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In the end, I dropped her off at her house, and she didn’t look at me as she got out. She didn’t say anything, either. I knew right then: I’d failed her. I’d failed her today, and I hated it.
At the same time, she had to understand I needed some space to figure things out.
Time to think. Time to straighten my thoughts out. Time to talk to my father and demand answers from him. And, perhaps most of all, time to convince myself that I could be a decent man and walk away from the girl he liked because she’d be better off marrying into literally any other family.
As I drove back to the hotel we were staying at in downtown Cypress, I dialed my mom. She picked up on the third ring, and her voice came out sounding chipper: “Luca, honey. How are you?”
“Hey, mom. I’m good. How are you?”
We chatted for a while. I asked her how life was back home without father and me being there with her, and she laughed and said she was doing just fine, having time to do a few things she never seemed to have time to do while my father was around. Painting, yoga, even rearranging the furniture in the house. She sounded happy, and her happiness only twisted my heartstrings further.
After she talked about what she’d been up to by herself, she asked, “What’s this about? You never call me just to talk, Luca.” She said my name more sternly this time, taking on that authoritative motherly tone that could rival my father’s domineering tone any day.
I opened my mouth, wanting to confess, to tell her everything Giselle had told me, but then I’d have to explain who Giselle was. “Do you know anything about the Santos family?” I hedged, not wanting to commit. A part of me wanted to talk to my father first before bringing it up to her.
“The Santos family,” she repeated. “I believe your father has worked with a Miguel Santos in the past, but I’m afraid that’s all I know. Why?” She’d been kept in the dark about this whole Black Hand thing; she didn’t even know my father was working with Miguel right now, not only to find who shot Giselle, but also about a match between us.
But if Giselle was right, and it was Miguel who’d sent one of his men to shoot her, their investigation would turn up no leads.
“No reason. Hey, mom, I got to go, but I’ll talk to you later, okay?”
“All right. Be safe. I love you. Tell your father I love him, too.” She rattled it off so effortlessly, like she really did love him. And maybe she did. Who was I to say? Either way, I definitely wouldn’t be telling him that for her.
I hung up, wishing that phone call would’ve made me feel better. It didn’t. If anything, it only made me feel worse, because my mother had no idea what was going on here in Cypress. While it was true she never was involved in the business side of our family much, it still felt wrong.
The hotel we were staying at had underground parking, and I pulled into the spot beside my father’s car, slow to get out. I took the elevator from the parking lot to the lobby, and then from the lobby to our floor. All the while I practiced what I’d say to my father.
As much as I wanted to make a huge deal of this—because it was a huge fucking deal, what he’d done—I knew I couldn’t blow up in his face. I wasn’t hesitant for myself. No, I was anxious on behalf of Giselle, knowing that if I said something that angered my father, something too out of line, he could easily make her life a living hell.
He could close the deal with Miguel and force her to marry me, even though she didn’t want to get married to anyone. He could make her be a part of our family, make her relive her past trauma over and over again, every time he was in the room with her.
I knew one thing: I couldn’t trust my father. I couldn’t trust him in his business deals or to be alone in a room with Giselle.
Our hotel room was more like a suite, an entire floor to ourselves. A full kitchen, though we usually ordered in some type of food, three full bathrooms, multiple bedrooms, along with a study and an open-concept living room. It didn’t feel like home, because it wasn’t, but it was fine for now.It had a great view of the city.
My father was on the phone in his office, and when I heard his voice, I froze in the hall, trying to eavesdrop. My thought was that it could be about Giselle. Sadly, I could only pick up a few words here and there.
Working on it. Get it done. Find them.
Was he talking to Miguel? Were they talking about finding the person who shot Giselle? I wondered. If Giselle was right and her father did do it, there was no way my own father knew about it. At least, it didn’t sound like it.
I decided I should just go in and get it over with, so I did just that, and right when I did, my father ended the call, offering no explanation—not that I thought he would. “Luca. I trust your date with Giselle went alright?” I hadn’t told him where we were going, but he knew about the date. In fact, now that I was thinking about it, he’d been the one to push for a date between us today.
Almost like he wanted me out of the house.
Or the hotel.
“It was good,” I said, moving to sit in the seat on the other side of the desk, reclining back and staring, unblinking, at my father. I studied the angles on his face, how gaunt his dark skin was. His hair was slicked back, his lips tugging into a frown. He looked how he always looked: a businessman, and yet I couldn’t help but see him in a new light.
A really shitty light. A sick, disgusting light.
“Good,” my father spoke, not offering anything else.
Inhaling deeply, I leaned forward on the chair, resting my arms on my knees. “I did want to ask you something, though.” When my father nodded once, I went on, “Is there a reason why you’re suddenly so into having me marry Giselle Santos?”
“Why do you ask?”
As much as I wanted to ask him about what he’d done with Giselle before, I knew I had to tread lightly. “It’s just… it seems like it’s weird timing. To be qualified for the position on the Black Hand, you have to have an heir. Doesn’t getting engaged mean she’s not Miguel’s heir anymore?”We might’ve spoken about this before, but the answer he’d given me had to be bullshit.
