My father. My father. What the hell is he doing here? I told myself a long, long time ago that I’d never, ever talk to this son of a bitch again, and now I’m in the same room as him and the don of the Bruno Famiglia and I don’t know what to do.
“Mirella, if there’s a problem, we can ask your father to leave,” Casso Bruno says, rising halfway from his chair.
“It’s okay, Don Bruno,” Dad says, staring at me, face starting to harden. “Maybe this was a bad idea. Maybe she’s not ready.”
“Not ready?” I nearly choke on the words. “Not ready?”
“Mirella,” Fynn says, his tone an obvious warning.
But I can’t help myself. The glass wall in my chest shatters and years and years of pent-up anger floods out, overwhelming my brain in a cascade of rage. My stupid tongue doesn’t know how to hold itself right now, not after all those awful memories come rushing back. All those nights with Mom hating my father for running out on us and me hating myself for not being enough to hold it all together. All because of this bastard.
“I am never going to be ready to see you,” I say, my voice softer now but boiling with rage. “Do you understand me? You may be my father, but you gave up the right to say a damn word to me fifteen years ago when you left our family. No, don’t talk now, you piece of shit. Do you have any idea what you leaving did to Mom? What it did to me? I hate you so much, if you choked and died I’d watch and laugh.”
“Mirella.” Fynn gets to his feet.
“It’s okay,” Dad says, shaking his head, cheeks crimson. “She’s got a right to feel that way.”
“Maybe we should do this another time,” Casso says.
And that pushes me over the edge. “With all due respect, but I don’t want anything to do with this family if this man is going to be involved. I only showed up to that interview because my mom asked me to, but if I knew this bastard would come anywhere near me, I would’ve run screaming.” I take a step back toward the open door, and everyone’s staring at me. Karah looks shocked and pained, Nico seems quietly angry, and Fynn is furious. His lips are curled back in a snarl. Dad hangs his head and says nothing.
I turn and run. It’s pathetic, not my finest moment ever, but I get the hell out of there before I can go off again and make things worse. I run into the hall and maybe Karah calls out, I don’t know, because I don’t stop to find out. I hurry away as tears stream down my face, so angry with myself for being so damn stupid and impulsive and emotional. I walk fast, ignoring the staff I come across, ignoring everything around me, sobbing like a little child until I find the one place I know in this whole viper’s pit of a house, the one room I feel even slightly comfortable.
The gym’s quiet and empty. I sit on the rowing machine and let the tears come, falling down my face and onto my dress. God, I’m so stupid. I got all dressed up for Fynn ,and I was genuinely excited to meet Casso and to have a family dinner with the Brunos, but I forgot what they were. I forgot who they are.
They’re my father’s people. He’s a member of their Famiglia, and that means if I’m going to be around them then he’ll always be one step away. Being in this house is like being in my father’s world and it suddenly hits me just how wrong and how naive I’ve been.
Fynn’s face said everything. He was pissed, not because my dad’s a piece of shit and deserved everything I said, but because I dared speak to a member of their precious little mafia family like that. They’re all the same, those assholes, and they’ll use me up and leave me in the end no matter what I do. Letting myself feel vulnerable around Fynn is just about the stupidest damn thing I could possibly do.
He’ll ruin me. They’ll all ruin me if it means getting what they want. If it means making their family stronger.
I’m nothing to them and I never will be.
The tears keep coming, but they slow. Soon they only roll down my cheeks and the sobbing stops. I sit back and look into the mirror at myself, and god, I’m a mess.
But I see him, standing in the doorway.
I nearly scream. “Oh, fuck,” I say, jumping and looking back. I hadn’t heard him show up, probably because I’m too busy wallowing in my own misery.
Fynn’s looking at me with a serious expression, his eyebrows knit down.