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“Fuck it. I can take him.”
“You’re an old man, remember? Besides, it won’t come to that.”
He growls softly and kisses my cheek. “I’m not that old.”
“Sure you’re not.” I grin and kiss him quickly, and as I pull away, the door opens.
Malcolm steps into the conference room. I stand and Gavino gets up at my side. Casso remains seated, leaning back in his chair with his hands behind his head like he’s only half paying attention and barely a part of this discussion.
Malcolm takes in the scene for three silent beats of my heart before frowning. “I’ll be honest, I didn’t expect to see either of you anytime soon.” He stays near the door, looking like he’s not sure if he should run or come in.
“Hello, Father,” I say, trying to keep the smug smile from my lips. Grinning might be better than the alternative, which is screaming. “How’s everything back home?”
Malcolm’s face darkens. “I’m dealing with a slew of problems. You traumatized my staff.”
“Your second-in-command kidnapped me and tried to torture me to death. You basically threw me in your creepy murder basement and left me for the wolves. Forgive me if I’m not too worried about your sad staff.”
“And that’s why we’re calling it even.” He glances over at Casso. “What’s all this about, Don Bruno? Why are you involved all of a sudden? You’ve kept your distance until now.”
Casso shrugs. “Your guess is as good as mine. Jeanie here invited me to the party and I couldn’t say no.”
“Malcolm,” I say sharply, and he looks at me with narrowed eyes. “Sit down. We have to talk.”
He doesn’t move. There’s a long, tense moment. Gavino moves forward slightly, but I put my hand on his wrist to keep him in place. I’m pretty sure he wasn’t joking about stabbing Malcolm to death given the slightest provocation and that’s the last thing I need right now. He’s been in a foul mood ever since saving me from Benedict. The wound on the back of my head aches and itches, but I push that from my mind.
Finally, after a tense standoff, Malcolm moves stiffly to the chair at the head of the table and sits. I sink back down and Gavino joins me, his back straight and at attention, like he’s ready to spring to his feet at any moment.
I lean forward and fold my hands, staring down my biological father, a mess of mixed emotions bubbling through my chest.
I come from this man. This is the human that made my mother’s life miserable by treating her like garbage. I was nothing more than an afterthought to him, only a nuisance to deal with by throwing money at the problem, but never money that could’ve helped me and my mother in any way. He’s sick, severely deranged, wildly successful, and one of the worst humans I’ve ever known in my life.
And I’m his daughter.
The idea is repulsive. I can’t imagine what I’d be if I grew up with a man like Malcolm in my life, and I’m almost thankful that he treated me like nothing more than gutter trash. He would’ve ruined me.
I realize something in a flash. He would’ve ruined me—but he didn’t. I’m here with Gavino and I’m still able to love, to feel pleasure, to feel joy. I’m broken in a thousand little ways, but I’m not ruined.
There’s salvation for me if I’m willing to take it.
But Malcolm would’ve corrupted all my good pieces. He would’ve taken the bits of him in me and made them stronger. He would’ve made sure I turned into a little version of him, and I can’t imagine going through such a nightmare.
That murder basement would’ve been my future instead of my ending.
And with that, whatever part of me that still held on to the idea of this man as my father disappears. I’m free of him, finally, because I have Gavino by my side. Because Gavino showed me I can be strong and brave and clever if I try hard enough, and I don’t have to succumb to my darkness.
“You have five minutes,” Malcolm says, looking at his watch and already partly checked out. “Let’s get this over with and move on with our lives.”
“That’s an apt phrase to use right now,” I say, taking a breath and slowly releasing it. “I’m here so that we can all move on. You see, Malcolm, I have a grudge against you. My whole life, you’ve done nothing but try to ruin my mother and bankrupt her in court. Instead of stepping up and paying what you rightfully owed in child support, you bribed, coerced, and fought tooth and nail to ignore me. And now I’m here to put an end to that.”
Malcolm laughs once and glances at Casso. “You can’t be serious. Are you trying to get reparations from me?”
“No,” I say, shaking my head. “I’m done with you, but the Bruno family isn’t. What I want is very simple.” I turn the folder toward him and push it over. “This is a new contract. I had the Bruno family lawyers work on it over the last couple of days and they assure me it’s airtight. What it says is very simple. You will sell the property rights of that hotel downtown to Casso. You will step away from the development deal. Casso will cash you out. You will ensure all your vendors remain firmly attached to the deal. You will not try to stop it from moving forward without you. You will, in effect, cede your stake and sell it to Casso Bruno and the Bruno Famiglia, and you will walk away.”
The room falls silent. Gavino didn’t even know this was my plan. Malcolm looks at the men like he can hardly believe his ears before wiping his palms down his face and shaking his head.
“Why the hell would I do that when I can simply cut all of you out from this deal and make money on it myself? This is absurd, Casso, you’re wasting my time.”
“If you don’t,” I say quickly before anyone else can cut in, “I am going to release a stack of material relating to one particular postal employee and my mother’s wrongful termination. I won’t go to the courts because we all know they’re in your pockets. I’ll go to media outlets, every single media outlet I can find, and at least one of them will have the reach to make your life a living hell. I’ll tell my story, every little gory detail, about how you got my mother fired, how you refused to pay child support and fought us in court, how she spiraled into depression and drug addiction and eventually died. I’ll make your name toxic, Malcolm. I’ll scream the details from the rooftop, and with the materials we gathered from Jim the bookie, Mike the postal worker, and your own hard drives, I’ll make sure the story sticks and buries you. But if you sign, I’ll make sure you get everything, all the blackmail material we have, and we’ll walk away forever. It’s all in writing here.” I jab a finger at the contract and finish my speech.
