“Your family made all the funeral arrangements without consulting me. I’m his daughter,” were the first words out of her mouth. Lila knew she was adding gas to the fire but she wanted to pick a fight with someone, anyone.
Marco Severin might not be the best choice. His family owned this city but at that moment, she didn’t care who he was. The two men in suits behind Marco looked at each other, tensed up at her confrontational tone. Lila wanted to laugh. As if a woman half their size could do anything to the son of their precious boss.
Marco looked at her for a long time with those vivid blue eyes of his. He seemed much older than she remembered. An old memory surfaced of her stealing a kiss from him during Christmas back when she was fifteen. Back then, she used to come along with her father to his family’s enormous house during special occasions.
That felt like another lifetime ago. Both the grinning boy and that laughing girl were gone. Vanished. Two broken people were left in their place.
“We decided it was best we handle everything. Take the load off your shoulders,” he said in a reassuring voice that only pissed her off.
Lila wasn’t some puppy, some pet he could console and cajole. He must be used to people obeying his every whim.
“He’s my dad,” she repeated. Lila hated the tears that slipped down her cheeks, hated herself most of all for showing weakness to the one man in the entire world she wanted dead. Marco probably knew her relationship with her father had become strained over the years. The bastard knew everything. Lila didn’t even know how Gino had managed to contact her. She changed her phone number after the last time she spoke to her dad.
Connections. This fucking family had their tentacles on everything and anyone, including her. They probably kept tabs on her simply because of her dad.
Marco said nothing, simply reached out and brushed away her tears with the back of his knuckles. She angrily flung his hand away.
“Don’t touch me,” she said, her voice hard and cold. Like ice. Lila was becoming like her mother every single day and loathed herself for it. “You killed him. My father died taking a bullet for you.”
“Watch your mouth, bitch,” said one of the men, Marco’s bodyguards.
“Show her some respect, Lorenzo. She’s Stefano’s kid,” Marco said in a voice that lacked any warmth. Lorenzo shut up immediately after that, although he didn’t look happy. Marco placed his hands in the pockets of his trousers. “We should’ve consulted you. That’s true.”
“I don’t hear an apology.”
Marco regarded her again. Right. A man like him didn’t hand out that word freely to anyone. To him, she was probably just another errand. He probably did this all the time, offered his condolences to the family members of the men who worked for him, men who died for the Severin Familia.
“You’ll be taken care of. There’s nothing to worry about.”
Did he hear himself?
“I don’t want your money,” she snapped. “Money can’t bring him back.”
“No,” he agreed. “Let’s sit down for a minute to talk.”
“Don’t want to cause a scene?” she asked, sarcasm leaking into her voice.
Marco nodded to the coffin. “Do you really want to do this right here, in front of your father’s coffin?”
“That thing inside that box isn’t him,” she said. “The dad I knew used to take me on fishing trips when I was a kid. He’d come home on plenty of nights, all banged up and I’d patch him, never asking questions.”
Lila curled her hands into fists and came at him. One of his bodyguards began to intervene, but Marco held out a hand, let her pound her fists into his chest. It felt like she was punching a brick wall. He took her blows, not saying a single thing. Part of her appreciated that. She let her hands fall to her sides after. To her shock, he pulled her close, into a fierce embrace.
He was big, warm, and comforting.
This time, she lacked the energy to shove him away, to tell him to go screw himself. Lila lost all her strength, whatever witty remarks she wanted to say to him. All her energy had been depleted simply coming here and punching him. She was so tired, she could curl into the arms of this killer and sleep. It was an appalling thought but never before did she feel so alone before, so isolated.
Lila left this city, left her father as a statement. She didn’t want to be pulled into the life her father and mother had chosen for themselves. Her dad let her leave, helped paid for her college tuition fees because he wanted something better for her.
Marco stopped touching her. She shivered and hesitantly took a step back. Lila felt like she just woke from a bad dream—except reality was still the same. A nightmare. He took off his jacket, placed it over her shoulders, and steered her away from the coffin.
Numbness filled her. She didn’t know she let him lead her. Marco found them seats at the last two pews in the back of the church. People mostly left them alone. His bodyguards stood a few feet away but she hardly noticed them. She didn’t know how long they sat there, not speaking to each other.
“I’m sorry.”
She couldn’t believe those words came out of his mouth at first. Maybe it was the guilt talking. Marco knew he was at fault. Her father died protecting him. Did her dad think about her, the people he’d left behind if he passed away?
Marco reached for her arm, gave it a squeeze. His touch had been welcomed before but now, it felt repulsive again. She didn’t want comfort from this man. He was her enemy.