The Woman in the Trunk

I didn't wait to be instructed, taking the spot next to Gigi. I figured if I was the one right next to her, I would be the one my father commanded to put their hands on her if it came to that.

"So how has our little prisoner been behaving?"

"She's been a model prisoner," I lied easily, as I had been doing to him for years, my whole life, even. "Quiet as a mouse," I added, watching as Emilio and Chris bit into their cheeks to keep from smiling. "You'd almost think she enjoys imprisonment," I added, seeing Gigi's brows draw together slightly, not understanding why I would make that statement .

Until my father spoke, of course. "Well, where's the fun in that?"

I didn't know much about how my father interacted with women. My mother up and disappeared when I was young, so I never got to really study their dynamic.

I had no delusions about my father, though.

Chances were, my mother hadn't disappeared.

She was dead, tossed in the ocean or the woods somewhere.

That was how my father handled problems. With a bullet and a grave.

I had always assumed he would see women as a problem. He was simply validating something I had thought all my life.

He was rough with women.

Yet another thing I thankfully hadn't inherited from him. Maybe I had never treated women seriously, had always thought of them as temporary, but I had never treated one poorly, let alone hurt one.

"Always good to have fewer problems," I said, shrugging. "We always have a lot going on."

To that, he grunted, toying with his drink.

"So what do you think? Did the stupid bastard scrounge the money up, or what?" he asked, seemingly to the room at large.

But it was Giana who spoke up, surprising us all.

"I wouldn't count on it," she said, glancing over at my father.

"Your life isn't worth a couple grand?" he goaded.

"To him? Probably not."

"Oh, I would probably even pay a couple grand to get him back," he said, waving his glass at me.

I could feel Emilio's gaze on me, angry for me, but I had long since stopped being offended by my father's lack of regard. I just needed to stay in his graces enough to keep my position, so that when he died, I got the family. Everything else? It didn't fucking matter anymore.

In a strange way, I felt like Gigi and I were kindred there. I wanted my family legacy, she hers. And we would put up with damn near anything to get that for ourselves.

Time ticked slowly, marked by the grandfather clock wedged in the corner, that had been in our family as long as anyone could remember, but—like the rest of the place—in need of some love.

But my father just didn't have any of that to give.

Then, finally, we could hear the front door opening, making all of us—save for my father—straighten.

Beside me, Gigi took a slow, deep breath. I shouldn't have noticed the way it made her breasts strain the front of her dress, but I would be a liar if I said I didn't.

Leon walked in, the carefree gait of a man who was invited to dinner, not one who owed money to a mafia boss. He even took a second to offer my guards a nod and tight smile before making his way into the room, focus intent on my father.

"Lastra," my father greeted. "Do you have my money?" he asked, not one for small talk.

"Well," Lastra started and I could feel my eyes rolling already. "I have some of it. Unfortunately, it seems like our safe was robbed a few nights ago," he added, and my gaze went to Giana, knowing it had likely been her, to get what she needed to get out of town, to get away from us. That said, if it had been any significant sum of money, I was sure she wouldn't have gone down to Cape May to collect her things. At least not right away. If it was anywhere near what Leon owed the family, she would have been able to sat pretty for days or weeks in a nice hotel room somewhere before taking that chance. Whatever she got from that safe was likely only enough to get her through a few days comfortably.

"You're telling me things that aren't my fucking problem, Lastra. I don't care if you had to steal your grandmother's brooch she brought over from the old country to get me my money. If you had to rob a fucking bank for it. We already discussed this."

"I know, I know," Leon said, grabbing the back of the chair across from me, actually lowering himself down as though this was a normal social call.

It hadn't escaped me that he hadn't so much as glanced his daughter's way.

"We told you what would happen if you didn't pay this time."