After slipping on some white flats and my short white gloves, I headed downstairs. I found my father sitting in his study, in one of the leather chairs near the window, the week’s paper folded in his lap. His body wore a suit, as always. So meticulously put-together, ready for business at a moment’s notice, even if there would be none today.
His black eyes flicked upward. “Morning.”
“Good morning, Daddy.”
He noticed my clothes, probably saw the makeup on my face. “You going out?”
I didn’t see Zander around, which was good. It would be easier to do this without Zander peering over my shoulder in disdain. “Luca texted me. He wants to do something today. I thought it might be nice for us to go out without Zander with us. Just Luca and me.” I treaded lightly, but I got my point across, based on the glare my father currently gave me.
“I thought you didn’t like the boy?” my father asked. “Have you changed your mind about him, then?”
“He’s… not bad.” I wouldn’t ever tell my father that I was starting to catch feelings for Luca; if he found out I had real feelings for him, he’d react accordingly. I still didn’t know what I’d done to merit being married off to the Morettis, especially right now.
My father gave me a tight smile. “I’m glad to hear that. Sure, go. Have fun. I’ll tell Zander. Maybe while you’re preoccupied with Luca, he can help look into who shot you.” He paused. “Be careful out there. Whoever shot you is still in Cypress, I don’t doubt. They’ll be waiting for another opportunity to finish the job.”
“I know. I’m not helpless.”
He set the paper down on his lap, jaw tight as he stared up at me. “Perhaps you aren’t helpless, but you are stupid.” He let a moment of silence pass before he said, “Can I ask you why you chose the name Josefina Baez?”
The very second he said the name that was on my fake I.D., my heart skipped a beat. My skin grew cold, my palms clammy in the worst way. I said nothing, only able to stare back at my father. I’d totally forgotten about the I.D., how it had been on me that night. Fuck. Why didn’t I think of that? The card hadn’t been in my things when I’d checked out of the hospital.
My father got up, folding the paper under his arm as he walked over to me. “I don’t know what you were doing out that night, but you were stupid, mija. Going anywhere alone after dark in Cypress is asking for trouble. You think the Black Hand is the worst thing this city has seen? This place has crime seeping out of every crack, gangs that make Atlas’s crew look like inept children.”
Atlas. I had the card from him stashed away in my bedroom, tucked underneath my bed, in between the mattress and the box spring. I’d never told my father about it, and I doubted I would. If anyone was going to get Atlas back for his crimes, it would be me. Somehow, someway.
“I’m not going to ask you what you were doing that night. I don’t want to know, but whatever it was, don’t do it again. Understood?” The way he asked, I knew that was that. If I tried to argue with my father about this, his iron fist would come down hard.
I nodded. “I understand.” Was that why he was thinking about an engagement between Luca and me, because of the whole fake I.D. situation? Because he knew I’d gone behind his back and did things without him knowing, without Zander being my shadow? Shit. So this was my fault, then.
It seemed like an overreaction, but my father was never one to underreact. The former ran in his blood.
I said nothing else, turning and starting to walk away from him, but my father called out to me, “Next time you might not be so lucky, Giselle. Next time the person who shoots you might just get you in the back of the head, and you’ll never see it coming.”
The hairs on the back of my neck stood up, but I didn’t let his threat stop me. I kept walking, holding my head high. I went back upstairs to my room, sitting on the edge of my bed. All the while, the last thing my father had said to me rang through my head.
It was a threat, wasn’t it? It certainly sounded like one, and a part of me wondered if there was more to it. My father had kept my secret I.D. to himself this whole time, waiting until now to bring it up. What if there was more he was hiding?
He wouldn’t… he wouldn’t hire someone to teach me a lesson, would he? A lesson that involved a bullet. As much as I didn’t want to believe it, the more I thought about it, the more possible it seemed.
What if it wasn’t Atlas or his men who’d shot me? What if his card and the flowers were just a coincidence? What if my father found out I was sneaking out and sent one of his men to shoot me? Not a killing blow, obviously, but one that hurt, nonetheless. He’d done worse; handing me over to Rocco Moretti for a night being the highest on the list.
That night made me lose my will to live, and I’d only recently gotten it back. Was shooting me a reminder that I should be grateful to be alive?
Fuck. I could not stress that enough.
I was so lost in my own thoughts that I neglected to realize how quickly time passed. Luca arrived to pick me up, and when I didn’t answer my phone, he must’ve gotten tired of waiting for me and came inside the house. I heard a knock on my bedroom door, and I zapped back to reality, jumping up so quickly I forgot I was still sore in my midsection.
Pain shot out from my stomach, as if reminding me I wasn’t out of the woods yet, but I didn’t let it stop me. I went to my door after grabbing my cell and a small clutch, opening it to see Luca standing on the other side, hands in his pockets.
Wearing a dark blue blazer, he looked just as cute as ever. I didn’t know if I was fortunate to have other things on my mind, so I didn’t think about the dream or what Luca had done to me—because if I was right, then that meant I wasn’t safe in this house. If my own father would have me shot just to teach me a lesson… well, there was nothing he wouldn’t do.
Luca’s dark eyes twinkled when he saw me, a grin immediately growing on his face the very second he saw me. “Wow. You look amazing, Giselle.” The compliment almost made me blush, spoken with such intensity. I knew he wasn’t just saying it.
I didn’t say anything back to him, which prompted him to take a step into my room and look around, taking it all in. I was so out of it I didn’t even tell him to get out, that it was a cock-free space.
“So, this is your room, huh? Have to say, I kind of imagined it was different,” Luca went on. He moved before my dresser, running a hand over its edge. “It’s kind of… bland. There are no pictures hanging on the walls, no knickknacks—”
“It’s just a room,” I said.