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“Don’t lie to me!” he bellows, striding forward to slam the morning paper down on the kitchen table so forcefully it makes me jump.
I glance down at an image of me kissing Efrem right in front of the larger-than-life photo of his face now hanging in the art show. The headline reads “Attorney General’s Daughter Makes a Bold Statement,” and my heart drops.
Because this isn’t some petty paparazzi piece. Efrem and I made theNew York Times.
“There’s gossip all over town about you and this man. A man with close ties to Pyotr Veles and the Russian mob,” my mom hisses, flipping the page to show a very intimidating picture of Efrem holding the door of Pyotr’s Escalade as his boss steps out of the car.
Picking up the newspaper, I skim the article, and my stomach knots because this is far worse than I ever could have imagined. It lays it all out there in shocking detail, tying several terrible crimes that have happened lately directly to Pyotr, though a quote from law enforcement says they’re still trying to find enough evidence to bring him in.
Then it goes on to talk about how my candid affection for Pyotr’s right-hand man would indicate I, at least, don’t stand beside my father in his tough-on-crime policy. It then speculates that if Attorney General Richelieu is so willing to let his daughter date such a shady older figure—or worse, that he’s unable to stop it—then what could that possibly say about his stand on crime and his ability to bring violent offenders to justice.
Guilt hits my stomach like a ball of lead, and I look up at my dad in horror as I realize just how bad this is. This really could end his political career. It most definitely is going to impact his run for governor. And I can see the deep betrayal in his eyes.
“You’re just like your brother,” my mom states, her voice trembling with emotion. “No, worse! Because he’s at least managed to get his act together while you’ve decided to act up at one of the most critical points in your father’s career.”
Amazing how easily she can take both Ben and me down in the same sentence. Still, I feel terrible about what this will do to Dad. “I’m sorry,” I murmur. I knew this would hurt my parents before I did it. But I couldn’t willingly lose Efrem over my dad’s election. I just didn’t realize it could blow upthisbig.
“You’ll stop seeing this man. Immediately,” Dad states, putting his foot down.
And it makes my heart stop. Because I can’t do that. I’ve felt what it’s like to live without Efrem. I did a week of it building up to my apology to him. And I refuse to do it again. I can’t lose him. I won’t. Not for anyone.
Even my dad.
“No,” I state, squaring my shoulders and facing him head-on.
“Danielle, that is enough,” my mom says, her eyes flashing. “We are your parents, and we know what’s best for you—”
“No!” I repeat, my volume escalating.
We’re back to the same old argument. Yes, my actions hurt my father’s campaign, but his career has suffocated me my entire life. And I can’t keep doing it. I won’t give up the best thing that’s ever happened to me so my dad can be New York’s governor.
“Efrem is a good man, and I refuse to stop seeing him over some stupid headline or your political campaign,” I state, beyond frustrated and suddenly on the verge of tears.
“Yes, well, nice as he may be, you would pick some—some gangster—over your family?” Dad demands. “Because if you think we’re going to let you behave like a spoiled little brat and let him toy with you until you’ve destroyed everything we’ve ever built, then you’ve got another thing coming.”
“I would rather disassociate myself from this family and your stifling expectations than stop seeing him,” I state frankly, crossing my arms over my chest.
My mom scoffs, mirroring my body language. “You wouldn’t dare,” she mocks.
“You don’t think so?” I challenge. I’m so ready to. Ben had the right idea. Get out and start my own life before my father’s world completely destroys me. This overbearing level of scrutiny might work for him and my mom but not me. Not when everyone’s got it so wrong.
Yes, I’m sure there must be something behind the rumors. Pyotr wouldn’t need a bodyguard like Efrem if he were just a normal person. And I know that speculation has been circling around his family and business in regard to the recent increase in crime.
But Efrem isn’t the one holding a gun in people’s faces. He isn’t shooting up strip clubs or killing people. And I know that without a doubt. Efrem’s life revolves around protecting Pyotr. I could see it on his face this morning when he wasn’t there for whatever happened last night.
He saves people.
And I’m sick and tired of the world and my parents telling me he’s a bad person. That he’s the wrong person for me because he happens to work for Pyotr Veles—who I happen to consider a very kind, good person.
“And what are you going to do with yourself when you have no money? Don’t think for a second that you can just up and leave this family and still enjoy the luxuries we provide. We’ll cut you off, right here, right now, if that’s how you want to play,” my mom snaps.
My stomach twists as she cuts right to the heart of the matter.
“You’ve never lived a life where you had to make ends meet,” she continues, her arms flying wildly as she emphasizes her point. “You’ve never even had a job.”
“I can get a job,” I state flatly, my temper spiking as she lays out all the realities of going out on my own. Truth be told, an honest job seems far less stressful or strangulating than trying to fit into my parents’ perfect mold.
“And what, would you drop out of school? Because I sure as hell hope you know we won’t be paying for it.”
