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And now, again.
This is the low that Nicu had brought me to, and once it started, I couldn’t stop. I wept for the dissolution of my family nine years ago. For the years of dashed hopes, broken relationships, and all-around heartbreak. I cried for my father, who fought to survive in that cramped, hostile place. I even cried for Mother, who fled to escape our family shame. She’d suffered in her own way, never expecting her charmed life to go off the rails like it did. And finally, I cried for myself and for my broken heart because that’s what Nicu had done. He’d broken me.
* * *
The following day,I had to go up to Otisville to visit my father. I woke up with puffy, red eyes and a headache that rivaled the hangover I had when Nicu rescued me. There was no way I was in any shape to meet my father, but I’d never missed a visit when I wasn’t away at boarding school. If I didn’t show up, he’d worry, and he didn’t deserve any added stress simply because my heart was in the equivalent of a dumpster. So I sucked it up, pulled on some clothes, got a bagel and coffee at the corner deli, and drove upstate for visiting hours.
After waiting in a long line and going through the ritual of security, I slumped over at one of the bolted-down metal tables and waited for my father.
The instant he saw me, he stalled for an instant before coming over to me. His mouth tightened, deepening the grooves at the corners. My heart sank at the new lines of strain on his face. Being incarcerated took a toll on him, and here I was, showing up miserable. I always made sure to put on a brave face, to smile and joke and keep things upbeat, no matter what.
But not today.
Today, I couldn’t gather up the strength to do anything more than the bare minimum, which was to show up.
Sliding onto the bench across from me, he launched in with the million-dollar question. “What’s wrong?”
I shrugged and gazed down at my hands. How to answer that question? I’d never had a sex talk with either of my parents, much less talked about dating a man or getting my heart broken by a two-bit mafie player.
In a hard tone, he asked, “It’s that Romanian you’re with, isn’t it? What did he do?”
My head snapped up. “H-how do you know about him?”
“Nicu Cornelius Lupu, youngest son of the Lupu mafia family. Twenty-three years of age. Graduated Columbia University with a major in organic chemistry. And a rap sheet almost as long as mine, although no felonies stuck,” he rattled off effortlessly.
My jaw dropped. “Uh…”
“You think I don’t keep tabs on you, Jewel? You’re my one and only daughter. I’m a criminal with a network of past and present associates at my disposal who can get me any information I want. I know the names of your teachers and every single girl who lives on your floor. I know your grades. I know everything there is to know.”
He reached out and patted my hand self-consciously. “I may not be affectionate. That was not the kind of family I came from, but never underestimate how much I care for you. Why do you think I named you Jewel? You are my jewel. Both you and your mother, no matter how far she’s run away. We Westons may not be much anymore, but we love only once, and we love unconditionally.”
My eyes widened at that statement. “You mean, you still love Mother?”
“Of course, I do. I will always love her, and once I get out of this hellhole, I’ll find a way to restore my name. Then, and only then, will I go after her,” he revealed. He leaned over and murmured low but determinedly, “And I will win her back.”
What the hell…?!
I cleared my throat. “How long have you known?”
He tipped his head back a bit and looked me over. “Since your last visit. You let something slip, and I instantly knew there was a boy. I had to find out more, so I set a friend out to investigate. He came back with surprising information. Didn’t I tell you not to get involved with a man like him?” he chided.
“Yes, you did, but it doesn’t matter now. We argued and he left. He’s,” I swallowed hard, “gone. For good.”
Releasing my hand, he crossed his arms over his chest and chuckled. I frowned at him. What was so funny? What was left of my heart was in shreds. I was not equally amused.
“Oh, that guy?” he said with a snort. “I wish I were so lucky. He’s not gone for good, I can assure you of that much. Don’t you worry, he’ll be back.”
“You don’t know him, Dad. Don’t say things just to try to make me feel better,” I scolded him.
“I’m not,” he replied succinctly. “His oldest brother sent him to L.A. He’s been there, working on his family’s business. I guarantee the moment he’s back in the city, he’ll come to you.”
Shock waves ran through me. My father, locked up far away from the city, knew more than I did about my own life. I blinked up at him. It was like I didn’t know the person in front of me. Who was this man? How far did his reach go? And why did he seem so easily reconciled with the fact that Nicu was part of the mafia?
“I thought you’d put a contract out on him before you’d let me be with someone like Nicu,” I joked.
“I considered it, of course. But then I thought, who am I to cast stones? Although I tried to guide you, actions speak louder than words. How can I fault you for falling for a man like him when I’m in prison? That would be hypocritical to the extreme. And it would be unfair. You love him. I know what it’s like, and after not being there for you in so many ways, I wasn’t about to take that away from you.”
“I’m not happy now,” I protested miserably. “He left me. After one argument, he left. Not even a text to let me know he was in L.A.” I threw out my hand. “I mean, I had to learn it from you of all people. Even Cat didn’t bring it up with Luca since she hesitates to dig into Lupu business. But I shouldn’t have to rely on Cat or you for information. I should have been the first to know. A person can’t just up and leave without a word, without any contact.”
