Page 23 of Made in Love and Blood

Nico still leaned against the wall outside the office, next to the opened door, waiting for Larkin to show up when Frankie appeared at the end of the hallway. Still in silk pajama shorts and a tank, and pink slides, her hair looked slept in. She seemed to have shrunk in on herself overnight. With her head down, she picked at the side of her thumbnail and only stopped when she was close enough that her field of vision caught sight of Nico’s footwear.

She glanced up, wet eyes already rimmed with tears. The time to apologize was now. Nico chewed on his inner cheek, and mumbled, “I’m sorry.”

It wasn’t good enough. He could tell before she said a thing.

“Yeah, well, fuck you, too.”

He let her have that and took it in silence. She strolled past him with her chin up and headed inside Salvatore’s office. The yelling started immediately, carrying out where he heard every aching word.

One, hateful.

The other, pleading.

Nico got it, then. He understood. Sal’s common ground? His daughter. Sometimes she hated him. He loved her, anyway.

4. — what happened in Miami...

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Staten Island, New York

Salvatore, Gallo Estate

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“Is that what I need to do, send you back to Elmswood?” Salvatore asked his daughter.

“You wouldn’t.”

“If you need it.”

“That’s half the fucking problem, Daddy. You don’t even know what I need!”

Salvatore tried hard to remain neutral, knowing it wouldn’t help to get angrier than he was, and show it. “I know it isn’t running laps until you vomit. How many times?”

“What?”

“Don’t play dumb with me, Francesca Dove. You know exactly what I asked you, and I will not ask again.”

“That was the first time since—”

“You’re lying.”

“I am not!”

“Shall I get Larkin to have Cameron go back on the cameras and count the number of times you ran laps on the property when I was out of state?”

Silence echoed in the study.

Salvatore tipped his chin up slightly, staring down the teenager and daring her to lie to him one more time. “How. Many. Times?”

Frankie wouldn’t meet his eyes. She picked at the sides of her fingernails, and the way she bit at the edges of her lips told him that she wanted to stick her fingers in her mouth and chew until they bled. Another of her little habits that he hadn’t been able to curb.

“If I ask again...” he warned quietly.

“What, you’ll take away the Supra?” Frankie laughed bitterly. “Take it. I don’t go anywhere after you took it away the last time.”

“Because the car got impounded for having thirty-five camera radar tickets, Frankie! Jesus Christ. Don’t you think it’s concerning that you want to drive a hundred and thirty fucking clicks on the highway?”