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I’m also done with the games my family plays; always willing to threaten my brothers while risking my life and freedom.
“It is. Trust me.” The elevator opens and we walk through, heading toward a closed door while ignoring his secretary and assistant. He has both; one is a doormat while the other is there to look pretty. One glare from him, though, and both women go mute. “Behind me, sweetheart. I need you to do as I ask and trust me.”
“With my life.” And when he barges in without knocking, I follow a few seconds later, closing the door so we’re not interrupted. “Gentlemen. What a surprise.”
“What’s the meaning of this? Get the...” My father doesn’t finish his sentence, eyes wide when Callum pulls out two large guns, one pointed at his head and the other at who my father called Gaspar. Both watch him with trepidation. Fear.
But it’s the third occupant inside the room who I find amusing at the moment. Rigo Martin sits across from Gaspar, no gun aimed in his direction, and yet, he’s shaking hard enough for his teeth to rattle. He’s pale, looking between my father and the man across from him for help, and nothing like the boisterous, pompous jerk he usually is.
“Aliana, love?”
“Yes.” Dad chokes at Callum’s term of endearment. The severity of the situation is dawning on him.
“Do you want me to kill the governor? Say yes, and I’ll pull the trigger right now.” I don’t answer right away. To be honest, I’ve wished so many times for someone to do just that. To end it all and release me from this burden. “His pathetic life is in your hands.”
“Mi hija, answer him!” Dad yells, and it doesn’t help his case. If anything, it annoys me. “How can you let him do this?”
“You don’t get to speak to her.” And while I decide, my boyfriend looks down at the phone in my hand and nods. “Toss it at the arse on the couch, please.”
Once I do, the man with dark, leering eyes picks it up, grip tight. “This is all a big misunderstanding, Jameson. We’re all friends here.”
“Press play, Flavio. I warned you.”
“Callum, I—”
“Press. Play.”
“I know what you did. I don’t need to—”
“Press play, or it’ll be your brain matter the janitor peels from the ceiling. Your choice.”
In this moment, I see the man everyone fears. The brutal killer and shrewd mob boss.
And yet, I feel no trepidation at his side. Does that make me crazy? Or just as bad?
Flavio, as Callum calls him, hits the button and a clip begins to play. The sound is off, for that I’m thankful, but his expression says it all. He’s horrified. Looks a little sick. “I’ve seen enough.”
“Have you?”
“Yes.”
“Then I suggest you walk out and don’t look back. Final warning.” Flavio stands, dropping the old cell phone beside him, and walks toward the door. We step aside, my body covered by Callum’s, but before Flavio can place a hand on the handle, the man beside me clears his throat. “I’m letting you walk out alive because Aliana’s here—you owe your life to her, arsehole. However, you come within a thousand feet of her again and what I did to him will seem like a gentle pat on the back. Understood?”
“I do.”
“Then go and give him a proper burial. He’s been delivered to your home.” Callum’s message is there. He knows where Gaspar lives. The door closes after him, and we turn to look at my father and Rigo who sit as still as statues in opposites sides of the room.
Both guns are on my father, though.
“Your answer, Venus.”
“As much as it would make my life easier, no. The answer is no,” I say and Dad exhales roughly, shoulder slumping in relief. “But not out of love. That, I need to make sure you understand.” My eyes are on the man I no longer see as a father. Not after how easily he threatens, hits, or sells me to save his own skin. Parents should protect and love, two things the man sitting behind a desk is incapable of. “I do this for the two boys you couldn’t care less about. They deserve better than you, an absent father and a vain mother, but I can’t in good conscience be the reason they bury a parent at such a young age.”
“Aliana, you can’t mean that. I’ve always been there.” His indignation is almost amusing. His acting, though, leaves a lot to be desired. “You kids are my life.”
“Bullshit, and we both know that.” Callum walks over to the chairs across from my father and motions for me to sit. His guns are still out but lowered. “You don’t give a bloody fuck about her well-being or happiness, and I can only imagine what your sons put up with. Which is why you’re going to be doing a series of tasks to prove how unselfish you can be…isn’t that right, Governor Rubens?”
“Yes.” He swallows hard before picking up the pen beside a notepad.
