Or, worse, he forgave me.
I couldn’t forgive myself. I wasn’t ready to do that, and hearing it from Mal would only shove my shame into overdrive.
Why was I like this? Why was everything so hard?
When normal people found someone attractive and wanted to be with them, they didn’t agonize over every little detail. Why couldn’t I have that?
I knew the answers, of course.
My father. Mal and Carmine.
I was a mafia princess, which meant I’d never, ever be free.
There was a soft knock at my door. I sat up and frowned a little. My hair was a mess and I had on an old sweatshirt and a pair of shorts.
“Yes?” I called out.
The door opened. My father stepped onto the threshold, but didn’t come closer. He wore his customary suit, without the tie, and his top buttons undone. He looked tired, like he’d been up late, or like he hadn’t slept at all.
“Good morning, Capri,” he said quietly, a little smile on his lips. “How are you feeling?”
“I’m okay,” I said, sensing something wrong. “What’s up, Dad?”
“Nothing special. I wanted to check in.” He took a step closer. “I hope you slept well. Do you want to get something to eat? Do you need some coffee?”
“I’ll head down in a bit.” I glanced over to the bathroom. “I actually wanted to take a shower.”
“Right, a shower.” He nodded as if this conversation made a lot of sense. “I can really understand why you’d want a shower.”
“Showers are pretty common in the morning.” I forced a laugh but my guts were twisted into knots. “What’s going on? You’re being weird.”
He nodded, still smiling and walked over. He sat at the foot of my bed and looked at me with his head tilted to the side.
“When you were a little girl, I thought you were going to conquer the world. Did I ever tell you that?”
“No,” I said, blinking in surprise. He rarely talked about my childhood.
“You were feisty as all hell. I took you on a few business trips with me into Mexico, and all the cartel men loved you. They laughed and played games. They let you run around with their children. You were so well behaved, and you even picked up some Spanish.”
“I didn’t know that.”
“You were three and four at the time. I’m not surprised you don’t remember anymore. It was a long time ago.” He looked away as if he were staring off into the mists of ancient history. “I loved you so much, my little daughter. And when Don Falsone offered to marry his son to you in exchange for my cartel connections, I felt so honored. Don Falsone himself, offering to bring me into his family. My grandson could be the Don himself one day. It would cement my legacy. I was so proud.”
That, I remembered. He wasn’t proud. He was greedy and excited to be one step closer to the center of power. “Those were good days,” I said, and meant it. Mal and Carmine and I were still friends back then. Nothing bad had happened yet. My dad was regularly abusing me—but at least I had my friends.
“They were. They were very good days. Because back then, I could smile to myself, look in the mirror, and say, ‘Mauro, you’re a lucky man. You have a beautiful daughter that loves and honors you. She’s not a rat fuck traitor.’”
My heart skipped a beat. He still smiled, but the smile was edged with razor blades. I didn’t move. I could barely breathe.
“What are you talking about, Dad?”
“I loved you so much, Capri. I still love you. Which is why it breaks my fucking heart.” He leaned forward. “You betrayed me, you stupid, short-sighted little bitch, and now I’m going to lock you in the basement until you rot away, you worthless piece of trash.”
I kicked out hard. It must’ve surprised him, because my foot connected with his chin. He grunted as his head snapped sideways, and I scrambled out of the covers, falling out of bed. I stumbled, ran into the far wall, and started to run for the door.
Dad grabbed my wrist and yanked hard. I screamed as my shoulder nearly tore from its socket. He smashed his fist into my mouth, shutting me up, and I fought back. For the first time in my life, I punched at him, scraped at his face and eyes, kicked and thrashed. He shouted in rage and pain and hit me again, and again, until he threw me to the floor and knelt on my throat, panting, heaving, sweating. His face was bright red, and his eyes were wide with anger.
“You stupid cunt,” he snarled. “You told Mal. You thought you were being so clever when you asked your little questions, and I thought, why not test her. See if she’s being genuine. So I planted an idea in your stupid little head. You ran off and told your boyfriend, and he came hunting one night. He slithered in like a filthy snake. Well, I caught him, cut his fucking head off, and now it’s your turn.”