Zach was slouched across the sofa in the studio when she got home, a can of Coke in one hand and his mobile phone in the other. He shot her an ambiguous look, sending waves of butterflies to her already unsettled stomach. Something was up, and he didn’t want her to know.
What have you done now, Zach?
She crossed to the small kitchen and made herself a cup of tea, trying to look casual. She didn’t like eavesdropping on him, but she liked the look on his face less. If he was in more trouble, she wanted to be forewarned. If he’d smashed another musical instrument, or broken another girl’s wrist, more than one job as a cleaner would be in order.
Maybe it’s time to take up pole dancing?
She hid her small smile behind her cup. Pole dancing or sex with James? If they were only two options…
“Sure, Dad,” Zach said. “Okay.”
Dad?
The butterflies in her stomach fluttered into frenzied action, and she placed the cup on the bench for fear she would end up burning herself.
Dad? Oh God, Zach was talking to their father?
“No probs.” Zach lifted the soft drink to his mouth, but before the can touched his lips, he shook his head, frowning. Obviously, whatever their dad had said, Zach didn’t agree.
“I said no probs, Dad.” His frown blackened, and he shot her another look, this one angry. “I thought you said…” He paused. “I know she’s my sister, but…but…” He closed his eyes, his face young and sad and vulnerable. “Yeah, okay.” When he opened his eyes, Sienna was surprised to see them shining with tears.
Oh, Zach. I want to make it better for you. I really do.
“She’s here.” Zach erased the tears in a savage swipe. “Yeah, I’ll put her on.”
He held his phone out to her, but for a second, she didn’t move. Couldn’t.
She hadn’t spoken to her dad for almost five and a half months, not since Zach had come to stay with her, and their last conversation had not gone well. It wasn’t that she didn’t love him. He was her father, after all. Apart from the surreal childhood of celebrity parties full of sex and drugs, he’d never been bad to her. She did love him. She just didn’t like him. Not at the moment.
His criminal activities were the least of his shortcomings. She couldn’t forgive him for moving Zach’s mother in two days after dumping her own mum, nor for raising Zach to be a spoiled, petulant brat. But still, he was her father, and he wanted to talk to her.
She took Zach’s phone and raised it to her ear. “Hi, Dad.”
“Kitten,” Joseph Cornwell exclaimed on the other end, his smooth voice as charming as ever. She pulled a face. While other people melted with ease to the charismatic “Platinum Joe” personality, she didn’t. Particularly when he called her Kitten, a pet name that only came out when he was trying to butter her up. Or con her.
“What do you want?”
“Has Zach been good? Not giving you too much trouble, I hope.”
No, not at all. He’s the perfect child. “We’re getting there. How’s prison?”
The telephone connection did nothing to hide the gusto in his laugh. “Great. The food’s not quite what I was used to, but beggars can’t be choosers, right? I tell you, Kitten, I’ve done some serious networking. And the talent. There’s a guy in here that could be the next Nick Blackthorne. Damn, I rue the day I let Nick slip through my clutches. If I could get some capital together, I reckon this guy could be even—”
“What do you want, Dad?” No. She couldn’t listen to his patented schmooze any longer. There was a long pause on the other end, peppered only with the faint sounds of metal doors slamming shut.
“My solicitor came to see me yesterday,” Joseph finally said. Was that shame in his voice? Was it even possible? “Apparently, I’m being sued over some girl’s violin.” He paused again. “I need you to help me out.”
Sure you do. “Dad, I’m flat broke. I’m struggling to deal with your court bills as it is.”
“It’s not just that, Kitten. I need help in here. Money talks, if you know what I mean. And Pablo Reynard, the man I…err, borrowed money from when I was gambling, knows how to get at me, even in here. I need…I need to pay him back before…before he…” He let out a choked sigh. “Even a few thousand will stop him for a while, Kitten. Can you help? Please?”