Chapter 34
34
Emery
“ I ’m sorry, Emery. I really am.” Dad weaves his stiff fingers through mine, the cold worsening his arthritis. “I never meant for things to be this way.”
I’m struggling to concentrate. I think I see Leon everywhere, but he’s not here. Too many happy people are wrapped up in one another like Leon and I should be.
My husband is the boss of the Russian mafia, an organization famed for its brutality and vice-like grip on the criminal fraternity of the city. I didn’t stick around to ask the questions now rattling in my mind.
Has he killed people? How much human misery has he presided over? Was even one cent of his vast wealth earned by something other than the blood and pain of innocent people?
And yet, he told me he loved me.
I’m still reeling, wondering if I’m going crazy. Can he love? What does that even mean?
I was in a state when I called my father back. He’d been trying to reach me all day, and to his credit, he came to meet me as soon as he got my tearful call.
When he showed up, I was about ready to scream at him.
I thought he would be surprised to hear who my husband was, but that was my naiveté at work; he knew exactly what he was getting me into.
“For money, Dad.” The little girl in me can’t bear to pull my hand away. “For something as sordid and soulless as cash, you were prepared to hand me over to a bratva boss, and you didn’t tell me who he was?”
“He made me swear not to. And it wasn’t that simple, honey. Your inheritance was all I had to give you. I knew I’d ruined everything between us after your mom died, and I was good for nothing except financial security. That’s why I was happy to throw my lot in with Dante and grow my investments.”
He sighs heavily, his breath fogging the air. “I thought you genuinely liked him.”
“And I thought you didn’t value me beyond keeping Dante on side,” I say. “I spent years believing I wasn’t worth your time or attention, and eventually, I assumed everyone would see me that way. Dante was the kind who can smell insecurity like a shark smells blood.”
“I wish you’d told me.” He sips his decaf, avoiding my eyes. “When the joint ventures were in ruins, and Leon laid out his terms, I panicked. It wasn’t only about the money. At the time, I thought he’d kill me if I refused to surrender you to him, and then what would become of you?”
“At the time?” I lean forward. “Has something changed?”
“As a matter of fact, yes.” He sets down his coffee cup and wraps both hands around mine. “Leon sent a man called Yuri to see me today. Smart guy, mob lawyer, and accountant. He told me he would spend some time with my books and locked me out of my study. I was in no position to argue with him or his firearm. I thought I was screwed.”
“And…?”
“Emery, Leon handed over control of several investments of his own, equivalent in value to the ones he destroyed. He swore not to threaten me personally or my finances ever again.”
“Why?”
“I guess he regrets what he did?” Dad shrugs. “Who knows. I sure as Hell regret it. When you said he’d only demanded you stay for thirty days, I was so relieved, but I’m surprised he let you walk out when you discovered who he was.”
So am I. Do I mean so little to him that he can cut me loose as soon as the fun is over?
That can’t be true. A man can lie with words, but surely not with his eyes? His body?
Maybe I’m just ridiculously idealistic because I’m falling in love for the first time.
The thought pulls me up short, and a hiccuping sob escapes me. Dad tilts his head and sighs.
“Oh, Emery. Don’t.”
I sniff. “Don’t what?”
“Fall for Leon. The man has some kind of hypnotic pull on you, but he’s a cold, calculating, vicious individual. As soon as he spirited you away after the wedding, I realized what I’d done. It’s a miracle he hasn’t hurt you yet, but I’m glad.”
It doesn’t seem wise to enlighten my father about how Leon and I met. The beating up of Dante, the stalking, the kiss—yeah. The less he knows about it, the better.
My father’s gaze is open and loving, a look I haven’t seen in a long time. He was so shut down, so distant, and I always wondered whether he’d ever forgive me for getting Mom killed.
Leon got me thinking differently about myself, and with that came a new perspective.
Maybe he was right, and my father didn’t blame me because it wasn’t my fault. Sometimes, things just happen.
My heart is sore at the thought of the young Leon, bound up in grief and guilt, his anger merely a disguise so people wouldn’t see his pain.
Leon wasn’t to blame for his parent’s deaths any more than I was for my mother’s. Logic dictates that I must turn that empathy inward and give my childhood self the same grace.
I pull a breath, the cold tightening my chest. I’m afraid to speak my truth, but I must; it’s a day for telling it like it is.
“Dad, Leon may not be a morally upright person, but as a man—as my man—he’s never put a foot wrong. Yes, we didn’t have the best start, but now that we’ve had a fight, I’m devastated.”
Tears spill down my cheeks. “He told me he loved me, Dad. What the fuck do I do?”
“Oh, Em.” Dad takes my hand and kisses my palm like he used to when I was small. “I’ve never seen you like this. Your mom and I met at Sunday school. How much advice do you think I got about being married to the head of the bratva?”
I laugh despite myself. “Fair enough. What about me and you? Can we start again?”
His eyes grow heavy with tears of his own. I haven’t seen him cry since Mom died.
“Of course,” he says. “I’m sorry for everything, honey. I’ll do better, I swear. And as for Leon—well, I guess we’ll see.”
A voice calls out. “Emery!”
My vision is hazy, and I don’t see Leon until he’s practically at the table. He’s moving fast, dodging between tables.
“Get down!” he cries.