Chapter 14
Arya
I’m only home for 15 minutes when I already want to go back to Michael’s condo. It was so blessedly quiet there—at least when the two of us weren’t making noise. And I miss that part, too.
But he’s got to deal with what may turn into a gigantic family blowup and get our hands on those security tapes. And I need some time away from him to clear my head. If I can clear it with whatever drama is going on between Mom and Dad.
The two are arguing nonstop and loudly, which doesn’t happen very often. It makes me worry. Usually, either one of them is pissed off, or they’re both pissed at someone else. Generally me.
This time, they’re after each other. It’s far off in another wing of the house, but it’s so loud I can make out the anger. Just not the words.
Whatever is going on, I’ll probably learn about it soon enough. Likely against my will and in detail that I didn’t ask for. But in the meantime, I need a little time to myself.
I still think about last night way too much. How good Michael made me feel. How connected. He made me forget all about my vendetta for hours, and now, as I quietly make my way back to my room, I feel a creeping sense of regret.
I shouldn’t let myself fall for a guy who did what Michael did to me, no matter how amazing he is in bed. Or smart. Or cute. Or funny...
Damn it.
I shut the door and sit down in my big, squishy computer chair, letting it rotate until it faces the window. Down the hill, past a Great Gatsby -style acre of useless rolling lawn, I can catch a glimpse of the Golden Gate Bridge where it arcs out over the water. I’m not sure who had the bright idea of painting the damn thing orange, but it is pretty striking against the deep blue water of the Bay.
I’ve spent a lifetime compartmentalizing, packing away thoughts and emotions I couldn’t deal with or express. How pissed I really am at my parents. How lonely I get. How tired I am of fighting for the slightest sliver of recognition.
If I go work in the private sector, I might have to struggle for a few years, but I won’t have to worry about pleasing people who will never be pleased with me. I could just do my work, meet requirements, make my money, and go the hell home to a peaceful space I only share with those I want there.
Michael has a private condo just to get away, and he has a better relationship with his family than I do. So, how come I’ve never set aside money and gone and done that?
I can guess some of it. I don’t think Michael had to pay his way to getting a doctorate. My parents are pretty generous, but they never supported me getting anything beyond a Bachelor’s, so I had to take tuition, books, and everything out of what they gave me monthly. There was never much left over after that.
Now, though, I can think about it. And it’s past time that I do.
I’m just starting to relax when I hear the arguing and yelling finally die down on the other side of the house. That puts me on alert again. On the one hand, I’m glad nobody got smacked, no dishes got thrown, and they’ve finally settled things. On the other hand, I can pretty much guess the minutes I’ve got until they bring the fallout of that argument to my threshold.
I try to meditate until that time comes, but my stomach is jumping around. This situation used to terrify me as a kid, and it’s not very comfortable now, either.
Then, my father’s rapping on my door like a cop, startling me half out of my chair. “For fuck’s sake,” I mutter under my breath, straightening and going to unlock my door.
My father stands there stiffly, hands shoved in the pockets of his smoking jacket. His face is reddish, and his voice is hoarse from yelling. “We need to talk about Imelda,” he says simply.
I lick my lips, brace myself, and lift my chin. “All right. What about her?”
“The security records, CCTV videos, and evidence from her room all proved your story. She confessed an hour ago. She says she was employed by the Rossis.”
I nod. “That’s pretty much what I expected. It confirms how they were able to monitor my work so closely.”
“Damn it,” he snaps. “I just spent the last hour wanting to go put a gun to Rossi’s head over this, and your mom keeps telling me it’s not worth a war. It’s millions of dollars of insult!”
I stare back at him. Oh, now he’s fired up . Now that there’s evidence enough that he can blame someone besides me. He’s so damn predictable .
“Well, you don’t have to worry about them having that money long enough to enjoy it,” I say sharply. “It was stolen out from under them in under a day. My sources say they’re in an uproar over it.”
“Huh.” He frowns. “You mentioned something about that before, but I wasn’t really listening.”
That’s no surprise at all. “They have security leaks as well, and theirs aren’t caught yet. One of them stole that money out from under them, and no one knows where it is now.”
He huffs. “Can you still get it back?”
“I’m working on it. It would help if I still had admin access to our system.” I look at him meaningfully.
“Your cousin says you don’t need it. If you don’t like that, talk to him.”
I roll my eyes. “You gave chief admin privileges to Carlo? He’s fifteen! Are you kidding me?”
“He does the job for pocket money, he doesn’t ask questions, and he doesn’t even know what most of what he’s monitoring even is, so we don’t have to worry about leaks as much.”
I fold my arms, regretting coming home even more. “Until the Rossis slip someone else into our staff roster.”
“I’m changing the hiring process to help prevent that. Have a little faith.” His tone has shifted to a resentful growl. Then, he takes a deep breath and adds, “Look, I need to know where the hell you have gotten all this information about the Rossis. Imelda, the money, their current fight—where are you getting it all from?”
“I have a source inside the Rossi family.” That’s as close as I’m letting him get to the truth. If he finds out that I’m working with Michael, he’ll react almost as badly as if he finds out that I slept with Michael.
“You have... wait, who?” He peers at me.
Right now, I realize it’s time to set a boundary and stick to it, no matter how crazy he gets. I frown at him. “Ah... ah, Dad, this is my source, not a family source. If you want access, it will be through me.”
He scowls back at me... but then, his face softens slightly. “Fine, protect your source, but if I need to question them directly for the good of the family, you are not getting in my way.”
“Sure, if I agree with you.” I fold my arms.
He looks shocked for a moment, then scowls again. “Learn to be more agreeable, then, because I still run this family.”
“And you assume you run me despite my being a grown adult. Keep it up, Dad, and I’ll walk.” I stare him right in the eyes.
For a moment, he hesitates. Then, his face darkens again, and he says, “Stop assuming I give a shit. You’re just a woman. It’s your mom who wants more grandkids. I don’t care if you leave or not.”
It hurts. I fight as hard as I can not to show it. Finally, I reply, “Just remember you said that when it happens.”
He stares at me for several beats, then says in a low growl, “Find out from your source among the Rossis whether they’re going to try to breach our security again.”
I sigh. The last thing I want is for my father to start using Michael as a leak-by-proxy. “I’ll talk to her.” I’m not even going to give him the right gender. My father would get even more suspicious if he found out my contact was a man.
“Good. Maybe you’ll finally do something useful for this family.” And he turns on his heel and stomps away.
I stand there with my stomach curdled and my muscles aching from tension, and what keeps going through my head is: I should have never come home.
But now, at least, I know I can get back into the family network with no problem. My teenage cousin not only doesn’t know computers anywhere near as well as he thinks but he’s also lazy.
Today, he’ll be gaming or sleeping and maybe check access logs and activity a few times just to say he did it. Nobody expects anything to actually happen on the family Net besides recipe sharing and gossip. And the family business, of course, but women are locked out of those forums.
As soon as I’m sure my father isn't coming back, I log onto the network, remote-hack my cousin’s account, grant myself admin privileges, and then cover my tracks. It takes me 15 minutes. The whole time, I’ve gradually started to feel better. Once it’s done, I’m smiling.
But only just. My family took my duties away and handed them off to some idiot kid who had no idea how important they were and probably wouldn’t care. I was going to look after my family and find any evidence I could, behind their backs, for their own goddamn good.
But after that, I am giving Michael a call. Not because I crave his company or time in his bed but because I need the excuse to get out of here.
He picks up on the second ring. “Hey, sweetheart. You want to come over?”
Yes. “Did you finish up gathering those security videos?”
“I’ll have it done later tonight. We’re also checking all the new hires for possible leaks.” He sounds confident. “Maybe someone else slipped in while you and I were butting heads.”
The idea sickens me a little bit. Some third party taking advantage of our family conflict is almost as disturbing to me as the idea of an inside job seems to disturb Michael. “Maybe. But once we look through those videos, we’ll have a better picture of who was actually around.”
“So... do you want to wait until I’m done or hang out and grab some dinner?” His voice is bright and friendly, in total contrast with the shit I ate from my father.
“I came back to get some things and get some rest, but... I don’t think I can rest very well here.” It slips out before I can stop it. The bald truth, as vulnerable and ugly as it is. Stop whining, I tell myself. But it’s too late.
“Well, you know, if you want to come take a rest here, I sure won’t mind.” His voice is a lot gentler.
I don’t know why, but that chokes me up. I stay quiet for a few seconds while I pull myself together. “Well, I...” I shouldn’t let him affect me like this. I should go somewhere else for a while, call a friend, or just drive around and get my head together.
“I’ll be down in half an hour,” I hear myself saying, and then sit there blinking in surprise. Why did I say that?
Maybe it’s because after what my father’s said and done, having a guy actually be easygoing, accepting, and kind feels like someone offering water after a trek through the desert. It might be fake; it might be a ploy. But it’s still exactly what I need.
“Sounds great,” he says in that warm tone. “I’ll get some drinks together.”
“Okay.”
If he takes advantage of me while I’m like this, if he’s playing me to get sex or any other reason... I’ll come down on him like a ton of bricks.
But for now... I’m just glad to go somewhere where I’m not being hurt by the people closest to me.