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I swear he mutters, fucker in Italian under his breath. I choose to let this one go.
“Keep a detail on Zara for the next few days, will you?”
I won’t be able to rest, not if there is a chance they did see her there. In the meantime, I need to work out my next move.
I have to end Romano, yet nothing seems to get me closer to him.
12
ZARA
Dread boils in my stomach as I knock on my dad’s office door.
I spent all night tossing and turning, replaying the events in my head. I can’t let this go. He might be my father, he isn’t getting away with this.
Getting my mom new treatment is not an excuse for trafficking girls.He’s actually putting both of us at risk. Mom doesn’t need the stress. Not now.
Is he more dangerous to me than Frankie?
How deep is he in this?
I can’t follow Frankie anymore. He gave me his warning and I believe him. I also know he doesn’t want to kill me. Whatever this weird pull is between us, he feels it, too.
And we’re both fighting it.
He might be dangerous, brutal, and the most powerful man in the city. I’m not frightened of him.
I am scared of the man behind this door. Frankie doesn’t hide the monster he is, but my dad does. That’s worse.
I’m stuck between two evils. One wants me to embrace the chaos within, while the other tries to force me to fight it.
“Come in.”
A shiver runs down my spine, I won’t let him see my turmoil. I tip my chin up and enter.
“Commissioner,” I greet him, keeping my tone light.
“Sit down,” he orders.
I smooth my skirt and take a seat in front of his desk. I made sure to dress ‘appropriately’, masking my tattoos so I don’t anger him up any further.
He taps his pen, each time increasing the pounding in my head.
“What can I do for you, Zara?”
I shuffle in my seat, mustering the courage.
“You are a piece of shit, Dad.”
I jerk back as his hands smash against the wood, sending our family picture crashing to the ground.
“Don’t you dare speak to me like that,”he grits out.
“It’s the truth. I’ve seen enough. There is no excuse for what you’re doing. I’m going to let everyone know exactly what kind of monster you are.”
I don’t owe either of them anything. Yet, only one of them stoops low enough to abuse and traffic women. The lines are blurring. Frankie’s first concern last night was if I was okay.
“No. You won’t.”
