CHAPTER FIFTY-SIX
Ella
A fter I pick up all the cash from the floor, I leave it on the kitchen island. I’d been meaning to give the money back to Balor anyway. Now he has it.
“I don’t want this,” I tell him. “I just want you.”
Balor angrily stares at the suitcase in my hand. My words mean little if my actions lead me to desert him.
His face looks pained as he carries my suitcase for me to the Uber waiting outside. He shoves Dad’s bags aside with force, signaling his anger. Only in the last week did Balor really feel like my boyfriend. Heck, more than that. He bought me a plane!
We got so close, and to have it torn away so abruptly has me twisting inside out.
“I’ll come by your apartment later,” Balor says and points to my father. “Then you and I will have another go at a reasonable conversation about what I intend to do with your daughter, who’s carrying my baby .”
Dad stiffens his spine. “I had planned to tell you this on Monday, Mr. O’Rourke. But I am offering my resignation.”
“Dad, no!” I tug on his coat, my nails digging into his expensive cashmere.
But given how this went down, it’s not fair for Balor to keep him as an employee. One who clearly doesn’t respect him. Or his family. Sure, Dad appreciated the protection. Just not as a family member, which might mean extra concessions on my father’s part to maintain loyalty.
“Your contract says you owe me one week’s notice,” Balor bites out. “You still work for me. I sent you to Tokyo to sabotage the factory that sent us those faulty batteries. Shane and I will go over your coding reports and the business records you stole. If it’s satisfactory, I will release you from your contract,” Balor sneers.
“Balor, I...” Guilt swamps me.
“You... Are not quitting,” he says with a strained voice. “Nothing’s changed, Ella. I agreed to wait until you see your doctor. But you are mine and I’m yours. Right?”
“Can I have until Monday to talk to my dad about this alone? Please?”
I’d planned to leave later eventually. This shouldn’t feel so jarring, but it does. I’m being ripped away instead of just going home on my own.
I hate it.
“You’re twenty-seven. Not seventeen,” Balor whispers to me. “I’m me. Not Wes. I will not hurt you. Ever. You will be showered with affection and always protected.”
My throat goes thick. “But you’re forcing me...”
“Fine.” He backs away. There’s only so much a billionaire mafia boss will grovel or plead. On the street in front of neighbors no less. “We’ll talk more about this on Monday. I have to work all weekend anyway.”
Because I kept him from the command center for five days.
I think that’s it, but then he presses his lips against my mouth.
“You and me, butterfly. You were on that jumbo jet and in that seat for a reason.” He grips my chin and kisses me again. “Monday.”
Nodding, I get in the Uber.
My father is already inside, all the words said between him and Balor finished. I can’t see how he works for Balor after this horrible fight.
How stupid of me to think Dad would be happy Balor and I were together.
The car pulls away from the curb, and I turn to my father. “Please remember, Dad, Balor will protect me from Wes. ”
“That is why I did not want you back at that school!” he shouts.
I cover my head and rock. “Don’t yell at me.”
“Oh, Ella.” He slides his arm around my shoulder and rests his head on mine. “I am sick with worry over that man. You left me little choice to deal with him. You kept everything from me.”
“I know.” And yet, when I tell him about Balor, he’s just as angry.
“Don’t you see how Balor is different?” I sniff. “He bought me a plane.”
“With dirty money. His brothers are murderers,” he whispers sharply because we’re not alone. “What is it you think I do all day for them? The things I cover up!”
Waving my hands, I say, “I don’t want to know. Balor has never hurt anyone.”
“This is true. Or he has managed to cover it up. Even from me.”
“How well did you know Balor before you agreed to work for him?”
Dad scoffs, “Enough.”
“And that he used escorts?” The ache in my chest grows.
Dad’s gaze drifts to me. “Yes. It surprises me he’d change his ways.”
“For me,” I snap. “For ordinary me? Is that what you’re saying?”
“I am. But not for the reason you think. Mafia marriages are out of duty.”
Several of the wives were forced.
“Trophy wives with plastic surgery and blackeyes under caked-on makeup.” Dad’s words shatter me. “I thought you’d had enough of that.”
Nothing about Jillian’s shower last weekend hinted at anything my father is describing. Certainly not the blackeye part. Every wife was well dressed, of course, since they are wealthy. But no one looked plastic. I watched every single wife with her husband. I saw love. I saw respect. I saw worship in those men’s eyes.
I know all those signs.
Because that’s how Balor looks at me.
And I just left him on the sidewalk. What’s wrong with me?
“Dad, I’m going to a doctor tomorrow. Any doctor. I just want to confirm this pregnancy is real and to make sure everything is all right. Then I’m bringing the rest of my things to Balor’s house on Sunday.” I smile for the first time, relieved that it’s all so clear to me. “I expect you to level with me this weekend about what your plans are. Where are you going to work? That apartment is expensive. Balor will be my husband, that means you—”
“I will not take charity from him or anyone.” My father sits back and takes out his phone. “I will have new job by Monday.”