Page 8 of The Dominator

Later that night, Dare called me and told me he’d visited Greg O’Connor and told him the score. He walked in and told him Tom Ferrano was calling in his debt. If he didn’t have cash on the spot he was to hand over his daughter Tia, that Tia would be presented to Thomas Ferrano Jr. as potential marriage material and that if marriage didn’t happen she’d remain Ferrano property in order to clear his debt. Dario had brought muscle with him, expecting resistance even though Pop told him not to bother.

O’Connor hadn’t even seemed all that surprised, according to Dare. Said he knew that my father wasn’t done with him yet and had a feeling this day would come. He said my father had warned a few weeks prior that Tia might be the payback for what’d happened back in the day, whenever and whatever that was.

O’Connor told my brother it was almost a relief that the day had come, and that Tom had chosen to handle things this way because he’d been carrying around the worry for years. What the fuck? Piece of shit. Whatever the beef was between him and my pop, he wasn’t gonna even try to barter or fight for his daughter? What a sorry excuse for a father, for a man.

Of course, she was already mine in my head, so there was nothing he could do even if he had the money to pay the debt, but that the man wasn’t even trying? He’d get zero respect from me.

Dare thought it was funny that Pop had done this to get me married off and said he was surprised that I was going through with it. I shrugged it off, told him it was a means to an end. We joked about the fact that he’d be next. I’d seen Dare date plenty; he got a lot of female attention and had even been engaged already, but she’d broken his heart and in return he’d broken the jaw of the guy she was fucking as well as bankrupted the guy’s family’s business. Since then he was about as interested in settling down as I was.

I saw Pop the next evening at dinner at his house with him, my two sisters, their families, and Pop’s wife, wife number four if I hadn’t lost count yet, and Pop told me on the side that he’d told O’Connor years back that he’d have his daughter someday. I tried to ask questions but got the brush off.

Why that son of a bitch didn’t leave the country to protect his little girl was beyond me. I mean, we had reach across borders, but if you’d at least tried to get out of his line of sight maybe you’d have somewhat of a chance of getting off his radar. I knew O’Connor had left his kid to rot in foster homes right under my pop’s nose while he put cocaine up his own nose, while he repeatedly bet all his earnings on the horses and in card games, while he paid next to no attention to his kid whatsoever. Knowing Pop was threatening his little girl, how could he stay around here?

I didn’t know what the beef between Pop and O’Connor was about, but it had to be a pretty big beef for Pop to let a wound fester for years and then decide that the payment would come in the form of about 120 pounds of flesh. For whatever the reason was, I’d be getting that flesh in my hands right after she graduated from high school. It was all arranged. Dare would pick her up and deliver her to me.

The SUV stopped in front of a gatehouse and when the gates opened, continued up a semicircle driveway to park in front of a gorgeous Tudor-style house. A mansion, really. I clutched my purse close and when the SUV emptied, the Black, scary dude reached for my hand and helped me out. He gave me a little smile.

Hm, not so scary, really. Now that he’d smiled at me, he reminded me a little of Michael Clarke Duncan. The guy from the Green Mile isn’t scary, just misunderstood. Maybe this guy wasn’t scary. The other two were scary, though. Burly Number Two from the back seat looked a tad like Lou Ferrigno, the Incredible Hulk. Burly One looked like a total criminal – Sopranos or Godfather henchman type – angry dark eyes, uni-brow, deep acne scars on his cheeks. All three of them were imposing-looking men. The blond driver in the front looked little less scary, but his attitude was scarier than all the other guys. He was in maybe his mid-20s and while he was extremely good-looking, wearing an expensive suit, he looked pissed off and impatient. He seemed like the one in charge.

The Michael Clarke Duncan-looking dude finished helping me out of the SUV and blond angry hot guy motioned for me to follow him. I did, dread filling me.

I was on a gated property with several big, scary guys and I’d bet money they all carried guns. The blond guy led me through a big foyer into a room down a long hallway and rapped on a door.

“Come in,” a man answered from the other side.

The three men waited in the hall while the blond guy opened the door and signaled for me to walk ahead of him. My heart felt like it was in my throat.

I was inside a large office with a man sitting behind a large executive-style desk. He had salt and pepper hair and light brown eyes. He was fit and handsome for his age, kind of George Clooney-ish. He wore a suit and had an air about him that said businessman or hot shot lawyer. But Dad said he was mafia, a mobster.

A guy in a mansion with all these thugs or whatever was buying debts from bookies? It didn’t add up. How big could Dad’s debt actually be? Who would front him more than a few hundred dollars on a poker game, knowing he wasn’t capable of earning much more than the minimum wage?

“Athena, I’m Thomas Ferrano. Call me Tom for now. Please sit.” He motioned toward a chair in front of his desk.

I sat. His name sounded familiar. His face sort of seemed familiar, too.

“Aren’t you lovely? You graduated high school today, I hear. Congratulations.”

I stared at him. Words won’t form on my lips.

His gaze narrowed. “No need to be rude.”

I shook my head, “I’m not trying to be rude. I’m just a bit overwhelmed. Thank you. For the congrats.”

He nodded, curtly. “Dario, get a bottle of water for Athena.”

Angry hot blond guy nodded and left the room.

“So, I take it your father filled you in? Why don’t you tell me what he said to you, ah? He used to have an unfortunate habit of leaving out important facts. Maybe he still does.”

Boy, did I know that.

Blond guy, Dario, returned quickly with a bottle of water and handed it to me, then left the office.

“Um thanks.” I took a sip. “I haven’t seen much of my father in years. He turned up today at my high school graduation and told me I had to be a marker for a few days so he could get money together to clear up a gambling debt.”

Thomas Ferrano laughed. “Interesting spin.”

My heart plummeted. Spin? If that wasn’t the truth, what was?

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