Page 20 of Forbidden Girl

I’ve never seen a person hold a grudge like Teague. He could teach a masterclass on how to be irrational. How does my dad not know that? It’s like he has no awareness of anyone or anything but himself and his own desires. He obviously doesn’t ever take anyone else into consideration. Selfish prick. “Your dog needs a tighter leash.” I decide that very second that I don’t want to waste any more time or energy standing here, spitting into the wind. I turn to head back up to my room, then stop and face him again. His posture is that of a defeated man. My father being so impotent against the ire of his wife and daughter is a rare sight, indeed. I can use it to my benefit. And I’m going to. “I’m going away this weekend. I don’t want to see Teague or any of your goons. I don’t want you to call me a hundred times to check up on me. I want a quiet, calm weekend away from all of this.”

He opens his mouth to speak. My mother’s eyebrows narrow, and her mouth goes taut. She’s daring him to argue in her Imposing Italian Woman way. “All I ask is you check in with your mother once in a while,” he says.

“Fine.”

Mom gives me a discreet wink. I grin to myself as I ascend the stairs.

I return to my book, trying to drown out my mom’s hollering. It goes on for a bit longer. Then there’s a sudden silence. She’s run out of words or figured he’s not going to listen to them anyway and given up. It’s unfair that Gino is dying, and my father gets to continue risking other people’s lives with little more than a stern talking to as punishment. For his henchmen it’s fear, but for my mom and I it’s love that keeps us loyal. He’s a bad person. As an adult, I see that. But that doesn’t erase two decades of him being a pretty good father, as far as fathers go. I never wanted for anything. I never felt unloved. I never wondered when I would see him again; he was always present. Still, I can’t divorce who he is to the world from who is to me.

There’s a knock at my door, followed by my mom saying my name.

I close the book, sit up straight. “Come in.”

She starts with, “I’m sorry.”

“You have nothing to be sorry for, Ma.”

She shakes her head and sits down beside me on the bed. “I’m sorry that this is your life. I fell in love with your father even though I knew what my life with him would look like. I chose him. You never had a choice.”

“You can’t choose who you fall in love with, right? It just happens.”

Her eyes lock on mine. “The woman who makes you so happy… it’s the Monaghan girl, isn’t it?”

Lying. I can’t do it anymore. There’s no point. “Her name is Rowan. And yes, it is.”

She rubs her forehead. “Oh, you are your mother’s daughter. In a city of a million people, you fell for the one person you shouldn’t have.”

“It can’t work, can it? It’s too hard. I should go back to Washington early, get ready for the new semester, try to forget her.” My heart aches at the mere thought.

She knits her brow. “Yes, that is what you should do, but is it what you want to do?”

“No.” What I want is to run away with her, not from her.

“Go away with her like you planned, if you still can after today. Talk to her. See if what you want is the same as what she wants. Whatever you decide, I’ll support you, and I’ll do everything I can to help you.”

“You can’t help me, Mom.”

“Where do you think you got that big, cunning brain from, Juliet? Certainly not your father.” She sneers and pats my thigh. “Well, it has been a day. I’m going to retire to the boudoir. Good night.” She kisses my cheek.

“Good night.”

TEN

ROWAN

I’m sitting at the kitchen island with my hands wrapped around a glass of water, staring at the blue and white backsplash behind the stove. I’ve been in this house, alone, waiting for my dad, for hours. He told me to hurry my ass home from the boat yard only to not be here when I arrived. If that isn’t a metaphor for our entire relationship, I don’t know what is. Physically absent he was not—just aloof, domineering, and completely uninterested in anything I’ve ever wanted or felt. So, I learned to take orders, to not want anything for myself, and to keep my feelings to myself. I’m a shitshow of detachment because he trained me to be. No, he tried to. He failed. Because Juliet is right, my coldness is an act. I don’t know whether she’s the first person who’s ever seen through the hard-ass façade, or the first person to be brave enough to call me out on my bullshit, but it doesn’t really matter. I’ve been discovered. My cover’s blown. And I don’t want it back.

“There you are.” My dad’s voice… I was so ensconced in my thoughts that I didn’t hear the front door open, or the kitchen door swing on its squeaky hinges. Or maybe he’s the Irish-American iteration of a ninja. I notice a brown paper bag in his hand. He tosses it onto the island and it skids to a stop just out of my reach.

“I’ve been here. Where the hell have you been?”

He squints at me. He doesn’t like being challenged. I know that. But right now, I don’t give a fuck what he likes. This is not the time to leave me hanging. He’s the professional criminal here, and for the first time in my life I need his guidance. Shitty father, great mobster. He opens the refrigerator, grabs a can of Guinness, and takes a seat next to me. Guinness. Dark and bitter and such a cliché.

“Cleaning.” He pops the tab and swigs the can. “I never thought Calloway would have the balls to send his own kid to rip us off. How interesting.”

“Teague isn’t his kid, he’s his nephew.”

“It doesn’t make a difference; he treats him like his kid, he’s as good as his kid.” The evil glint in his eyes means he’s acquired a new target. To most people, family is a source of strength. To him, family is a weakness, a tool to be utilized for a person’s destruction. I never should’ve had any doubt: He is a sociopath. “He’s a soft little man. Soft and stupid. This is all the excuse I need to hit him where it hurts, take out the people he cares about most and watch his whole life crumble.”

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