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My stomach rumbles audibly, and I slap my hands against it like it will make a difference. There are no tear stains on my face, although a few might have slipped out last night in the dark. Score one for me.
Ricardo had taken the chair by the window and gave me the entire bed to myself. A mixed blessing, I decided in the moment, to be able to spread out. Instead, I spent hours trapped in the memories of his head between my legs and got no sleep.
The moment the sun rose, he ushered me down into the waiting car, sticking absolutely to his plan with no deviations or time to grab breakfast.
And without sunglasses, I squint against the glare, watching the landscape blaze by us in a blur as we speed from unfamiliar territory back to my family’s compound by the lake.
The bracelet, the oral on both our parts. The safe house.
Ricardo acting like he doesn't give a shit, only to turn around and treat me like the sun rose and fell on my ass.
How did we get here? I have no idea.
He drops me off in front of the house and waits there in the back seat of the vehicle, watching me. Does he think I’m going to make a run for it? There’s nowhere for me to go. Nowhere for me to run. None of the safe houses belong to me, and neither does any of the money in my bank account.
I don’t actually want to go anywhere. I want to be useful.
How do I explain those things to him in a way he’ll understand?
I stalk into the house without looking back. I don’t. Clearly, Ricardo won’t get it because he’s a man, and he’s been ushered into a position of power. Probably from the moment he popped out of his mother’s body, and they saw he had a penis. It always works that way, doesn’t it? The oldest boy takes over the family business, whether it’s blue-collar or arms dealing.
In our case, my father has no sons, so the position will go to Mia as the eldest. Rather progressive of him, I think as I stare up at the imposing Mediterranean facade of the house.
I narrowly resist giving Ricardo the finger for his abruptness, and only because I catch a flash of a shadow inside the house. My stomach sinks. He and his men have delivered me into the waiting and furious hands of my father, who greets me the moment I step into the foyer. Glowering, bulgy-eyed, and wearing one of his best suits.
He must have been ready for a meeting.
Another thing I know nothing about.
He stands tall with salt-and-pepper hair and a stern expression I know he’s working hard to maintain. He’s a big old softie when it comes to me. “Isabella?”
I expect him to scream in my face, but that’s not my father. It never has been. Sure, he might be angry and worried as he wraps me up in his arms, but he rests his chin on top of my head and breathes out a sigh of relief.
“I’m home, Daddy.” It takes me a beat to return the hug, and when I do, I squeeze him tightly.
He rears back only to stare at my face and take in every line, every dark circle. Every mark from my smeared makeup. I straighten and hope he doesn’t have his sixth sense targeted toward my sexual activities.
“Ricardo brought you back in one piece, I take it,” Edward grumbles.
My expression sours at the mention of his name. “I’m sure he’s still outside if you want to go check with him,” I say almost petulantly. Then swallow over the rest of my shitty attitude when Edward turns back to me.
“Don’t mistake my affection for forgiveness. The two are intertwined, yes, although this time, you pushed me far enough, Bella. I heard what happened at the club last night. It’s time we’ve had a talk.”
I’ve always gotten away with way more than anyone else when it came to Edward Balestra. Right now, he’s looking at me like he sees straight through to my soul, and for the first time in my life, he isn’t pleased with what he sees there. He isn’t pleased with me.
I swallow over a lump in the back of my throat and fight back a shiver.
“Come into the office and let me hear the story directly from you,” he continues when I stay silent.
And then what? I wonder as he guides me down the familiar hallway with his fingers at the small of my back and my stomach dropping lower with each step.
“Ricardo didn’t tell you?” I hazard to ask.
Edward stares straight ahead. “Only enough to keep me from storming down to that club and razing the place to the ground myself. Trust me, I had men prepared to do exactly that, Bella.”
He never would have done it without actual provocation. My father isn’t the type of man who does anything without thoroughly considering every single angle before plotting out his move. He has a plan for each situation and then three more as backup in case the first should fail. They never do.
Needless to say, I take after my mother, who is as flighty as she is passionate about home design and planning out every step of our lives. Mia in, me out, and Lucia still considered young enough to be molded. That’s the way it’s always been. We have our parts to play.
