The Untouchables(88)

“My father is not here. When he’s not here, you speak to me. So let’s hear it, I will decide if it’s worth it or not.” Crossing my legs, I waited as he paced in front of me.

“I’m not sure if I should be telling a kid this,” he finally said.

“A kid? Do I look like a kid to you? Besides, this kid is also the one that gave you ten thousand dollars, cash.” I tried my best to keep my composure. His eyes went straight to my exposed legs before looking back at me.

“No, I guess not.”

“Then where did you get this?” I hated repeating myself.

“An old friend of mine is stationed in South America. He’s been bringing in small shipments on the side to make extra cash. But he can’t move it all, not without risking his job. For the right price, he would sell only to you…”

“And you’re his spokesperson?”

He nodded, allowing small flakes to fall from his head.

“You shouldn’t be.” I frowned in disgust. “But tell him if he gives up all the product he has with him, we have a deal.”

Pulling out the bag of money, I stared at it for a moment. This was supposed to be my backup plan—my way out—and yet here I was, dropping the brown bag right in front of him. His eyes lit up and just as he reached for it, I grabbed his hand, pulling his body towards me.

“This is enough for a quarter of it. My father’s men will follow you home. Once you’re home you’re going to call your friend and have all of the product delivered within the next two hours to an abandoned factory near the riverbanks. Do you understand me?”

It was only when he nodded that I let him go and gave him the bag before gesturing for one of the men to take him away. When they were gone, I fell back, trying to breathe. This was crazy. I was crazy.

Why couldn’t I just walk away?

“You do know this is why none of them respect or fear you, right?” Fiorello, my father’s right hand walked in with a silver tray of what I could only guess was food.

Fiorello had been with my father forever. His parents were both servants here. He in return, was not only the head butler, but he also saw to all of our food. He was the one who tasted it before we ate. He made sure the villa was a well-oiled machine even though his bones cracked and popped when he walked. He was short for a man, and not as fit as all the rest of the men who came through here, but he always blamed that on old age.

“Maybe I don’t give shit. Maybe I’m tired,” I replied, rising to my feet. I walked over to my father’s brandy cabinet.

“Yes, of course you are. After all, you’re but a woman. Not even a woman, a child playing grown up,” he stated, his gloved hand brushing off the rest of the coke on the table before placing my dinner down.

“You don’t…”

“Oh believe me, I understand, Ma’am,” he said. “You’ve done everything your father has ever asked of you. You trained, you studied, and you agreed to be married. But you were still young. Now you are on the verge of making your own path. You think the world outside this life has much to offer you, but you’re mistaken. You’re willing to throw away your father’s legacy, and when he dies, you will have nothing to remember him by. You will be a useless little girl with no protection, no money, and no future. You are fighting for your life—your right to exist—and you don’t even know it. But who cares, you’re tired.” He lifted the lid to reveal a plate of duck before bowing and turning to leave.

“What if I can’t do this, Fiorello? What if I let him down and he dies knowing I’m a complete failure?”

“From what I know of your father, he would be happily surprised if you tried and failed than if you to gave up without starting. I know what you’re capable of, who you are. I’ve seen it. Which is why I’m baffled as to why you’re trying to hide your nature.”

With that, he was gone and I found myself drinking straight from the bottle, which only made me cough. “Ugh, I hate brandy.” I needed to find a new drink. Leaving the bottle on the table, I covered up the food. I didn’t want to eat. I honestly just wanted to drink myself into tomorrow.

Everything I had ever done was for the good of my father, for his work. It wasn’t my fault he was throwing it all away. He had been able to get through one round of chemo secretly only a few years ago. He had beaten cancer once, and now it was back for round two. The only problem was, he didn’t want to fight anymore; he was too tired. I had to beg him to try again. He agreed, but only if he could be treated in the house.

No one was allowed to see him, but I was done waiting for him to call. Grabbing the keys, I headed down the marble halls to the last door on the right. It looked like a misplaced closet when you opened the door. However, if you found the steel door lock hidden behind the mop and opened it, there was another bedroom and there sat my father, shaving his own head in front of the bedroom vanity.