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He jerked his gaze up from the papers lined neatly across his desk. His personal assistant sat across from him, her tweed suit godawful hideous. She jerked as though slapped, scowling as she rose.
I didn’t know this one…she must be new.
“Who the hell do you think—“ she started, turning from her seat.
But I caught the panicked shake of the idiot’s head from the corner of my eye as I shifted my gaze to the man sitting behind the desk. “Hello, Father.”
“Kat,” he murmured without missing a beat.
“Kat?” the idiot across from him mumbled.
“Yes…Kat,”I barked as I swung my gaze to her. “Don’t bother leaving, I’ll make this short and sweet.”
I leveled my gaze at the man behind the desk, letting the panic and fear coil in my stomach like a damn serpent as I reached into my clutch and pulled out a slip of paper.
Cosa Nostra Institutewas written across the top of the contract.
I slid it across the desk in front of him, leaning over just enough for him to get the hint. “Sign the contract and pay the goddamn money.”
Anger flashed in those dark eyes. Stony. Unfathomable.Ruthless.“Don’t be ridiculous,” he growled.
Get out…
Get out…
GET OUT!
“Pay the money” I insisted, and clenched my grip around the edge of the desk. Harsh breaths consumed me as I stared into the depths of this predator.
There was a twitch at the corner of his mouth, a tiny smirk. Arrogance raged as he leaned backwards and crossed his arms over his chest.
“Maybe I should…” Ugly Tweed Suit murmured, and took a step backwards.
“Stay,” I growled, and she froze.
“You really want to do this?” my father questioned. I doubt he even saw his assistant…even when I stood in front of him. But I was the apple, wasn’t I? The apple of his eye in the garden of fucking Eden, but he was no Adam. He was evil incarnate, taking bite after bite, all the way down to my core.
But life bloomed inside me.
Seeds sprouted, and desperation bloomed.
I had to get out of there. I had to find some place where they couldn’t get to me, some place I couldn’t be dragged away. Some place I couldthinkand plan…yeah, plan,figure a way out of this fucking mess, one that didn’t involve slicing open my fucking wrists.
“Sign the papers and pay the damn money,” I demanded again. He didn’t like me coming here. No doubt I’d pay for it when he came home. No doubt at all…
But right now, in front of an audience…I was forcing his hand.
“You really want to go to that…pathetic Mafia playground.”
“I want to learn from the best,” I argued. “You won’t teach me to run a company, but they will.”
But that wasn’t the real reason, was it? That wasn’t the reason why two weeks ago, I'd crawled from my bed at one AM, wanting to end it all. The memory rose, as I'd stood, shaking and desperate, the knife from the kitchen block in my hand, the honed edge pressed against my wrist. One slip was all it’d take and it’d all be over. One slip…and I’d be free.
But something inside me didn’t let that happen.
Some tiny spark of fire. One I’d thought had been extinguished a long time ago. Still, that tiny flame waited, dancing and flickering, burning inside me, just waiting for the moment to erupt…and burn them all to the ground.
“You’re really not letting this go, are you?”
