her defenses. It makes me happy. It’s a step in the right direction.
I would love for her and me to get along.
Tomorrow, I’ll show her the video footage we have of her father stealing from me.
It will probably hurt her again. But this time I hope she sees it for what it is. Truth. Reality.
It’s the only way to stop her father from ever being able to manipulate her again.