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Mia waits for us in the office and sets me with a frown the moment I round the door. I wrap an arm across my midsection and covertly tug the skirt of my dress lower in rebuttal to her reproach.
She’s dressed in a tailored two-piece outfit. The pants flared around her ankles, and the extra height on her is no doubt thanks to platform shoes. The double-breasted jacket shows off her trim waist and tells me she’s not playing around.
“Did you go through your closet for the perfect outfit just for me?” I tease to lighten the mood.
“Explain yourself.” She’s not wasting time.
The door opens behind me and Lucia steps into the office. She takes one look at the situation and starts to back out with her hands out in front of her. “Sorry, I’m interrupting.”
“No.” Mia’s voice is harsh and demanding. “Stay. Isabella was just about to tell us what happened last night and why it seems the Inked Den is no longer considered a safe space.”
Daddy sighs, heading around to the other side of his desk and dropping down hard in his chair. Mia prefers to stand and crosses her arms over her chest.
Lucia, put in a position where she knows she can’t escape, makes herself comfortable on the couch with her hands on her knees. She’s the same as me. We’ve got no choice. We’ve already been put in our slots, our fates planned out along with everything else in our father’s scope of vision. At least hers might still change. I’m set.
“I went to the club last night to blow off steam,” I say simply. “It’s no big deal. Ricardo followed me to make sure I stayed safe. You can see I’m in one piece.”
“Why that club in particular?” Mia asks.
“Because it’s neutral territory.” It sounds as though I’m reciting it by rote.
“According to Ricardo, the neutrality of the Inked Den is now compromised. He seems to believe it is due to something you either said or did,” Mia snaps. “He’s refusing to give up detail and I happen to know Carter is working to rectify things on that front as we speak.”
I wince at her tone.
Edward laces his hands together in front of his face looking less kindly father figure and more the shrewd businessman ready to execute damage control. “What did you do?”
“Nothing, Daddy.”
Mia groans and says, “You might blink your eyes and get away with murder with him, Isabella, but I'm here too. Lucia is here. And there is more to the story than you’re telling us.”
“Because I haven’t told you anything yet,” I remind her.
“How did you manage to wrap Ricardo around your finger this well? He isn’t spilling the details.” Mia looks ready to throttle me.
“Ricard is so not wrapped around my finger. He wants nothing to do with me.” Except it certainly hadn’t felt that way last night with his mouth on me.
“Someone out of the two of you has to have a little sense.” Edward scoffs, shakes his head.
“You don’t even know what happened,” I reply honestly. “I started talking to this fellow who stepped in when things got a little too heated on the dance floor, and all of a sudden, boom. Ricardo was there to drag me out.”
“I know well enough. You’re not telling me, and I had people go out there last night. They found bullet shells.” Mia says it in a matter-of-fact tone she knows gets under my skin, only this time, I have no right to be up in arms.
Especially when Daddy sucks in a breath, and his eyes darken. “Are you out of your mind?” He slams his fist down on the top of his desk hard enough to rattle every single object littering it, including the gold-framed picture of my sisters and me. It clatters, tips, then drops face first on top of his well of ink and spilling it everywhere. “Goddamn it. Who did you speak to? Bella, what happened?”
“Look what you did now,” Lucia hisses from the corner of her mouth.
I press an innocent finger to my chest. “Me? You’re out of your mind.”
“You’re the one who always insists you want to be a part of this mess. Which makes you out of your mind,” Lucia insists.
“You’re too young to understand,” I reply.
As if to emphasize my point, she sticks her tongue out at me.
“Baby Bella.” Daddy takes great pains to keep his voice level and his eyes from narrowing into slits tight enough to be all saggy skin and black lashes. “It’s imperative you tell me exactly who you spoke to and what words were exchanged.”
I might be the middle child, but I’d always been the princess, the darling. A daddy’s girl if there’s ever been one, and I’ve never minded because the part gets me closer to my family and anything I want. Both of those are good things. They will never not be good things. Until the father I idolize decides to stand in the way of me making a mark for myself.
