Page 19 of His to Love
He looked past me, over my shoulder, and his light blue eyes went blank. “Tomorrow, next week, a month from now. I have no idea, nor do the doctors.”
“I’m sorry.”
He blinked and licked his lips quickly. “It just means that when she passes, I too will step down from the organization. Not because of that, but because it is time. The organization needs a new leader, one with fresh eyes. In order to do so though, I need to ensure that my family is secure and that things will remain unchanged. This is where you come in.”
My spine straightened. I wasn’t unaffected by the strength in his voice or his commands as his eyes met mine directly.
I already expected this. It had been impossible to forget after the brief conversation upstairs. Still, a part of me was stunned. I had never imagined my father willingly stepping away from being the head of the Detroit crime family. I figured he would either be incarcerated or dead long before he’d consider walking away.
I pushed that thought away and focused on my father’s penetrating gaze.
“Malik Rilotti,” I stated and watched his head jerk slightly in surprise. I grinned wryly. “Mom mentioned him.”
“He’s a good man.”
“He’s old and I don’t know him.” My fingers pressed into my palms until I felt the slight sting from my anger.
“He will take my place, and it makes sense that my successor is married to my heir.”
“And yet you were allowed to marry for love and would withhold that from me.” Again, I didn’t say.
It wasn’t my fault I fell in love with a cop’s son when I was just a teenager.
Just like it wasn’t my father’s fault he fell in love with the daughter of a hippie goat farmer.
My father’s hands pressed into the wood desk and his chin dipped, he narrowed blue eyes that looked like mine but were cold. His annoyance rolled off him until I had to force myself not to collapse under the pressure of his weighted stare. Unfortunately for him, being without him for ten years had made me less likely to bow to his wishes at the snap of his fingers.
“He’s a good man, and your mother wants you to find someone.”
“Yes.” I nodded. “She’s already given me the guilt-inducing, manipulative spiel upstairs.”
“So you know why this is important to her.”
Not to him. Because I was just a girl and I didn’t matter. Not like a son would have. I brushed off the pain that followed that depressing and martyr-like thought.
Damn him. And her. And this whole family. I was still the little girl who craved her father’s approval.
“When do I meet him?”
His head cocked to the side. “I expected more of a fight from you.”
“And this disappoints you?”
“Makes me curious,” he admitted, “but pleased nonetheless. He’s gone for the weekend, but I’ve given him your number, and he’ll contact you when he’s in town next week.”
I rose from the chair, hoping I appeared more aloof and confident than I felt on my trembling ankles. “I told Mom I’d consider this, consider him. But this doesn’t mean I’ll go through with it.”
He nodded once before I turned away from him. “Understood. Oh, and one more thing before you go.”
“What?”
He opened a drawer in his desk and placed a set of keys on top of the desk before closing the drawer. I recognized them immediately. They were my old keys to the house and the Audi he’d bought me when I turned eighteen. It was ten years old, but I didn’t care.
“Your mother insisted I keep the car. Claude has made sure it’s been kept in good condition.”
I swooped up the keys. “Thank you.”
I needed air and freedom.
