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He’s doing it for the sake of my feelings.
“You don’t have to have an alliance with him.” I swipe a tear from my cheek and am tempted to request he also pour me a glass.
He tightly grips the glass. “Me not murdering him means an alliance.”
“You kill him, you kill my happiness. My heart.” I fist my hand and rest it along my chest. “And I don’t know if I’ll ever forgive you for that.”
What I’m asking for from my father is a lot.
It’s everything he’s ever stood for.
He grew up with the mentality of killing anyone who crossed you.
No guilty man goes unpunished.
He settles his untouched drink on the desk, steeples his hands together, and holds them against his reddening face.
One long breath leaves him.
Then another.
And another.
“I have to do this, Dad,” I whisper.
He lowers his hands, and his scowl meets my teary face.
“Gigi,” he says, running out of patience.
I hold out my hand. “All I’m asking for is your support and not to kill the man I love.”
“Gigi!” He swipes his glass from the desk and hurls it across the room. His breathing is so ragged that his chest is nearly vibrating.
I don’t wince.
I know my dad will never hurt me.
If anything, he’ll find some poor schmuck—or Antonio—to take his frustration out on.
“It’s time I act like a Marchetti and do what’s best for me.” I hold my chin high because even though I look like a heartbroken girl, I mean business. “I’m doing what’s best for my happiness. I refuse to live a life without control. I almost died, so now, I’m choosing the life I want. The love I want.”
He stares at me with a mixture of contemplation and warning.
Like I’m a man who’s wronged him in the worst way possible.
In a way, I have. Even though, in the pit of my stomach, I know it’s not true, this is considered turning my back on my family.
I rise to my feet, and my heart batters my rib cage as I hold out my hand. “Can I please have the burner you confiscated from my room?”
“You’re not his real wife,” he bites out. “You’re hisforcedwife, like he bought you at the fucking store and decided you’re his.”
“Iamhis. And I’ll take that to the grave.” My attention darts to the portrait behind him, and I frown while staring at the sad girl. “The only reason we weren’t married before he forced me is because you wouldn’t allow it. But now, Sonny is dead, and it’s time for me to return to my husband. Antonio made a mistake, but don’t act like you haven’t either. You used my best friend to get to Vinny, yet she forgave and loves you.” Heartbreak laces my every word. “You of all people should know love makes you do insane things. Antonio is crazy—I’ll give you that—but he loves me. Thereal me. And I love him, crazy and all. And I’ll be damned if I let anyone—and I mean, anyone—take that from me.”
His eyes remain fixed on me, and he steps over the shattered glass to open a desk drawer. He withdraws something, clenching his fist around it, and I hold my breath as he comes closer. His hand is cold as he takes mine, smooths out my palm, and gently drops the burner on top. The flip phone suddenly feels like the heaviest item I’ve ever held in my life.
My father isn’t a man of many words, but his action just told me more than an entire book could. His silence remains unbroken as I clutch the phone and turn to leave the office. Standing in the doorway, he watches me as I walk upstairs to my bedroom.
I grab the first overnight bag I see, clumsily shove clothing and shoes inside, and my trembling hands fumble with the zipper. It takes me three attempts to close it.
