Page 25 of Where the Wind Whispers

God knew she was about to give him everything else.

“What can I do for you?” Alberto asked through the speaker.

“I …” Violet damn near choked on the words, well aware of what her father would expect her to say. She needed to make this believable and not like bigger plans were in the works. Alberto had to believe whatever Violet fed to him, even if he couldn’t trust her now. That was a whole other hurdle to jump. “I want to come home.”

Somehow, by the grace of fucking God, her voice didn’t shake.

“I can’t say that this is your home,” her father said, the barest hint of amusement coloring his words.

Violet swallowed back the rising sickness. “Isn’t it?”

“No one by your name has lived here before.”

She blinked, confused.

What game was her father playing now?

“But—”

“Your name?” Alberto interrupted.

“You know my name.”

“I certainly knew of your name, girl.”

Jesus.

Violet decided to try a different tactic, no matter how disgusted it made her to use it. “Daddy, please.”

Alberto let out a sharp laugh before saying again, “Your name?”

“Violet!”

“Oh, no. I want your full name.”

Force of habit and nothing more made her say, “Gallucci. Violet Gall—”

“Wrong,” Alberto snapped before she could even finish.

Violet quickly realized her mistake, flinching visibly from the unhidden rage in her father’s voice. No, he was not going to give this to her easy at all. He was going to make her work for it.

“Try again,” Alberto urged, back to his calmer self.

Sometimes, it frightened Violet how fast her father’s moods could turn. She had never really been on the receiving end of his mood swings before, but she had the distinct feeling that, at least for the next little while, her father’s unhappiness would be solely focused on only her.

“Violet?”

She sucked in a deep breath, needing the bit of relief it gave her.

She could do this.

Surely, she could do whatever Alberto wanted for as long as she needed to.

After all, she’d done it for years before this moment without really knowing it. It wasn’t that different.

“Markovic,” Violet whispered.

“Louder.”