“What do you want, Mom?” I asked bluntly. She definitely hadn’t come down here to comfort her distraught daughter.
She pursed her full, red-painted lips, her baby blue eyes narrowing at me. The rest of her face didn’t move much; she’d been nipped and tucked and injected until she’d become the frozen embodiment of aging gracefully.
She stepped beside me to face the mirror, needlessly smoothing her perfectly-styled, platinum blonde hair. “Can’t a mother come check on her daughter?” she asked, not even glancing away from her own reflection to consider me.
“We both know that’s not why you’re here.” I was rarely rude to my mother, but I didn’t go out of my way to be nice to her, either. Not like I did with Daddy.
There was no point trying to earn Mom’s love and approval, because she simply wasn’t capable of offering it.
“Your father is worried about you.” She didn’t bother to include herself in the statement of concern. “He wants to talk to you, but his number has been blocked from your phone.” She smoothed on a fresh coat of red lipstick and made an exaggerated pout at her reflection.
“That’s because I don’t want to talk to him.”
Her blonde brows managed to lift slightly, and she finally focused on me. “Why not? He’s been devastated ever since you were taken hostage.”
I rolled my eyes. “Of course you only care about how this affects him. You have to play the part of simpering wife and keep him happy so that you can keep your claws in him. Have you even once wondered if I might be devastated at being taken hostage?”
She lifted her chin, too haughty to stoop to my level. “I don’t appreciate your tone, Sofia.”
I threw up my hands. “I don’t know why I’m even bothering with this conversation. Tell Daddy whatever you want. I’m not interested in talking to him anytime soon.”
“Don’t disrespect your father,” she scolded as I stormed out of the bathroom.
I stepped into the hallway and jerked to an immediate stop.
“Princesa.” Daddy held out his arms, expecting me to step into them for a hug.
His tall, slim body blocked my way to the stairs, trapping me in a conflict I wasn’t ready to face. I tried to ease back, distancing myself from the painful prospect of confronting him about his lies.
Mom’s slender arm draped over my shoulders, urging me toward Daddy. “Your father has been worried sick about you,” she told me in a falsely kind tone. “He wants to see that you’re okay.”
A hollow laugh echoed through the basement, the spiteful sound issuing from my own lips.
“Okay?” I demanded, glaring into my father’s bright green, watery gaze. “You lied to me my entire life! It was awful enough learning that you’re a criminal, but what you did to Valentina…” My stomach turned. “How could you do that to her?” I railed, the full force of my anguish ripping through me. “How can you be the kind of man who does something like that?”
“Sofia.” His voice cracked on my name, his distress genuine. “I’m still your father. You’re still my little girl. I didn’t want you to be troubled by my business dealings, and I’m sorry that you were pulled into this. But nothing has changed between us. I love you, princesa. Always.”
His promise of love tore at my heart. I craved it so badly.
“And what if I don’t agree to marry Pedro Ronaldo?” I challenged. “Will you still love me if I refuse the future you’ve arranged for me without even asking my opinion?”
His jaw went slack, as though my objection had never occurred to him. “I was only thinking of what’s best for you,” he insisted. “Ronaldo is a wealthy man. He has a vast estate. You will be comfortable and provided for.”
“He’s a drug lord. And he lives in another country. How could you think I would be okay with marrying a criminal stranger who lives in a country I’ve never even visited?”
Daddy’s jaw firmed, and he fixed me with his disapproving frown, the one he reserved for the times when I was being especially difficult. “Now, Sofia. Ronaldo will keep you in a life of luxury, and you won’t have to worry about anything. You don’t have to know about his business dealings, just like you haven’t known about mine.”
“I don’t want to be a kept woman,” I insisted. “I would never be happy in an arrangement like that.”
“Don’t be ungrateful,” Daddy rebuked. “I arranged this marriage so that you can have everything you could possibly want. You enjoy your musical hobby, right? Ronaldo will be able to support you so that you can spend your time however you wish.”
“Hobby?” The word was soft, small. Most of the air had been knocked out of my chest.
All these years, Daddy had just been indulging me. He didn’t take my music seriously. I’d been stupid and desperate enough to think that he actually believed in my talent.