by Addison Jane
“Then why bring him up?”
“Because you needed to feel that emotion to bring out your fury, so you can learn to control it,” I explained. “You say you want to make Tobia pay for what he did, right?”
She nodded sharply. “Of course, I want him to feel what I felt the day he took her from me. Destroyed.”
“How are you going to do that if you can’t remember that day without feeling anything but sadness and heartache?” I could see my words seeping into her mind, but was she seeing it yet? “How are you going to be strong enough to hurt him, if all he reminds you of is pain and suffering? No. You need to change those emotions. You need to use those memories and not feel the fear he instilled in you that day. Instead, you need to transform it into something more powerful, something deep in your gut, something like… revenge.”
I saw her eyes light up like she was suddenly seeing the answer for the first time. She shouldn’t be running from her pain, and I knew that’s what she was trying to do. She wanted to be distracted from it, hide it away and not speak about how it made her feel inside. But that was never the answer. The answer was always to embrace, not disguise.
“Again,” she said suddenly, just as I turned my body to walk away. “I want to try again.”
I turned slightly to the side so I could see her. “No, that’s enough.”
She balled her hands into fists at her sides. “You said you wanted me to feel something else, and right now, I feel anger and frustration.”
“You think you’re suddenly ready? That all this is going to change in a second, and you’re gonna be some badass bitch that doesn’t take anyone’s shit?” I scoffed, shaking my head. “You’re still too weak. You aren’t ready to deal with the reality of this world.”
She stormed forward, surprising me as she got in my face. “You have no goddamn idea! Have you ever felt real pain? Pain so earth shattering you don’t even want to survive it? You think you’re so powerful, but have you even been broken.” She screamed in my face, her words hitting home.
I growled deep in my throat. If she wanted to be a bitch and talk like she knew me, then I’d give her some home truths. Taking a strong step forward, I pushed her back, further and further. Not once did her eyes leave mine, the challenge there, bubbling at the surface. Her body jolted as her back thumped against the wall. Nowhere left to go. Nowhere to run.
“You want to know if I’ve ever been broken?” I asked menacingly. “I watched my father murder my mother, all because she tried to escape his abuse, and she refused to leave me behind. From that day on, I was broken down, beaten, and mentally abused every single day. Blamed for my mother’s death. Told over and over that she’d still be alive if it hadn’t been for her wanting to protect me.”
Her perfect pouty lips fell open, her eyes softening as she heard my story, one which I’d never told anyone.
My hand raised, a mind of its own as it caressed up her arm over her shoulder and moved to her throat. This time, when I added pressure, she didn’t choke and struggle against me. Instead, her eyes drifted closed, and she tilted her head back in submission, allowing me to squeeze a little tighter until she released a soft fucking whimper that had me licking my lips.
“So the answer is… yes. I have been broken. I have felt real pain. The kind of pain that makes you wish you were dead. The kind of pain that had you wishing the next breath you took would be your last,” I informed her, pressing my other hand against the wall by her head. “You have no idea what kind of hell I’ve been through, child.”
Emerson’s eyes slipped open, her hands moving to my chest. Her touch was electric, sending chills through my body and lust through my veins. “Fuck you,” she hissed, her body burning, her chin raised in defiance as I stroked the soft skin on her neck with my thumb.
I chuckled. “What’s that? Thought you had me figured out didn’t you. Trust me, you’ve seen nothing yet.”
“Go to hell,” she sneered.
“I’ve been, it’s not as bad as it sounds,” I shot back, feeling my self-control go out the fucking window. I slammed my lips down on hers, instantly delighting in the warmth and sweet taste of her mouth. Her hands reached for my neck, her fingers still covered in my blood as she swept them through my hair at the back of my head, her nails once again clawing at my skin.
Fuck, I couldn’t get enough of her.
She was becoming this perfect fucking mix of sweet and sour, every word from her sharp tongue made me want to tame her even more. I hated to be disrespected, but when it was her, I begged her to do it, just so I could fight back. Something deep inside me wild with the excitement of making her succumb to me.
My hands moved down her body as I continued to devour her mouth, spurred on by the soft sounds that escaped her, the moans that vibrated against my lips.
She pulled away on a gasp. “I’m not a child,” she protested.
I grabbed a fistful of her hair, tugging on it, stretching her neck back to the point where it would be almost painful. Then I leaned in, allowing my tongue to trail across her jaw, flicking at her lobe before continuing down her neck. Her skin tasted slightly salty, sweat shimmering across it.
My body jumped when her hand reached out and brushed across the front of my workout shorts. My lip curled as I struggled to remain in control, the idea of pressing my cock into her beautiful, smart mouth was almost too much to bear.
But it was when she started to squeeze harder, firmer, that was when I realized that this game had turned around. Pain started shooting up my body, and I fought the urge to cower as I pulled back so I could see her face.
“This is something they teach in self-defense class,” she gloated, her vise grip not giving any room for movement or even to breathe. “I’m not a fucking child, don’t think you can control me with your mind games.”
With that, she pulled her hand back and flashed me a bright smile before jumping from the ring and heading for the door.
She raised her middle finger in the air and called out over her shoulder, “How’s that for badass bitch?”
When we arrived back at Angelo’s apartment, he was quiet, only speaking to me when it was necessary, to ask what I wanted for dinner but even then his answers were short and clipped. I wondered if I’d pushed him too far, and the thought that he was angry with me drove me crazy, and I’d tossed and turned the whole night, wondering whether I’d ruined everything.
I kept telling myself, this was what he wanted, he wanted me to fight back to show that I wasn’t the stupid young girl, the child, he kept saying I was. So I stood my ground, letting him know, without question, that I could be strong.
The next morning, I felt ease within me.
I’d always been an early riser. I’m not sure why.
Sometimes I practiced in the mornings, sometimes I went for a run. Others I just sat and enjoyed the peace the morning brought with it, the promise of a new day.
But today, even climbing out of bed early and seeing the sunlight twinkle through my curtains, couldn’t take away the memories of yesterday. Angelo’s kiss was everything I thought it would be and more. He was dominant and strong, but when his lips met mine, it was almost as though he’d shown me a part of himself that he always tried to hide. Passion and urgency. Need. The way he didn’t attempt to hide it or treat me with gentle hands, allowing the true him to shine through, as he gripped my throat in what wasn’t a vicious move but more possessive—greedy.
I couldn’t deny the flood of fever and thrill that coursed through my body, knowing that he wanted me so desperately. I looked in the bathroom mirror, touching my lips softly. I could still feel him, the scratchy brush of his face, his dominance that made me weak at the knees, and at the same time made me want to rebel. I couldn’t explain it, my emotions fighting one another.
He didn’t think I was ready for this fight ahead of us, but he couldn’t see how much I’d already grown, my spirit lifting and empowering me more and more every day.
I smiled into t
he mirror.
Sophie would be so proud.
She wanted this for me, but why did it have to take me losing the one person who believed in me the most, for me to realize that I had this person inside of me who could be so strong. When I thought of Sophie, I still felt weak, like I could lose my mind at any moment, but then I had to remind myself that Angelo was right. I couldn’t continue to dwell on this heartache I felt in my chest because it would eat me alive and then where would I be?
Sophie would still be gone.
And Tobia would win. Destroying the both of us.
The sound of my phone ringing pulled me away and back into the bedroom. I looked at the number, expecting it to be Leah who had checked in every day so far but was shocked to see ‘Daddy’ appear on the screen.
Inhaling deeply through my nose, I wondered whether I should answer or not.
Three days since Sophie’s funeral and not a word from him or my mom. They didn’t check to see if I was okay. Or how I was coping. I’d lost someone, too, didn’t they realize that? Sure, Sophie was their perfect child, and she could do no wrong, but she was gone now. Were they that willing to just let me go, too?
I pressed answer and held the phone to my ear. “Hello.”
“Emerson,” my father said. “How are you?”
I frowned, the tone of his voice lacking any kind of emotion.
“I’m doing fine,” I answered simply, figuring I’d let him say what he needed to say. It was up to him to repair this divide between us. I understood that it was his company, a company that he’d built himself through blood sweat and tears that kept us going, that had supported us. But there was a time where he had to realize we were important too. Well, not we… me.
“Your mother misses you,” he stated then cleared his throat. “We both miss you.”
I shook my head. “I was away all the time. I barely saw you once a year for the past three years. And now… after just a few days… you suddenly miss me?”
He let out a deep sigh. “We’ve just lost Sophie, Emmy. It hurts… a lot. It’s made us realize we’re missing out on time with our children, allowing business to get in the way of what’s important.”
My heart soared in that moment.
Maybe he did get it.
Maybe he finally understood.
Family should come first.
I should come first. Sophie should have come first.
I pushed my shoulders back, feeling courage build inside me, hearing Sophie’s soft words in my ear.
“I’ve felt regret, Emmy,” she said so softly that I barely made out the words over the music that thumped in the background. I sat forward, needing to hear her. “I know how it feels to pass something up simply because you don’t think people will approve or because you know what kind of shitstorm it could bring. I don’t want that for you.”
I shook my head. “A shitstorm is exactly right. Could you imagine what Dad would rain down on me if I told him I wanted to dance instead?”
Her eyes sparkled, and she sat up straight. “Storms don’t last forever, Emmy.”
I took a deep breath. “Dad, I need to tell you something.”
“We have some news, too,” he replied, his voice seeming to perk up a little.
“Okay…”
“We’ve decided to move to New York so we can be closer to you while you’re at Yale next year,” he explained. I dropped down, barely catching myself on the edge of the bed as I stared into space, not believing what I was hearing. “Your mother and I will live there most of the time and travel for work, so we can be close by. Do family dinners and—”
“No…” I whispered.
Silence greeted me. “What?” he asked, his voice no longer excited and positive.
Tell him.
“I want to dance, Daddy,” I said quietly, not as strong as I would have liked. I could practically feel the animosity traveling through the phone as I waited for him to respond. When he didn’t, I kept talking. “I want to dance. I don’t want to be a lawyer, it’s not in me. It’s not who I am.”
“Emerson…” he used my name like a warning, and it only spurred me on.
“You always let Sophie follow her passions. You always supported her in whatever she wanted to do. So why not me? I want to dance!”
“Because Sophie is different… was different…” he stumbled angrily. “She wanted to be a part of that world. It was what she was great at. She hated school, where you excel at it. School’s where you shine.”
An irritated huff left my lips. “Yes, I excel because you made it quite clear that was the only option I had. You made it… so I had no choice,” I rushed out the words. “I want to dance, I need to dance. It’s what I’m good at.”
I could hear him stomping, a door slamming shut in the background. “Emerson, I will not have this discussion with you. Do you realize what I’ve given up to give this family the world? What I had to sacrifice to get to where I am today?”
I gripped the phone so tightly in my hand that I feared I may crush it. “Yes, I do realize,” I replied, my voice sharp, my tone slightly sarcastic. “Because you’re forcing me to do the same thing. Give up what I want, in order to follow your damn dreams.”
“Emerson!”
I’d had enough. I pulled the phone away, hanging up swiftly, and tossing it across the bed. It bounced, jumping through the air and landing with a thump on the carpet in front of two shiny black shoes. I turned away. “I don’t want to fucking hear it,” I snapped, the emotions swirling around in my head making me want to scream and cry and smash things to pieces.
How is he so selfish?
How do they not see that this is not what I want?
When the hell will I come first?
“I’m proud of you,” Angelo said, causing me to sit a little straighter. I spun around, staring at him in confusion. He picked up my phone off the floor. “I believe standing up to the people we love is the hardest actions we have to endure. We have more to lose, and what may seem like little to gain.”
My throat felt clogged, the tears welling in my eyes making me more frustrated. “Why do I care so much about disappointing him, and hurting his feelings, when it’s obvious he doesn’t care about mine?”
Angelo took a seat on the edge of the bed next to me, unbuttoning his suit jacket as he always did before taking a seat anywhere. It was a quirk I’d noticed about him over the last few days, one that made me smile, and I had no idea why. Then when he’d stand and button it back up, I’d smile again. It was like an unconscious habit.
“Tell me some things about your father. Memories that make you smile. Things that he’s done for you.” The request was odd, and for a second I just shook my head, not wanting to play along with Angelo’s weird riddles or games today. He reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. “Humor me, Bella.”
I rolled my eyes, shifting my body back further onto the bed and crisscrossing my legs. At first, it was hard, the frustration I’d felt toward my father had been brewing for so long, I’d almost forgotten what it was like to feel happy in his presence, and not scared of what he might say. “I remember one time I was sick… I think I was like twelve. My mom was away doing a shoot, but we had a nanny that would look after us. Instead, my dad sent the nanny home, and he hung out with me all day, curled up in my bed with me, watching cartoons. He didn’t even get mad when I vomited on his favorite suit. He said it just gave him an excuse to put on sweat pants.”
A smile twitched at the corner of Angelo’s mouth. “That is disgusting.”
I giggled, more memories flashing into my head. “The first date I went on was to the movies with this guy from school. His name was Hamish. He was a jock. My dad didn’t like him at all. When we were walking out of the movies, I found Dad at the back of the theater, eating popcorn. He’d followed us, of course.”
“And why do you like that memory?”
Shrugging, I couldn’t help but grin. “Because Hamish had tried to cop a feel more th
an once and I’d shot him down, and in the end, I’d slapped him across his stupid face. Knowing that my dad was there and hadn’t done anything, made me feel like he trusted me to be able to take care of myself.”
Angelo mirrored my grin, a sparkle in his eyes. “That I’ve learned first-hand.” He reached out and his fingers skimmed across my jaw and cheek. “This is why you care so much about what he thinks. Because you remember all those times when he did put you first, that he believed in you, and your strength as a person.”
It was true.
I loved my father, despite the last few years of him being an overbearing ass, he was still my daddy. The man who, even with his mafia ties, still chose to allow me to deal with Hamish, the boob grabber.
“I just wish he could see me dance,” I said with a heavy sigh. “I wish he could see me for who I am, not who he wants me to be.”
“He will.”
“What are we doing here?” Emerson asked curiously as we sat in the backseat of the SUV. She was looking around, the low rumble of maintenance trains pulling in and parking for the night, building the tension in the air. The sun had almost disappeared, engulfing the yard in shadows.
Fucking perfect.
“We’re going to meet someone,” I answered cryptically. I hadn’t planned to bring Emerson with me. While I wanted her to find her strength so she could stand on her own feet when the time came, and show Tobia that he hadn’t ruined her, I also was worried about whether this part of my life would drive her further into the depths of herself.
I wanted Emerson to challenge me, to be able to be proud of who she was, and never let another person break her. She was growing every day, pushing back, standing up to her father and fighting to be the woman she desired to be.
But I didn’t want her to be scared of me.
Ever.
In the end, she needed to be aware of what went on and how I conducted my business. I would protect her from anything that could touch her, but I couldn’t hide who I was, and the reality was, I still wanted her. The decision on whether she could fit in here would be up to her.
