Page 21 of Savage Roses
The insult barely registers. Likely because I’m growing used to the hurt he causes. I’m much more tuned into my anger, much more focused on the goal I’ll accomplish by the end of our meeting.
I sit poised on the sectional in his office, giving him no reaction thus zero pleasure from earning a rise out of me. “I don’t have time to waste on you, so I’ll be brief.”
He scoffs with a disbelieving shake of his head. “That’s rich. My own daughter.”
“I’m not your daughter. I don’t want to be your daughter.”
“You had no problem being my daughter when you were taking advantage of my connections. Of my money and legacy. Everything you have,Igave you!”
My skin flushes hot, my anger rising. I keep my mask on, ironically enough, like he spent so many years teaching me. “You’ll never have me under your thumb again. Any act of revenge against Salvatore won’t end like you think it will. I’ll never speak to you again. You’ll never have to worry about me ‘taking advantage’ as your daughter again. You can even forget I exist. All I ask for is the same courtesy. Leave me—leaveus—alone.”
Dad spends a dumbfounded moment stuck in the middle of the room. My best guess is he’s thinking of what best works in his favor; should he push more of my buttons or slip into his old manipulation tactics?
He smooths a hand down his pinstriped tie and then bends to swipe his folder off the floor. “I never thought I’d see the day when my little girl would tell me to pretend she doesn’t exist.”
A twinge of pain aches inside my chest. I shut it out, holding strong. He won’t get to me. I won’t let him.
“Do we have a deal?” I ask.
“Delphi…” he sighs. “He’s playing you for a fool. Why can’t you see it? Why do you refuse to see him for who he really is?”
Aaaannddd he’s made his pick—the oldie but goodie known as manipulation. So many times in the past, I fell for it.
When I say nothing, he takes a step toward me, his brow furrowing. “I can tell you things about his family that will make your skin crawl. He’s using you.”
“Do we have a deal? If we don’t, then I’m afraid you’re going to regret it.”
He releases a confused laugh. “Do you hear yourself? You’re even starting to sound like him, issuing mob-like threats. He only wants you to get to me. That’s not love. If you weren’t my daughter, he wouldn’t give a damn about you. Deep down, you know it.”
“I guess we don’t. Goodbye, Dad.” I get up to go, but he steps in my way to block me. His heavy hands fall on my shoulders, gripping them.
“You hate me. I realize I hurt you by keeping things from you. But don’t you understand, I would’ve told you if I thought it would benefit you? I wasprotectingyou. That’s all I’ve ever done, Delphi. Protect you, Leontine, and Marcel. You might not understand how, but believe me when I say, it’s always been a priority,” he explains, his eyes sad. “I can’t protect you when you’re running into the arms of the man who will hurt you.”
He’s really starting to piss me off—and that’s saying something considering I wasalreadypissed.
Dad has always told me Salvatore was bad for me. He’s always hammered home the point that Salvatore will use me and break my heart. In the past there have been times where it seemed what he said was true.
I know better now.
…yet the concerned bend of his mouth and seeming sincerity in his tone unnerve me.
They make me, even as in love as I am with Salvatore, second guess if there’s something I’m still possibly missing. If I can’t trust Salvatore, then there’s no one alive I can trust.
I’m all alone.
But… he’s lying. HE’S LYING.
I blink, breaking his almost trance-inducing stare, and tug myself from his hold on my shoulders. “Don’t touch me. If you won’t leave us alone… if you proceed with this investigation, then I will come for you myself. I will destroy you and your legacy myself. Your own daughter.”
His lips twist cruelly. The fatherly concern vanishes from his face. “But I thought you weren’t my daughter anymore.”
“You’re right. I’m too good to be. Good day, Mayor Adams.” I step around him and move toward the door.
“Your mother would weep in her grave if she knew how you turned out.”
“She’s already weeping… because her husband got her killed and then proceeded to fuck his mistress in her home.”
Emotion swells in my tone as I say it, but it feels justified as I leave his office in a flurry of fast footsteps. How dare he try to guilt trip me about Mom when he’s the one who caused her death? How dare he call me a brat and insinuate I took advantage of his connections when he groomed me from birth to follow in his footsteps?