One day back and I felt filthy all over again. It was like I had never gotten a chance to wash it all away.
“Summer,” she greeted, giving me a warm smile. “I see you had a little mishap.”
“Oh yeah,” I said, dryly. “I somehow managed to knock myself around while cuffed to a bed. I'm so clumsy like that.”
To this, she laughed. Daniel looked down at his feet.
“Well, no matter,” she said, waving a hand, brushing it away like I had complained of a paper cut instead of a bloody, black eye and a crushed larynx. “Why don't you have a seat so we can have a little chat?”
Not given much of a choice, I scooted onto one of the backless stools that were pressed against the island.
“What did you want to chat about? The last twenty-four years? Seems a little heavy for coffee conversation.”
Another smile. “I wanted to talk about your father.”
Shit.
Reign's words whooshed through my brain. “Sore spot.”
“What about my father?”
Her head tilted to the side, watching me. “You really had no clue, did you?”
At this, I kept silent. Because, she was right, there was a lot about Richard Lyon I didn't know about. But I wasn't going to own up to my own stupidity or naivete either.
“Did he keep you in a bubble?” she asked, shaking her head. “Last I heard you were in a good college, working at one of his legitimate businesses in the city.”
There was a strange inflection on the word 'legitimate' that had my spine straightening.
“You kept tabs on me?” I asked instead.
“You father and I made a deal when I left. He didn't mess with my business. I didn't mess with you. You were his. But a mother gets curious.”
Oh. Holy fuck.
They made a deal? She didn't just up and leave one day like the selfish bitch he made her out to be? He was in on it?
And also... her business? He knew about her business? Before the kidnapping and torture? He knew?
“I see you're confused,” she said, leaning down on the island several feet away from me. “Let's start at the beginning, shall we?”
Honestly, a part of me was done. I didn't want to hear more. I was feeling freaking light headed with all the revelations. But I didn't want to appear weak. Weakness would get me nowhere.
“If you need to have your say, I'm not exactly in a position to stop you,” I offered, showing her my hands.
Her lips quirked up. “I guess I didn't quite miss the rebellious stage of your upbringing after all, did I?” she asked, but went on before I could throw something snippy in. “I met Rich when I was nineteen. He wasn't the man then that he is now,” she said, almost wistfully. “He came from a bad neighborhood. I came from a worse one. And he was doing pretty well for himself. He was older. Charming. Offered to take care of me. I didn't know then that his brand of 'care' came with a lot of expectations, demands, and unrelenting high standards.”
Well, that certainly hit home.
“But still, I was in love. Young and stupid. Not more than a year or so later, I learned I was pregnant. Rich was thrilled. I, well, not so much,” she didn't say this with regret or shame like she should have seeing as I was what she was pregnant with and I was the one listening to her fucking story. “When he learned you were a girl, he was ecstatic. He always wanted a little girl to spoil and buy ponies for.” She paused, looking at me. “Did he buy you ponies?”
Yes, yes he did.
“Yeah.”
At this, she nodded. “By the time you were a year, his business had skyrocketed. He was very powerful. With more power, came more control issues. More expectations for me to be someone I wasn't. Endless hours at the personal trainer, with tutors, in piano lessons, and French lessons. He wanted a wife on his arm who he could be proud of. Not some rough and tough chick from the streets. And I did it because I didn't see another alternative. But, when he wasn't around, which was a lot, I plotted. I planned. I got my business started. Just a barn with ten or so girls. But it was enough. I was getting a reputation. I'd drive over there with you strapped into the baby seat and handle business, then come home and cook him dinner, telling him we spent the day at the park or at baby music lessons. For a year, he believed me.”
Um.
Hold.
The.
Fuck.
Up.
She used to bring me to her whorehouses?
“Then about a week after your third birthday, Rich got wind of what I was up to. I guess because business had quadrupled and my name was getting out there. Anyway, he was, as you can imagine, not very happy. It wasn't respectable for a wife of his to work, let alone start to build her very own empire. We went a lot of rounds. I wasn't giving in. He wasn't giving in. So then I told him I was taking you and leaving.”
Oh, god.
I mean, my father was no saint, but he certainty seemed better parent material than my mother. I didn't even want to consider what life would have been like growing up with her.
“Rich saw red at that. He threatened to tear my business down. And, while I was doing well, I wasn't doing so well that his threat wasn't a viable one. So I asked what he wanted. He said you. The rest is history.”
“You gave me up so you could force girls into the sex trade?” I snapped, my tone deadly.
Her eyes flashed. “Don't look down your nose at me, Summer. You grew up in a god damn criminal empire yourself. You were just too clueless to see it.”
Alright.
This information was something I had started to consider myself. Back in my bedroom at my father's house, trying to figure out who the fuck he really was. It had crossed my mind.