Total pages in book: 126
Estimated words: 115619 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 578(@200wpm)___ 462(@250wpm)___ 385(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 115619 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 578(@200wpm)___ 462(@250wpm)___ 385(@300wpm)
Beneath my anger, rational thinking tells me he knows about us. That’s what I’m gathering from his speech. Did she tell him? No, she couldn't have. Even if she didn’t, how else could he have found out?
“I'll show you some balls right now, Torrio. Don't you fucking test me.” He points at me, his arm trembling. “If it weren't for you, everything would be different. But that's what you do, isn't it? You take what's good, and you destroy it. Rip it apart, piece by piece, until it's just as ugly as you are on the inside. You're a destroyer, a locust! You take, and you take, except you add nothing to the world. All you do is destroy lives. Orphan children. You spill blood, and you collect the money.”
“Are you finished?” I can only shake my head. “Why don't you try pulling yourself together, Charlie? Maybe when you do, it'll be easier for you to see why everything in your life is falling the fuck apart. Or would you rather be weak and continue to blame your fuck-ups on everybody else?”
“You're my only fuck up,” he snarls. “Letting you go. The fact that you’re breathing right this second.”
“Listen.” I hold my hands up, palms facing outward, as I work to remind myself who I’m looking at. This is her father. She loves him. She wouldn't want this. “I have nothing against you personally. Even when I knew you were knocking yourself out trying to pin a charge on me, I said, I get it. The man has a job to do. I even respect it. And the only reason I could, was because I knew you'd never be able to make a charge stick. I'm too fucking smart for that. Still, I didn't rub it in your face. Nevertheless, here you are, driving up to my house, writing checks you can’t hope to cash. Are you sure this is how you want it to be?”
A tear escapes his eye and rolls down his cheek, sparkling in the sunshine. “You ruined my daughter!” he bellows.
Ruined her? “If she wants to be with me, she can be. She's a grown woman who can make her own goddamn decisions. She doesn't need her daddy telling her what to do anymore.”
When his face falls, and he takes a staggering step back as if I’ve hit him, I realize my mistake.
“Be... with you?” he whispers, shaking his head. “No. No, that’s not true.”
“That's what I said.” Fuck. There's no taking it back now. It’s painfully obvious he did not know about us, and I just spilled the whole can of beans.
My men back away, clearing their throats, looking at the ground while Charlie stares holes through me. He's drunk, his brain drifting, although not slow enough that he can't put together what he heard. “She's been with you? You... have been together?”
I shouldn’t continue. I should send him on his way and hope his drunken state will cover up the memory, but what’s the point? He’s going to find out, eventually. I’m not hiding my relationship with Bianca from anyone. I don’t give a fuck what anyone thinks. She is mine, and I will scream it from the rooftops if I have to.
“Yeah, that's exactly what happened, and she’s a grown woman. She can decide to be with whomever she wants. Believe it or not, your approval is not needed when it comes to her happiness.”
“How could you?” he whispers, backing away and retreating to his car. Good, let him go. If he's lucky, he'll wrap the damn car around a tree and put himself out of his misery. He would spare his daughter a lot of pain in the process.
“What?” I call out after him. “Tell me what is it that’s pissing you off? Is it that you can't face the truth that your daughter’s a grown woman? What the hell are you even here for, Charlie? What did you think coming here was going to accomplish? I can't force Bianca to stay away from me, and I won't try.”
He slides into the front seat, one foot still on the ground—then quickly emerges, the metal of the gun in his hand shimmers in the light.
“Boss!” Romero moves like lightning, placing himself between Charlie and me while my guys rush toward him.
“No, no!” I shout, waving my arms over my head to break things up. “No, let him feel like a man. He just found out he doesn't have control over his daughter. He needs to feel like a big shot again. I wouldn't dare to take that away from him.”
“You sick son of a bitch!” He’s shaking so hard I doubt he could aim if he tried. I bet his vision is doubling by now because he keeps squinting and blinking. Surprisingly, he made it here in one piece. “First, you took my wife, and now you’re taking my daughter. When will it be enough? How many more lives do you need to destroy?” He’s so stricken, so defeated, I wonder for a second if he’s going to put the gun to his own head.