Chapter Twenty-Four
ENZO
"Really?"
I sigh as I glance at a simmering, pouting Lyndall. She is sitting, arms crossed, hunched, every inch fifteen going on twelve after being denied more ice cream.
"Really."
"But—"
I drive. "Nothing. We had a deal, remember?"
"Monday morning."
Fuck, if she doesn't go into music, she really should go into law, she would probably make one hell of an attorney.
"No. That's what he wants. We're going back now to butter him up."
"He will turn it rancid."
I bite down on the laugh that bubbles up.
Fuck, this kid will be the death of me.
"Yeah, well, let's hope not."
"Is that all you got?" She reaches for the radio to turn it up, and my laughter turns to a flare of annoyance.
A kid. She is just a kid. Fifteen isn't anywhere near adult, so I temper myself.
"Leave it, Lyndall."
My sister shoots me a glare. "Why? What's the point?"
"You know that attitude feels really fucking good, but take it from someone who's been your age and with our father, it gets you nowhere but trouble. We will go back early, have dinner, and I will do what I can to try and convince Dad to let you live with me, at least on a part-time basis."
"Part...? He won't let that happen. And I didn't research schools in the Hamptons or Long Island. Plus, there's no way he will let me live by myself for the time he's in Chicago."
"You're right. But you're also wrong. Look, we do this right and you might be able to spend weekends and some of the semester breaks with me."
"But—"
"And you might have to see out the rest of the year at the school."
"I don't want to."
Jesus fucking Christ. "I know you don't want to, Lyndall. But changing schools midyear is hell, and we both know living with me full-time isn't gonna happen. Best case scenario this year is commuting a number of days a week."
"From school?"
"Parents pay out the nose and the asshole to send their kids there. So, you have to have kids who do that. I know they do that. They work with parents and trustees. It's why your dorm is nice and you can spend vacations there or commute some of the week. Dad might agree to that."
She sniffs and doesn't stop hunching or crossing her arms.
She is pissed, I know. And disappointed in the kind of way only teens and kids can be.
"Yeah. It's bullshit." She shoots me a side-eye to see if I'm going to react to her swearing. "I should just run away. He wouldn't notice."
"That would be a great way to ensure he never lets you live with me. Besides, nothing's going to piss him off more than you going missing from school. And when he finds out and finds you?"
"What?"
I clench my jaw. "You won't be going back to your fancy school. It will be one where you can't leave until you're eighteen. There are stricter schools. Ones with guards. For the super, super rich, and for troubled kids. To me, they both seem similar."
"How?"
I glance at her, then switch lanes. "How? For starters, you won't ever get out from his thumb until you're twenty-five, and you won't get to go to Julliard. Or get to stay with me. So...my way?"
Lyndall huffs but unfolds her arms and leans back, closing her eyes. "Fine. We will do this your way."
"Dad? Can we speak?" I ask after dinner.
"Go to your room, Lyndall. You go back to boarding school tomorrow." He doesn't even look at my sister.
She opens her mouth, but my sharp look makes her shut it and leave the room.
And I get it. The semester won't start just yet.
But I pour us a drink and make nice with Dad until he tells me to cut the bullshit. So, I do. I lay it out for him.
First, I hit him with full-time staying with me, but he shoots that down, just like I knew he would.
So, I move on to phase two. I mention other schools for next year. And her being closer to her music teacher. And then I offer him something I know is close to his heart...saving some money in the boarding full-time.
"No. Not on my fucking life, Enzo. She is my daughter and belongs with me."
I keep my tone soft. "Come on. Lyndall's at boarding school most of the time. And realistically, you're not letting her live here by herself, and you're not pulling her from school when you go to Chicago."
His lips press hard. "No, Enzo."
"It will benefit you by freeing up time, and I'm good with it. Honestly."
"Enough."
Dad is clearly done listening.
I sigh and take a step back.
I'm obviously not going to get the answer I want today. But I leave the brochures and my notes on how it might work. I will try another time when he is in less of a bad mood.
"Fine. I need to go anyway." I drain my glass. "Just one thing, Dad."
"What?" he growls.
"Don't send her back before the school semester starts. You will lose her if you do."
I sit in the basement at home, a drink by my side, and out of a stuffy fucking suit, one I put on for Dad. A T-shirt and jeans are way more comfortable, and though I like a suit, it is not something I want to wear every day.
The beauty of having access to the smart camera and the tiny, powerful cameras I had installed means I can hack into Lola's personal computer.
I have poked around before, but it was just to make sure whoever was spying hasn't been able to do so.
I'm not sure what, but something compels me to open the camera feed on my computer, and I look around her place. Everything is quiet, everything is blanketed in dark.
I have done this before. Checking on client spaces or a target's space so we know when to go in or just to make sure all is fine.
This isn't anywhere near as innocent.
At first, I watch her sleep, switching to night vision.
Not only are the cameras almost impossible to locate, they are also the highest and latest illegal tech...or will be once governments discover them so they can do all kinds of things.
Damn, she is cute in her sleep. One leg, long and slim, is on top of the tangled covers, and her hair is a cloud around her.
I'm guessing she is a restless sleeper.
She is wearing an oversized T-shirt, which has the benefit of riding up to show off her white panties and one ass cheek half out.
Really, the thing should be burned. The shirt, not her ass. Maybe burn the panties, too.
She should be in satin, silk, lace, or nothing at all.
Her body should be heavy from hours of sex and still sheening with perspiration.
I should be there, too.
Of course, what I'm doing is incredibly invasive and very questionable. Non-con in the wrong ways without doing anything to her physically.
I wipe a hand over my face.
Shit, last time I did this, I—
I close my eyes.
I have never done this before.
There have been control games, but not me unleashed. Not me doing...this.
I close the window and return to the hacking.
Her files are in order, but files and search histories tell stories.
Lola's does, too.
She has been looking into our fathers' rift.
And bless her, she has made a spreadsheet, too.
Lola must have papers and things there, which would make sense. And I'm betting she thinks it is all trash. But she has listed what adds up to dates and names.
"Fuck. Holy...everything..."
I suddenly slide my chair back, then get up and pace the room.
I drink my drink fast, and then refill it.
It is partly the dates and the names. But it is also the bookmark note.
A page that lists receipts. And the account in my father's name.
I don't know that account.
So, I do some digging on my own and hack into the things the Feds have. This takes me longer, but I know what I'm looking for.
Not the bank accounts, but a name.
And it hits me. The reason for the fallout.
Her fucking father.
I know who he was having an affair with before she died. Something that must have come out to cause the rift.
Mancini had an affair with Lyndall's mother.
Fuck.