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I returned to my study to see her sitting on my couch, twiddling her fingers as she waited for me to return. Her rather obvious nerves were borderline cute, and I found myself just watching her before she realized that I’d come back. Finally, I cleared my throat rather noisily and she jumped anxiously at the same time that she jerked her head toward mine.
“I made a few calls and found out some rather intriguing information regarding your father and your fiancé, Keri,” I began.
“Will you help me?” she asked.
“Your father is not a kind man, is he?” I said softly.
“No. He isn’t,” she replied sadly. She chewed her lip anxiously and I found it endearing.
“Tell me more about him,” I pressed. I wanted her to open up a bit more to me and I also wanted to understand the differences in her behavior when she was telling me the truth versus when she was telling me a lie.
“Growing up, he sent me away to expensive private academies so that he didn’t have to deal with me. He’s always had a tendency toward violence, but it’s never been directed at me before today. My mother has always taken the brunt of it,” she explained.
“He abused her?”
“Yes. She covered it up well with makeup tricks she learned on the internet,” she said. Her mother must have really done a good job after all, because nothing in my background report indicated even a hint of domestic violence within the Esposito family. If anything, he’d painted himself as a man who put family above all the rest.
“He was never particularly nice to me and recently he’s been downright mean whenever I’ve wavered about making a decision with the wedding planning,” she added.
“I see. Tell me about Anthony now. I want to understand more about your husband-to-be,” I requested. I didn’t tell her that I already knew the answer. I wanted to observe her as she dug herself even deeper into her mistruths.
“I haven’t spent as much time with him admittedly,” she started, and I smirked at the tendril of honesty in her words. The flow of her words slowed, and her body language grew a bit more tense. It soon became obvious that she was avoiding my gaze by looking every which way except straight at me. Finally, she settled on keeping her eyes on the floor.
“From what I’ve been able to gather, he’s demanding, and he takes after his father. He’s a bully and he’s dangerous. I hear he’s not afraid to use his fists to send a message,” she explained. She didn’t use specifics and if I pressed harder for them, I knew she would falter. I didn’t want to expose her that way. I wanted her to figure out that I knew she was lying about her fiancé first.
“I called your father myself,” I segued.
She finally met my eyes in silence.
“I told him you were here,” I began, and the color drained from her face. There was nothing fake about her fear of him. She was truly scared that he would hurt her.
“What would you have me do with your father?” I asked softly.
“Take care of him. I don’t know. Throw him in the Hudson for all that I care. Make him disappear without a trace,” she said, and I couldn’t help myself as I chuckled at her request.
“Who do you think I am? The Godfather? Do you truly understand what you’re asking me to do?” I questioned, my voice rising just a bit with every syllable.
She furrowed her brow a little in confusion.
“That isn’t what you do?” she asked.
“No. This isn’t a movie. I don’t take care of people like you think. I don’t kill them, and I don’t make them disappear. I have people who solve problems for me and if it’s possible, it all takes place under the pretense of the legal system taking its normal course,” I answered bluntly, and her face fell just the slightest bit more.
“Oh,” she replied. There was the smallest hint of defeat and hopelessness in her tone and I decided that for that moment, I would alleviate that worry for her.
“Your father will be taken care of,” I said purposefully, and her face lit up once more.
“You’re going to help me?” she asked, her optimism returning almost instantly.
“I’m not doing it for you. When I refused to tell him of your location, he threatened me, and I cannot let that stand. I don’t take kindly to threats and I will take care of him, but it will be done my way,” I replied.
“What are you going to do?” she pressed.
“That is none of your business,” I answered boldly, and her eyes studied mine a bit more intensely. She was trying to figure me out.
“I’m going to handle him because no one threatens me without repercussions and that is the last I will discuss of the matter, but now I want to talk about something else. I made another phone call while I was gone,” I continued.
“Who did you call?” she asked cautiously.
