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“I thought that my daughter would be loyal to this family to the end,” he says, glancing over his shoulder at me. “But lately, I am seeing that loyalty slip. I am starting to wonder if there is something more important to my little viper.”
When he says the nickname, I know where his suspicion is. I’ve lost his trust. I’m under his scrutiny, and if he finds anything, I will be punished. With death.
“I used to think that was a fitting name for you. I’ve watched you wriggle your way into people’s lives only to strike at them when they least expect it.”
“I was taught by the best,” I say, hoping that stroking his ego will be enough to get the doors to open.
“Loyalty means something in this life, Aria. It means everything to me. You know that as well as I do. You have seen what I do to those who threaten the family, yet you still play with fire. You bring people into our lives who only wish to hurt us.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I say, swallowing hard.
Just stick to your story and come up with an excuse to leave.
“The family trusts you, Aria. Your brothers, me, your mother. We trust you to do right by this family. We are Russos. We are loyal to each other and nobody else.”
“I have always been loyal to the family. I willalwaysbe loyal to the family.”
He nods and turns to face me. His mouth is pressed into a thin line and the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes are more prominent than they usually are. I watch as his hands curl into fists before relaxing.
My father is an intimidating man. He is the kind of person that steals the air from a room when he walks in. While he is charming, everyone is always hyper-aware of him, waiting for his next move.
Now is no different. I watch as he paces from one side of the room to the other, his arms folded over his chest. His pacing pauses only long enough to grab a cigarette from the silver box on his desk and light it.
“I find myself sitting up late at night and wondering if the loyalty within the family is still as strong as it once was. You have yet to get the family insignia tattooed on your body, though you have been old enough for several years.”
I roll my eyes and cross my arms even though all I want to do is run. I have to act how I normally would. I have to keep him from suspecting anything else.
My life depends on it.
Maybe years from now I will sit down with somebody and unpack the feelings I have around knowing that my father could and would kill me in the blink of an eye. Today is not that day, though.
“Dad, I’ve told you a million times before. I don’t want to get the family tattoo because it’s big and ugly. If you redesign it into something that looks a little more like something I would wear, then I will be happy to get it done.”
Dad stares at me for a moment, the corner of his mouth lifting around his cigarette. “Fine. I’ll have my artist work something out and you’ll get it done tonight. After that, it’s time that you go on a run.”
“I hate going on runs,” I say, which is true. Riding around with my brothers and some of the soldiers while they deliver weapons is the last thing I want to spend my evening doing.
“Tattoo and then the run. You are a Russo and it’s well past time that you enter the family business fully.” Dad blows out a puff of smoke to my face. “I’ve been tolerant of your wild ways for too long and let you avoid your duty. It’s time that you commit.”
I sigh. “Do you forget that I’ve done my duty for the family time and time again? I may not go on runs, but I’ve always stood by your side.”
“Tattoo. Then run.”
“Fine,” I say, glancing at the clock on the wall. “I’ll do both, but I’m late for a hair appointment. Is it alright if I go and we continue this conversation when I get my tattoo later?”
“Very well,” he says before pressing a button on his desk.
The doors to his office open and I know that I’ve been dismissed. I nod once, knowing that it’s expected of me before I leave the room.
For the first time in a week, I head back to my room and dig out the burner phone Tyson gave me.
I lock my bedroom door and head into the washroom, locking that door as well. I set the phone on the counter before turning on the faucets for the shower, sink, and tub. There’s likely a bug in my room and I don’t want my father to hear anything I have to say.
As I sit on the edge of the bathtub, I debate calling Tyson. I don’t want to admit to him that he’s right. The gloating will never end if I do that.
However, Tysonisright. I can see that after the meeting with my father. I’m sure that he doesn’t have all the pieces put together, otherwise I would be dead, but he does have enough of them.
Dad is forcing his hand. He’s making sure that I know my place by insisting I get the Russo family branding. Everyone beneath him has it. For as long as I can remember, I’ve been the only one over the age of eighteen who is allowed to go without it.
