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“For fuck’s sake, Navy.” He pushed his hand through his hair, his tired face staring back at me. “I’ve been up for thirty-six hours straight; I need my bed and a good night’s sleep.” He moved around the counter, his bottle of beer gripped firmly in his hand. “We can talk about this tomorrow.”
I laughed, the sound stopping him in his tracks. “You mean tomorrow when you’ll probably be out on another work trip?” I shook my head, a sad smile on my face. “I’m not doing it, Dad.”
His features schooled into an expression I’d rarely seen on his face. His cheeks turned red, his brows furrowing, his lips pinching into a straight line. He knew what I was saying without me having to explain.
“You don’t have a choice.”
“Yes, I do.” I planted my hand on my hip, fully aware that I probably looked like a sullen teenager. I may have been eighteen, but I’d always felt older than my years, I had since before Mom passed. I’d had to deal with so much more than the average kid, and that had an effect.
“I think you’re forgetting that you live undermyroof.” He took a step forward, his face turning stone cold. Was this the way he looked at the people he arrested? “You’re still in school.” He took another step, now only a few feet away from me. “There is no way I’m letting my teenage daughter have that bastard’s baby.” Spittle flew out of the side of his mouth, his rage a living, breathing thing.
“You…” I couldn’t form words, couldn’t understand his anger. “But…”
“You’re not keepingit, Navy.” He glanced down at my stomach, a sneer on his face. “It’s too late for an abortion, but I’ve already contacted an adoption agency. The moment you give birth, you can sign your rights away, then we can both get on with our lives.” He took one last step toward me, towering over me.
“No,” I said, but it was a mere whisper, as if I’d given up. But I hadn’t. I never would.
He stormed past me, his footsteps echoing throughout the house, but then all of a sudden they stopped. “And he’s really fuckin’ lucky, I’ll tell you that much.” I glanced at him over my shoulder, tears pricking at my eyes. I didn’t like the way he was talking, it was so unlike him. “I did the math. You’d just turned eighteen.” He raised his brows and pursed his lips. “Had you been one day under, I’d be arresting his ass for statutory rape.”
I didn’t move, didn’t let a single expression appear on my face. He had done the math right, but if he really thought about it, he’d know that I’d only turned eighteen a couple of days before I got pregnant. I was on the cusp, on the edge of feeling like I was going to break down.
Opening my mouth, I was determined to tell him that his plan wasn’t going to happen. But as I stared at him, I knew now wasn’t the time or place. I had to bide my time, I had to wait it out. Even though I knew deep down that I would never sign my rights over.
He was correct, I was living under his roof. I was still in school. But I was also eighteen. Which meant legally I was an adult and he had no say over me whatsoever.
Taking my silence as an answer, he turned around and stomped up the stairs. I didn’t move as I listened to his footsteps above me. And when his door finally slammed closed, I felt like I could finally breathe again. The problem was, as soon as my shoulders slumped and my body caved in, the tears streamed down my face, unstoppable in their path.
He was treating me like a child, like I didn’t know what would come from having this baby.
Maybe I was being one. Maybe I was trying to act like all of this wasn’t that big of a deal.
It was. I knew it was. But there was nothing I could do to change it—nothing I wanted to do to change it. This baby was half of me. It didn’t matter who the father was or whether he’d be part of my baby’s life. All that mattered was that it was mine.
My baby.
My life.
My choice.
My father didn’t know it yet, but he would have a fight on his hands, one that I wasn’t willing to back down from. It was simple. It really was. The baby was staying, but whether I would or not remained to be seen.
* * *
DANTE
I tapped my fingers on the steering wheel as I waited outside of the club. Well, it wasn’t so much a club, more of a bar—a piano bar to be specific. I hadn’t been here when Lorenzo had bought it for Aida, so I’d had no idea what she’d named it, not until I’d pulled up outside.
Staring up at the sign, I held my breath as I read the five letters:Luca’s. She’d named it after my father. She’d never met him, yet she’d called her bar that. It made no sense to me, but right then, I wasn’t here to analyze why my sister-in-law had named it that. I was here for one reason: to help Sofia get the revenge she deserved.
People said that revenge wasn’t the answer. But people were wrong. They only said that because they’d never been able to get their own back.
I knew better though—we all did.
The quirk of my lips was unmistakable as I thought about where I was about to take Sofia. It was all set up, ready to go thanks to Remy. No one knew I was back home, not yet, but they soon would. I was making my entrance with a bang that they’d never forget.
The door to the bar swung open, and my lips lifted into a full-on grin at the sight of my little sister. She’d changed since I was gone, that much was clear just from the way she carried herself. She’d always kept her head down and her shoulders slumped, trying to go by unnoticed, but right then as she stepped toward the SUV, she looked like she didn’t have a care in the world.
I knew differently though. Inside she was still torn up from what she’d gone through. She’d never truly be at peace, not until she’d taken back the control that had been stolen from her. Sofia yanked the passenger door open, not looking over at me as she clicked her seat belt in and started, “I want to go straight home and—” She paused, her gaze clashing with mine as her mouth snapped open in shock. “What are you doing here?”
