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I slip him a fifty and dip my chin in appreciation.
Dante’s waiting, falling into step with me on the way to the elevators.
“Do we know exactly which suite he’s in?”
“Called Isaac and he told me they stayed in the Tower. That’s where I’m headed.” I punch the code Isaac gave me into the keypad.
“How do you want to do this?”
“We’re here for the same reason. Say whatever you came to say.”
“You think he’s giving up a run for President?”
“Only one way to find out.”
The elevator opens, and a large man is standing in the middle of the hall. He speaks into his wrist and moves toward a door.
“He’s expecting you,” is all he says, opening the door.
We pass him, stepping into the lavish suite. Marco is facing the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the strip.
“Marco?” the security detail addresses him.
“That’ll be all, Grady, thank you.”
The man leaves, closing us in. I take in the room, noticing the office set up in the corner overflowing with paperwork, the empty room service tray to the side, and the empty glass on the table next to a bottle of gin.
When he turns, I fight my reaction.
“Holy shit,” Dante murmurs what I’m thinking.
Marco looks like he’s aged at least ten years since Sunday evening. His hair is unruly, his face unshaven, and his clothes a wrinkled mess. The bags under his eyes sag low and are a shade paler than his skin.
He scans over me, his mouth curving painfully. “Expected nothing less, but unnecessary. A man knows when he’s lost.”
“This is not a fucking game.”
“You are giving off some seriously pissed off vibes, but I won’t apologize. She’s my daughter.”
“She was your daughter before you cast her out. Now, she’s my wife, and I don’t deal well with power plays.”
“You think that was a power play? That was desperation. I had to sneak into a hospital under disguise to see my daughter. There’s no power anywhere in that.”
“She’s not your daughter,” I grind out.
He goes to the table, pouring a generous amount of gin, then turns back to the window. “Did she tell you she was a preemie? Five weeks early. Karen’s pregnancy with Caitlyn was the biggest and best surprise of my life. Natasha was an ornery baby, requiring all of Karen’s attention. When Caitlyn was born, I took over. The moment I saw her, my world changed in an unexplainable way. She was small, but a fighter. The nurse let me cut the cord and Caitlyn kicked me.” He chuckles, still staring out.
“Marco, I’m not here—”
“Marco,” he goes on like I didn’t speak. “I’ve never hated my name until two days ago after hearing it out of my baby’s mouth. Eight years ago, she called me Dad.”
“You don’t get to play the victim and you don’t deserve to be called Dad!” Dante spews.
“No, I don’t. Karen stepped up when things got easier. A mom and her daughters. That seemed normal. Those three ladies were my life, and I worked my ass off so they could all have whatever they wanted. Things were good, or so I thought. Teenage years struck my household like a category five hurricane. Karen assured me things were under control. Caitlyn had her dance and made it clear what she wanted in her future. The year Natasha graduated, it hit Karen hard.” He shakes his head, his disgust clear in the reflection. “Once again, so I thought. It’s crystal clear now. Somewhere along the way, Natasha realized her power and influence. Karen was part of it. With Caitlyn leaving for school soon, Karen wanted us to map a new future. Politics was her idea.”
“You can shut up now. I’m not interested in hearing how a grown man hands his balls to a woman and turns his back on his daughter,” I snap.
“Regardless of what you’ve been told, that is not what happened in my household. I hadn’t quite handed over my balls yet. Caitlyn’s senior year, Mrs. Canon came to me and explained the struggle they were having with the financial portion of the scholarships. I told her the money would not be a problem. My baby girl worked her ass off and she was going to her school of choice. Then I made a call, got her the audition at Julliard, certain she’d kill it. And she did. Like a true and upcoming politician, I played it to my advantage and worked a deal. Caitlyn was already a guaranteed acceptance; it was the financial aid in question. I pledged a grant in the amount of her education. When she turned down the opportunity to be closer to home, I kept my pledge, giving the money specifically to underprivileged dancers.”
Dante sucks in a breath, and I again force myself to stay stone-faced. That answers what he meant about Poppy’s financial freedom.
