“You mentioned the recording of what happened to my sister. Do you happen to have a copy of it?”
The grin on his face fades and is replaced with seriousness. “Yes.”
“Is it possible for me to watch it?”
He bites the inside of his lip then sighs. “It is possible, but I’m not going to let you do that.”
My brows knit together. “I’m sure you can understand that I want to know what happened to my sister.”
It’s more than just knowing. I want the full responsibility of the guilt. I don’t want to be shielded from it.
“You already know what you need to know, and I filled in the blanks. Seeing what happened to your sister isn’t going to help you in any shape or form. Not with the guilt you feel.”
I might be mistaken, but it almost appears as if he wants to protect me from feeling worse. He might also be right, but that doesn’t stop me from wanting to know.
“My father saw it.”
“I don’t give a fuck who saw it. I’m telling you, you aren’t, and that’s the end of that discussion,” he informs me like he’s some fucking dictator. “Have you thought about seeing your father yet?”
I’m not ready for the change of subject, but something tells me not to push him. This is just day one. I don’t want to make things worse for myself.
“I have.”
“When do you want to see him?”
“At some point. I need a little time to wrap my head around a few things before I see him.”
His jaw tenses, and he sets the coffee mug down on the table. “We’ll go on Sunday.”
“But—”
“No, no buts. Sunday gives you seven days. That’s plenty of time. I’m a busy man; I don’t have time for vagueness. So, we’ll go Sunday. All right?”
I think for a moment, then nod. “Okay.” I just have to be okay with it.
“Give him a call today, though. When you’re ready to call, speak to my staff or me.”
I hate being told what to do, especially by those who know nothing of my past. The past doesn’t matter, though, when someone is dying.
Eric must think so badly of me for not wanting to run to my father straightaway on hearing he’s dying. I think badly of myself for not being the daughter who would do that because I’m the girl who would do anything for the people she loves. I’m just broken, and I swear my father was the last person to crack me open. I haven’t been the same since we last saw each other.
“Okay, I’ll call him later.” I think of Marquees too and wonder if Eric will let me call him. “I have a friend that I’d like to call. His name is—”
“No,” he says even before I can say another word. “Not the cop friend. He will be briefed when the time is right.”
Geez. What the hell?He knows about Marquees too.
“Fine. I just wanted him to know I was safe.”
“He’s the least of your problems right now. I’m allowing you to speak to your father alone and see him. That’s it.”
What the hell can I do besides do as I’m told? “Okay. You know I’m going to need clothes before I go anywhere. I can’t wear your shirt for seven days.”
“I’ll get you some stuff at the store later.”
“I have clothes at the cottage and some other things I need to get.” I have some very important things there—the last of what means something to me.
Thanks to Marquees, I didn’t have to leave them in Monaco. It would be crazy for me to leave them at the cottage.