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Demyen.I feel the corner of my mouth tug upward and it’s all I can do to press it back down. “It looks like that didn’t happen.”
Dad scoffs. “Right? Who knew the kid was so fucking resilient? Not only did he hold his shit together, he ended up becoming the most powerfulpakhanthat Bratva’s ever had. Go fuckin’ figure.”
Pride swells in my chest.MyDemyen.
“Anyway.” He shrugs and slowly rocks up onto his feet. “We’ve wasted enough time here. Part of my deal with Raizo is to make sure everything goes smoothly without any trouble. You know, overzealous bidders and all that.”
“And the other part?”Look interested. Sound interested. Pretend like hell you’re on his side.
Dad hesitates. When he smiles at me, it almost seems a little… sad. “I didn’t get into the business because I wanted to. Just so you know. Your mom got sick, and then you got it, too… I needed money. And I had what they wanted to buy.”
I vaguely remember a time when I was little that Mom and I both contracted pneumonia. We were miserable. I thought I was dying. It was actually one of the few good memories I have of my father. He was caring, worried, attentive…
I almost didn’t recognize him.
I frown. “What did you sell?”
He looks me over and gently rubs the tops of my arms. “I really wish you’d worn something more appropriate, Clar-bear. The wrong kind of men will get the wrong idea.”
I try not to wrench away from him so obviously; my side-step is as subtle as I can manage. “I’m fine, Dad. Really. I’m also a grown woman who can wear whatever I want?—”
“Watch your tone with me, young lady.” He softens. “Sorry for snapping, baby girl. I’m just on edge tonight, and I worry about you. So does Martin! He was looking for you earlier?—”
“Oh, he found me.” I can’t hold back the scoff. Or the eye roll. “Trust me, Dad. Please. Martin is not the man you want for a son-in-law. You said it yourself: he’s not even the best partner.”
Dad sighs. Then, like it’s a huge weight on his shoulders, he nods. “Fine. I’ll have a talk with him. Just… go easy, okay? Willow needs her father and you need a man’s support in your life.”
I super fucking don’t, but I’m not about to argue with him. This is one of the first somewhat sane and peaceful conversations I’ve had with my father in ages. I still need to get the hell away from him, but I’m not about to break this tentative bubble of peace. He keeps switching topics and I know it’s an avoidance tactic, one that he uses when he interrogates people. Like he said, it’s all about control.
Plus, the fact that he thinks I need anyone or anything tells me that he doesn’t know about my recent windfall.
Which means neither does Martin.
For the first time in over a week, relief settles into my veins.
And then quickly vanishes when I realize that Dad is working with Raizo—who is double-dealing behind Demyen’s back. Knowing Dem, he’s probably sniffed out the hints thatsomething is wrong with everything going on here—but then again, maybe he doesn’t see the full picture yet.
He seemed distracted in the car. And when we got here. And most of the night since.
Is he too distracted to see the danger surrounding him?
I need to find him. I need to leave this room, slip away from Dad, and find Demyen to warn him. Whatever is going on, it involves my father and Raizo and some sort of plot to bring Demyen down. If they banked on him failing in the wake of Tolya’s imprisonment, there’s no way they’re happy with letting him rake in the bulk of Vegas’ underworld’s successes.
Dad holds his arm out to me, and I slip mine through his.
But then the latch of my clutch clicks open.
Bambi’s phone falls out.
And it is, very clearly, recording every word we say.
I don’t move. Neither does Dad. But I can see, in the corner of my eye, his face slowly contorting into a mask of anger.
“Clara.” His hand twists until he’s gripping my arm. Hard. “What the fuck are you doing?”
For a second, I’m terrified. The little girl inside me cowers with fear in the shadow of her father’s fury, ready to beg and plead and sob for him to not be angry.I’ll be good; I promise I’ll be good…
But then, suddenly, I’m not. Echoes of things Demyen used to tell me whisper in my mind, and I’m reminded that I am not, in fact, a helpless little girl.
