I knock confidently on the door to his office in our Manhattan home and crack it open. "Dad?"
He closes his phone and looks up at me. "Hi, honey. Just finished a phone call."
I walk in and sit down opposite him like this is a business meeting and I'm an employee.
He starts talking first. "Did you hear we got some late donations from the summer event?"
"No."
"Not enough to make up for the loss so we need a new plan."
"Actually, I wanted to talk to you about something else."
"I haven't seen you working in a week. What's wrong with you?"
"Well, I—"
"Good. Let's get to business. I've got an idea." My dad always changes the topic to business. It's like emotions and relationships are just an annoying distraction from work. "We do two winter events and add a New Year's Eve party."
Three holiday events instead of one? "That's a lot of work, Dad. There's so many other New Year's Eve parties."
"Ours will be the best. You'll make it superb. And then do a wedding in the spring." He grins like this is a fabulous idea.
I've never planned a wedding before. "Whose wedding?"
"For a spring event, we'll do a wedding for you and Renzo." My heart sinks to the floor but he doesn't notice. "Have the guests donate their gifts. Tax deductible." He wiggles his eyebrows.
"I don't want to marry Renzo." Not only is he too old, he's aloof and self-absorbed. He's never even taken the time to get to know me. I hate it when my dad jokes about it. "Please stop talking about it like it's real."
"Oh it's real. He's perfect for you. Italian, well-dressed, loaded."
Renzo inherited his father's money years ago and continues to amass his wealth. I don't even know what business he's in. "I don't like him at all. He's not attractive to me."
"Give him a chance. Chemistry takes a long time to develop." He steeples his fingers in front of his nose.
"Please, Dad." I shake my head. "You know I love you and I'll do anything for you, but not this. Please, not this."
"You've known I planned this for you since his father died. Never complained. Suddenly he's not good enough for you?"
"I never agreed to it."
"It's always been in the works. You marry him and we bring him into the family."
He means we'd bring his father's money into the family.
"He's like a son to me." His voice drops to a melancholy whisper. "Since we lost Ricky, I've taken Renzo under my wing."
I hate when he brings up Ricky. It stings and triggers memories I work hard to forget.
Me at ten years old. Asleep in my bed.
A muted gunshot in the dark.
My mother's cries.
Ricky's lifeless body in his blood-stained bed. He was only five years old.
Our family never recovered from the loss.
My mom died. I stepped in to fill her role. I'm the only water keeping this wobbling boat afloat.
"I hear you, Dad." I didn't agree to marry Renzo, but acknowledged I understand what it means to him.
But I didn't come here to talk about this. I have something more important to discuss. I take a deep breath and peer up at him. "I have something on my mind."
He blinks at my apparent non sequitur then and folds his hands together on top of the desk. "What is it, my dear?"
Oh boy. This is difficult. "I was thinking I'd like to get my own place."
His eyes narrow and he cocks his head to the side. "I thought we had an understanding."
"I'm twenty-four. I'd like to have my own place."
His hands clench and his fingertips turn white. "It's safer for you here."
My muscles tense and my skin prickles, but I have to be strong or I'll never have my own life. "We could set up security. Maybe cameras? I could stay close by."
"Is this about that little fight we had after the pool party? I'm really sorry, baby girl. I shouldn't have lost my temper."
"It's not about that." I lower my eyes to hide the tears forming. It's all about that. I'm trying to separate from him to protect myself.
"Listen. I'm sorry." His voice softens. "I really am. I love you. I don't want to hurt my only baby girl. It'll never happen again. I promise. Okay?"
"Okay." I don't believe him.
"But never forget who protects you. Me. I've kept you alive despite all the men who'd want to hurt you to get back at me. They know you're my weak spot."
I nod. I've heard this my whole life. It's terrifying not understanding it. "You mean the people who killed Ricky?" I've never questioned him before, but I'm tired of being kept in the dark.
His nostrils flare and his face reddens. "Them and others."
"But they haven't come for me." I live in fear of a threat that never happens.
He stands and braces himself on the desk. "Because I kept them from you." His voice is strained as he holds back his temper like he just promised me he would. "This business is cutthroat and not for the weak. When you're on top, they're always trying to bring ya down. The easiest way to take down Vaughn Bianchi would be by hurting his beloved Milana. I will never let that happen, my love. I need to keep you close to keep you safe."
He walks around the desk to me. I stand to be embraced in a suffocating bear hug. This conversation has gone as far as it can without summoning his rage.
So while everything inside me screams to fight harder, I don't. I accept the hug and affection from my father. To keep the peace. To play my role. I'll try again some other time, but for now, I have lost the battle.
"I'd better go, Dad. I have to plan all those events."
He pats my back. "That's my girl. You make me so proud. Keep me posted on your progress."
"Sure."
***
It's been two nights since I talked to my father and I still regret it. Why didn't I stand up to him? Why won't he tell me honestly who it is that would hurt me?
And I'm scared. The eerie way he talked about mysterious men who'd want to hurt me to get to him. It's creepy. I hate living in this state of terror. What is it like for normal girls who grow up without fear and follow their dreams without all these limitations?
The only light in my room comes from the fairy lights under my bed and a string of them I hide in the closet. I'd really like a forest of lights in here but my dad won't allow it. I think I'm going to end up turning the lamp on again because I'm just too terrified to sleep.
It's three in the morning and I need to rest so I can work on the parties tomorrow, but I just can't. Each time I close my eyes I see someone hovering over me who wants to hurt me.
Walking into my closet, the lights show me where to find Foster's jacket. I haven't slept in it for fear of my dad seeing it, but I'm desperate for comfort right now.
The fabric scratches my skin and fills my nose with the rugged scent of worn denim. The scent of Foster. The reminder of disappointment. Why couldn't he be who I thought he was? Why does everyone always turn out to be different from who I think they are? I just want someone who is honest with me. Ironic since I'm not truly myself with anyone either. People are complicated.