Kingpin (Bride of the Billionaire)

“What!?” I yelp. As I stand, the sand twists beneath my feet and I fall. “No, he wasn’t, Sasha! He sold insurance!”

“Your father was a gangster who trafficked in women, Ella.” He sounds sincere. There’s real pain in his voice, but I don’t believe him. My father was a good man. He smiled every day and made sure I was always provided for. My mother and I loved him.

“This isn’t funny, Sasha.”

The sound of the ocean is in my ears. Suddenly the cool breeze feels invasive. The smell of the salt is sour.

“This isn’t a joke,” he replies. “I wish it was. Ella, more than anything I wish it was. But I have to tell you the truth. I couldn’t live with you if I didn’t. Your father was a gangster who sold women to men for money. He came at me, and I had to do what I had to do.”

“No…”

“He probably never showed you that side of him, but it was there. Believe me.”

I’m going to throw up. Tears spill from my eyes as I rise to my feet and turn away from Sasha. “Take me home.”

“Ella—”

“Take me home, I said!” My scream echoes across the waves as I stare at Sasha with a hatred I could have never imagined. He wants to say something, but closes his mouth and motions to one of his men who takes my arm and leads me over to the truck.

“I’m sorry, Ella,” I hear him say as I get in the back seat.

“I find that hard to believe…” I don’t say it to him. My voice is barely audible. I even doubt his driver hears it as he closes the door and pulls away.

I almost cry the whole way home, but I don’t want the driver to see my tears. I’ve already given Sasha enough—he doesn’t need to know how hard this hurt me. But when I climb the steps to the apartment I share with my mom, the sorrow seizes me, and I collapse crying just outside the door.

“Sweetie?” My mom’s voice comes from inside. “Sweetie, is that you?”

She doesn’t sound drunk, but you never know. After years and years of abusing alcohol, she’s gotten pretty good at hiding it. I look up as she opens the door, and even though she might not be the best mom all the time, I can see her concern for me.

“Mom,” I cry as she pulls me into her arms.

“Baby, what happened?”

I can smell the booze on her breath, and every ounce of hope leaves me. Somehow, I manage to get into the living room and slump down on the couch. I want to go to my room and curl up and die, but I don’t have the strength.

Could it be true? Could my dad have really done the things that Sasha said he did?

No, this is just Sasha’s way of getting rid of me. He knew he’d gotten himself in too deep with me, so he came up with a way to get rid of me.

My mom presses me to open up, so I give her a basic rundown of what happened after the Lakers game, leaving out the X-rated details, of course. She’s drunk, and I can tell she is astonished, but she manages to keep her focus on me.

“But what did he do to you, honey? Why are you crying?”

“Mom, I have to ask you something,” I manage to say through my tears. “And…and you can’t lie to me, okay?”

“I never lie to you, honey…”

“Yes, Mom, you do,” I reply angrily. But I stop myself; this isn’t the time to get into it with her. “But I need you to be honest with me now. Please, Mom.”

Even through her drunken eyes, I can see she does understand. There’s pain there too—pain from the fact that she knows that I know she’s lied to me. Just another wonderful part of having a drunk for a mother.

“Okay, honey. What is it?”

With a deep breath, I ask what may be the most important question of my life. “Mom, what did Dad do?”

Her expression is all I need.

Tears flood from my eyes, and I collapse onto the couch with my knees to my chest.