Leaning back against the soft leather, I rolled my head to face him, catching the earnest look in his eyes. “I understand where you’re coming from,” I replied. “It’s just that Tabi and Tristan are here, and I don’t want to leave her alone.”
My dad’s lips curled into a teasing smirk. “You mean Nico,” he corrected playfully.
I shook my head, a laugh escaping my lips. “No, Dad. I genuinely mean Tabi and Tristan. They’re important to me, especially after everything she’s been through.”
He sighed. “I know what she has faced. But you’re my daughter, and your happiness is what matters most to me.”
I smiled back at him.
“Even if I did decide to leave, Nico wouldn’t make it easy for me. He’d throw a tantrum and try to drag me back here,” I said, rolling my eyes at the thought.
“Not when I’m around,” he replied with a firm yet affectionate tone.
I raised an eyebrow in amusement. “I take it you’re still not fond of him?”
He sighed and rubbed his chin. “Nico is very well known as the most feared don, not only in Chicago, but all the US. I always had respect for him, especially after he killed his own father and girlfriend.”
“You knew?” I asked, surprised.
He nodded. “But after what he did to you, I wanted to kill him slowly,” he admitted.
I understood why my father felt that way; the pain Nico caused me ran deep into my soul, and there were times when I imagined making him feel just a fraction of that hurt. But I also wanted to forgive him and find a way back to trusting him, trusting that he wouldn’t abandon me again. Nico had an undeniable pull on me, a powerful force that left me wanting more. It was irrational, but there were times when I felt too weak to resist, like last night.
My father spoke again, pulling me away from my thoughts. “But I also see how much he loves you,” he added, his tone softening.
“It doesn’t matter. We’re too different.”
“Your mother said the same thing about us,” he whispered.
“But didn’t you love her?” I asked.
“Yes,” he replied, his gaze unwavering. “Very much.”
“Then why?”
“Sweetheart, it’s not that simple,” he explained, his eyes searching mine for understanding. “I loved your mother more than anything. But this world...” He shook his head, a deep sadness clouding his features. “You can’t even begin to comprehend.”
“I realized that when they killed her.” My voice cracked, the weight of grief pressing heavily on me.
His gaze fell, filled with remorse and guilt as he watched me unravel. “I’ll never forgive myself for what happened to her,” he confessed.
“Why didn’t you fight for her?”
“I believed sending her away was the right thing to do then. Just until the threat was over, and then I would bring her back to me. But?—”
“But what?” I pressed.
“I was made to believe that your mother was dead before I could bring her back home.”
My eyebrows furrowed in confusion.
He tucked his hands into his pockets, staring out the window as if the memories were etched into the glass. When he turned back to me, his expression was hard as stone, almost murderous. “Her father wanted to weaken me, to get rid of me for good. But it didn’t work. It just made me want to burn the whole fucking village to the ground. He knew how much your mother meant to me and used her to hurt me.”
I tried to process everything he had just revealed. The reality of his life, the Mafia, betrayal, death, secrets; it all swirled in my mind like a rollercoaster ride. And I was ready to get off the ride.
“Gigi,” he said, his voice suddenly raw with emotion. “I willneverforgive myself for not being there for you when you weregrowing up. But I swear to you, I loved your mother very much and I still do,” he said, his voice breaking, the sincerity in his eyes piercing through my anger. “But love isn’t enough to protect you in this life.”
When I didn't respond, he continued. “I carried the guilt every day for the last twenty years. I lost her too, Gigi. I lost everything that day.”
